Reader, I don’t like to brag.
In this case, though, I will make an exception.
I fucking crushed it.
By the end, the entire auditorium was eating out of the palm of my hand, and when it was over, a mob of financiers, led by a beaming Mr. Ose, cornered us for handshakes and congratulations.
I was Cinderella, magically transformed in a matter of minutes from forgotten business outcast to the belle of the ball.
A state of affairs that deteriorated like hydrogen-5 when Lloyd Exeter rocked up to congratulate me.
“What a triumph, Scout. You should be proud.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank God for making you better at fuck toys than rockets.”
Experimenting was the furthest thing from my mind. I was no longer interested, for the moment anyway, in guesswork and trial and error. I wanted unflinching fact. What happened next wasn’t an experiment, it was a newly discovered universal constant.
And that universal constant?
Fuck Lloyd Exeter.
“You know what, Lloyd? I’m going to say this because I don’t think anyone else is ever going to tell you. You’re a guy who doesn’t ever hear the truth, so listen up. You’re a bad person.You’re lazy. You’re entitled. You have a much higher opinion of yourself than you deserve, and at the end of the day, you’re going to die alone surrounded by people who only suffer you for the paycheck. And you may not believe me now, but when you’re lying on your deathbed, you’re going to remember this moment and say…Oh my God, Scout was right.”
His eyes burned. He worked his jaw. Mr. Rich Boy had insulated himself from face-to-face criticism with cronies and lackeys and yes-men and the Jareds of the world, and he’d just been read in person by the one woman whom he’d used up and thrown away like so much useless space debris.
Scout was rightshould have been my closing line. I couldn’t help it, though. Before I left, I added one final parting shot.
“By the way, you have a weird penis.”
Not my best work. Still, despite all I’d said,thatwas probably the only thing that would stick.
Good enough for me.
I stalked off, scanning the crowd for any sign of Hudson. Instead, I found Addie and Leelah. Dodging potential investors and engineers looking to talk shop, I cornered them.
Waving off some nearby chatty dudes looking to talk to anyone in a BuzzCorp T-shirt, Leelah engaged me first. “You were giving total girlboss up there.”
“Ugh, Leelah, don’t saygiving. Orgirlboss. You’re such a millennial.”
“Shut up—”
Not the time for their bickering. “Guys! Do you know where Hudson is?”
The two shared guilty looks. My stomach dropped. “I think he left.”
“What?”
“He had a flight to catch!” Leelah said in his defense. As if he needed defending.
The entire OFest audience wanted a piece of me. Clara would, no doubt, be engaged for the next few weeks, talking about fulfilling orders and expanding our product line. I should be there with her.
But I couldn’t. “Well, I’m going after him.”
“Obviously,” Addie said, rolling her eyes. “After us and like three of the marketing people stayed up all night last night to get that footage into the hype video, you’dbetterbe running after him! He recorded his part, then showed it to the other focus testers so the guys would go on camera, too. It was amazing. You should have seen it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I hissed. “And if he was in love with me, why didn’thetell me?”
