I am not doing well.
I can’t sleep in the hotel for all the reasons Eva couldn’t sleep at my house. Well, that’s not true. She slept just fine. But where she missed the sounds of the city, I find them to be a throbbing intrusion. Sirens, car horns, people shouting, the constant hum of ten million lives crammed into too small a space.
Three days ago, Clayton explained that our incubation period ran out with the Trede program, which I am only starting to fully understand. They hooked Meow Mobile up with an investor who will now assume majority ownership, and Clayton is ready to move on. He wants to do other shit like build rockets.
I want to shove a rocket into his belly button and light it on fire.
Instead, I’m ironing the pockets of my dress pants, psyching myself up to explain my worth to Morgan Lockwood, a reclusive billionaire who will either keep me on board or clean house to hire people closer to where she lives in La Jolla in some seaside mansion.
I shove the pressed pant leg into my walking boot, adjust my tie, and accept that my beard is just going to do what it wants as I make my way outside and hail a cab to Clayton’s office.
When I arrive, he’s gesticulating wildly across a glass table from a slim, white woman who looks like she’d rather be flossing her teeth than listening to my boss. “Ah, here’s the man of the hour,” Clay says, pointing at me.
The woman, presumably Morgan herself, turns and lifts a manicured brow. I tilt my head, clutching my laptop to my chest like it’s a teddy bear. “Asher Thorne,” I manage to say, extending one hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Hmm,” she says and does not reach for a shake. I lick my lips and walk to the chair next to Clayton, aware of Morgan staring at my gait in the stupid cast.
“Ash,” Clayton says, thumping me on the back. “Tell her what you told me about system architecture and infrastructure.”
A groan threatens to jump out of my throat, but I open my laptop and spin it toward the blonde woman. “This is our latest project,” I stammer. “I believe we can increase capacity and download speed for our users to give them access to faster computing.”
The meeting is painful. I cannot get a read on Morgan at all, and eventually Clayton takes over the talking. This seems to irritate Morgan, who abruptly stands.
“Thank you, gentlemen. My assistant will reach out.” And she swirls out of the room like she isn’t taking my livelihood along with her.
I lean forward, my face pressed against the cool glass of the table. I hear Clayton shake something into his mouth. It could be mints, Tums, or ecstasy.
“You look good, Ash,” he says at last, crunching.
My brain feels wrung out.
“So,” he says, “I don’t think that went well.”
I laugh. It feels like such an understatement. “Even I could tell that, Clay.”
I spin to face him. He sets a bottle on the table—antacid. I reach for it and pop a few in my mouth, surprised by how relaxing it feels to chomp through the chalky tablets.
Clayton nods a few times. “My hunch is that Morgan Lockwood needs someone like you to keep the company going, but she usually wants people close by, and she’s in California, as you know.”
“Usually? How prepared were you while you were leaving me in the dark?”
He waves a hand. “I can go to bat for you to be that guy, but she’s definitely not going to want to deal with time zones. That’s where we are.” He holds up a hand before I can respond. “Whatever you’re thinking, the paycheck will be higher than that. Enough to live comfortably out there, I’m sure. And you could surf.”
I gesture at my stupid foot. “What about me gives you the impression I want to hang ten? Clayton, my life is here.”
“New York City? If you’re for real, I’ll hire you on my other project. No sweat.”
I blink a few times, realizing that he doesn’t know me or what makes me tick. The people who know those things are back in Fork Lick… where there are not tech jobs for hermit yetis with no higher education.
“Look, man…” Clayton seems to notice that I’m panicking. “You know I mostly fuck around and grease wheels. I’m letting go of this project and spending time in orbit. I want you to be okay because I feel a little responsible for your grumpy ass. So tell me—what do you want?”
Obviously, I want everything to stay the same as it was. My sister is healthy and lives next door. I’m friends with Ethan again. I have people in my life, a decent salary. And… I have Eva.
“I don’t want anything different,” I say slowly. “But not because I’m hiding. Because I have something to stay for now.”
Clayton studies me. “Something?”
I don’t want to talk about Eva to Clayton. I still haven’t even properly apologized for how I snapped at her. “There is someone… who matters to me. In Fork Lick.” I struggle to articulate it. “You know what my family means to me, Clayton. I’ve given up a lot for them, and I’m not about to put an entire continent between me and the people I love.” There. I said love in the general family sense, which does not have to include the woman who lights me up inside.
