Whatever, so he’s dating someone. Some leggy yoga instructor who’s namaste-ing this place, and yet here he is proving he’s as much of a leech as her least favorite VC, Mr. Tom Ford Blazer, because he’s dating someone else and still slept with Mallory after yesterday’s outing.
She grits her teeth just as her cell begins to ring. Like a beacon, it brings her to a bamboo tote on the table against the back wall of the living room. She peers inside. Sticky notes line thefabric walls, reminders of bills to pay and which train line goes where and her mom’s birthday? But no clutch. Yet everything else she’d normally carry with her, including her phone, is here. She reaches for it, pushing aside a fuzzy white Koozie she doesn’t remember taking from the outing. The ringing stops, but on the screen are voicemail notifications—two of them, both from Ilena. And three missed calls before that—all from Ilena.
Ilena’s thoughts on the direct listing are as clear as the glass on the John Hancock Tower outside the penthouse’s windows and just as faulty. Her threatening to leave AIM led Mallory here, wondering if she had angry sex with Grayson after attempting to blackmail him at the outing.
Blackmail, like out of some B movie. But worse because Mallory only had a ghostly tendril of proof: snippets overheard a little over a month ago at his penthouse, the day she’d discovered the computer error. Though not entirely conclusive, it was damning enough to suggest that Grayson had created the error—on purpose—to make AIM appear even more successful than it already was. She needed more time to investigate, to fully understand what she’d heard, but Ilena’s ultimatum had forced Mallory to play her empty hand. When she’d confronted Grayson at yesterday’s outing, trying to force him to admit he was involved in creating the error, he’d turned the tables on her. In that moment, she’d never hated anyone as much, not even her pissant of a father.
A ding, not for another voicemail but a text.
Ilena:We’re at your condo.
Shit.
Mallory turns to Grayson’s living room. She’s been secretly sleeping with Grayson for the past year. Not even Ilena knows.
Mallory texts back:Running late. Don’t wait for me. See you at the office.
But it crosses with Ilena’s:We’re letting ourselves in.
Shit, shit, shit.
One of Ilena’s lectures, Mallory could handle, her best friend’s judgmental nature nothing new. But Ilena’s disappointment... that’s another thing entirely.
Mallory returns her phone to the bag and takes in the great room that, like the hallway and bedroom, has the same unfathomable Grayson Version 2.0 update. Air plants hang from the ceiling over a rainbow of floor cushions and a diffuser spewing lavender-eucalyptus mist straight out of one of AIM’s meditation corner how-tos. But Grayson has never actually used the AIM app. That should have been her first clue that he doesn’t believe in it. Or in her.
“Grayson?” she calls out to no response, though the flatscreen is on, muted, tuned to the same morning show her mom used to watch—probably still does—her mother’s loyalty unwavering through anchors having oral sex with interns and pontificating on the uniforms of female athletes.
Mallory is staring at the somehow both puffed and skeletal face of the female anchor Shandy Shane, feeling good about her own decision to steer clear of fillers and Botox, when a blocky, distorted version of the AIM logo flashes on the screen. Panic gathers in Mallory’s chest like a funnel cloud. She spies the remote on the side table and lunges for it, jamming her finger on the button to unmute.
“AIM Higher, they said,and,my, are they! And now you can too. Everyone’s favorite wellness app is opening its shares to the public next week. Already a fanfavein the health and wellness space, AIM went wider and higher last year with its newest and buzziest feature, ‘How Wide’s My Smile.’ Curl up with a book instead of your earbuds? Ten points! Bubble bath instead ofdoomscrolling?Fifteenpoints! What’s more all-American than your pursuit of happiness getting a seal of approval from your virtual friends?”
“Research, coaching—it’s not only about the points!” Mallory can’t help but shout.
“Speaking of friends, eight-year-old AIM isn’t the first company founded and led solely by women to debut on Wall Street, but its valuation shatters records as the highest for any company in its sector to date. In this world where the tech bubble is goingpop, pop, popwith every massive layoff and embezzlement scandal, that’s a feat worth a heck of a lot of points! Hahahaha!”
Mallory’s hands clench.
“But seriously, all eyes are on AIM, partly thanks to its crafty decision to opt for the less traditional direct listing rather than straight IPO. In just one week, the company will be selling shares to the public without the assistance of intermediaries—a high-risk, high-reward gamble that just might pay off. In fact, with four million subscribers and counting, industry insiders expect records to be made. And when they are, this is the place you want to be. We’ve just gotten word that one of the three smart, savvy, sparkling besties behind AIM will be here next week. How wide’soursmile to be sitting down with CEO Mallory Latham and Chairman of AIM’s Board of Directors Grayson Fields!”
Holy.
Shit.
“Grayson!” Mallory cries out, her heart thrumming. That PR firm they hired nailed it. AIM onThe Shandy Shane Show!
She rushes to the tote and roots around past her empty emergency snack bag and makeup case and reclaims her phone. This must be why Ilena was calling. She mutes the television and is about to hit Ilena’s number. They have to celebrate this—AIM is going to be on morning television!
But it’s not AIM. It’s not Ilena and Aubrey. It’s only Mallory.And Grayson. Why Grayson? Everything inside her seizes. Now the changes in the apartment make sense. B-roll footage.
He’s preparing for it. Which means, he arranged it. To let her know what he’s capable of, maybe even to prove in his warped mind how much she and AIM need him. But Grayson Fields doesn’t do anything for anyone but Grayson Fields.
Bastard.
Then again... she and Graysonwouldbe on national television, discussing AIM at the time when every fund manager and investor was watching.
Buzz, exactly what they needed. She’d always believed the press around going public would increase their user base. Something necessary now more than ever. It was the perfect domino effect: buzz would lead to more users, which would lead to the high stock valuation being entirely accurate. After they went public, they could fix the computer error, end and eliminate the fake replicating accounts, and have an entirely honest user base, no one the wiser. No need, then, for Mallory to tell Ilena her suspicions about Grayson being behind it all.
Mallory still believed in that course of action. And what better buzz could there be than Shandy Shane? The show could solve everything.
