Andre smiles at me, wide and toothy. “You’re not at all like how I thought someone in finance would be. When Saanvi told me about this plan, I thought she was crazy.”
“I still think she’s crazy,” I mutter, staring at the blurry still frame of me and Alex behind Andre’s head. “But thanks.”
“I guess we’ll know in two weeks, won’t we?”
“Just two?”
“Yeah. Saanvi wants this expedited.”
“Ugh.” I pull a baleful face as I back away. “Have you talked to Alex today?”
“No,” Andre says. “Should I have?”
“Nah.” I swat my hand at the air. “Never mind.”
Still, on my way back toward the elevators, navigating the maze of cubicles on his floor, I keep my eyes peeled for Alex. I’ve never been by his desk before, and I’m not brave enough to purposely seek him out.
He took the afternoon off yesterday. Canceled all his meetings so he could go home and change, claiming he might as well take a half day.
I’d felt guilty. His shirt getting wet was my fault. But even after I offered to procure a new one for him fromFrame’s fashion closet, Alex just shrugged and said, “It’s no big deal. I could use the time off, anyway.”
I was confused, until I remembered the fallout with his dad. He buried it so well over the hour and a half we spent filming that I nearly forgot, but that was probably the real reason he didn’t want to go back in the building yesterday. I mean, it was just… soda water.
Here is a fact about me: I tend to be a private person. Probably, it’s a result of growing up around country music stars. My dad isn’t one of them—he’s only a songwriter and backup vocalist, and frankly, he sings a little off-key in his middle age—but my entire life, he’s worked alongside some of the biggest names in the business. I learned the importance of privacy at a young age, and living with Devon Nicholson’s daughter in college only exacerbated that tendency.
So of course, on the flip side of that coin, I’m also not interested in prying intootherpeople’s lives.
Usually.
But, like… Ican’tstop thinking about Alex and his dad.
I have concocted a million scenarios in my head and dissected every one of them, just like I do with numbers that don’t add up.
He’s from New York, he studied at Harvard, and then he moved to Seoul and spent three years working there.
His mother isnotRobert Harrison’s wife. Robert Harrison’s wife is a white woman named Linda. Thanks to Google, I know they’ve been married for thirty years, and thanks to Instagram, I know Alex is only twenty-five.
But his father didn’t know he was home… because he wouldn’t take Alex’s calls. Wouldn’t even listen to Alex’s voicemails. Maybe that would make more sense if Alex hadn’t called him Dad. If Alex didn’t share his last name. But hedid,and hedoes,and there’s something fishy going on here, and I simplycannotfocus on month-end books right now because I’m desperate to find out what.
The ninety-eighth-floor break room is never without a baked good, and I head there now for some sugar fuel to get me through the rest of today. But when I arrive, someone has beaten me to the last slice of Benny’s no-nut chocolate chip banana bread.
Tracy Garcia: CFO.
Here’s the thing. If Tracy told me to commit a murder for her, I would ask in what manner she would prefer it to be done and also if she needs me to frame someone after.
Aggressive but true, and here’s why.
I was in a bad place when I interviewed for this job. My boyfriend didn’t understand why I was even bothering, since our plan was to move back to Nashville together. Frankly,Ididn’t understand why I was bothering, when every other candidate was a dude from a northeastern Ivy. I passed the technical assessment with flying colors. But during the group interview—which was a mock roundtable discussion in front of a panel including the CFO—I choked. I spoke a grand total of six words the whole time.
Anyway. I wound up in the lady’s restroom crying, scolding myself for getting quiet, for ruining my chances, and that’s where Tracy found me. She breezed in, spotted me, and then froze, tilting her head.
“The girl who beat the test,” she said.
“Um. Sorry?” I mumbled.
“You beat our technical assessment. You know that thing is designed to be failed?”
I had not known that. “Sorry,” I said again.
