I think I figured out how to take a screenshot! If I raise my hands like a fake camera and press the shutter, it does something!
A few screenshots appear—of the recent conversations in there, indeed discussing the union and the upcoming corporate retreat, and of the list of members in the group.
ruby.ocampo:
Thank you thank you thank you!
sampaguita72:
Well? Can you tell if he’s involved?
I bite my bottom lip, peeling off a bit of dry skin.
ruby.ocampo:
It doesn’t seem like it? He’s in the group, but he didn’t say anything.
He must have delegated that out to someone else—maybe being careful about his paper trail, like Erickson said.
I don’t have the heart to end the fantasy for her yet. To cut off that hope completely.
And Mom isn’t stupid, but she had a habit, in life, of not looking too closely at stories she wanted to believe.
Chapter
47
The day of the company retreat finally arrives, and my heart is in my throat as I walk through the glass-roofed atrium of the hotel where they put it on every year. The floor is packed with booths and people I’ve never seen before, teams flown in from other offices, everyone with lanyards around their necks.
It’s been a TKCORP tradition to hold this event for as long as I can remember, with professional development sessions organized along different tracks and grand proclamations aboutinvestment in human capitalin all the company literature. Mom was so proud when she was asked to present, one year.
A bunch of union members are clustered in a group across the floor, and I start moving toward them—but then Mark Winterson steps into my line of sight.
“Whoa, didn’t mean to startle you. You okay?” He steadies me, and leans in to whisper in my ear. “I got a room upstairs.”
“Why?” I blurt out.
“Because I can.” He slips an arm around my waist and tugsme closer. “And it’s my fault—I know I’ve been distracted—but we…haven’t in a while. Couple weeks at least?”
I laugh nervously. “Did you consult your ledger?”
Mark Winterson chuckles dryly and presses me into a side hug. “Just wanted to show you I can make time for us.” He puts a key card in my hand, folding my fingers over it. “Text me.”
As he strides away, I turn the key over in my hands, staring at the paper sleeve that saysRoom 505.I’m going to have to meet him there. I realized, sometime on the long drive back from the wedding, that I don’t even need to find out his heartbreak year—I just need to get the first deal Erickson ever told him about.
If I have those two parts, I can try every year of his life along with them. There are only thirty-one possible combinations, and I don’t think Excel will lock me out if I’ve tried too many times. And this is probably my last, best chance.
Maybe it’s not clear what I can do for Mom anymore, but at least I can see this through. And then I can break up with him. This will all be over soon.
Rising up above me on either side, all the floors of the hotel are visible in cross section—conference rooms on the third and fourth floors, guest rooms above, every room letting out onto a walkway with a view of the convention floor. You can see everyone coming and going from pretty much everywhere you stand. Tough location for clandestine operations.
And thanks to that design, I can see some of the #future-managers approaching Al and Grace on the fourth floor. If they’re following the script laid out for them in the Slack channel, the #future-managers are asking them if they’ve heard anything about the union, acting like they want to sign cards.
And Al and Grace are making a show of acting confused, while a group of accountants is on the floor below, chatting upa group from the Logistics Department about the union. They all step into an empty conference room together, and some of the tension in my shoulders releases.
On the other side of the fourth floor, Morgan and Steve are going into another conference room, followed by Carol and Sarah and—my heart jumps—Greg. We haven’t really talked since the copy room, confining ourselves to scattered texts, passing nods in the halls, furtive glances.
And Mark Winterson emerges from the stairwell nearby and goes into the same conference room everyone just went into. Oh fuck!
