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Date: Wednesday, July 30 8:33 PM
Subject: RE: Launch List
Oh, yes. We’re working on a project aren’t we.
Thank you for all your efforts on #1–3. You’re pulling this together exactly as efficiently as I knew you would.
Regarding #4—I will be extremely tied up tomorrow at 5:30 pm running from the building up FDR Drive until I reach a barren area by the Queensboro Bridge where I will dig a large hole, lie in it, and scoop the probably contaminated soil back on top of me. If I haven’t come to a sticky end at the hands of worms, or the lead and arsenic, please dig me out once the launch is over.
CHARLOTTE (10:39 PM)
There’s no barren area near the Queensboro Bridge. See you tomorrow.
7
CHARLOTTE
“I
can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me.” Elliot stretches his arms along the back of his office sofa and rests an ankle on his knee. He’s already loosened his tie and undone his top two buttons, giving a glimpse of collarbones I have to keep dragging my eyes away from.
“You make it sound like I’m about to rip out your toenails,” I tell him. “You’re going to have to do the launch presentation whether you like it or not, so you might as well learn how to not bomb.”
“I’d rather swim with starving sharks. Or skydive over a bubbling volcano. Or watch Max count his money.”
He closes his eyes and groans as his head falls back against the cushion. My mind immediately wonders in what other circumstances he might make a sound like that.
For as long as I’ve known Elliot, I’ve never heard any talk of him having a girlfriend. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything though—he’s pretty private. So private that I’ve never felt comfortable asking. But I have heard the other guys giving him a hard time about never meeting anyone since he’s almost always either in his office or his apartment.
I looked forward to seeing him this evening more than usual. Although this is a work thing, meeting outside regular hours makes it feel strangely personal.
I’ve had an odd sense of anticipation over the last couple days, probably fueled by us being so in touch by email and text. We’ve never had a reason to be in prolonged contact before—certainly never had a texting relationship—and I found myself constantly looking for his next message. And being disappointed when there wasn’t one.
While he’s always teased me, experiencing him doing it in writing has been more fun for some reason. There’s something almost secretive about it and, although it’s a terrifying word to use, more intimate. Every time I re-read his messages, they make me smile all over again.
But that’s completely silly. I need to focus on the business at hand.
“Believe me, I’d prefer to be at my Pilates class, followed by a glass of wine in a bubble bath, and later watching a movie accompanied by fish tacos and rocky road ice cream.”
My stomach gurgles at the thought of food. I haven’t eaten since the chicken dumplings Vivian brought in today. And they weren’t great, so I didn’t finish them.
Elliot lifts his head to look at me. “What movie would you watch?”
I point my Precise V5 rollerball at him. “I know a distraction tactic when I see one. We need to get on with this.”
I turn to his desk and the middle monitor, which I’ve swiveled around and hooked up to my laptop. I tap the space bar and the title slide appears.
He groans at the words filling the large screen: “How Not to Suck at Presenting (or Things You Already Know But I’m Going to Tell You Anyway.)”
“Giving up at the title, huh? Yeah, that’s the spirit.” The task of bringing the launch in on time is tough enough. But Max will surely have to give me bonus points when I manage to turn this backstage guy into a swaggering front man so he can pull off the room-wowing launch speech of his life. Such an achievement might even earn me a better new acquisition to run.
I stand next to the screen as if I’m addressing a room full of people I need to win over, not just the man who’s currently making his best effort to disappear into the sofa. “First of all, I’d ask you to answer this question.”
I tap for the next slide and point my pen at the question that appears. “What are you afraid of? What’s the answer, Elliot? Why does the thought of standing up and talking to people strike the fear of God into you?”
“This is supposed to be a quick lesson, not a therapy session.”
“If I don’t know what you’re afraid of, how can I help you?”
