From the other side of the ficus came a slow clap. Brad walked around the planter. “Touching. Very touching.”
“How did you even find us?” Morgan cried, at the end of her cope.
Brad raised his eyebrows. “The monitoring software Carter installed on everyone’s phones includes a location pin. Didn’t you realize? I love BYOD: making people pay for their work phones was the best innovation. Besides, one of the little favors I asked this one for is the luck of overhearing conversations that it would be convenient to overhear.”
Morgan shot Luke a look. He shrugged in despair.
“Hey, no long faces,” Brad said. “We’re positive. Pumped. Luke, buddy, you’re about to get that promotion, you know you want it. And hey, we can’t have our lovebirds not match, now can we? Tell you what, Morgan baby, I’ll sweeten the pot. Luke’s boss wants to be bad cop, I can be good cop. Get through the demo and then take care of our loose ends. Make me a star and I’ll make you a VP. How does that sound?”
Her heart lurched. VP of Marketing at her age. Of a unicorn startup, no less. She had the connections through Stavrula—it wasForbes30 Under 30 material. Would it mean anything to her mother? No. But it would mean success on her own terms, in the mundane world she lived in. With Lucareoth, who loved her. Safety. Power. Not immediate death and a century of torment. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? All she had to do was go along with what was going to happen anyway. She’d say it would cost her soul, but she’d already lost title to that.
Brad clapped his hands again. “C’mon, troops, we’ve got work to do. You’ve already received your marching orders.”
She wanted to pull Luke aside. She needed time to process. Instead they followed Brad like chastised ducklings, hating themselves and the world all the way. To add insult to injury, she had to turn down freshly baked cookies, three raffle entries, and a stress ball shaped like a sea otter to get back to their booth. The only victory she could claim was managing to see the angel’s procession coming six aisles away and steering Brad to turn before he could catch a glimpse.
The rest of the team were gathered already. Kelly had somehow retrieved both Ronaldo and Justin, and was steering them each into place by the elbow. The Spotlight Series would wind its way through the exhibitor hall, trailing investors and journalists, pausing at key booths for demos.
“All right, team, we ready?” Brad pumped his fist. Ronaldo whooped, Kelly nodded decisively, Justin fist-bumped Josh’s cast-free fist, Carter offered a half-hearted cheer. Gisele shrugged—no water off her back—and Rix wagged his tail, happy to be participating.
Brad glanced at her.
“Yay,” Morgan said weakly.
“Now, I need a volunteer for the subscription part of the process,” Brad said, his eyes glittering. “I’d been thinking a reporter, but that’s a little risky. Kelly, can you be our sacrificial victim here?”
“No problem,” Kelly said.
“You can’t,” Morgan burst out. Kelly looked at her questioning. “The soul thing?”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “It’s a little tasteless, sure, but the crowd seemed to eat it up. I’m in sales, won’t be the first time I’ve been accused of selling my soul.”
Her thoughts spun in little frantic circles. It shouldn’t have been worse; hundreds of thousands of theoretical victims were no less valuable than the woman in front of her. She was a bad person for valuing someone just because she knew her. And it wasn’t like Kelly wasn’t also continuing to work here despite knowing all the dirty laundry. Most of the dirty laundry.
Morgan didn’t even have to convince her to sign a Deal or do anything herself. All she had to do was stay silent, and all her dreams would come true. Everything she was supposed to want—even everything she actually wanted.
No ethical consumption under capitalism.
“I can’t do this,” she burst out. “I quit.”
32
Kelly looked more confused than anything else. Luke turned to her in a panic.
“Your loss,” Brad said, shrugging. He grabbed the badge clipped to her jacket and tugged it off. “Sounds like you don’t belong here. Security?”
A security guard strolling down the aisle perked up when Brad waved at him.
“This young woman doesn’t appear to have a hall pass,” Brad informed him. “And she’s crashing a confidential meeting. Can you please remove her from the hall? Carter, text Hayley and let her know to pull our ex-employee’s access.”
“Wait a sec,” Morgan tried to say.
The security guard took her elbow, not unkindly but firmly. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to come with me.”
“But—”
“Please don’t make me call for backup.” He was tugging her toward the entrance.
Gisele looked at her questioningly, and Morgan shook her head—they couldn’t both afford not to get paid.
