“Yeah,” she said.
“I get it.”
“It was more than that, though,” she said. “The paper was for a chemistry class, which, as far as the Harvard Science Department goes, was pretty much a bird course.”
She started to explain what that meant, but I stopped her. “You could sing your way through it.”
“Right!”
She looked impressed. I felt kind of smug.Down with the young people,if you will. I’d learned the expression from Blake’s sister, who was studying photography at the New School in Manhattan.
“The main reason why I wrote the paper for Dylan was not the money, though,” she said. “It was that he seemed so desperate. Like he was incapable of doing this unbelievably easy assignment on his own. And as I’ve gotten to know him, I’ve learned that there are very few things hecando on his own. I taught him how to pump gas. He was twenty-four years old.”
“Silver spoon syndrome.”
“Exactly,” she said. “I also think it’s why he can be so awful to people. Why he has literally no discipline. The way he was raised, he never had to develop those parts of his personality, either.”
I thought about my one interaction with him—how I’d warned him off stalking his ex-girlfriend Teresa Leone. Dylan had claimed she was his one true love. But Teresa had told me that, after she broke up with him, Dylan had barraged her with threatening calls, texts, and direct messages. “It’s made him a lot of enemies,” I said.
“And one friend,” she said.
“One very charitable friend,” I said.
“Well, Sunny, let’s not go overboard.” She raised an arm and gestured around her office like a game show model. “I mean…”
“Doesn’t it bother you, though?” I said. “Doing all the work, while he gets top billing?”
“Absolutely not.”
I looked at her. “Come on.”
“Look, I’m going to be honest with you,” she said. “The company started off the second quarter in serious trouble.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
“Well, it’s true,” she said. “For weeks I was even worried about making payroll. I talked to Mrs. Welch—she’s our board chairman, and I think she’s sort of amazed we’ve lasted as long as we have. She told me to give it everything I could to save Gonzo. ‘Put your back into it, Sky,’ she said. ‘Don’t let Dylan fail again.’ ”
“She loaded all that responsibility on your shoulders?”
“Yes.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Grateful,” Sky said. “I met with our scientists. They created what I can honestly say is the most appealing energy drink formula out there. I told our marketing team to think outside the box, and they wrangled footage and words from world-class athletes, supermodels, top reality stars…some of the best endorsements we’ve ever had. Our social media people worked overtime to blast Gonzo’s name out there—and it worked. It all worked. In the fourth quarter, we’ve seen larger profit margins than we ever imagined. Our shareholders arethrilled. Do I care if my name’s up in lights? Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
I smiled. “You have a good work ethic.”
“So do you, Sunny,” she said. “I mean, what’s more important to you—working hard to solve a case or giving interviews afterward?”
“No question,” I said. “Interviews.”
She blinked at me.
“I’m kidding,” I said.
“Thank God,” she said.
“I actually hate interviews.”
