Page 28 of Cruel Lies

8

CALI

When the epiphany comes, it comes all at once.

I've been chewing on thehowfor days. There are so many options, and every time I close my eyes, I think of another one. Like, how much could it possibly cost to rent the giant LCD screen in Times Square?TODD BRADSHAW IS A DIRTY CHEATERwould look pretty good in ten-foot-high digital letters, right?

But even though I dream up a thousand and one new ideas, each one perfectly good, they're all wrong in the same way.

They happentoTodd. He's the object. He receives it.

But Todd's whole life is built on being the subject. The guy with the strong handshake and the big swinging dick. The high school football stud, the frat star, the rising young Wall Street hotshot. He's made a life out of strutting into rooms and expecting them to rearrange themselves around him.

So I don't want to simply do somethingtohim.

I want him to walk into a room of his own free will, chest out, ready to be the big hero he thinks he is…

… only to discover that the room was built for the express purpose of destroying him.

And as I slip back into my house late on Saturday night, still buzzing from the martini and the hair-raising conversation with the man at the bar, I realize I know exactly how to make that happen.

But it's gonna require a favor.

The email I send to Emmett Glover is a masterpiece of contrition.

Mr. Glover,

I owe you an apology and an explanation, in that order. I bailed on our Phoenix coffee for what I called a family emergency. It was. It still is. But I've spent the last three weeks turning that emergency into the single best demonstration my company has ever produced, and I'd very much like half an hour of your time to show you what real-world stress testing did to our predictive engine.

I think you'll find it was worth the wait.

Best,

Calista Bradshaw

I hit send before I can second-guess it, and then I go upstairs and make the bed. I tuck the hospital corners in savagely, crisp and sharp as a chef's knife, and set the lemon pillow front and center where it belongs.

This ismybed again.

I'm reclaiming my life.

One throw pillow at a time.

Mr. Glover replies in forty minutes.

Ms. Bradshaw—I generally don't reward flakiness. But you've piqued my attention. I'll actually be landing NYC on Tuesday. My assistant will find time for us to get together.

I could cry tears of joy. But I haven't landed this plane yet. I need one more thing from him, and it's going to be a very tricky tightrope to walk down.

Wonderful!

I do have one ask, and bear with me: It's an unusual one. I'd like to pitch at Whitmore Stearns, in their offices. I know that's a little forward, but I have reason to believe that they'll be interested. One of my product's killer use cases is financial fraud, so where better to prove the value of that than at a bank? I believe Whitmore Stearns has done deals with your firm before, so I'm sure they'd be happy to host us in a room if you were to ask.

I conveniently neglect to mention that my husband is a managing director at Whitmore Stearns or that "their" interest will really be more like "his" interest. I have no reason to believe that Emmett has any idea who Todd is, anyway, so I feel like it's a safe risk to take.

Glover writes back instantly with a single line:You're more interesting than your no-show suggested. I'll make the call. Tuesday, 11 a.m.

Eleven A.M.