Page 1 of What We Got Wrong

Chapter 1

Quinn

Now

As she walked into the luxury hotel and conference center, Quinn Miles was certain she was going to hyperventilate. The fact that she was there with her best friend and business partner, Mel, may have helped, except she’d not been 100% honest with her friend about the root of this potential panic attack, and that was simply adding to her stress.

“You okay, dude?” Mel asked, eyebrows raised in Quinn’s direction.

“All good, probably just need something to drink,” Quinn replied, not meeting her eye.

“Well, let’s go get checked in and then we can get you some of whatever fancy-pants water they have in this joint.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Quinn said back to her friend as she watched her approach the lovely woman at the lobby counter.

“We’re checking in. Here for the conference,” Mel said, grinning at the woman—Alicia, according to the pin on her chest—with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Mel Hayes and Quinn Miles. Separate rooms.”

She said the last bit with a wink, and though the woman maintained her complete professionalism, Quinn noticed that her ears turned pink. “Happy to help.”

Quinn was comfortable with her own level of attractiveness. She was taller than average, at around 5’9”, and, at thirty-one years old, her body was holding up quite well. Maybe not quite the peak that she had when she was a college athlete, sure, but still toned. A few years back, she’d finally bitten the bullet and chopped off her long hair, leaning into her butch appearance. Now, her light brown hair was cropped tight at the back and, as she loved to describe it, “swoopy” on top. She made sure she visited her barber every four to five weeks to keep it clean, and it helped her feel handsome.

Then, there was Mel, usually standing right next to her. Her friend, just about a year her senior, looked like a literal rock star, all tattoos and swagger, black hair in an undercut currently masquerading as a blunt bob, styled to cover the shaved section beneath, an olive undertone to her skin that provided her an effortless tan, year-round. Quinn could understand why women were drawn to her, and it was usually fun to sit on the sidelines and watch her flirt.

That said…

When they finished checking in, Mel handed Quinn a glass bottle of sparkling water, apparently acquired from the woman behind the counter, and they stepped away to get their bearings. Once Quinn had the chance to sip her drink, she said, “You can’t hit on women when they’re at work, Mel. Not when you’re representing the company.”

“I know, I know,” Mel said, genuinely contrite for all of ten seconds before showing Quinn the phone number scrawled at the bottom of her receipt.

Quinn rolled her eyes before checking the paperwork. “It looks like we’re both on the fifteenth floor. What time is the thing tonight?”

“6:00 PM, the Speakers and Sponsors event,” Mel answered, without needing to check the agenda on her phone. She had her wild moments, but she was excellent when it came to logistics for work. “We should probably be there around 5:45 PM to check in for the actual conference. So, we have about…two hours.”

Quinn followed Mel toward the elevators. She wasn’t sure any amount of time would be enough to make her ready for this, but they’d chosen to attend, and Quinn genuinely thought that it was good they were here. It was her idea, after all.

When Quinn and Mel met in grad school, they clicked instantly. Their strange blend of team sports and youthful energy, from Quinn, and angsty artsy hipster, from Mel, though she would hate that description, shouldn’t have worked, but somehow, it did, and the queer connection smoothed their pathway to friendship. When they worked together on a project for their Entrepreneurship class their final semester, pitching a people management and training consulting company that drew from their varied backgrounds, the feedback from their professor led them to believe that they may just have an idea that was worth something. From there, their company, the Prism Group, was born.

The business had its ups and downs, but thanks to some luck—gaining attention after a video clip from a knock-off TED event that they’d spoken at went viral—they were doing pretty well, all things considered

When Mel had first suggested they do that event, Quinn wasn’t interested, but her friend made a solid case. They could display their speaking skills, do something mildly motivational, and, considering many of the attendees for those types of events are business leaders, maybe directly drum up some business. Their presentation recreated a conversation they’d had early on, before they’d really even gotten started, with Mel pontificating to Quinn that “perfect is the enemy of good,” and that “it doesn’t matter if we do it badly, we just have to start,” effectively convincing Quinn to go all in on Prism.

When they shared the clip, they didn’t expect the video to be shared tens of thousands of times. They certainly didn’t think it would cross over to different social media platforms from LinkedIn, where they’d started building their brand. But it had worked for them in ways they couldn’t have anticipated.

And here they were, at the annual management conference for J&P Industries, one of the largest logistics companies in the world, to facilitate a workshop about goal setting and performance management. In a lot of ways, this was a business dream come true.

Of course, all that Quinn wasn’t saying weighed on her.

“This is you,” Mel said, stopping at Room 1515. “Do you need anything? You still don’t look great.”

“I think I’m just nervous,” Quinn answered, which was a hell of an understatement. “I’m going to work out before we need to meet up, try to get out some of this energy?”

“Sounds good,” Mel replied. “I’m going to nap and then clean up. Come pick me up in my room at 5:40? I’m in 1520.”

“Sounds great,” Quinn agreed. “And buddy…this is about to get real.”

Mel’s usual smirk melted into a genuine grin. “We’re going to crush it.”

As her friend walked down the hall, Quinn held her keycard to the reader on her door, opening it to walk into the luxury room she’d call home for the next five days.