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“I don’t think I’m doing anything,” I say.
“No? What was with that comment while Justin was here?”
“What comment?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
She lets out a sigh. “Look, I realize that you and I have a certain … past. But I’m determined not to let that influence our working relationship. Whatever happened between us was a long time ago. Now you own the company I work for. You’re my boss. I think we can both be adults about the situation and move past whatever history we have.”
“Of course we can,” I say. “Quite honestly, I’m looking forward to working closely with you.”
She raises her eyebrow again.
“I’m being serious,” I say. “I keep hearing your name come up from the rest of the management team. I have a feeling Brad was relying on you pretty heavily to keep things from completely crashing and burning around here.”
Her face softens a little, and I see a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she says. “The last year has been … trying. Brad seemed to think he could run his company by making sweeping changes and spending too much money, and then running off on vacation for a month, leaving the rest of us to deal with his bullshit.”
“That’s definitely my impression,” I say. “I’ve been meeting with Brad for the last eighteen months, and half the time he was calling me from beaches or ski resorts. It’s interesting, because the guy honestly had no idea how he’d gotten his company into so much trouble. Over the last six months, he seemed to start to get it, but I think he just wanted out.”
“I think he didn’t want to work,” she says. “He had this idea that he’d build up the company enough that it would somehow run itself.”
“Good thing he’s gone,” I say.
Since we started talking about the company, her posture has completely changed. She’s no longer standoffish, no longer leaning away from me with her arms crossed. She’s much more open, and although she’s talking about her frustrations, her tone of voice is relaxed.
I’m so fucking turned on by this competent businesswoman thing she has going on.
“I suppose,” she says.
“But you aren’t so sure about me,” I say.
Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but she hesitates.
“You can be honest with me,” I say. “I walked in here a couple of days ago like I own the place. Of course, I do own the place, but that’s beside the point. What are your concerns? Other than the fact that you want me to bend you over your desk right now and fuck you senseless.”
“Goddamnit, Ronan.”
I laugh. I know I went too far with that comment, but I can’t help it. “I’m sorry. Really, serious question. What are your concerns?”
She puts her hand to her mouth and tilts her face, looking at me almost from the corner of her eye. “My concern,” she says, “is that you’re going to fundamentally change the direction of our products—that you wanted this company so you could take what we’re doing and integrate it with your gear and apparel lines. But what we do here is so much more than that. Our products are changing how people take charge of their health. The research team is on the brink of making our devices much more portable, and the tech is state-of-the-art. People will be able to provide incredible amounts of data to their doctors, nutritionists, and trainers. We’re not just counting the number of steps people take or tracking the calories they consume. We’re talking about devices that collect an enormous amount of data about a person’s body, nutrition, and activity level, and put it into a usable form. This is going to help people make better decisions about their health, with real data to back it up. So my concern is that you’re going to turn it into a toy. A gadget for rich kids who want to have the latest cool piece of hardware to show off to their friends.”
“A toy? Why would you think I see it as a toy?”
“Because that’s what you do, Ronan,” she says. “Your company makes fancy toys.”
My first instinct is to be pissed, but I didn’t get where I am today by only listening to people who agree with me. At Edge, it’s always been the people who pushed back that led to our best breakthroughs.
“How is it my products are toys, and yours aren’t?” I ask.
“Edge is all about high-end apparel and gear,” she says. “Technical apparel, sure—and I’m not belittling that. You create quality products, and you have excellent brand recognition. That isn’t easy in that market, and I respect what you’ve done. But we aren’t designing products for wealthy weekend warriors who want to look legit while they go rock climbing. We’re designing products for the average person who wants to take charge of their health and live a better life.”
I lean back in my chair. “You think I’m a snob.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“No, but that’s what you’re thinking,” I say. “Mr. Rich Man only cares about selling toys to the wealthy. You look at me and all you see is a guy dripping with privilege.”
“I didn’t say that, either.”
