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“Why would someone hide their involvement in a hugely successful company, though?” I wondered out loud. “That would be weird. Wouldn’t there besomereference to the guy on the internet? A picture or a bio—”
“Shit, Rowe, who knows why rich people do the wacky things they do, especially if they’re genius types? Maybe Mr. Chase just doesn’t want his picture to be public, so he flies under the radar. Maybe he’s like Batman. Or the Wizard of Oz.”
Huh. “I guess,” I said slowly. But if that was the case, then… “Joey,” I demanded, high-key panicked now.“You stole meSterling Chase’sinvitation?”
“Guess so?” Joey appeared utterly unconcerned. “Dude,chill. If you’ve never seen a picture of Sterling Chase, these bozos haven’t, either,” he said reasonably. “Besides, this shindig is invite-only, and if you’ve got Sterling’s, you know you’re not gonna run into the man himself in there.”
“Oh, shit.” I clutched my stomach. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Joey gave my tie a final tweak. “You’re not. Just lay low, find Justin Hardy, make your pitch, get your meeting, and leave before anyone realizes who you really are so neither of us gets in trouble.” He grabbed my chin firmly. “No freaking out.”
I whimpered slightly, and Joey shook his head. “You’resofreaking out.”
I spread my hands helplessly. “It’s just… It’s hard enough for me to walk in there and pretend to belong among a bunch of rich people. It’s another thing if I have to impersonate an actual billionaire. What if someone asks me a question? I’m the worst liar ever, Joey. You know this. Remember your mom’s fiftieth birthday? She asked me point-blank if there was going to be a surprise party, and of course I saidno… then I got so stressed about lying I broke out in hives and ended up in the ER.”
“Shit, yeah.” Joey winced. “Never knew a person’s entire face could swell like that.”
“And the summer we all vacationed on the lake, remember how you told me to pretend I couldn’t swim so the cute lifeguard would save me… but I got so flustered Iactuallyforgot how to swim?”
Joey scratched the back of his neck. “Now that you mention it, that ended in the ER, too, didn’t it?”
“Yes! In fact, the Venn diagram of Rowe Prince’s Lies and Rowe Prince’s Injuries is practically a circle. It ends in misery every time.”
“Okay, so don’t think of it as lying,” Joey said firmly. He smoothed down my curly hair, which was probably getting unruly, thanks to the humidity. “Think of it as… upcycling. Like what you did with that old-as-fuck dresser you got your mom at Goodwill. Underneath, you’re stillRowewith, like, good bones and shit. But for tonight, you’re sanded and painted and with better hardware.” He tweaked my tie. “Or go for the fairy-tale thing—you’re like Cinderella getting all dressed up for the ball, and I’m your fairy godmother. For tonight, you’re not Rowe Prince. You’re Sterling Chase, a quirky rich guy. And betcha you’ll be more charming than the real Sterling ever could be.”
A warm breeze blew trash-scented air across the alley, and it seemed like a heck of a stretch to apply interior design conceptsorfairy tales to this scenario.
“Rowe,” Joey said firmly, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned from working parties and events all these years, it’s that when you’re hanging with rich folks, you’ve gottaownit. Walk with brass balls. Believe that you belong, and you will. Don’t act like you’re here begging for a chance—act like you’re offering them an opportunity. And definitely don’t do that babbling thing you do when you’re nervous.”
I scowled. I did not babble.
“Most important, rememberwhyyou’re here.” His eyes bored into mine. “You’ve been pouring your blood, sweat, and tears into Project Daisy Chain. You’ve sacrificed your money and time, the career you could have had… your freakin’ dignity.” He twirled the sombrero in the air. “And you didn’t do all that shit so you could freak out when your goal was in reach.” He shook my shoulders lightly. “You said emailing people to ask for a meeting wasn’t working. You said you needed to make a personal connection first. Right?”
“Well, yeah—”
“Okay. So you’re gonna take that rabbit bow tie and that magician tux, you’re gonna go in there, and you’re gonna make shit happen. Hear me?”
“Yes.” I straightened my shoulders. “Iwill.”
“Fuck yeah, you will.” Joey grinned suddenly and clapped a hand to my chest, right over the breast pocket of my tuxedo. “And whatever you do, don’t pull this pocket square, okay? It’s a pain in the ass to get it folded back up again.” He shot me a wink, then jammed the sombrero on his head. “Check in later, cuz. I got burritos to deliver.”
He wandered off down the alley, humming the Burrito Bandito song under his breath, and I shook my head. As much as Joey bitched and moaned about taking my shift, I knew I could trust him to do a good job at it. We’d grown up several states apart from each other—me in Indiana and him in New York—but our parents had instilled in us a strong work ethic and an even stronger sense of Prince family loyalty. Neither of us would let the other one down, especially if it involved our jobs.
And for all his goofiness, Joey was right. This was it. The chance I’d been waiting for. All the sleepless nights, all the dates I’d missed out on, all the years of research, all the soul-crushing form-letter rejections had led me here. Tonight, I was going to meet the head of Hardy Development in person, explain my idea—and the reason behind it—in a way Justin Hardy couldn’t refuse, and convince him to help me make my dream a reality.
My hands were a little clammy, and I couldn’t help but notice the tux I wore smelled like cotton candy and corn chips, but I was not going to let that stop me. I checked my breast pocket again for the business cards I’d shoved in there. Sure they were old-fashioned, but I couldn’t think of another way to force my contact info on any good funding leads I might get tonight.
Walk confidently. Brass balls. You’re Sterling Chase, Quirky Billionaire.
You belong.
I snuck around the pretentious red-carpet area, where photographers were snapping pictures of beautiful people, and made my way through the security area to the check-in table.
“Ticket?” the woman behind the table asked politely. Thankfully, the area around the reception table was so busy she barely noticed how crumpled my ticket was. She quickly exchanged it for a name tag that said Sterling Chase… exactly as Joey had predicted.
Damn it.
For the first time, it occurred to me that appearing with Sterling’s name on my name tag might not be the best way to talk to Justin Hardy, his business rival.
