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“We’re in the final stages. Testing, finding and fixing bugs, making sure the UI is functional. Then it’s on to user testing.”
Shane nods like he understands, but I know it most likely went in one ear and out the other. I can tell by the glaze over his eyeballs. At best he knows the basics of the app, and that’s probably because I tend to drone on, since it’s taken up the top tier of my brain.
“What does user testing look like?” he asks, after taking a sip of his drink.
“We have companies we hire that send it to users—real people—to test and make sure it’s functional and easy to use, and they send us feedback.”
“When do you think you’ll be ready for that?”
“We have to be ready in a month,” I tell him and feel that hard pit drop into the base of my stomach when I think of the timeline and how it will take a miracle for us to get this done and ready for New York. And it has to be done by then. The future of this company and my reputation are on the line. There’s beta testing, functionality testing … as well as usability, performance, compatibility and security … so much freaking testing.
“Your face is green,” Shane says.
“I just realized how much has to be done before then.”
“Any way to speed it up?”
“I don’t think so.” I look down at my half-empty beer on the bar and reach up to run a finger down the condensation gathering on the outside of the glass. “We’re set to do some beta testing of our own, before we go to user testing. It would help if we could speed that part up.”
“Beta testing?”
I nod, appreciating his participation in this conversation, since this isn’t his favorite topic. “Do you want to test it at your wedding in Hawaii?” I ask him, my tone teasing.
He tilts his head to the side, contemplating. “Why don’tyoutest it in Hawaii?”
I chuckle. “I wish.”
“I’m serious,” he says, the look on his face indicating that he really is. “What if you went out a couple of days before and put the app to the test? Hear me out,” he says when he sees me shaking my head. “I may not know how all this works, but wouldn’t Oahu—a tourist trap—be a great place to do the testing?”
I shake my head. “I swear if I could make it work, you know I’d be at your wedding.”
“That’s not why I’m saying this,” Shane says. “I want you to be there, of course, but wouldn’t this be a great way to do it? I’m already paying for everyone to come to the wedding, so it would save you money, too. It’s a win-win. Bottom line and all that.”
“What do you know about bottom lines?” Shane was born into money and took over the family real estate development company when his dad retired. He’s never had to worry about money his entire life.
He shrugs. “It’s a term I’ve heard thrown around before.”
“I appreciate the idea, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it.”
“All right,” I tell him. “I’ll think about it.”
Mila
“DOES THIS FACE LOOK SAD enough to you, Fake Dave?” I say to the picture of me and my beautiful, blue-eyed, stock-photo, pretend boyfriend. I’ve been trying out regretful looks as I practice telling Nadia I can’t come to her wedding.
I texted her as soon as I sat down at my desk, and she said she’d be here in five. I’ve been using the time to work on my sad looks and my speech. I’ve got to really sell this because I should actually be sad. But I’m not. Not at all.
My plan is to first gently tell her why I can’t go and then present her with the perfect idea—to have both her sisters be maids of honor. I’d recommended giving one of them my spot before, but she didn’t want to have to choose between them and cause any hard feelings. I don’t think she’s realized there’s an option B here. Give them both the title. I’m a genius, really.
“Mila Banks, you look gorgeous today,” Nadia says as she walks into my office, a big, beautiful smile on her face, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. She hands me one.
“Why thank you, Nadia Singh,” I say, giving her a little shimmy of my shoulders in the knit tweed, knee-length dress with the square neck, puff sleeves and ruffled bottom. “You’re looking lovely yourself.” I give an approving nod at her white jumpsuit with the draped bodice and a belt tied at the waist.
“Thank you,” she says, doing a modeling pose with her hip jutted out to the right, her lips doing a little puckering thing, before sitting down in a chair on the opposite side of my desk.
It should be noted that we don’t have a dress code at AppInnovate. We can wear pretty much whatever we want. One particular developer named Mike wears pajama bottoms most days and no one cares. But Nadia and I like to dress up, mostly for each other. I have absolutely no idea how it started, but it’s become a thing we do on the regular. Even when we dress down, it’s still usually with some sort of style or added flair, like a cute belt or fancy earrings.
