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Chapter One
Jamie
“Don’tyouthinkyou’vebeen spending a little too much time on that thing?”
I looked up and rolled my eyes.
My name is Jamie Reed. I’m twenty-five years old and hopelessly, incurably, in love.
With my phone.
It started on my fourteenth birthday. After months of pleading, promises, and doing my chores to an impeccable standard, my mom and dad treated me to a small box. I remember the thrill of excitement as I unwrapped the packaging. I remember the surge of possibilities as I held the tiny, dark phone in my hand.
It wasn’t anything special. Just a small brick phone (this was in the days when cell phones weren’t bigger than your hand). But to me, it meant freedom.
After a few months, I was hopelessly addicted. My mom had to eventually set ground rules.No phones at the table. No phones at school. I’d breeze through my day, daydreaming through math classes and gym sessions. And when I got home, I’d run up to my bedroom, where I knew the little brick was waiting for me.
Texting. Calling. Social media—now that’s where it all started to go wrong. Because I was never the cutest or the most popular girl at school. But I was great at social media. I remember the first time I uploaded a picture of my breakfast to Instagram (47 likes). I remember my first selfie (100 likes). I was meticulous. Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, the works.
When I graduated from BUSumma cum laude, I knew right away what I was going to do with my life. I applied for an internship withConnectSolutions, Boston’s biggest social media strategy company. I worked my way to the top of my department until I was handling clients from some of the biggest businesses all over the world.
Only, that was all over now. Because I’d finally come up against a problem that I couldn’t solve with my cell.
I was out of a job.
“Dad,” I moaned. “Come on. I am a social media strategist, after all. If I’m not on my phone, I’m not working.”
“I know, sweetie,” my dad sighed. “But I just want you to focus, that’s all.”
“I am focusing,” I said.
“You sure?” my dad replied, raising an eyebrow as he looked around my apartment. I’d mostly been indoors for the last week, brooding and commiserating with my friends. And as I followed his gaze, to the clothes tossed casually over the sofa, and the empty containers of Chinese food stuck to my coffee table, I realized he was right.
I had to get focused soon. Otherwise, my perfect life on social media would be all I had left.
“Eric’s in town on Friday,” my dad said, settling down on my couch. “I want you to meet with him. He’s agreed to interview you. I think it could be great.”
Eric Slade was my dad’s best friend. They’d started out together in business after both of them left the Navy. My dad was a captain—pretty cool, I thought. But Eric? Well, Eric Slade was something else entirely.
I’d been reading the news about him for a while now. He’d just made his first billion by investing in rare metals and tech development. He was a genius. He was also a war hero. He’d been in the Navy SEALs. That was how he and my dad first met. And they’d been best friends ever since.
“Are you sure?” I said, “Most of your buddies don’t get what it is I do.”
“I’m sure Eric does,” my father said, smiling as he thumbed through one of the glossy magazines I’d left strewn over the coffee table. “He’s pretty smart, you know.”
“I bet,” I said. Ever since I was a teenager, I’d heard about Eric as a great guy. How he’d started his own business at thirty. How he traveled all over the world, revolutionizing the world of rare metals. He was a pioneer, championing everything from safer mining practices to creating high-tech computer systems and processors. But did I want to work for one of the most elusive and powerful tech giants in Boston? Was I ready for that?
It wasn’t like I had much choice at this point.
“Fine,” I said. “Just tell me where to meet him.”
“I will,” my dad said. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t look at your phone during the interview.”
SladeMetals&Developmenthad offices across from Back Bay, where I’d been living for the past three years while working at my old job.The size of the building amazed me when I arrived in an Uber. It was a crisp, cold afternoon in February. But it was warm and inviting when I got out of the Uber and went into the enormous, glass-paneled building in front of me. My eyes scanned the elegant marble lobby, the tropical plants, and the dark wooden furnishings.
