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He pumped his fists in the air. “Yeah, you did!”
I smiled at his enthusiasm despite myself. “Thanks. I think Melvin might have sent Mini Melvin to scare me, but who knows?”
Joseph turned to Patrick. “Melvin has a Mini-Me?”
“Yeah, his name is Evan,” Patrick explained and turned to me. “So why does he want to see you?”
I shrugged. “Evan writes emails like he grew up watching too many soap operas, so I’m not a hundred percent sure, but he seems to think I have a dark side, and he came off as vaguely threatening to me. So thank you for coming. I owe you both.”
Joseph seemed far less worried about being seen speaking to me than Patrick. “We got you, Ana. I will gladly intimidate the hell out of anyone who messes with you.”
I softened. “Thank you. I don’t think either of you will need to get involved, but I’m pretty sure you’d scare Evan far more than I would.” I looked down at myself and wondered briefly what it would be like to be built like Joseph. To be able to walk at night without fear. To intimidate others just by existing. To reach the top shelf. But there was always a flip side. Patrick had told me people often picked fights with Joseph when they went out together because he was so big. Drunk guys saw him asa challenge. He also always tried to cross to the other side of the street when he saw a woman walking alone because she might feel threatened by him, even though Joseph was extremely gentle, raised orchids in his spare time, and would never intentionally hurt anyone. But he had to live with the consequences of people thinking he would just because of how he looked.
The door to the shop opened, and a rush of crisp air came in. There he was. The latest thorn in my side. Evan’s eyes scanned the room before they lit on me, and his lip curled in a sneer. So he had figured it out. Damn it. He made his way over and lowered himself into the booth before sprawling spread-eagle across his side. Black denim jacket, black T-shirt, and black jeans, with all black Converse shoes.The nineties called, I thought snarkily but didn’t say. The nineties were still the height of fashion.
“Hello,In-di-ana,” he said, drawing out the word in a kind of gross way. I immediately wanted to take my name out of his mouth for good. “You’re the girl who took my coffee order before that fire.”
“I didn’t take your coffee order. You just kind of babbled it at me.”
“And you never delivered.”
“Because one, I’m not your coffee bitch, and two, I was putting out the actualfire.” I heard Patrick choke and sputter a little, followed by several loud thumps, presumably Joseph beating on his back. “Can I help you, Evan?” I sighed.
“So you’re not even going to deny it?” he asked.
“Deny what?”
“That you’re the famous Indiana Aaron? Don’t bother because I already know the truth.”
I felt Patrick shift again behind me but ignored him. “Famous? Not somuch. But I have a birth certificate and a driver’s license, so what exactly is this great secret of mine that you’ve discovered?”
Evan scoffed. “You let everyone think you were an athlete. A man’s man. A hero. And look at you.” He gestured at me and laughed derisively.
I straightened my spine. I wasn’t going to let him diminish me. “No, I’m not any of those things. And neither are you. But I’m the best coder at Apollo, and you know it.”
His eyes narrowed at me, but then he sat up straight and spread his hands on the table. “There are people who would like to know that you’re not who you say you are.”
“I’m exactly who I say I am. I never did anything to hide who I was.” And I hadn’t. My HR records were the same; my online presence, though almost nonexistent, hadn’t changed. I had literally done nothing but lean into an idea that had never been mine. “My credentials—” I began, but Evan held up a hand.
“Melvin Hammer, for instance.”
I nodded. “I assume that’s why you’re here. He sent you to find out information about me.”
“Yes, he did. He flew me out to Denver to see what dirt I could dig up on you. And I found a lot of dirt.”
I put my fingers on my temples and rubbed. “You didn’t need to fly out here to find out I was female, which is notdirt, by the way. It’s a misconception thathemade. Just check the company records. Or use Google. You’re being so dramatic. I bet Melvin was every bit as dramatic when you told him.”
“I haven’t told him.”
That stopped me. “Why not?”
“Because I have a proposition for you.”
Patrick’s foot caught mine under the table, and I yelped, then cleared my throat. “You have a what now?”
“I won’t tell Melvin what I found out. On one condition.”
“Whatever it is, the answer is probably no.”
