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Once back at the hotel, Heidi remained tight-lipped about her evening the night before, but she chattered happily at me as she did my hair and makeup, delivering on her promise to make me look “killer” for the duration of the trip. It was amazing how having my outfit, hair, and makeup on point could boost my confidence.
When it was finally time for the big event, Heidi and I met Patrick, Shane, and Jason at the entrance of the Montego Ballroom. There were people milling about everywhere, so I grabbed on to my friends so as not to lose them. We snagged a table off to the side, and I looked around for my team in the crowd. Then I saw Mike at the back of the room with (seriously?) my dad and Margaret.
“I’ll be right back,” I told my group, then took off to speak with them.
“Dad! Margaret! What’re you doing here?” I asked.
They looked so happy that I decided then and there, everything that had led to this moment for them was worth it.
“Mike invited us to your swanky event,” Dad said. “We thought it would be fun!”
“You’re on your honeymoon,” I insisted. “There’s no way you want to attend a navel-gazing tech event instead of exploring the city.”
“And each other,” Mike said and high-fived my dad.
“Never do that again.” I groaned.
“Russell, behave,” Margaret said to him. “You’re embarrassing your daughter. We’re not going to stay long, Indiana. We’re really just stopping by. Russell and Mike have been having a great time talking about life and sports and Violet’s pregnancy. We might hit the slot machines later or find a garden to look at the stars. Don’t worry about us.”
“I’m so, so happy for you,” I said and hugged them. Little Ana would have been over the moon to know that, sometime in the future, Dad would find love again. He’d put it all on hold for me and because he’d loved my mom so much. But hearts don’t get full; they grow. Dad could love my mom, Margaret, and me with everything he had. It wasn’t either/or.
The evening was full of speeches perfect for tuning out. The only time I geeked out was when other teams presented some of the things they’d been working on, and turns out there were some cool ideas floating around Apollo. So far I’d been lucky to avoid seeing Melvin at all. I wondered where he’d been hiding himself, then realized I didn’t care.
Finally, it was time for the keynote address. Melvin swaggered to the stage, his too-small suit bunching at the elbows and knees. I settled into a chair at the edge of the room, grabbing a flute of champagne from a waiter who went by. I took a big sip and idly wondered if someone in Melvin’s circle was shrinking his clothes. What might he have done to make someone want to do that? After this, I could send over my resignation letterand call it a day. I fought the childish urge to repeat everything he said in a condescending voice as he took the microphone.
“Thank you all for being here! It is my distinct honor to demonstrate for you the new interface that has been created through the Artemis partnership with S.J. Sporting, with a special nod to our friends at the Colorado Avalanche!”
Cheering from the audience. Looked like a lot of cold stick fighting fans worked at Apollo IT. I took another sip from my champagne. Carbonation really did improve everything. I idly wondered if carbonated coffee would be any good. If it were, Starbucks would probably already be selling it.
“This web-app interface allows for the ultimate consumer experience. It makes shopping as easy as taking a selfie. I remember when the idea came to me…”
“Blah, blah, blah,” I said snarkily under my breath and went back to thinking about what other things I could carbonize. Was that a word? Could you put it in milkshakes? I grabbed one of those short pencils with the hotel logo on it from the center of the table and a comment card from the stack next to it. I started making a list of all the things I could carbonate. Maybe this was my true calling. Or maybe I shouldn’t have started drinking a second glass.
Melvin continued his presentation, jabbing his laser pointer this way and that, to talk about his ingeniousness and how his leadership had inspired his team. Good thing there weren’t any cats in attendance. For Melvin, anyway. I would have been stoked if there were cats in attendance. The PowerPoint was projected onto the wall behind him, larger-than-life, full of charts and graphs. He went on and on about what a great workingrelationship he had with SJ, and I thought I might pull a muscle from rolling my eyes so hard.
I was deep in thought when a collective gasp pulled my attention back to the stage. The slide changed, and there I was. The actual me, not Harrison Ford. A mass of auburn curls, gray eyes, and freckles for days. I sat up straight, sputtering a little from swallowing the champagne wrong.
Melvin recognized the commotion at the same time I did and turned around to see the screen behind him. He froze. “Who is that?” he asked. “Why is she on my PowerPoint?”
“That’s the real creator of the S.J. Sporting interface, Melvin,” Evan said, coming around from the side of the stage.
“Evan.” Melvin narrowed his eyes. “What’re you trying to pull here?”
Evan shrugged and held his hands wide. “Just giving credit where credit is due.”
“Is this because of Indiana?” Melvin snarled. He looked out at the crowd. “Indiana, get your ass out here once and for all.”
Yes, sir.I started to stand but got the heel of my shoe hooked around the bottom of the chair. I stumbled a bit, and before I could right myself, I heard a loud voice on my right. “I am Indiana.”
I squinted over to find Mike, bashful, standing with his hands folded behind his back, still next to my dad, his red beard straightened and shiny for the occasion.
“I am Indiana,” a smaller, higher voice said, one I immediately recognized to be Allen. He was also standing with his hands behind his back, looking dapper in his little suit.
“I’m Indy,” Bruce boomed from the other side of the room. He didn’t look like he’d found time to fit in a nap since the morning. A laugh escapedmy throat. They all looked so serious, and somehow silly, and oh, so sweet. But this was totally unnecessary—nobody needed to Spartacus themselves on my account. Suddenly, I remembered Evan saying at our first Diana meeting that they had Melvin under control. Was this what he had meant?
Flustered, Melvin stomped his foot on the ground and gritted his teeth. “Indiana is now officially fired. Stop interrupting my presentation, or I’ll have you all fired as well.” He turned back to the PowerPoint and hit the button to go to the next slide.
Damn it, I didn’t even get the opportunity to quit. But when the next slide came up, the giggles hit. It was a picture of Evan, Bruce, Mike, Allen, and me, with Elvis in the middle. He had his sequined bat wings spread wide, and Bruce was lifting me so I fit in the frame with the rest of them. We were all laughing in the image. All it was missing was anOperation Diana 4 Evain the bottom corner.
