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Olin Breivik was overstimulated. Hungry. His breakfast spot of choice was out of the brioche bread he liked, so he’d settled for coffee and an apple tart instead of his usual sandwich, and now his head was pounding. A heat started to build at the back of his eyes. He knew he had to refocus all of his attention to the front of the room or he’d follow his gut instinct through the small crowd gathered in Emily Weaver’s Malibu home, right to the plant-based spread in the other room. He needed hearty food to get him through the rest of the day and he’d get it. He just wouldn’t be all that great at small talk until then.
He blinked and studied the suit José Garza was wearing. The front runner for the next governor of California knew how to command a room. He already had Olin’s support. They’d spoken privately several times when Garza was in the House about social media platforms and their role in national security. Typically, Olin would have just sent a sizable donation and stayed far away from these types of gatherings, but that was before he’d met Xeni Everly-Wilkins.
Two years ago, the wife of his friend’s friend—well, technically the wife of his friend’s bandmate—had come into an estate. Like most, her friends and her family were regular-income people who didn’t need to know about trusts and investments and how to leverage insurance, but Xeni had hopped up a few dozen tax brackets and she wanted some advice from someone who’d made a similar leap. Someone she could trust. Enter Olin.
They’d met for lunch and ended up talking about more than just money. Xeni told him her whole story. How her aunt had really been her birth mother, a famous R&B singer who owned all her masters and some pretty nice pieces of property. It was all Xeni’s now and, while she knew she would take care of her family and a few friends, she wanted to make sure she was actually giving back too. Olin had only been retired for about eighteen months at that point and had already committed himself to staying out of the public eye. Getting Depot off the ground and bringing it all the way to IPO had taken a lot out of him. He wanted to lay low and spend time with his dad and his brothers. But after Xeni asked what exactly he’d planned to do for the next fifty-some-odd years, Olin realized he should probably do more than just send cash to the cause.
He and Xeni made a pact that day: if she showed up, he’d show up. Some things they attended separately, what with him being a white guy and her being a Black woman—Olin didn’t need to be front and center at a Black Girls Code luncheon—but they always linked up after to debrief. Which local women’s organization could use more funds and more hands on deck? Which progressive spaces were really just covers for Gen X and Millenial good ole boys in disguise? They hadn’t brought about instant world peace, but Olin liked to think he’d done some good. And, while being a tech millionaire wasn’t too bad, he finally felt useful.
Still, he shouldn’t have skipped a real breakfast. The autism. Sometimes it really got in the way. They’d asked him if he wanted a different kind of bread, but the way they prepared the sandwich, the bacon they used, the cheese, the way they fried the egg— it needed a certain brioche. It didn’t work without it. Olin thought about lunch options that would reset his system while trying to pay attention to the rest of Garza’s remarks.
He glanced to his left and caught sight of Xeni across the room. She’d left for the restroom right before the speech started and they weren’t twelve years old, needing to sit next to each other during a school assembly. Olin still had to stop himself from laughing though, when she stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth. He looked toward the front of the room as Garza launched into his hopes for California public schools. A second later, Olin’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and quickly checked that it wasn’t his dad. It was Xeni.
You need a pick-me-up?
The side of his lip twitched as he looked at the gif of Scarface doing enough coke to kill an elephant. Olin texted back.
Garza’s talking about the future of our children and you’re trying to sell me cocaine?
Hell no. I don’t do white drugs, but someone in here does.
Holding back a genuine snort, Olin glanced over at Xeni. She made meaningful eye contact and nodded to her seven o’clock. Olin turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Will Hatcher, standing at attention, his eyes and nostrils open a little too wide. Will was a good dude. Old money, pissing his ancestors off with every donation to the Democratic party, but the man did enjoy his blow.
I never want to be that awake.
??
Olin chanced a glance to his right, worried he’d been caught. Cindy Dawes winked at him and he knew he’d made a mistake. His attention was all Garza’s now.
“We have a long road ahead of us,” José said after a long speech and a short Q&A. “One that goes beyond everyone in this room. But with your support, I pledge to put everything the next generation needs to thrive into place. Thank you.”
A solid round of applause filled the room as Emily stepped back up to the fireplace to join Jose. “I don’t know about y’all, but I am moved. I can’t thank Representative Garza enough for joining us today,” she said. “There are still plenty of refreshments to go around and José will be here a while longer to answer any of your questions. So please eat, drink, and be inquisitive.”
That got just the right amount of polite laughter and signaled to Olin it was time to get out of there. He knew saying something to Garza was the right thing to do, but he needed food and he really didn’t want to talk to Cindy. He tried to make a beeline for Xeni. They’d driven together and he had a feeling she’d be on board with his plans for lunch. Carefully, he maneuvered his six foot four frame across the room. Olin didn’t make it far before he felt a hand on his elbow.
“Olin,” a voice said cheerfully behind him. He turned around to see Hannah Crowder.
“Hannah. Hey.”
“I gotta ask you something.” Olin followed her line of sight as she nodded toward a recently abandoned corner of the room. Olin stopped himself from rolling his eyes and let the woman lead the way. He regretted that decision immediately. “I know this might be rude as all get out, but I was wondering and Emily told me to stop asking her because she didn’t know and we’re all cool and friends here.”
“What did you want to ask me?” Olin said.
“Just to get some clarification, so I don’t, you know, get things wrong.” Hannah lowered her voice. “Do you like women?”
Olin had been asked if he was gay at least seven dozen times in his life. Apparently if you didn’t have a woman’s crotch attached to your face at all times, it made people ask questions. He answered Hannah’s rude and intrusive question so this conversation could end. He wanted to find Xeni and eat lunch.
“I’m straight, Hannah. Just single.”
“Oh, but you turned down Cindy.”
“Because I don’t want to date Cindy.” His flat tone made Hannah raise an eyebrow. This is why he didn’t come to these things alone. He was good at numbers. He was good at analyzing UX and UI interactions, but he really didn’t like talking to people. Xeni was good with the social stuff. Not him.
“Oh. Well, I have this friend…” Olin listened as Hannah went on in detail about a woman she wanted him to consider. A small part of Olin just wanted the conversation to end so he could politely decline, but then Hannah said something that made Olin’s brain itch. “She’s really wifey material. Great cook. Just looking to settle down. I think she’d be perfect for a guy like you.”
Hannah knew maybe three factual things about Olin and two of them were his physical appearance and his first name. She assumed how much money he had in the bank and what kind of woman he wanted to share it with. What Olin wanted was lunch. Now.
