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In fact, if he knew the truth, he wouldn’t just fire me.
He’ddestroyme.
He’s done it before. Angus Tate’s vindictiveness is well-known—especially when he feels betrayed.
“You bastard,” I whisper.
Now Sullivan smiles. “I told you, Theo—all I want is for us to be friends. Old friends, the kind you introduce to your boss.”
I try to run the calculations in my head—all the ways he could screw me versus all the ways this could blow up in my face.
But really, there’s only one thing to calculate: the astronomical rent on my shitty little apartment and how fucked I’ll be if I get fired.
“Fine.” I hiss. “But that’s it, one introduction.”
He gestures for me to lead the way.
2
THEO
Sullivan’s timing is impeccable—we rejoin the party right as Angus arrives.
Angus descends in his little glass helicopter, which is completely transparent all the way around, so that the three times I’ve ridden in it, I’ve had to hyperventilate into my hands while making sure not to look inanydirection.
Even though he lands on the pad at the other end of the roof, the wind from the blades still manages to send everyone’s napkins soaring and ruin a lot of carefully coiffed hair. Not Sullivan’s, of course—he just runs a hand through it, and it sweeps back into place.
Mine feels like it has no intention of coming back down to earth. The look on Sullivan’s face confirms it—I’m a citizen of Whoville.
“Hold still,” he says, smoothing it down.
No, no, no! I am not going to enjoy Sullivan touching my hair and looking into my eyes while he does it. Not while he’s in the middle of blackmailing me!
“Come on,” I growl. “Let’s get this over with.”
Sullivan grabs my wrist and pulls me back. “Not yet.”
“What are you talking about? You just said?—“
“I said…,” he pulls me close so his lips brush the rim of my ear, “…not yet.”
Angus climbs out of the helicopter. He’s wearing a burgundy snakeskin suit and one of those cowboy hats with gator teeth tucked in the band. Subtle, my boss is not. He is also not a patron of PETA.
He’s looking fit and tanned from a month at our facility in Cape Canaveral in Florida. That’s probably also where he got the gator hat.
He’s so full of energy that he immediately bounds up onto the stage and takes his place at the podium, without waiting for all the pomp and circumstance he made us spend three days planning.
“Hello, my friends!” he bellows into the mic.
The crowd cheers back, like they’re unbelievably grateful that he just turned the rooftop into a non-consensual blow-dry bar.
“Thank you all for being here! I just got back from our digs down in Florida, and I’m pleased to announce that we have never been closer to commercial space travel! In less than two years, my friends, you could be sipping martinis on the moon!”
Angus is well known for his wild promises and outrageously ambitious plans. Half the things he says never come to pass, but even so, the other half is pretty impressive.
I don’t think Sullivan is naive enough to think he’ll be sipping a moon martini anytime soon, but he looks pleased by this pronouncement all the same. He’s trying to hide it, but I see the smile playing at the edge of his lips.
“In fact,” Angus says, “things are going so well that we’re going to open a second campus right here in LA!”
