36. A Cryptid Cover-up
36
A Cryptid Cover-up
From Barry Wright’s manifesto:
Sasquatch, also known as Bigfoot, is the result of a failed human experiment to create giant warriors.
TESSA
P arking was always a bitch in Rincon Hill, even on a Wednesday night in mid-May. I made a wider circle this time, looking for one of those expensive lots with the faded stripes and the dude who looked just as likely to steal your car as to watch it.
Perhaps if I’d ever lived in San Francisco, I wouldn’t mind it so much. I’d accept the parking struggle as a way of life, but as someone who’d grown up in the suburbs, then the forests, then Berkeley, then wide-open Silicon Valley, I minded. A lot.
“There’s a spot!” Savannah shouted. “On the right! You can parallel park, right? I could never,” she said as I pulled up to the front car and turned on my blinker. “Not in my minivan.”
“You could do it in this.” I hit the button, and the car took over, easing itself into the spot.
“Omigosh.” She gripped the door handle. “How does it do that?”
The car finished its maneuvers and put itself into park. “Technology is pretty amazing,” I said.
Savannah met me on the sidewalk. “It’s why you went into it, right? Even though not many women our age did? Even though your dad’s kind of a Luddite?”
“It seemed like magic to me,” I admitted. “I wanted to learn the secrets so I could harness it.”
“You did. And now you can do anything.” She slipped her hand around my elbow and walked toward Danny’s bar. “Software, biotech…what’s next, space travel?”
I huffed. “That’s a dick-measuring contest if I’ve ever seen one. No, I think I’ll focus my energy here on earth.” Once I was done licking my wounds. Three weeks wasn’t enough time to get over a betrayal like Oliver’s. But I didn’t want to think about him or the half-dozen desperate texts he sent me before I blocked his number. If I’d listened to the voicemails, I’m sure they’d have said the same thing: I love you. I’m sorry. I should have told you. Please call me.
I’d done too much thinking about Discovery Diagnostics lately. And Oliver. Tonight was about Savannah. “Speaking of dicks, tell me what your ex wants now. What problem is the Goddess Gang tackling tonight?”
“Um…” She sped up, tugging me toward the old-fashioned neon sign that still read Barb’s Bar. “You know, divorce stuff.”
I wasn’t surprised when we went inside and Justine’s was the first face I recognized. It was a little unorthodox for a divorce lawyer to hang out socially with a client, but Justine followed her own rules. She sat next to Carly at Lucie’s favorite booth. Lucie stood beside it, bouncing her seven-month-old, Mia, in her arms. On the other side of the booth, her back to us but her petite size and shiny, dark bun unmistakable?—
“What’s Bridget doing here?” The truth started to dawn on me, and I didn’t like it. “We’re not here to talk about your divorce, are we?” Bridget was my friend. We were here to talk about my problems. Ice swept out to my extremities.
“Not exactly.” Savannah’s grip turned to steel as she towed me toward the booth.
I’d been perfectly fine with having a come-to-Jesus conversation when Carly had her head in her ass about Andrew. But this was different. It was business, despite the fact that Oliver and I had been fucking. “I don’t want?—”
“Tessa.” She pulled me to a stop. “This is what friends do. We talk. And you need to talk.”
“No, I don’t.” But I let her tug me toward the booth.
Carly stood and held out her arms. I gave her a small nod, and she folded me into her embrace. “Sorry about this,” she whispered in my ear, “but you need us.”
“Do I? Or is it time to find new friends?”
Lucie snorted. “Like you could find friends as awesome as us. I’m going to hand off Mia to her grandma and get us a pitcher of margaritas. Don’t start without me.” She walked away.
Justine scooted out of the booth and touched my shoulder. “Savannah said you need all your friends right now. I’m glad you called on us.”
“I didn’t,” I grumbled. “But I’m glad you came. You can inject some logic into the conversation.” She’d be on my side.
Bridget clenched my hand. “Et tu, Brute?” I said.
“I feel bad about being the one to introduce you to Maya Perrell. I’m so sorry it all went to shit.” Her blue eyes shone.
“You had no way of knowing it was a setup. But I can’t believe you agreed to be part of this.” I waved at the circle of women.
She tipped her head. “I’m always going to show up when you need me. That’s what friends do. I wish you called for help more often.”
“I didn’t. I don’t need this.”
“Don’t you?” Lucie thumped a heavy tray on the table. It held a pitcher of margaritas, a stack of lowball glasses, a bottle of top-shelf tequila, a bowl of lime wedges, and a saltshaker.
I leaned a hip against the booth’s worn upholstery. “My god. Are we going to need all that?”
“I’m being prepared.” She splashed tequila into six glasses and handed me the saltshaker. “Let’s get started.”
I waved off the salt. “I’m driving.”
“Danny’s brother Leo will drive you home in your car. Now drink.”
Once Lucie had an idea, there was no stopping her. So I tossed back the shot and chased it with a squeeze of lime. My friends did the same.
“Sit,” Lucie said, “and tell us what happened.”
Despite my attempts to position myself so I could flee, I ended up wedged between Bridget and Savannah in the center of the booth. “You all know what happened. Oliver and Maya Perrell lured me in and let me think I could save the company, but they’d been planning to sell all along.”
Lucie tipped her head. “Why did that bother you so much? You helped the company grow to a stronger position. Maybe selling is the right next step for it.”
My stomach hollowed out. “I had a bad experience before.”
I’d thought I could shut down the conversation with that, but five pairs of eyes watched me, waiting for more. Bridget knew the story, and she leaned her shoulder against mine, supporting me. I supposed it was time they knew what I’d foolishly done when I was younger and why what Oliver had done hurt so much. Then they wouldn’t try to talk me into forgiving him.
So I told them all about Harry, how he’d used our sexual connection, my emotional one, and my pain to convince me to sell Red Rover. How he’d leveraged my trust to hide that the buyer, MuskOx Tech, planned to change the employment model to cut costs and all of our people would become independent contractors and lose their health benefits. And after, he’d let me take the fall in the media.
“So that’s why those women were so rude in Target that day?” Savannah asked.
“One of them lost her sister. Because of me.”
“It wasn’t only you,” Justine said. “Your board of directors and Harry all agreed to the deal.”
“Red Rover was a family— my family. I made promises to my people. Which I broke. I deserved everything that happened.”
“You tried your best to make it right,” Bridget said. “Your foundation helped. And your philanthropy is unmatched. If only everyone knew?—”
“No one needs to know,” I interrupted her. “I should have stayed hidden. Now when everyone at Discovery loses their jobs, they’ll hate me because I was complicit.”
“But you weren’t,” Carly said. “You didn’t know what they had planned.”
“I should have seen it. Bringing me in was their attempt to buff up the company. They probably positioned me to the buyer as some sort of exit-strategy specialist.” I gripped my glass to hide the tremble in my fingers.
Lucie poured more tequila into my glass and topped it with a splash of margarita. “If Oliver did that, he’s truly a dick. Danny’s got some beefy cousins who can go to his place and?—”
“He’s not like that,” Carly said. “He loves his company. He was trying to save it.”
“You talked to him?” I asked, my voice low.
“He came over the other night to get some advice from Andrew. He’s all alone,” she said, “now that you’ve left.”
Something cracked in my chest. I remembered the feeling of Red Rover slipping out of my hands like sand. Of feeling abandoned by everyone I’d cared about. Now he was going through it too. Despite how he’d broken my trust, I felt sorry for him and the pain he was experiencing. Only a little sorry. He was still a lying douchebag.
“He thought he could prevent the sale from happening,” Carly said. “If it helps, he regrets keeping it from you.”
“Regret doesn’t help anyone,” I said. “I should know, since I was holed up with mine for years. Only action helps.”
“Maybe you should take some action,” Carly said, “and try to help him.”
“At least help the people you worked with,” Bridget said. “Before it’s too late.”
“I don’t know.” I shifted in my seat, but stuck between Bridget and Savannah, escape was impossible.
Savannah put her hand over mine. “I think you feel conflicted because you love him and he hurt you.”
I drained my glass and held it out to Lucie for a refill. “I don’t love him. I learned my lesson with Harry. And my dad.”
“Your dad,” Lucie said darkly. “Now there’s a major dick.”
“You told them about your dad?” Bridget asked.
“Oliver did. I should’ve known then not to trust him.”
“You told Oliver about your dad?” Bridget’s eyes went wide.
“Couldn’t help it. He showed up at the lab.”
“But you’d have told him,” Savannah said. “Because you’re in love.”
“Am not.” I swigged the tequila and held out my glass again.
“Aren’t you?” Savannah asked. “What were all those long walks about last week?”
“Wait.” Lucie stopped mid-pour. “Are you saying you’ve been wandering the streets of San Jose like some kind of bleak-moment movie montage?”
“I…I guess?” Was that what I’d done? I’d thought getting away from my house, where I’d so many happy hours with him, would take my mind off everything. All I’d done was replay those good times in my mind. His caretaking. His whispered I love yous.
Savannah clapped her hands. “You know what comes next, right?”
“A hangover and a killer headache?” I tossed back the half a shot in my glass.
“No. A grand gesture. You have to go back to him and grovel. Or let him grovel. I’m not sure which of you is more to blame in this love story.”
“Him,” I said.
“You,” Lucie said at the same time.
“I thought you were my friend,” I said, gazing into her brown eyes. All four of them. How had she grown an extra pair?
“I’m always honest, especially with my friends,” she said. “Yes, he was wrong to keep the truth from you, but you abandoned him when he needed you most. Go back, tell him you were wrong to leave, and help him. That is, if you care about him.”
Suddenly, my head was too heavy. I dropped my chin into my hand. “Fuck me. I do. What if he doesn’t want my help? I’m only good at wrecking things, not building them.”
“That’s not true.” Bridget nudged me, and I rested my sloshy head against her shoulder. “You built Red Rover from nothing. And you spearheaded that endometriosis project at Discovery. You can build things. And rebuild them. All you need is the courage to try.”
“Courage.” I huffed. “Something I haven’t had in a long, long, long, long time.”
“What are you talking about?” Justine asked. “It took courage to defy your dad and go away to college. To leave college and start Red Rover. To start your foundation. And to go to work at Discovery.”
“And most of all, to let yourself love someone,” Savannah said.
“I don’t?—”
“Don’t try to tell us again that you don’t love him.” My eyes were closed, but I could hear Lucie rolling her eyes.
“Wasn’t.” My tongue was thick in my mouth. “Was going to say I don’t think I can drive over there. Who can drive me to Oliver’sss?”
My world went black before anyone answered.
I t was red outside my eyelids, which meant I’d slept through my alarm.
Let’s face it, it was probably red inside my eyelids too. Why had I insisted on that foolish fourth tequila shot? Party Tessa had forgotten she was a forty-three-year-old woman with endometriosis. Next-day Tessa couldn’t forget.
I groaned as I tried to analyze the pain. Was it worse in my head or in my abdomen?
Abdomen.
I curled around the sharp stabs to cushion them. One more minute, then I’d open my eyes and get up. Today was the board meeting, and I owed it to Oliver to show up. Maybe he’d let me stand beside him, or maybe he’d still be too pissed off. Either way, I’d show him I was willing to try.
The dull pain in my head clamored to compete with the inflammation in my belly. Excellent.
Next time I saw Savannah, I’d ask her to activate her mom mode the next time we went to Danny’s. She’d ensure I had no more than one tequila shot. Okay, two. Definitely never four again.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Savannah’s too-chipper voice was accompanied by the clink of a glass. “I want you to drink this whole glass of water.”
I blinked open my eyes. The light was weird, slicing through the west window. I propped myself up against the pillows. “Is there coffee?”
“There was,” she said, setting the glass of water on my bedside table, “but I tossed it out a few minutes ago, at noon. Want me to brew some more?”
I blinked my burning eyes wide. “It’s afternoon?”
“You were tired. I let you sleep in. But if you don’t get up now, you won’t sleep tonight.”
“The board meeting is today. This afternoon. I have to get there.” I threw back the covers. “Oof.” I groaned as I stood. Standing stretched muscles that wanted to stay curled up. I picked up my phone, then forced my feet to shuffle toward my closet.
Savannah followed me. “Drink this water. We can’t have you showing up for your grand gesture rough as a cob.”
I glugged the water, not sure what to ask about first. I went with, “My what?” as I scanned my closet for a pair of black stretchy pants that wouldn’t cut into my sore abdomen.
“Your grand gesture. It’s when the hero in the rom-com goes running through the airport to stop the heroine from getting on her plane.”
“I have so many questions.” I tugged on the pants. Thank god for spandex. “Why would the hero have to run through the airport? Isn’t he on the same flight?”
“No, I guess that one wouldn’t work in a post-9/11 world. In the old days, you didn’t have to have a ticket to roam the airport.”
“Really?” I turned my back to pull off my sleep shirt, blushing when I realized it was Oliver’s Dartmouth one he’d left behind.
“Yeah, did you not fly before that?”
I strapped on a bra. “No, Dad didn’t believe in airplanes. The Earth is flat, air travel is fake, etcetera.”
“Wait. Air travel is fake? What about cross-continental flights?”
“Wind to slow things down. Or the passengers’ perception of time is sped up by drugs piped through the air vents. There’s always an explanation.”
“Goodness gracious.”
“Exactly.” I slipped on a black tunic. “Second question, am I the hero in this scenario?”
“You’re the one who walked out, right?”
I slumped, cringing at the memory of slinking out of the building, not bothering to say goodbye to any of my former coworkers. “Yeah.”
“Then you’re the one who has to grovel. I don’t make the rules.”
I walked into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. My hair was a nest of tangles, but I didn’t have time to evict any woodland creatures who’d made their way in while I slept. I pulled it up into a ponytail and twined it into a bun.
“Do I look ready to disrupt a board meeting, then grovel?” I held my hands out.
“Let’s put on a dab of lip gloss so you don’t look so hungover.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I found a tube and handed it to Savannah. She carefully patted it onto my lips.
“Now you’re ready. Go grovel.”