22. Board Games
22
BOARD GAMES
ALEX
The Monday morning after our mountain getaway dawns crisp and clear in Seattle, the kind of December day that makes the city look like it belongs in a movie. Perfect weather for facing down a board that's increasingly obsessed with unmasking an anonymous blogger who happens to be the woman I spent the weekend falling deeper in love with.
"The board meeting starts in twenty minutes," Emma announces, dropping a stack of reports on my desk. "Gerald's already called three times about the 'concerning social media situation.'" She eyes my slightly rumpled appearance. "I take it the weekend was... productive?"
"The weekend was private." But I can't quite hide my smile, remembering how Mac had looked in the early morning light, snow falling outside while she wore nothing but my dress shirt...
"Of course, sir." Emma's tone suggests she's adding notes to that risk assessment matrix she thinks I don't know about. "Though you might want to address the... situation in the parking garage. "
"Situation?"
"Keith appears to have organized what he's calling a 'welcome back celebration for our revolutionary leaders.' There are more berets involved, of course. And what appears to be a choir performing 'Do You Hear the People Love.'"
That’s what all Mondays are missing apparently.
Not better pay. Or better pens. Nope, just revolutionary musical numbers.
Through the glass walls (Mac's been right about that all along), I can see her arriving at her office. She's wearing a deep blue suit that makes her look simultaneously powerful and kissable, and I'm definitely not thinking about how that suit looked on my cabin floor yesterday.
My phone buzzes – Grayson:
GRAY: SecureMatch's AI just flagged an interesting pattern at Drake Enterprises. Your corporate culture consultant is generating more positive relationship markers than our best algorithm matches. Something you want to tell me about that mountain getaway?
ME: Your AI is analyzing my company now?
GRAY: Hey, testing pattern recognition across all major tech companies. Though I have to say, Keith's revolutionary romance hashtags are giving our dating app development team some... unique data. #LoveInTheTimeOfCorporateRevolution is trending in three cities.
ME: So, the app is going well, then?
GRAY: Already running beta tests. Speaking of which, want to help us analyze how a certain anonymous blogger went from your biggest critic to your biggest supporter? Our relationship prediction models are fascinated by the correlation
I ignore that, but another text immediately follows:
CONNOR: The bachelor pact is officially dead, isn't it? Also, dibs on best man. I called it first
"Sir?" Emma interrupts my response. "The board is assembling early. And Gerald's bringing Amelia Zegen with him."
My head snaps up. "The tech journalist? Why?"
"Apparently she has 'compelling evidence' about the anonymous blogger's identity. Something about IP addresses and the Winter Strategy Summit posts."
Through the glass, I watch Mac handle what appears to be Keith's attempt at a revolutionary flash mob. She's magnificent – all power and grace as she somehow transforms "Do You Hear the People Love" into an impromptu team building exercise.
"Tell Gerald I'll be there in five minutes." I stand, straightening my tie. "And Emma? Make sure Ms. Gallo knows about our... visitor."
"Already done, sir." She pauses at the door. "Though you might want to know... the latest blog post about mental health in tech? It's not just viral anymore. It's starting conversations about real change. Other companies are implementing similar policies."
"Good." I check my reflection, adjusting my cuffs. "That was the point, wasn't it?"
Emma's eyebrows hit her hairline. "Sir?"
"Change doesn't always come from the top, Emma. Sometimes it takes a revolution." I glance at Keith's choir, now attempting what appears to be a love ballad about corporate transparency. "Though perhaps with fewer musical numbers."
The board room falls silent as I enter. Gerald sits at the head of the table, Amelia Zegen beside him with her laptop open. Barbara Cho looks like she's been sucking lemons.
"Alexander." Gerald's voice is tundra cold. "We were just discussing the... interesting correlation between certain blog posts and our recent policy changes."
"Were you?" I take my seat, noting the empty chair where Mac usually sits. "I was under the impression we were discussing our thirty percent increase in retention rates and the industry-wide adoption of our mental health initiatives."
"The timing is suspicious," Barbara cuts in. "These posts, the changes, the way our anonymous critic suddenly started supporting our policies?—"
"Supporting positive change?" I raise an eyebrow. "How suspicious."
"Mr. Drake," Amelia Zegen leans forward, "our investigation suggests the blogger has inside access to Drake Enterprises. The level of detail, the timing of certain posts..."
"The timing of progress?" I keep my voice level. "Of actual, meaningful change?"
"The timing of a security breach," Gerald snaps. "This blogger is a liability?—"
"This blogger is the reason we're leading the industry in corporate culture reform." The words come easily, naturally. "The reason other companies are following our lead. The reason our stock is up fifteen percent since implementing these changes."
"Alexander," Barbara starts, but I'm not finished.
"Did you read the latest post? Actually read it?" I pull up the article on the display screen. "About the human cost of our old policies? About the real impact of treating employees like assets instead of people?"
"That's exactly our point," Gerald interrupts. "The post shows intimate knowledge of our previous practices?—"
"Because those practices were wrong." I stand, unable to contain my energy. "And someone was brave enough to say it. To show us a better way."
Through the glass walls, I catch sight of Mac walking past. She's explaining something to a group of developers, her hands moving animatedly, her entire being radiating the passion that made me fall for her in the first place.
"The blog posts aren't a threat," I continue, turning back to the board. "They're a gift. A mirror showing us everything we needed to fix. And instead of hunting down the source, we should be thanking them."
Silence falls. Even Amelia Zegen looks thoughtful.
"You know who it is," Gerald says slowly. "Don't you?"
I meet his gaze steadily. "I know that witch hunts don't improve corporate culture. I know that anonymous criticism often comes from people who care enough to risk everything for change. And I know that if this board spent half as much time implementing improvements as they do searching for someone to blame, we wouldn't need anonymous bloggers in the first place."
"Alex," Barbara's voice softens slightly. "This isn't just about the blog anymore, is it?"
I think about Mac in my cabin, snow falling outside while we built something real. About her passion for change, her brilliance, her courage in fighting for what's right.
"No," I admit. "It's about what kind of company we want to be. What kind of leaders we want to be."
My phone buzzes – Mac:
MAC: Keith's organizing a "love revolution lunch hour." There are heart-shaped berets involved. Send help.
I smile despite the tension.
"The board needs to vote," Gerald insists. "About pursuing this investigation?—"
"The board needs to read the actual impact reports," I cut in. "About how our new policies are improving lives. Creating real change. Setting industry standards."
"But—"
"I have another meeting," I stand, straightening my jacket. "About implementing phase two of our mental health initiatives. Unless the board would prefer to discuss why we're afraid of positive change? "
I leave them sitting there, shellshocked. Emma falls into step beside me.
"That was..."
"Revolutionary?"
"I was going to say 'career-risking,' but yes."
I smile, heading for Mac's office. Through the glass, I can see her dealing with what appears to be Keith's attempt at choreographing a dance number about corporate romance.
"Some things," I tell Emma, "are worth the risk."
"Like love?" She asks dryly.
"Like change." I pause at Mac's door. "Though sometimes they're the same thing."
"Very philosophical, sir." She checks her tablet. "Should I cancel the rest of your meetings?"
"No." I watch Mac thoroughly demolish Keith's suggestion of a "revolutionary renaissance faire" with the kind of efficiency that makes me want to drag her into my office and... "But maybe clear my calendar for lunch."
"Of course, sir." She makes a note. "Though you might want to know... Keith's planning something called 'Love's Labor's Not Lost: A Revolutionary Romance Revival' for the holiday party."
I nod. “I expected nothing less.”
Watching Mac handle yet another of Keith's enthusiastic ideas, her eyes bright with suppressed laughter as she somehow transforms chaos into progress, I feel that familiar warmth in my chest. But Gerald's words echo: "You know who it is, don't you?"
My phone buzzes - Richard Drake's quarterly check-in, right on schedule. My father's timing has always been impeccable, especially when it comes to uncomfortable reminders.
RICHARD: Interesting article about Drake Enterprises in the Journal. Your mother would have loved all this "corporate culture revolution" talk.
Another text follows immediately :
RICHARD: She had similar ideas about changing Drake Technologies. Right before the '99 crash. Remember how that ended?
I do remember. Every detail of that year is carved into my memory: The way my mother's passionate ideas about "humanizing business" had started changing my father's company. How the board had loved her initially, calling her vision "revolutionary" and "forward-thinking." The way she'd lit up board rooms with her enthusiasm, just like Mac does now.
Then came the crash. The accusations. The choice she made when her new life offered more than the company could.
I look through the glass walls at Mac, remembering my mother in old photos - same passionate gestures, same belief that business could be more than just profit margins. My father had encouraged that belief, right up until it cost him everything.
RICHARD: Saw your Q4 projections. Solid numbers. Don't let... distractions blur your focus. You built something stronger than Drake Technologies ever was.
The unspoken message is clear: Because you chose business over sentiment. Because you learned from my mistakes.
I watch Mac redirect Keith's revolutionary fervor into actual productivity, and my chest tightens. She's changing everything, just like my mother did. Making the company better, just like my mother tried to do.
Right before she walked away, leaving my father with a failing company and a sixteen-year-old son who learned all the wrong lessons about love and business.
My father's final text arrives:
RICHARD: Having dinner at the club tonight. Your usual seat's open if you want to discuss... strategy.
Strategy. His code for "letting you make the same mistakes I did." We've had this dinner a hundred times over twenty years - me choosing the seat that faces the wall where Drake Technologies' logo used to hang, him drinking scotch and subtly reminding me why the Drake name means something again.
Because I chose differently. Chose better. Chose business.
Until now.
Through the glass, I watch Mac work her magic on the office dynamics. She's brilliant, passionate, everything I never knew I needed.
And terrifyingly similar to the last woman who made a Drake believe love and business could coexist.