23. Mic Drop
23
MIC DROP
MAISY
The car rolled to a smooth stop outside of Orion. All lit up and dazzling for the night, to me, it appeared nothing more than a traitorous box. I reached for the door handle, nerves bubbling in my chest. Tonight was supposed to be the culmination of everything I’d worked for—weeks of testing and analyzing and reporting, too many sleepless nights, and more caffeine than one female body should be allowed.
"Wait," Brooks said, before I could get too far. He reached into the backseat. “Every great boss lady needs a powerful image.”
He pulled out a garment bag, unzipping it slowly, dramatically, as if about to reveal all the secrets of the world. Inside hung a satin gown the exact shade of a moonlit ocean, sleek and elegant with delicate off-the-shoulder straps and a daring plunging neckline. I gasped.
"Brooks," I whispered, trailing my fingers along the silky fabric. "You didn’t."
"I did. Weeks ago. I saw it in a window and thought, 'That’s the one she should wear when she changes the world.'"
"You’re unreal," I breathed, fighting the sting in my eyes.
"Just a man in love with you.”
I texted Sophie as I ran inside with the bag. She pulled me into a crushing hug when she saw me.
"Tell me everything,” she said as she helped me get dressed.
I launched in with a quick version of events. “Julian tried to steal my research. Patterson gave me a side-eye during the walkthrough and apparently only selected me for this because of my family connections to the Buchanans. I told Brooks to leave me alone. But it’s okay because we’re fine. And then... I realized he was the only one who never let me down. So I had to find him before this.”
“All of that happened? Where have I been? Oh yeah, pitching Richard and getting the marketing contract with Keaton for the Hops.”
“Oh my God!” We screamed and jumped together, then giggled. “I’m so proud of you, Sophie,” I said.
Her eyes softened. “I’m glad all that stress is behind you, because you were starting to scare me with the way you weren’t sleeping and keeping yourself running on espressos."
"I don’t really know what I’m doing here. Brooks says I should finish what I started and to do it for me, not anyone else, if I could even remember my speech, that is.”
She placed her hands on my shoulders, grounding me. "Maisy Calhoun, take some breaths. That’s it. In and out. Now, you have studied brainwaves, emotions, and every physiological marker of stress. You know this material inside and out. Luckily, you get to apply all of that brilliance to your own damn self. You’re not just a scientist. You’re a force. Go up there, speak from your soul, and burn the freaking house down."
I laughed. "You’re terrifying, and really good at this.”
"I know. Now go."
I stepped out of the bathroom transformed. The dress hugged me like it was made for me. She’d pulled my hair into a sleek bun, using her own hair clips to keep it in place. She gave me a once-over and nodded.
"You look like your own version of success. Also like you’re determined to slay out there.”
“Thank you for putting me back together.”
We hugged then made our way into the venue, which was packed. Spotlights danced across the stage. The new wing shimmered beyond the glass wall, a visible reminder of what the night was supposed to be about.
But as I stepped into the crowd, I forgot all about the pressure when I saw my people. Mom stood tall in pretty dress, eyes shining. Chelsea, glowed next to Rex, waving me over, his arm around her. Vivian and Richard observed politely from the front row.
I went to each one and hugged them all. I stood off to the side, scouting the crowd for Brooks, but not finding him.
Patterson got up and started talking, and I barely heard a word, until the spotlight hit me. He’d announced me to the stage to present.
The applause was polite, murmured. A sea of faces, some familiar, most not. My family encouraged with smiles, not a clue what I’d been going through. I scanned the front row. Patterson reclaimed his seat smug beside Richard. Julian was—thank God—not present. Dr. Stone sent me a reassuring glance and nod.
I hesitated. Years from now, would I regret not saying my piece? Next thing I knew, I stepped up to the podium, trying to recall my speech. I cleared my throat.
"Good evening. Thank you for being here tonight to celebrate the advancement of Orion’s innovative idea initiative..."
I faltered. The lights were hot. The room stifled. Panic tickled the back of my neck. My hands trembled. I tried to keep on but nothing came out.
Except two words, finally. “Fuck it."
The words echoed through the mic like a slap and even surprised me.
A gasp rippled through the room. I blinked. Then took a deep breath and whooshed it out into the microphone.
"Wow, that felt good,” I said, to a smattering of nervous laughter in the crowd.
I rolled my shoulders to wing it. “So here’s the thing. My research project focused on designing an environment to reduce stress—lights, sounds, scents, even the texture of the chair and the walls. And I did it. With the help of the Bellamy Brothers, I created that space. I have fifty pages of data and analysis about that space. And if you’re interested, I’d be happy to email it to you."
I looked out over the audience, catching Patterson’s pinched expression and frozen smile.
"But here’s what the data doesn’t show. I failed. Not the science. The science works. But I failed for the first time in my life. I’d been a straight A student, never failing, but this? Big time fail. I tried to control my whole life the way I controlled the experiences in that room. And the reality ended up quite messy."
A lump rose in my throat.
"The room works. Don’t get me wrong. You step into it and you’ll zone out. It calms you better than anything. But it doesn’t erase backstabbing colleagues. It doesn’t stop power-hungry CEOs—" I smiled coolly at Patterson, who looked like he swallowed a lemon. “It doesn’t stop the coffee machine from breaking or getting a flat tire or having to do your taxes.”
My eyes finally spotted Brooks, standing to the right of the stage, dressed in a tux and holding a bouquet of red roses in his hands.
"It doesn’t fix heartbreak,” my voice softened. I swallowed hard.
“So what did I learn through this journey over the past several weeks? It’s this: None of it matters if you don’t have the right people around you. The people who make you feel safe, seen, supported, and loved.”
I paused for dramatic effect, because dammit I was the holding the mic.
"I’m finally learning to prioritize the people I love most in my life above all else. And that, friends, is the big takeaway. But you won’t find that in a fifty page research report. That’s a freebie, from me.”
I stepped back, heart pounding. Then I dropped the mic.
The crowd reacted with more gasps.
Then Mom stood and clapped. Chelsea, too. All of my family did. And slowly the rest of the room joined, erupting finally into cheers.
Brooks met me at the steps. I ran into his arms, burying my face in his neck.
"That was perfect, baby. So brave. I love you so much,” he cried. “Now what?”
I looked up, tears slipping down my cheeks. "I don’t know. Patterson’s going to be pissed."
He grinned. "I think the crowd liked your brutal honesty though.”
Rex stepped up beside us, clapping me on the shoulder. "You just single-handedly cost Orion our investment. Patterson’s an ass. But if you’re looking for a new job, Maisy, I know plenty of other people and companies in this field.”
Brooks interrupted, voice warm and sure. "Thanks, Rex. But I think if Maisy agrees, we’re going to disappear for a while. Maybe to a private island. Just the two of us."
I nodded, eyes on his. "That’s what I want."
He kissed me then. Slow. Deep. Right there in front of everyone.
And the crowd? They cheered louder.
Turns out, honesty with yourself and others is the best course of action.
Even if it starts with a microphone and the words "fuck it.”