Chapter 9 Bryce
Although I’d planned to be sitting on the rooftop terrace dining with Jada, I was currently sitting at a private table, a votive candle flickering between Rei and me. The city glittered like a million stars below us while the city lights blocked out the real stars above.
I’d seen Rei around The Tower, since she was typically in charge of the lobby.
But now I knew more about her. Like the fact that she kept a black dress and heels in her locker in case the need ever arose.
Or that she could fill half an hour worth of conversation without pause.
Seemingly, oxygen was just a perk to her, not a necessity like us lesser humans.
When the server came to the table and asked what we’d like to start with, Rei said, “I’d like the first course, please.”
The guy looked confused at first, until he realized she was asking for everything listed under first course. “Right away, miss.”
I couldn’t blame her.
The first time my brother Ford took me to this restaurant, I’d wanted one of everything.
And it tasted so good I ate my face off.
Back then, I was a broke college student, still wearing my brothers’ hand-me-downs and living off ramen noodles and sandwiches made with mayo packets stolen from truck stops.
All those years ago, I’d felt so out of place here. I could feel people looking down on me, even dressed in the best vintage suit I could thrift. Ford acted like their judgement was no big deal, but it bothered me.
Why did people act like vintage items were worth less? Because they came out of a machine longer ago?
Rei looked up at me, dabbing a napkin at the corner of her mouth. “Here I thought Quentin was the quiet one.”
Her observation surprised me. “You know Q?”
She nodded. “He eats at the café more often than you do. Today was only the third time I’ve seen you down there in the last few months.”
I eyed her more closely now. “You pay attention to the C-suite?” Most people just knew we were the “big bosses” but didn’t take care to learn more than that. “Why are we of interest to you?”
She shrugged. “It’s good to know about all parts of a business, not just the one that affects you most.” She chewed on a bite of her burrata salad, then added, “People like you might think we’re just around to keep the floors clean, but the cleaning staff is closer to the pulse of this business than anyone.
We hear things. We see things. We notice things. ”
I arched an eyebrow, food forgotten. “What’s the pulse?” Often, I felt removed from the company I helped create. Hundreds of people worked for me that I’d never know or even meet.
After downing another bite of salad, she said, “People think you’re a Boy Scout—your office hardly has a mess to clean up. Things are always in their place.”
Suddenly, I felt like I was being put under a microscope. But I guess that’s what I asked for. “The other founders?”
“Cruz is more playful. Lots of ‘basketballs’ missed around his wastebasket, which is annoying, but he’ll always crack a joke with the cleaning staff.” She tilted her head to the side, wiping her fingers off on a napkin. “Q? Stands for quiet. The guy hardly talks except to say thank you.”
My lips tipped to the side. Dad always used to say still waters ran deep, and that was true with Q.
“Aaric forgets he’s the boss sometimes,” she replied. “He’s there for everyone else, not the other way around.”
I let out a laugh. That was a gift and a curse for Aaric—all his employees loved him, but sometimes he was overworked and overwhelmed. “And Jude?”
She winced. “Guy’s strung tighter than a violin string.”
My eyebrows drew together. That wouldn’t be the first thing I noticed about him. He was hardworking, a go-getter. Someone you could trust to get the job done, no matter what. “He’s a good guy though,” I defended.
“That’s the thing,” she said. “He seems fine. But have you ever played the violin?”
“Trumpet—for a year,” I admitted. It wasn’t my thing, and instrument rentals were so expensive I didn’t want Dad stretching himself.
Especially not when he was trying to put my oldest brother through med school, pay for Ford’s football gear through every growth spurt, and deal with Knox and Hayes’s acting out. Seemed like too much to ask.
“Let me give you a violin lesson,” Rei said.
She was laid back in her stance, her wine glass held lazily in one hand, but there was an intensity to her words.
A warning. “When you play violin, you’re bound to have a string break from time to time.
When those things pop, they’re like a whip.
They hurt. Jude reminds me of those violin strings. ”
An unsettling feeling weighed in my stomach, but I brushed it off. Cleaning Jude’s office at the end of the day wasn’t the same level of closeness as years of friendship. I knew him better than anyone else—trusted him with my life.
My phone buzzed on the table, dancing a circle. The only people with my personal number were the founders or my family, so I picked it up and saw Maya on the line.
“One second,” I said, drawing the phone to my ear. “Maya?”
There was a teasing smile in her voice as she said, “Thought I’d let you know Jada called the office and left a message. She’s free Sunday morning for brunch.”
My lips spread into a satisfied grin. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but whatever it was, was good. “Put it on the calendar,” I said. “And make sure it’s a place without shellfish. She’s allergic.”
At that, Rei wore the same smile. “Yes!” she hissed at the same time Maya said, “Aye aye, Captain Lover Boy.”
“You’re fired,” I muttered into the phone, knowing Rei could hear. Shaking my head, I lowered my phone back to the table, unable to wipe the smile from my face.
“So, Rei,” I began. “Any chance you’ll use your super spy powers to help me with this date?”
Her response was a conniving wink. “Only if you make the Boy Scout Promise that you won’t break her heart.”
Reluctantly, I held up three fingers and said. “Scout’s honor.”