Chapter 17 #2
A few people roll their eyes, shifting back to regain their comfortable position in their fold-down seats.
Oliver’s pats become slow circular strokes as my breathing levels out. Tracing his palm around until I lean back, the theater
seat bouncing with the force. The final lights go down and the crowd begins to murmur.
“You okay?” he asks, his face shadowed.
“I’m fine,” I say, my cheeks flaming hot from the combination of limited airflow and embarrassment among my TechRumble peers.
Applause erupts as Dominic steps his Prada lace-ups onto the stage. “Welcome to TechRumble Round Two. It’s fantastic to see so many familiar faces from Rome.”
I came to the conclusion that Spencer is better speaking on his own terms, instead of parroting my language.
I glance around at the crowd. They are so in awe of Dominic. Hard and stoic like the Zeus of tech bros. My eye cuts to Oliver,
who isn’t really paying attention, leaning his chin on his palm as his elbow rests on the armrest between us. He must be so
used to seeing this kind of spectacle.
“Of course, not everyone has made it this far. Starting with two hundred contenders, please give yourselves a round of applause
for making it to the final fifty.”
How intense should I look right now? Obviously, the level of nervousness I actually feel isn’t appropriate. No assistant would
look like their entire life depends on the outcome of this panel talk. Mirroring Oliver’s relaxed position I try to stop my
foot from frantically tapping against the floor.
His breath brushes my neck as he leans over and whispers, “By the way, I’ve secured the ten minutes with Dominic.”
“Really?” I turn to him wide-eyed, our faces so close it’s like we’re back in my room again.
“I’m a man of my word. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”
“Remind me to scratch your back more often,” I say before I can think. Thankfully the dimmed auditorium lights shroud me in
partial darkness, covering my warm face.
“Well, you have a very nice back, so the pleasure was all mine.”
We hold each other’s gaze for an unfriendly amount of time, until finally he breaks.
“So after the mixer thing tomorrow I have the night off. Maybe we could go get a drink or . . . dinner?”
My head immediately nods, not breaking eye contact. I do want to spend time with him. But then, I blink. And the butterflies
in my chest start disintegrating into dust. I picture going for dinner with him, having a great time, and maybe getting to
relive that night in Rome with the ending we both wanted. But what happens after that? After the competition ends? I say,
Hey, by the way, my name isn’t Violet; it’s Jess, and I’m actually the CEO of that start-up I’m pretending to work for. The
start-up that’s competing in a competition judged by your boss slash cousin. That’s insane. It’s not sensible; it’s not safe to continue something that can never go anywhere, even if I desperately want
to feel his hands all over me again. To get to know him outside of the confines of TechRumble.
I open my mouth, close it, then open it again on a nervous laugh. “Ummm, actually, I don’t think it’s a good idea. At least
not during TechRumble.”
“Okay, right. Yeah, sure.” He glances toward the exit over my shoulder and then back to me.
“I’m sorry, I—” I sit back, damping my urge to move forward and kiss the embarrassed look off his face.
“No, please don’t apologize. It’s totally fine.”
“Maybe if we—” My words are interrupted by blasting music followed by the rapturous sound of shouting, whooping, and clapping
echoes around the auditorium. This feels like if the Hunger Games was introduced in the Wolf of Wall Street.
Oliver licks his lips and swallows as he sits back in his chair.
I flick through the brochure from my seat to see the group Spencer will be paired with for the panel talk.
A language app that aids learning through images rather than words, a gaming system for “online athletes” that uses a VR mouthpiece, and a new age social media platform, which allows you to “at” someone directly on any page of the internet instead of sending a link.
A fairly decent bunch, and I get why we are in with this group.
It’s our best shot of making it to the next round.
It’s creative, not the fintech, SaaS management, cybersecurity, or AI-based categories Spencer would fall short against. He will understand all three of his competitors and what they do, better the devil you know.
I’m hoping all their founders are complete nerds; that’s one thing you can rely on in the start-up industry.
Perversely, Spencer has the advantage of not caring too much.
If I was up there, I’d be so stressed out I’d probably end up mincing my words and self-sabotaging. Spencer’s lack of investment
gives him an easy air compared to everyone else, and hopefully for the judges that will translate into confidence onstage.
The contestants step out to much less applause than Dominic. They all look so stressed apart from Spencer, who waves to the crowd like he’s a comedian on a late-night show. His laid-back demeanor makes it look like he doesn’t even need the
money. Maybe this is what all companies should do, hire a charismatic front man who can talk about the company without a true
passion for it. Move hubris out of the way and appoint a spokesperson for everything. Who knows how much further Wyst would
be right now if I’d done this sooner?