Chapter 3
3
Freshly painted and bitten-down fingernails tap erratically on my knee as the white fluorescent strip lights rain an unflattering glow over my body. Today’s outfit is a matching blazer and trousers in a white-and-cornflower-blue check; I once read defendants in court who wear light blue are more likely to be found innocent by the jury. I don’t exactly know what I’ve done, but I can guarantee if I’m guilty it’s something to do with the perpetual instigator sitting across from me.
He ignored me as we entered the conference room, leaning back and crossing one pleated trouser leg over the other in a display of disinterest and defiance. I rolled my eyes and ignored him back, instead intently focusing on the glossy framed New York Times articles, Business Insider profiles and Forbes accolades listing the achievements of Martin Catcher and his well-respected umbrella company.
I shoot another glance at Bancroft. A tingle shoots up my spine when I find his emotionless eyes already focused on me, like one of those ominous haunted-house portraits that follow you around the room. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but lately it feels as though his one step ahead of me has been further ahead than usual. In an attempt to match his relaxed stance, I lean back in the uncomfortable chair and cross one leg over the other. Dharmash and Susie are on their phones across the table, neither making eye contact with us.
Bancroft looks good, fresh even, considering what he was reportedly up to after the panel talk last night. Societeur Magazine posted a paparazzi shot of him having dinner with a young woman who seemed vaguely familiar. She was slim with short, trendy brunette hair and massive almond-shaped eyes. I tapped the tagged username “@irisfender.” Her bio told me she’s a model with half a million Instagram followers, twenty-two years old and a Pisces. In the photo of the two of them, I noticed he was staring right at the camera. He had the look he gives me when I beat his report numbers. Even in 2D form, that face still puts me on edge.
Mr. Catcher’s booming voice interrupts my train of thought. “Thank you both for coming on short notice. Catch Group is launching a new dating-app experience next year to fill a vital gap in the market, Ditto. A platform focused on matching users through the commonality of lifestyles and interests and automatically setting them up on pre-planned dates. Activities and dating: pairing people based on their way of living and hobbies will sit nicely across from our other two platforms that are focused on image”—he gestures to Bancroft—“and on biography”—looking at me. “Aligning in this way means users stay within the Catch Group family through their entire dating journey.”
“Would the user be swiping on the dates or other users?” I ask, intrigued.
“Great question. We’ll use the same back-end functionality as Fate and Ignite, but the first interface users will see is a selection of date packages. Once they’ve swiped yes or no to whatever sort of date they’re interested in, the algorithm will offer them potential matches who swiped for the same date packages. When they swipe on someone they like, they are agreeing to attend a time-slot date with that person.”
“So there’s no messaging or chat feature?”
Catcher smiles at me, nodding approvingly. “There will be for subscription users, but they will get a limited number of messages per interaction. We envision this being marketed as a pseudo-‘offline’ alternative to our current offerings, which brings me to you two.”
We both stay silent, but I catch Bancroft’s jaw tensing.
“So, you two have been working together for nearly two years now and you think we haven’t noticed?” Catcher asks, his hair plugs bobbing as he paces around the meeting room.
My mind races. I wonder if I should say something before he does, confess to whatever it is Catcher is talking about before he fires us both on the spot.
He sees my expression and laughs. “Don’t look so scared, sweetheart.”
My cheeks immediately flare from the embarrassment of being singled out and annoyance at his casual sexism. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bancroft’s knuckles turn white.
Catcher stands still for the first time since entering the room. “Look, I’ve been in this industry for a while and I know a successful partnership when I see one, and I wouldn’t be the successful businessman I am if I didn’t capitalize on such a partnership.”
I blink, turning to Bancroft for confirmation that I’m not hallucinating; he doesn’t meet my eyes, but the lines on his hand relax to a state of only slightly tense.
“From what I’ve heard, you two light fires under the other, which has led to the highest user-acquisition rates Catch Group has had in years. It seems as though you bring out the best in each other.”
Mr. Catcher glances at Dharmash and Susie. Their reactions are like oil and water: the former looks proud; the latter looks absolutely livid, her eyes narrowing at me like a sharpshooter ready to strike.
Why didn’t Susie tell me about this? The news doesn’t seem like a surprise to her. She scowls for just a moment longer and then moves her gaze to the floor, sucking her teeth and crossing her arms. Mr. Catcher isn’t wrong: battling it out with Bancroft does make me work harder and smarter but we worked just as well, if not better, when we didn’t see each other as competitors for monthly bravado.
Bancroft lifts a hand. “With all due respect, Catcher, we talked about this being a solo project?”
I school my expression into neutrality, trying to piece things together as Mr. Catcher strides back and forth in front of us.
“Eric, I appreciate your confidence but it’s vital we have a female perspective on this. Grace has proven she can bring in the feminine user base, and Ignite’s daily active users are currently sixty-seven percent male. Don’t get me wrong, you’re great at bringing the women in”—Mr. Catcher laughs, leans forward and slaps him on the shoulder—“but they’re not sticking around for long.”
He continues to pace the room, ignoring Bancroft’s wince. “That’s why I need you two to work in tandem during this ideation stage. I want to take this to market in twelve months. Learn from each other’s expertise, and use your contacts to get partners on board.”
“What about my presentation?” Bancroft questions through his teeth. My eyes dart back and forth between the two men, trying to connect the invisible dots.
“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll still be presenting your ideas for the launch strategy, Eric. You both will. Individually.”
“Why do you need two strategies?” Bancroft is struggling to maintain his cool, professional persona and I stifle a laugh.
“Great question,” Mr. Catcher declares, stroking his salt-and-pepper stubble with his thumb and forefinger. “This launch is a vital move in Catch Group maintaining domination across the dating industry. This is a fresh take to capture users who aren’t interested in the new online-focused methods of dating, or they’ve become tired of swiping with no end result. I want perspectives from both my leading apps to make this work. I’ll also need you both to log your feedback during the research stage.”
Bancroft’s signet ring glints in the sunlight as he runs his hand over his face and reluctantly asks, “And... the promotion?”
“Still on the table,” Mr. Catcher answers swiftly. “However, Miss Hastings’s strategy will also be taken into consideration.”
My voice quivers: “Umm... the research stage? And... what promotion?”
He shoots an annoyed glance at a squeamish Susie, sighs and then turns back to me. “My apologies, I assumed you were told. There is an open role at Ditto. Head of Marketing. We want to bring someone who already knows the inner workings of the company on board, so the individual with the favored strategy to launch Ditto will be considered for the new position.”
I hold in a gasp as I try to clarify. “So our strategy presentations will also be a job interview?”
Mr. Catcher nods decidedly. “There’ll be outside candidates considered, but I want to keep this new venture as internal as possible. Especially at this sensitive ideation stage.”
My whole body becomes clammy. So... it’s me versus Bancroft?
“This will be a collaborative effort,” he continues. “I know, based on your experience and backgrounds, you’ll have very different takes on a launch strategy, and I’m looking forward to seeing them both. I’d like you to work together on trialing and bringing in potential partners. It will be more impactful to have representatives from Ignite and Fate showing a united front when approaching brands, don’t you agree?”
Bancroft, louder than he has been the whole meeting, starts to protest. “This really isn’t necessary—I already have meetings lined—”
“I have no problem with it,” I answer, shooting a polite smile toward our three seniors. If a few extra meetings with Bancroft is the price I have to pay for a promotion, so be it. I can be civil.
“Great,” Mr. Catcher replies. “Eric can catch you up on the particulars.”
Susie finally chimes in: “I can’t sign off on this if she isn’t going to deliver on her usual KPIs for the next six weeks.”
I stare at Susie’s irritated face and internally wince. I’m going to pay for this, but it might be my only path to a promotion. My only way out of late-night mental breakdowns. Last-minute expense sheets. It’s not just Susie. The more I think about it, the more I feel the weight of the constant “true love” rhetoric at Fate pressing down on me. I want out, and this is my chance.
I clear my throat and straighten my shoulders. “I can still deliver my normal level of work. Thank you for the opportunity, sir”—nodding my head for emphasis.
“Fantastic.” Mr. Catcher claps his hands together loudly. “We need to ensure that, as always, the UX is second to none. I want you to road-test the dates, get into the user-experience mindset. Your presentations need to include first-hand research and development of these pre-planned dates, and how to promote the concept appropriately.”
My stomach sinks, then flops over and over like an old slinky dropping down a flight of stairs as the meaning of this sets in. I have to go on dates... with Eric Bancroft?
I try to stop the shock from showing but my body is rapidly going through the stages of rigor mortis. Susie raises an eyebrow at me from across the room as though she’s trying to telepathically talk me out of taking Mr. Catcher’s offer.
Bancroft gives me a sly smile, and looks at his watch, clocking my time of death. This is my worst nightmare. “It doesn’t seem as though Miss Hastings would be comfortable with that.”
“Of course. Grace, you don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.” Mr. Catcher gives an awkward laugh. “I’m sure there is another member of the Fate marketing team that would be happy with this opportunity?”
“No! It’s fine, totally fine! I’ll do it,” I blurt out before either of them can suggest an alternative. “I can keep delivering my work on time, and I can go on the dates. Yes.”
Mr. Catcher turns to Bancroft, a dominating, defiant smile across his face. “Fantastic! I hope you don’t mind a bit of friendly competition, Eric?”