Chapter 42 What’s Your Greatest Weakness, You Piece of Shit?
What’s Your Greatest Weakness, You Piece of Shit?
A humble redbrick building on a quiet side street, from the outside, SkyTech looked nothing like I thought an aerospace company should look.
It was soft, almost. Warm. And when I approached the glass doors, the inside matched.
Yes, there were LED screens mounted on the brick walls, displaying their latest projects.
But there were also comfortable furnishings and tables that didn’t look ripped out of an Apple store.
It was so unlike my time at GalacticSolutions.
Ringing the front bell to be buzzed in took more courage than I’d like to admit. Last night, after leaving my parents, I texted the number Hudson had given me, and Malcolm McEwan responded lightning-fast, working his schedule around my frantic BuzzCorp one so we could meet up during my lunch break.
I wasn’t in there to get a job. I was just there to prove to myself that I could try.
That I was more than my mistakes, that I was more than my flaws.
That all these lies I’d been telling myself—that I wasn’t competent enough, that I was a perpetual failure, that I was too emotional to lead, that I was only good enough to make sex toys, that I needed to minimize myself in order to stay safe, that I was unlovable and unimportant—was just bullshit holding me back.
That being me was all that was necessary to live the life I wanted.
Moments later, I found myself in a large office on the top floor, sitting across from Malcolm McEwan, a tall, heavyset gentleman from Alabama.
His story was legendary. His great-grandfather, a Black pilot from northern Africa, had married a French expat during the Second World War, moved to the States, tested aircraft for the Navy for twenty years, and was followed by three generations of young men who worked in aerospace in one way or another.
His grandfather was a propulsion expert, his father was a Blue Angel, and now Malcolm was a titan of industry.
SkyTech was the global leader in sustainable space exploration with a Star Trek future in mind—sort of a dream place to work for me, considering I’d never super loved GalacticSolutions’s “hypercapitalism hitting hyperspace” ethos.
“Dr. Porter,” Malcolm said, shaking my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Oh, I dread to think what you’ve heard,” I joked awkwardly.
So much for my newfound self-confidence, huh?
“Don’t worry. When Hudson told me about you, he sent over some of your specs, but I did my own research, too. Made a few calls. And, uh, if you don’t mind my saying so, you come very highly recommended by my wife.”
The ice between us broke. I laughed.
“Why, thank you. BuzzCorp aims to please.”
He had an affable air that calmed my nerves. No wonder he liked Hudson. No wonder Hudson liked him. Good people had a way of finding each other.
“Do you like it over there?” he asked.
“I love it. But I’m not sure the sex toy industry is my forever home.”
“And aerospace is?”
“I’ve missed it,” I said, hedging.
He hummed. “I have my sources over at GalacticSolutions. Management gave you a raw deal, didn’t they? Your work was flawless.”
“Right up until the rocket exploded.”
The joke should have been an easy one to concede.
Instead, he let it land flat, unwilling to engage.
“I know there was more to it than that. Anyone could see that the propulsion systems weren’t the problem.
It’s funny that you and Hudson are close.
What happened to you reminds me a little of what happened to him. Damn shame.”
It wasn’t any of my business, but my ears perked up anyway. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know what went down with his company?”
“No. He didn’t really talk about that.”
We were too busy boning to talk about it.
“Didn’t look him up?”
Felt weird to look up a guy who knew me biblically.
“I didn’t hire him.”
“Well, uh, Hudson was the cofounder of a tech security company with his college buddy, Mike, and his girlfriend, Daisy.”
Ah, yes. Daisy. Once, when I’d asked Hudson more questions about his last big relationship, he’d said she was just not the one. I guess now I was just another Daisy. Another not-the-one. That hurt me more than I cared to admit.
“The company was great. Top-of-the-line stuff. Made them all a ton of money. Daisy and Mike decided that they wanted to sell. But they didn’t care about who they sold to or what their tech did after it was sold.
They wanted to auction it off to the most interested party—who was going to use it off-label.
Basically turning a “security” product into a data-scraping application, giving people the illusion of safety while selling off their information to the highest bidder, whether that be advertisers or governments who want to monitor their citizens. ”
I shivered. That was one of the worst things about being an inventor—worrying what your products might do in the wrong hands.
“Hudson was the only one in that little triumvirate with a conscience,” Malcolm continued.
“He thought that was a gross invasion of privacy. An evil way to manipulate the tech they had created together. He refused to sell. So they elbowed him out. Broke off the friendship. Daisy shacked up with Mike. I think they’re engaged. And now…Hudson’s a free agent.”
The impact of Malcolm’s story lingered in the silence that followed. It put Hudson into complete perspective.
No wonder he tried so hard to be loved. To never give someone a reason to leave him behind.
Because the two people he’d loved most had ditched him the instant he disagreed with them. He didn’t want to get hurt that way ever again.
My guilt over our argument returned full force. No, double force. Triple force. Hurricane force.
“I didn’t know that,” I muttered.
“Of course you didn’t. Do you go around talking about the worst thing that ever happened to you?”
I shrugged. “No, most people do that for me. I’m sure rumors of my ruination in this field have preceded me.”
“And they’re greatly exaggerated, I’m sure.”
Over the years, I’d heard variations on that same theme from industry folks. He was the first person I truly believed. “I don’t know about that. But…thanks for seeing me anyway. It was nice of Hudson to connect us.”
“Nice? He is nice, but not just nice. He’s good.
Good in a way you don’t see a lot anymore.
Poor guy just always wanted to do the right thing, you know?
Always wanted to make sure he was useful to someone.
That he mattered. After all that with Daisy and Mike, I think he got even worse.
I offered him a job here, but he likes the whole soldier-of-fortune thing.
Mary Poppins-ing to anyone who needs him the most. I hope he finds someone to take care of him someday. A man needs his people, you know?”
Like I’d needed him. Like I still needed him.
Clearing my throat, I tried to talk through the lump of emotion there.
“Sorry, we got sidetracked. Were there any business questions you had for me?”
At once, Malcolm schooled his expression. “Right. We’re having a little issue with our propulsion systems. Care to take a look?”
I itched to be helpful, but I forced my hands to stay in my lap. “I don’t work for free.”
“We’ve already figured it out. I think. I just want to see how you’d tackle the problem.”
When I didn’t shut him down again, he handed me a tablet, already loaded up to a spec screen.
For a few minutes, I read through the doc, crunching numbers in my head.
When my head wasn’t sufficient anymore, I swiped a pen and pad from his desk, scribbled down a few calculations, and then returned the tablet.
“You need to change your fuel source. Believe me, no one knows horrific, fiery explosions like I do, and if you don’t pivot, that’s what you’ve got ahead of you.
Here.” I slid him my calculations. I’d been doing private research on alternate fuel sources since before my time at GalacticSolutions.
I knew even my offhand math would be sound. “Check this out.”
I guess I should have been nervous, watching him evaluate my work in such a formal setting. But I knew I was smart. I knew I could do this. I knew engineering better than I knew myself.
My brain had never been the problem. It was my heart that gave me trouble.
Besides, there was a certain emotional high to knowing you were right. And I’d been missing that rush at BuzzCorp.
Eventually, Malcolm let out a low, impressed whistle. “That’s good. That’s real good. Better than what we’ve got now.”
“And cheaper, too, isn’t it?”
He smirked. “Well, you don’t have to rub it in.”
“Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do this. It’s going straight to my head.”
“This is incredible work. Where have you been hiding?”
“Your wife’s bedside table drawer, I guess.” We both laughed. “Any other questions for me?”
We chatted for a few more minutes. Eventually, though, my lunch break grew short, and we rose to shake hands.
“We’ll be in touch. It was nice to meet you, Scout. It’s not hard to see why Hudson thinks so highly of you.”
They were the sweetest words to ever punch me in the gut, but I took the pain in stride.
Maybe I’d never be able to get Hudson back. That ship had probably sailed. But maybe I could become the sort of woman who didn’t need a man to point out her worth.
Maybe I could just be valuable all on my own.
Another successful experiment.