Chapter 4 #2
Before I can process Anya’s words, Leon, who officially “adopted” me as his work daughter sometime around Wednesday, leans over the top of his monitor.
His receding hairline and thick horn-rimmed glasses give him the vibe of someone who has seen every design mishap imaginable.
Rumor has it he treats all the junior engineers like fragile ducklings in need of shepherding.
“Better bring your A-game,” Leon says, pointing at me with a twinkle in his eyes that feels like a friendly warning.
“Riverton will be back from London and leading the meeting. He’ll be cranky, and don’t expect him to give you a new-hire handicap.
He doesn’t believe in rookies—only engineers who can do the math and those who can’t. ”
There’s the name again. “Riverton?” I tilt my head. “Remind me who that is?”
“He’s our fearless leader. Think Luke Skywalker,” Leon says.
Andy, another engineer on my team, snorts as he walks past with a coffee cup in hand. He’s about five foot seven, with jet-black hair and warm brown eyes. “You wish,” he mutters, “Think Anakin Skywalker from Revenge of the Sith—right after the Jedi Temple scene.”
Leon’s eyes narrow. “No. We agreed to pretend the Star Wars prequels never happened.”
“I didn’t agree. You just assumed we did since we”—he gestures to the rest of the office—“have given up trying to change your stubborn mind.”
“Ignore everything he says. He’s just trying to brainwash you.” Leon returns his attention to me as Andy walks off. “The point is, Riverton is the big boss. He’s the guy who signs off on every major concept that comes out of this office.”
He leans back in his chair, lowering his voice even though the Orlando branch is small enough that half the team could probably hear him anyway.
“He’s sharp, but blunt. If there’s a weak link in your analysis, he’ll spot it and rip it apart like a shark.
His methods take some getting used to, but in his own way, he means well.
Don’t take anything he says personally.”
My stomach tightens, though I can’t explain why. “Well,” I say, adjusting my glasses, “guess I’d better make sure there aren’t any weak links, then.”
Leon gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Good plan, kiddo.”
Around five, I power down my computer and step into the heavy Orlando dusk, Leon’s warning replaying like a stuck soundtrack. Rip it apart like a shark. What exactly did he mean by that?
“Hey, Kaori. You interested in joining us for drinks?”
The voice jolts me out of my spiraling thoughts. It’s Derrick, another one of the engineers on my team. He has unruly red hair and green eyes. He isn’t too much older than me. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s about twenty-six. “It’ll be Leon, Ted, Andy, and me.”
I hesitate. All week I’ve dodged his invitations, burying myself in my work. Back home, coworker dinners are basically mandatory. It’s a polite form of bonding and ensuring you’re a “team player.” Here, however, it’s voluntary. Casual. Fun.
“Um . . .”
“I promise it’s low pressure. Just like hanging out with three older brothers. We go to Original Jorge’s on Fridays. They have trivia and two-dollar tacos.”
My shoulders loosen a little. If I want to find my place in the office, I need to make an effort to be part of the team. So maybe I should take a page out of the Japanese cultural playbook. “All right. I’m in.” I nod toward my desk. “Give me two seconds to grab my purse.”
Derrick and I ride the elevator down to the lobby, where the rest of the guys are waiting, all wearing jeans and varying plaid shirts. Apparently, engineer uniform is a real thing. Casual Friday is alive and thriving.
Andy spots me first and waves. “All right! You got her to join us.”
“He had me at two-dollar tacos,” I say.
“They’re the best,” Leon agrees.
“I’m Ted,” the tallest guy says, offering his hand. He’s all blond hair, blue eyes, and a round baby face. “Don’t think we’ve officially met.”
“We haven’t,” I say as we shake. His grip is firm.
Andy nudges him. “He used to be one of the cool kids, but then he transferred to the kiddie-rides division. Now he clocks out at five sharp and goes straight home.”
Ted shrugs. “Priorities. My wife and daughters come first. Except on Fridays. They’re sacred bro time.”
We head across the street to Original Jorge’s. A line curls around the building, neon lights flicker above the door, and the muffled thrum of laughter and clinking glasses spills onto the sidewalk.
“I don’t know,” I say, eyeing the crowd. “Looks packed. Maybe we could try somewhere else?”
“Trust us,” the guys answer in unison, like a well-practiced boy band.
Leon leads the way to the end of the line. “This will move fast. It’s bigger inside than it looks.”
He’s right. We only wait five minutes before we’re ushered inside, where it’s one giant, loud hive of activity.
The air is thick with the delicious scent of sizzling carnitas, grilled peppers, and fresh lime.
More neon signs flicker along the walls, and a giant projection screen above the bar flashes the words “TRIVIA NIGHT!” in bold letters.
Near the entrance, a whiteboard lists cheeky team names in dry-erase marker: “Quizzards of Oz,” “Nacho Average Team,” and “Ctrl Alt Delighted.”
“Hi, folks, doing trivia tonight?” the host asks, handing out menus as we head to a table in the back corner.
“We sure are,” Andy quips.
“Great. It’s a twenty-five-dollar buy-in with cash prizes for the top three teams. No phones allowed once the game starts.”
We nod and rattle off drink orders.
“I’ll have a house beer,” Leon says.
“Same,” Andy adds.
“Yeah, me too,” Derrick says.
Andy snorts. “Original.”
Derrick doesn’t take the bait and ignores him.
“I’ll have a Diet Coke. I’m the DD tonight,” Ted says.
“And you?” The host turns to me.
“I’m feeling fancy,” I say. “Gin and tonic, please.”
Leon nods approvingly. “Good choice.”
“I’ll grab those and let you think of a team name.” The host disappears toward the bar.
Leon raises his eyebrows at us. “All right, geniuses, any ideas?”
“What do you guys normally call yourselves?” I ask.
“Team 404,” Derrick chuckles.
I snort—404 is internet speak for “Page Not Found.”
Ted grimaces. “We need to update though. It’s too nerdy.”
Andy gestures around the booth. “We’re engineers. Half of us own Rubik’s cubes, the other half argue about which programming language is superior. The nerd ship sailed long ago.”
Derrick points at me. “Except Kaori. She’s too pretty to be a nerd.”
My cheeks warm, but I lift my chin. “Trust me, I qualify. I’m basically Amy Farrah Fowler from Big Bang Theory with better eyeliner. I enjoy running those stress simulations, and I squeal over planners and office supplies.”
Ted chuckles. “The fact you just said that makes you even cooler. You a fan?”
“Big fan,” I say.
“Guys.” Derrick waves a hand like he’s herding children. “TV talk later. Team name first.”
I tap my pencil against the table, thinking about boy bands from the early 2000s. A stroke of inspiration strikes me. “What about the G-Force Five?” The guys light up and high-five one another.
Derrick scribbles it down. “Done.”
The host returns with a tray of drinks, and Derrick slides him the paper.
Glancing around us, I estimate there’s about sixty or seventy people here.
Most of the teams are just like ours. It’s a sea of dress shirts and ties, composed almost entirely of men.
The few other women I catch scattered throughout the room look like rare, colorful birds in a forest of gray and navy.
“Okay, here we go,” Derrick says as he removes his coat. The screen flashes to life with the categories: “World Capitals,” “’80s Music,” “Theme Parks,” and “Foods of the World.”
“I have a good feeling about this,” Leon grins, rubbing his hands together as soon as he finishes reading the categories.
He wipes the “’80s Music” category clean (because he lived it), I steamroll “World Capitals,” and Andy and Ted tag-team “Foods of the World” like they’re trading Pokémon cards. And “Theme Parks,” well . . . guess how that one went.
By the end of the first round, the scoreboard flashes with an announcement that we’re in first place.
In round two, the categories get trickier: “Pop Culture,” “Classic Hollywood Films,” “Parts of the Body,” and “English Literature.”
We stumble hard on “English Lit.” None of us can remember which Shakespeare play has the line about “sound and fury.” The points slip away, and the other teams surge ahead.
In the final round, we claw our way back with the categories “Dogs,” “World Architecture,” “Wines,” and “East Asia.”
And suddenly, we’re back in the game. It all comes down to the final question.
The screen flashes. I read aloud, “What landmark structure requires braces to correct it?”
Derrick squints. “No clue.”
“Same,” Ted says.
Andy hazards a guess. “The Golden Gate Bridge?”
Leon and I make eye contact, trying not to laugh. “No,” I say, biting back a grin. “It’s the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”
Ted leans in, unsure. “Didn’t they fix that? Drained the soil or something?”
“They did.” Leon sighs. “And added steel cables. It’s been ongoing for twenty years.” He gestures at me. “Kaori knew too. She’s clearly keeping up with world news better than you.”
Ted throws a tortilla chip at him. “Hey, sleep-deprived fathers can’t be expected to process world architecture. I’m just proud I remembered the tower was leaning.”
“Barely,” Andy mutters.
We hand in our answer, and a few suspenseful minutes crawl by.
The scoreboard flashes. Tied for first: Nacho Avengers & The G-Force Five
Our table erupts and I take it all in. Derrick fist-pumps. Andy jumps to his feet and starts bowing. Leon looks like someone granted him early access to retirement.
“Wait—we won?” Ted rubs his eyes like he can’t believe it.
“We did!” Derrick exclaims. “Finally! No more second place for us! Kaori, you’d better join us every week from now on. You’re our good-luck charm.”
We exchange high-fives. My body warms. It feels so good to be part of a team. I’m glad I came tonight.
Leon lifts his phone and snaps a picture of our triumphant chaos. “Gotta send this to my boys. They’ll get a kick out of it.”
Derrick blinks. “Hold on—you have kids?”
Andy smacks the back of his head. “Of course he does, genius. He’s told us about them before.”
“I didn’t know.” Derrick glares at Andy.
“Because you never listen.” Andy tosses another chip at him.
Leon finishes typing out a text and places his phone face down on the table. “I have two. They’re eighteen and twenty-one. I don’t see them as much as I’d like since their mom is in Arizona.” He hesitates, voice dipping just a little. “At least I get to steer you lot out of trouble.”
A lump forms in my throat. They’re around our age? No wonder he fusses about us at work. Taking care of us is giving him the family he lost.
“You’re the world’s best work dad,” Ted says.
“Here, here,” Derrick adds.
“Next round of tacos and beer is on me . . . Dad,” Andy says, reaching for his wallet.
Leon grins. “I hope this means you’ll think of me on Father’s Day. I accept ties, coffee mugs, and if you really wanted to show your love, I wouldn’t mind a new flat-screen TV.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Derrick says.
Leon shrugs. “Just putting it out there.”
When I received the Excelsior Parks job offer, I expected to hate being in Orlando. But now, I can’t imagine myself being anywhere else. One week in and I already feel like I’m appreciated and on my way to being a part of a family.