Chapter 2
CHARLIE
Two minutes. Two more minutes to finish configuring these sensor parameters and—
“Charlotte.”
I jumped at Richard’s voice, nearly knocking over my coffee.
Cold, I noticed as I steadied it. How long had I been working?
The windows behind my workstation had gone dark.
The rest of the lab was empty—had been for hours, probably.
My phone showed nothing but the time. No missed calls, no texts.
Just me and the hum of the equipment, same as every other night.
“Sorry to startle you.” He wasn’t. Richard Sterling never apologized for anything. At least, he never meant it. “But we need to talk.”
“Just give me one second to finish this.” My fingers flew over the keyboard, muscle memory taking over.
I had set and reset these so many times, I could probably do it drunk.
The Safety, Environmental, Acoustic, and Sensor Network prototype—SEAS—had consumed my life for the past three years, but after countless setbacks and breakthroughs, we were finally close to having something revolutionary.
Something that might save someone’s life one day.
I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. “OK, what’s up?” I spun my chair around, plastering on a smile. Positive attitude, always. Mom’s voice in my head: You catch more flies with honey.
Richard’s face told me honey wasn’t going to help here.
He stood in the doorway of my lab, his Italian suit jacket buttoned, tie still perfect, even at six p.m..
At forty-five, he probably still turned some heads, just not mine.
Silver threaded through his blond hair in just the right places and his ice-blue eyes were pretty .
. . but in a cold way. And they had been focused on me more and more lately, in ways that made me uncomfortable.
“The board meeting tomorrow morning has been moved up to eight.” His words were careful, measured as he stepped into my space. Even at this hour, his cologne lingered. “There will be some . . . changes announced.”
The chill that ran down my spine had nothing to do with the lab’s aggressive air conditioning. The same air conditioning that kept my complex array of testing equipment at optimal temperature, their soft hums and occasional beeps the soundtrack to my endless hours here. “Changes?”
“I can’t discuss the details yet.” He moved closer, examining my computer screen over my shoulder.
His eyes moved over the SEAS data the way they moved over quarterly reports—assessing, calculating.
Three years of my life reduced to whatever dollar figure he’d assigned it.
“But I want you to know that your work here . . . it’s been noticed. By some very important people.”
Important people. Hopefully not the same important people who’d been promising funding and support for the past two years, but with conditions.
With strings that would compromise the safety parameters I refused to budge on.
Richard was always trying to drum up funding, and was always more willing to compromise than I was.
“Richard—”
“Get some rest, Charlotte.” His hand brushed my shoulder as he straightened. A touch that lasted a second too long. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” He turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. “And . . . I’m sorry.”
Sorry? Richard Sterling was apologizing?
My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend, Mia.
Charlie: Need a drink.
The response was immediate:
Mia: Corner booth at The Edison in 20. I’ll bring chocolate.
I didn’t smile, the sinking feeling in my stomach that told me Richard had made a decision that I wasn’t going to like was too strong, but damn I was grateful for Mia.
Charlie: Make it 30? I need to call Sarah.
Mia:
I flicked over to another app and soon Sarah’s sweet but tired face was filling my phone screen. It was two a.m. in London, but she’d always been a night owl, and she liked to talk to me at the end of my workday.
“Hello love, how was your day?”
Now I did smile, if I didn’t, I knew she’d worry. She’d been my mentor so long she was practically family now, and she always fussed over me. Which I sometimes needed, but never noticed until she did it.
“Good. Another long one.”
“But you love it.”
“Yes, I really do. Just finished another update to the sensor calculations, so I’ll run another test tomorrow.” I hesitated. “But there’s a board meeting tomorrow morning. Richard just stopped in. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“You think he’s finally caved?”
The icky feeling immediately escalated to nausea and I sat down. “God, Sarah, I really do. I feel like this is a tightrope I’ve been walking for years. SEAS will be worth a fortune if I ever get it working right. And he has sunk a lot of R & D funding into it.”
Sarah’s voice was soothing, her eyes sincere. “We knew this was always a possibility, right? No sense in getting worked up. Whatever happens, whoever ends up in control of SEAS, they’ll have to keep you on, no one else could replace you. It’s your baby.”
“I know. That’s the problem. I have such hopes for it.”
“Again, no sense in fussing over it now. Let’s see what happens and we’ll roll with the punches as they come.”
This was how she’d been when I met her twelve years ago, when I first started working for Richard, straight out of school.
Two years of working on her development team had bonded us, and she’d been pivotal in convincing Richard to even assess my proposal in the first place.
When she’d retired five years ago I had cried.
Not in front of her, but after her party, alone in my studio apartment, I had cried.
“I’m proud of you, you know.” Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.
“Thanks.” My voice sounded strangled and I cleared my throat.
“Feeling OK today?”
Sarah gave me the usual song and dance, that she was great and I shouldn’t worry, before changing the subject, talking about the weather in London, and then signing off saying she was going to have a cup of tea and go to bed.
I took my mug to the sink in the back of the room to rinse it out, leaving it to dry in the rack before grabbing my purse. The strap caught on the hook and when I yanked on it, the entire damn thing upended, dumping crap all over the floor.
I stood there for a minute, among the lip gloss and gum wrappers, the half eaten bag of gummy bears, two granola bars, keys, flashlight, duct tape, and wallet. The compass Wyatt had given me.
I picked it up. The cracked face, the bent casing. I held it for a second, feeling its familiar weight in my palm, and my chest went tight the way it always did. I shoved it into my pocket and finished cleaning up the mess.
Three years of working on this thing, of begging for one more round of funding.
The hotel bar was literally across the street, but crossing a street in Santa Monica at rush hour was taking your life in your hands.
No way I was going to try to get my car started just to go ten feet though, my 2006 Corolla was a cranky piece of work and I needed a drink and a friendly shoulder, not a mechanical revolt and an hour tinkering to get it going.
So I dodged traffic, then dodged men as I made my way to the bar to meet Mia, who was already seated and had ordered me a drink. The place was packed—everyone in here had somewhere to go after this, someone to get home to. I had Mia and a lemon drop. That was enough.
“I love you.” I breathed, as I took a sip of the lemon drop before I even sat down.
“I know.” Mia grinned.
“I was talking to the drink, thankyouverymuch.”
“Liar.”
I hugged her neck before I sat down. “You look amazing. I should never meet you after work.”
I looked down at the boring black pants and blue sweater I was wearing.
I probably had five or six pairs of these pants, exactly the same.
Once I found something that fit and washed well, I invested.
I didn’t have the money for dry-cleaning, and I didn’t have the time for ironing and fussing with picking out a new outfit every day.
How Mia managed to look put together and classy and still handle her more-than-full-time job was a mystery to me.
I glanced around at the crowd. Women who’d come from work wore sassy pencil skirts and blouses, with long glossy locks flipped over shoulders or short bobs showing off cheekbones.
I self consciously tucked a stray wisp of hair back up into the knot on my head.
One more thing that I hadn’t bothered to mess with in ages.
Mia bumped me with her shoulder. “Cut it out.”
“What?”
“You know what. Stop worrying about what you’re wearing or your hair. You’re fucking stunning and every woman in here wishes she had your bone structure so she could forget the makeup and just walk around all gorgeous and natural all day.”
I shrugged off her compliment. “You love me. Your opinion doesn’t count.”
“Fuck you.” Her grin softened her response. “I love you and my opinion is the most important. That’s how this works. What you should be doing is looking around at the men in this place. Half of whom are checking you out.”
She turned her bar stool around, propping one elbow behind her on the bar.
“I mean, come on.” She sighed, sounding like she was getting a massage.
“Look at these guys. Ties loosened. Jackets off. Cuffs rolled up. Don’t you just want to get in there and mess up someone’s hair?
” She waggled her eyebrows at me suggestively. “Or have someone mess up yours?”
“I wouldn’t know. It’s been so long since I was on a date that even had me thinking about anything other than how to get out of a kiss-at-the-door situation . . . honestly, right now, the thing I’m most excited about is the chocolate you promised me.”
“Patience, my friend. I’ve got you. But for now, come on, just humor me.
” She nudged me again and I sighed, turning to follow her gaze.
“What about them?” She tipped her martini glass subtly in the direction of four men at a corner table.
They were laughing and talking animatedly, one of them clearly regaling the rest with a story.
All the while they were each glancing around, playing the game.
Checking people out, sizing them up. A little eye contact here. A small smile there.
I shook my head. “No, they’re too, I don’t know. On.”
“On?”
“You know. Shopping.”
“Girl.” Mia’s tone was at once disapproving and incredulous. “That’s what everyone is doing.”
“I know.” She laughed at the disappointed look on my face. “I don’t get it. What are you looking for, if not for someone else who’s looking?”
“I don’t know. I want sparks. I want romance-novel-up-against-a-wall. I want someone who’s too secure to do all this,” I waved my hand at the crowd, “and someone who will love me like it’s what he lives for.”
“Is that all?” I wasn’t looking at her, but I could hear her eyes roll.
“You’re setting yourself up for disappointment.
You know that meme about romance novels and movies setting our expectations too high?
It’s funny because it’s real. We’ve made these guys up in our heads, and made them manifest in our dreams, and paid actors to inhabit them.
That’s not something you can really expect to find. ”
“Exactly. Even if he was out there, somewhere, he wouldn’t be here. But that’s fine, because I came here to see you, anyway. How was your day?”
She was almost a year older than me. We’d met at MIT, but while I’d immediately taken a job working for Richard, Mia had pivoted and started her own event planning business.
While I’d hidden in a lab for ten years she’d become a self-made success—working her way up from coordinating small local events to managing extravagant galas for L.A. ’s elite.
She flashed a megawatt grin at me and I swear two men next to me almost passed out.
Mia began describing a quinceanera she’d been contracted to plan, with a budget higher than most peoples weddings.
She set down her drink, her hands flying as she animatedly described the mother of the soon-to-be-fifteen-year-old guest of honor.
Her huge, deep brown eyes were alight with her excitement about the job, and I was paying attention to what she was saying and ignored the feeling of a person crowding in on my other side.
The place was jammed, personal space wasn’t going to be a thing tonight.
Mia turned to face the bar, grabbing a couple of paper napkins and the bartenders pen to sketch out a balloon arch design she’d come up with.
She finished the drawing and waved it at me triumphantly, tossing back the last of her drink like an exclamation point.
I laughed and reached for mine to do the same but a deep voice coming over my left shoulder stopped me.
“Don’t touch that.”