Chapter 1 #3
Another shriek, followed by infectious giggling. At the end of the dock, Felix and James’s daughter claps her hands in delight
as Kai teeters on a paddleboard, playfully splaying his arms to the sides, mouth hanging open, exaggerating his risk of splashing
into the murky river.
Mallory’s teeth clench. “The invitation specifically said no kids. Where’s Noreen? Oh, good, she’s still close.” Mallory raises
her voice. “Nor—” The rustling of Ilena pushing herself out of her chair makes Mallory pause. “You know what, never mind.
It’s a good look for us, right? Let me just text those influencers to get a couple of shots. Hashtag family friendly?”
Aubrey digs a nail into the mosquito bite on her thumb as Ilena pauses, then slowly slides back into the seat. Her index finger
taps against her mule, still untouched.
Her nails are painted their usual neutral beige.
Mallory’s sparkle in gold. Aubrey’s are gnawed with jagged cuticles, just as they were the day the three of them met.
It was eight years ago at a start-up program in Silicon Valley.
Aubrey had been there as part of another team, but Mallory and Ilena had seen potential in her that her own team hadn’t.
Though Mallory and Ilena’s alumna mentoring idea hadn’t exactly been the program darling, buzz had still surrounded Mallory Latham and Ilena Cohen: smart, confident, extraordinary women who had bonded as freshman roommates at Harvard.
An hour and a half into their first lunch, Aubrey had finally gotten past her nausea to eat some cilantro microgreens and those strange but delicious little squares of pancetta.
“After the program, you should join us,” Ilena had said, to which Mallory had immediately added, “You are joining us.”
Instead of her nausea returning, all Aubrey had felt was a dizzying desire to say “yes.” Her brain slotted things into place
as if it were code. “Aubrey, Ilena, and Mallory. We could be ‘AIM.’”
Mallory smiled. “We’re so going to make FU money.”
“And show everyone that women can make FU money,” Ilena had added.
Aubrey had toyed with her napkin. “And, maybe, show women that they should?”
Have they? Aubrey wonders now, looking out at the lawn full of employees who are all counting on them.
Has Aubrey? As chief technology officer she keeps the paid subscription base that could now support a moderate-sized Boston skyscraper running.
That growth, which is responsible for AIM’s astronomical Wall Street valuation, is partly due to last year’s introduction of “How Wide’s My Smile,” one of Aubrey’s grandmother’s sayings and the buzziest feature of their app.
The motivational talks from celebrities and “organic,” “word-of-mouth” influencer campaigns (which are anything but) are all Mallory’s doing.
While Ilena ensures the inclusion of menstrual tracking and health proxies.
All of it intended to help users find and stay on the path that will make them happy, healthy, and wise, guided and overseen by experts, teams of doctors and therapists and mindfulness specialists that provide the authoritative foundation that’s come to set AIM apart from others in the niche.
Aubrey takes a mouthful of her strawberry mule, rolling it over her tongue, the sweet, savory blend rounding the edges that
so much tension have made sharp. The three of them have always worked best when they work together. They need to be reminded
of that.
“Maybe Noreen’s right,” Aubrey says. “Today’s announcement deserves more than one celebration, doesn’t it? Seems like the
perfect thing to usher in good luck for AIM, right?”
“Yes!” Mallory says with more enthusiasm than Aubrey would have expected. “The night before we go public? We come back here,
strawberry drinks and all. I’ll take any excuse to wear this jumpsuit again. Stella McCartney sent it herself.” Something
lurks in Mallory’s bravado, an undercurrent of insecurity. She tips her glass toward Ilena, waiting for her to agree.
But she doesn’t, not immediately, and so Aubrey nudges Ilena’s elbow. “Bring Jonah if you want, if he doesn’t have a shift
at the hospital like tonight.”
A glistening sparks in Ilena’s eyes, and she blinks. “No Jonah. Just us. I’ll be there.”
“Perfect,” Mallory says.
“But about the direct listing,” Ilena says slowly. “After AIM goes public, I’m—”
“This isn’t the time,” Mallory interrupts, eyeing Aubrey.
Tug, tug, tug on Aubrey’s left.
“Because it’s past time.” Ilena raises an eyebrow at Aubrey.
Tug, tug, tug on Aubrey’s right.
This is the way it’s been. Mallory hell-bent on going public, Ilena wanting to hit pause, and both trying to get Aubrey to voice her opinion.
Except what they want isn’t an opinion but for her to choose a side.
Whether they don’t see that or can’t or choose not to, it’s not fair, same as it’s not fair for her best friends to be acting like they aren’t.
“The Lannisters,” Aubrey blurts out. “Cersei, Jaime, Tywin, go!”
Ilena’s brow crinkles. “I honestly have no idea what you just said.”
A whisper of a smile plays on Mallory’s lips. “Well, look at that, finally, we agree on something.”
Aubrey scratches the mosquito bite. “A game. They were playing it at the bar. You know, that ‘Marry, Kiss, or Kill’ thing,
and I just thought we could . . .” Could what? Be as free and playful as Kai? That’s not really any of them. Especially now.
She hears the collective thrum of everyone having a good time, and her lower lip twitches. “Forget it, it’s silly.”
Mallory’s eyes drift to Ilena, and they have one of their silent conversations that always reminds Aubrey of how much longer
the two have known each other.
“Not at all,” Mallory says. “A little loosening up can’t hurt. The hype has become overwhelming. It’s like they’re setting
us up to fail.”
“They?” comes Ilena’s clipped response.
Mallory and Ilena hold each other’s gaze for a beat that borders on uncomfortable.
Ilena inhales, chest rising, as she turns to Aubrey, whose face as always must say everything she’s thinking, which is a please, please, please, because they’re unraveling and have been unraveling and maybe it is her fault for not choosing a side, but the last choice
she made brought her here, to this thread so frayed that she’s not sure she can hold on much longer.
Ilena takes a long sip of her strawberry mule. “Okay.”
Aubrey smiles the smile she learned she was capable of after meeting these two women, so real and full that she feels the truth of it in her toes.
Despite it all, they’re here for her. Aubrey both knew they would be and doubted they would be because these things live simultaneously in Aubrey.
She never imagined being a part of something like this.
Surrounded by people like this. She used to put herself to sleep writing imaginary code, variables and functions waltzing across the popcorn ceiling of her childhood bedroom, the placement of each something she knew instinctively, felt in the marrow of her bones.
And now, she’s in charge of employees she still can’t think of as “hers,” even after years of being their boss.
Ilena faces Mallory. “I’ll play, but I need the rules.”
“No, you don’t.” Mallory rubs her hands together. “At least not the rules, you need my rules. Because what we need is to make this interesting.”
Of all the words that don’t go together, Mallory and rules top the list. Aubrey is beginning to think this was a bad idea. “Actually, maybe this isn’t the time, we should mingle . . .
shouldn’t we mingle?”
Mallory gives a dismissive wave as her eyes search the lawn. “Ooh, you are going to love this.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Ilena says.
Mallory ignores her. “This will be spectacular, promise. The rule is AIM. Specifically, anyone who’s here.” Her eyes are pulled
to Grayson like a magnet, and yet, unexpectedly, the excitement in them fades. She shakes her head and snaps back to Ilena
and Aubrey. “Right, okay, so, out of everyone here, who would you fuck?” She points to Aubrey. “You. Go.”
Aubrey’s heart thumps. Fuck? Not Kiss?
“Mallory!” Ilena cries. “Inappropriate on every level. We’re with our employees! Were you not at that sexual harassment training?
We’re not doing this.”
“We are,” Mallory insists. “My version, my rules. And Aubrey wants to.”
“No. Aubrey doesn’t.” Ilena cups her hands around the arm of the chair, and her eyes swaddle Aubrey. “Come on, Aubrey, let’s
go.”
Aubrey twists her hands in her lap. She suddenly realizes how very much she doesn’t want to play this game, most certainly
not this version of this game, and even more certainly, not this part of this version of this game. Mallory being Mallory doesn’t excuse her from seeing that. Even the idea of answering makes
Aubrey’s heart burn with betrayal. But she’s also being treated like the rope in her best friends’ game of tug-of-war, and
she just can’t anymore.
Aubrey downs the rest of her strawberry mule, presses the cool glass against her mosquito bite, and resists the urge to make
one of her signature pro-con lists. She simply says, “Kai.”
“Sold,” Mallory says.
Ilena stands. “Happy? We’re done, then?”
“No,” Aubrey says sharply, surprising herself. But her cheeks are on fire, and the alcohol’s making her stomach churn, and
she’ll be damned if she’s going to be the only one of them sent for remedial training on their sexual harassment policies.
Ilena nods slowly as if dropping Aubrey into a papoose on her chest. “Fine. Then, who’s next?”
Mallory responds instantly, “You. Marry.”
“Naturally, because irony is alive and well,” Ilena mutters, reflexively spinning the opal wedding ring from Jonah around her finger.
She steps forward, beyond the edge of the sandbox, and sets a hand on each of her hips.
A perfect, sophisticated silhouette in her long-sleeved white linen shirt, navy blue shorts, and flats that she’s pressing hard against the ground.
Ilena sways slightly, neck rotating, until another shriek cuts through the music and the clank of tumbling giant Jenga blocks.
The night is so full of happiness that it pinches Aubrey’s heart.
Ilena’s shoulders pull back as she angles herself toward the paddleboards where Felix and James each hold one of their daughter’s
hands, helping her balance.
“Felix,” Ilena says. “I’d marry Felix.”
Mallory gives a mischievous smile. “Which leaves just one thing for me.”