Chapter 52
Ilena
Four Weeks Before the Outing
This would destroy their friendship. If Mallory knew where Ilena was and what she was about to do, the past twenty-one years
wouldn’t matter.
Ilena stared at the “If at first you don’t succeed, don’t try skydiving” graffiti on the wall of the ladies’ restroom and
sipped her Scotch. Neat. The Scotch and the graffiti. It was one of those bars that left Sharpies on the shelf above the feeding
trough sink beside free tampons and temporary tattoos and butterscotch-flavored condoms.
She hadn’t been to a place like this in years. That she was here now was entirely Mallory’s fault. When Mallory had come to
her a few days ago with the discovery of the computer error, Ilena had thought they’d see the same solution—the only solution.
But Mallory’s refusal to even consider postponing the direct listing was reckless. What right did Mallory have to be the final
say on their company?
Ilena felt like she’d swallowed a book of matches, each one lighting and burning a hole in her gut.
Did she share the blame? Because of what she’d let Mallory get away with in the past?
Ilena might not have always liked Mallory’s methods, but she couldn’t deny the enjoyment that came with reaping the benefits.
But this surpassed anything Mallory had done so far, even forcing Ilena to attend the “dinner party” in that San Francisco mansion, knowing full well that it was actually a weekend-long “cuddle puddle,” with all the caviar and MDMA you could want.
But there were investors. The tech elite. And that was all that had mattered.
Ilena was done. If Mallory wouldn’t listen to reason, she wouldn’t have a company anymore. Ilena finished her Scotch and set
the empty glass beside a plastic model of a boob that purported to show women how to do a breast self-exam. She reapplied
her lipstick and set out to meet Ethan.
Ethan’s hand flattened against the table. “The satisfaction in seeing the glamazon Ilena beg is more than I could have imagined.
Give me your hand, I’ll show you.”
Bile billowed, and acid from the Scotch seared her throat. “That wasn’t begging,” she said, keeping her tone even.
“Something to look forward to, then.” He lifted a finger, cocking it like a fake gun that he aimed at the bartender. “Drink?
Let me guess, pinot grigio?” He slapped the table. “Fuck that, you’re a sweet Riesling girl.”
She swallowed her revulsion. “Are you buying?”
“Sure, my hard-on and I owe you.”
Without a beat: “Pinot noir from the reserve list.”
“Got it.” When a server came to their table, he said, “House red, merlot if you’ve got it, two of them.”
“Dick,” Ilena muttered.
“Careful there, babe. Your negotiation skills are starting to show why Mallory’s in charge.”
“Don’t babe—”
His lips lifted into a smirk. He was goading her. “Though is she, really? What with Grayson Fields behind her. Or is it on top? Underneath?”
Her disgust at this man-child who was the type to leave the seat up on an airplane mixed with her desire to defend and protect
Mallory, which was the exact opposite of the reason she was here. She’d been doing it for so long, it was ingrained.
“I’m wasting your time.” Ilena started to exit the booth. “I should go.”
Ethan’s arm crept out, and he laid his index finger against the back of her hand. “Not yet. You can’t just ask me to manipulate
my girlfriend and—”
“Fiancée, and not manipulate.”
“That depends on your perspective.”
“For which?”
“Both?” He stroked her skin, and that bile flooded her veins. “Let’s see . . . for what you’re asking, I would accept stock
options. Unless you have something else to offer?” He tucked his chin, leaned over the table, and pressed his lips—and his
tongue—against her skin.
She jerked her hand back. “You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re a liar. You don’t want Aubrey to help you postpone the direct listing because the financials aren’t in order.”
The revulsion of his tongue on her skin met with sickening fear. “What other reason would I have?”
“That’s exactly what I’m waiting for you to tell me.”
She was holding all the cards, and somehow he had the upper hand. She was out of her league. She wasn’t Mallory. She had no
idea how to do this. She felt dirty. All Ilena wanted to do was go home and cleanse herself in the glass-tiled shower that
she thought would make her house and life as perfect as it seemed on the pages of the Boston Home magazine.
A sudden flash of bumping her belly—her pregnant belly—against a marble-topped island beneath a set of industrial pendant lights that matched nothing in her kitchen and Ilena couldn’t
breathe. Like some form of déjà vu.
She shook it away and gathered her resolve. She was going to have to tell Ethan the truth. She needed Aubrey on her side.
They had to be a united front if they were going to stop Mallory from proceeding with the direct listing. Because if reasoning
didn’t work, their combined votes could force Mallory out of AIM.
“AIM has a problem with its user base,” Ilena said, swallowing past the lump in her throat.
The server dropped off their wine, and Ethan pulled his phone beneath the table to make room. “Go on,” he said when the server
left.
“We can’t go public. And I need Aubrey’s help to ensure Mallory understands that.”
Neither of them touched their wine as Ilena gave a high-level overview of the situation and how vital it was for the direct
listing to be postponed—no matter what it took, including pushing Mallory out. She hadn’t planned to say the words, but they
spilled out before she could stop them. And yet, somehow, it felt okay, even right, because the more Ethan knew, the better
prepared he would be to support Aubrey when she found out about the computer error. The news would devastate her.
Ethan lifted his glass and took a long sip. “Let me see if I have this right. AIM’s newest and flashiest feature, the one
that everyone says is thrusting the valuation into the stratosphere isn’t. What’s causing AIM to break records is, what, a
software malfunction? One the company’s cofounders are actively hiding from the public? Is that about right, cofounder Ilena
Cohen?”
Ilena shook her head. “Forget it, this was a bad idea. I’m leaving.”
“Are you sure about that? Are you actively refusing to explain AIM’s position on this to the public? Let it be known that
Ms. Cohen had her chance to comment.”
“My . . . what?” Something wasn’t right.
Ethan lifted his phone. The counter on a recording app ticked up.
“You son of a bitch—”
He’d hit the red button to stop recording before she’d gotten the first word out.
“Delete it,” Ilena said, her heart racing at the idea of what she said coming out—what she said about Mallory. “Now. I came
to you to ask a favor as a friend, one I shouldn’t have, I realize that now, but it was to protect AIM, to protect Aubrey,
the woman you love.”
“Love’s a strong word, though, isn’t it? It doesn’t convey the reality of enduring all the mediocre meals she cooks and the even
more pedestrian intercourse that can’t in good conscience be called ‘fucking.’”
Ilena’s heart sank. Mallory had never liked Ethan. Ilena hadn’t either, not really, but she’d tried to, for Aubrey. She thought
she was doing the right thing. She wasn’t.
Ethan continued, “But love can make someone ignore sound advice like having a prenup. Even someone whose company is about
to make their new husband a fortune.”
Ilena blanched. “You’re using her. All this time? For money?”
“You truly are the brains of the trio.”
“So it’s all an act? Your whole relationship?”
“It’s not entirely without pleasure, I’m not that much of a martyr.
I dove in with Aubrey just to see where things might take me.
What opportunities might arise. I had no idea it would lead to more money than you all deserve.
True, it’ll take marriage, then eventually divorce.
But we can save her from it—you and I. I’ll delete the recording if you sign half your shares of AIM over to me right now. ”
The rest of those matches in Ilena’s stomach flamed into an inferno. “This is unethical—” He laughed at her—hard and full
and with so much derision it made Ilena embarrassed, doubting herself. She forced herself to speak slowly, softly, even though
it made her throw up in her mouth. “If you make that recording public it will destroy Aubrey. But it will also ruin AIM, which
matters to so many people and—”
“All righty, then maybe you aren’t the brains of the trio.”
“You’re out to destroy AIM?”
“What’s the phrase? Payback’s a bitch?”
Ilena shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re Ilena and Mallory and nothing can touch you. You fuck with everyone, thinking you won’t ever
get fucked back. Your actions have consequences, Ilena.” He rammed the back of his head against the booth and spit out, “They
duct-taped everything. My door, my backpack, my head to the fucking pillow. Asshole told everyone it was my fault. But he’s
the one who made the bet, and he’s the one who lost it. Fuck. They called me Barney Jizz for weeks. No one wants to hang with
Barney Jizz.”
Ilena went numb. She couldn’t process his words.
“I dropped out. My parents nearly divorced. Wouldn’t pay a cent.
I went from Harvard to community college and worked my ass off, and it didn’t matter.
I never thought I’d get this chance. And then .
. .” He gave a perverse grin. “‘Nice to meet you,’ that’s what you two self-centered bitches said at Grayson’s speech.
Like I’d never existed. Then Aubrey said the same with a look on her face like she was orgasming right there.
The universe owed me, and it finally paid up.
” He leaned across the table. “Oh, and tell Mallory I’ve still got the panties.
Picked ’em right out of the trash. Gave them to Aubrey for our one-month anniversary.
Course, they didn’t fit. Her ass is just too fucking big. ”
Instinctually, Ilena’s arm darted out and red liquid spread like a bloodstain across his white shirt. Ilena set her empty
wineglass back on the table.
“Bitch!” He propelled himself out of the booth, slapping at his chest before flinging his hand at the glass, which fell but
didn’t shatter. “You’ll regret that.” He spun around, grabbing his buzzing phone from his pocket. He mumbled something Ilena
couldn’t quite make out. His fingers tapped, and he said clearly, “Office, clean shirt, then I burst this motherfucking AIM
bubble. Ingenious this, you crazy bitch.”
A drop of red wine rolled onto the web between Ilena’s thumb and index finger, and she dried it with a cocktail napkin despite
the trembling in her hand. A text came through from Aubrey. They were all meeting at some place just down the street, Better
Bar. She breathed in methodically as she gathered her white coat.
Ethan, goddamn Ethan.
How could she have come to this pissant excuse for a man? One who couldn’t get past being a boy.
She slid to the edge of the bench seat, far enough to look at the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the bar. There
he was, outside, leaning against the window, his hand clutching his phone. Then, he pushed himself off the window, on the
move.
Panic unfurled inside her, and she rushed out to the street, the chill in the air prickling goose bumps as she left her coat in the bar.
Her heart pounded her chest and dark spots crowded her vision as she whirled around to find him.
She caught a glimpse, his arched back, his forceful stride, jaywalking across the street toward the plaza with AIM on one side and his office on the other. She couldn’t let him reach either.
She shouted to him, calling his name, one she never actually knew in college; she’d have never recognized him, her only interaction
was with him in that low-drawn hoodie. Ethan didn’t hear her, or he heard her and didn’t care.
She started to run. Her heart nearly burst when she caught a glimpse of the long, bronzed hair she recognized as well as her
own. Mallory was on the opposite side of the street, heading away, in the direction of the bar in the text. But Ilena needed
her, needed her help to fix this. She missed her best friend and she missed her husband and missed the woman she’d been when
she met them both.
“Mallory,” she cried. She pointed to Ethan, her fingers shaking, her throat dry, her words hoarse and desperate. “Stop him,
we have to stop—”
Whatever Mallory understood in that moment didn’t matter. Ilena had asked for help and Mallory gave it. Mallory cupped her
hands around her mouth and screamed, “Ethan!” His stride slowed, but he didn’t stop or look their way. Ilena opened her mouth,
and the next “Ethan!” resounded in unison, their combined power strong enough to make him freeze.
He turned away from the oncoming traffic and toward them.
It all came at once. Screech, honk, sparks, the shattering of glass, the pooling of blood.
Ilena felt as though she’d been lifted out of her body, seeing it all from another time, another place. A place where she
could agree to words she would have never imagined.
When Mallory said, “Aubrey can never know,” Ilena hesitated for a microsecond before she nodded and reached for Mallory’s hand, letting her lead them to meet Aubrey at Better Bar, making a promise to herself that Mallory would never know the full truth either.
She’d never tell her that she had met with Ethan in order to betray her best friend.