Twenty-Four
Thousands of people are swarming outside the Palais des Festivals on the Promenade de La Croisette, referred to mostly as
La Croisette. I am aware of heads turning as I walk through with Jerome, of people nudging each other and pointing us out,
so I keep my eyes fixed on the middle distance, avoiding eye contact, certain that they are whispering about the dilettante
party girl, the spoiled little rich girl who has been banished from the main office, leaving the grown-ups in charge.
We make our way into the Grand Auditorium, to our reserved seats in the front row for the first keynote speaker of the day.
The room quiets as the lights dim, Inferno’s blazing fire logo appearing on the screen, Pavit Desai striding confidently onto
the stage.
I have googled the Desai family extensively since our deal. I know that Pavit is married with four small children, that they
divide their time between Mumbai, Kenya, and London, where they have a huge stucco house in Eaton Place, which has been featured,
with his beautiful wife and gorgeous children, in the pages of Hello! magazine.
I have watched him speak at other conferences, have downloaded podcasts that have featured him as a business leader. I thought I knew what to expect, but when he walks onto the stage, his teeth gleaming in a wide smile, I could never have predicted his charisma.
“Did anyone here notice the enormous crowd on the other side of the room?” he asks. There is a murmur of agreement, and it’s
clear, from the moment he opens his mouth, that he has total command of the audience.
“It made me think what’s ten blocks long and has never had sex?” There is a beat, and he leans in, his eyes twinkling. “The
line for the new Fortnite game.” There is a roar of laughter, for they are launching the latest version of the Fortnite game here at the conference, and vast numbers of teenage boys have snuck in, attempting to get their hands on an early copy.
“In all seriousness, I love Fortnite. I had to stop playing it or my wife would have divorced me, but frankly, if I had to choose between the new Fortnite and sex . . .” he trails off, shrugging, as the room cheers and laughs.
“If my wife is listening, honey, I truly am joking. Those who know me know that not only do I love my wife, I rarely do anything
without consulting the women in my life. I was raised by the strongest woman I know, and women have always been the guiding
force in my life.”
I lean forward, impressed. I wasn’t sure what Pavit would talk about as one of the keynote speakers. I was hoping he might
mention ipryy; this is, after all, one of the reasons we are here, and not for a minute did I think he would talk about the
women in his life.
“As many of you know, Inferno is a family-run business. I may be the CEO, but the woman who really runs everything, the woman
who has made Inferno the hottest company in Pacific Asia, is my sister, Preeti.”
Pavit turns to the screen, where the Inferno logo is suddenly replaced with the image of a smiling little girl, about four years old, ice cream all over her face.
The crowd roars in approval as Pavit grins, clicking through to Preeti’s latest publicity shot, Preeti looking spectacularly beautiful as she sits cross-legged on a sofa.
“She’ll kill me.” He shakes his head and laughs. “But she really is the driving force behind all that Inferno stands for.
I care about the business, but Preeti cares about changing the world. And to that end, I would like to bring her on stage
to tell you a little about what we’re doing over the next few months. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to
my favorite little sister, Preeti Desai.”
Beyoncé’s voice fills the auditorium, asking who run the world. The energy in the room goes through the roof as everyone mouths
along to the lyrics, all shouting “girls” in response to Beyoncé’s question, and then Preeti walks on stage, singing along,
her floral chiffon maxi dress floating behind her as she reaches the podium and twirls, punching the air in time with the
music as the crowd roars. She looks like she just stepped out of Vogue, her giant earrings glinting in the light, as the music fades out and Preeti looks across the room.
I know you can’t see anything from a stage like this. You might make out a face or two in the front row, but beyond that it
is darkness. The media trainer Clara organized for me told me to find a face in the front row, to focus on that one face,
a friendly face, and imagine I’m talking to that person alone. Preeti doesn’t need a media trainer. I don’t believe she has
ever been nervous for a single, solitary second, and I have caught her enthusiasm, her confidence. Preeti is stunning, and
I have never seen anyone more powerful in my life.
Preeti looks out over the stage, across the auditorium, and then she spots me, and her mouth falls open.
“I wasn’t planning on doing this—” she leans into the microphone “—but we have a very special guest in the audience. I think this might be her first public appearance at a large tech conference.”
Oh no, I think, my face falling as I turn to Jerome in terror.
“It’s definitely her first tech conference since taking over as the interim CEO of our newest partner. Missy? Get up here.”
She walks to the side of the stage, to where there is a staircase, and extends a hand.
“Get up there,” whispers Jerome, practically hoisting me up from my chair.
“People? I am so proud that Inferno is partnering with ipryy, but I am even more proud . . .” I get up and walk up the steps,
my legs feeling like Jell-O “. . . to call Missy Cooke, the new CEO of ipryy, my friend.” Preeti hugs me on stage, feeling
me quake with nerves. She leads me by the hand to the podium, and puts her arm around me.
“This is to every journalist out there,” Preeti says into the microphone. “To everyone who wants to see us fail, to everyone
who thinks they can further their career by shaming and blaming, by putting other people down in order to get ahead, don’t
mess with the girls, because we’re already running the world.”
The crowd goes wild. Preeti waits for the cheers to die down.
“Don’t ever mistake great clothes for being spoiled. Don’t ever mistake sparkly earrings—” at this, she tilts her head and
shows off her huge earrings with a laugh “—for being a lightweight. It is possible to love technology, to be a brilliant businesswoman,
to be a great friend, and to love dressing up and feeling pretty.” She curtsies, as the crowd cheers.
Preeti is standing on stage at one of the biggest tech conferences in the world, telling everyone here that the journalist
who wrote The Wall Street Journal piece was wrong. I know everyone read it, and I am old enough to know that there are many people who enjoy a spot of schadenfreude,
who get pleasure from seeing the perceived mighty fall. I am so grateful, I could weep.
“By the way,” Preeti says to the crowd, turning to the screen.
“You know that thing I said about not messing with the girls?” She grins.
“This one’s for you, Pavit.” Up on the screen flashes a picture of a skinny little boy, who I presume to be Pavit, at around six years old, his mouth a mass of teeth pointing in different directions.
He is wearing oversized cricket whites, and clutching a bat that is almost twice his size, but you cannot tear your eyes away from the teeth.
How did they all fit in his mouth, and what happened to them?
The cameras find Pavit in the front row and zoom in on him sinking his face in his hands, before looking up, shaking his head and laughing, showing off a mouthful of perfect teeth as he waves a finger at Preeti.
This is what I have never seen before. Preeti and Pavit are having fun. They are heading one of the most exciting tech companies
in the world, and are treating it like a private family party, a party to which all of us are invited, all of us thrilled
to be there, because they are having such a good time.
“You have all read about our deal with ipryy,” says Preeti. “I wanted you to see this amazing woman now at the helm, because
we are going to change the world.” She gives me another hug, and as I walk off the stage, she launches into a discussion of
the philanthropic work we are going to be doing together. How she partnered with ipryy not just because of the genius of Marty
Cooke, but because she knew that she and I were kindred spirits, that we saw the world in the same way.
“We’re at the very beginning of our partnership, and we haven’t cemented exactly what it’s going to look like, but educating
girls, building schools in rural communities, ensuring that women are given equal opportunities in every area, is what we
are absolutely committed to doing. As Missy Cooke once said to me, if you educate a man, you educate a person, but if you
educate a woman . . .” she pauses “. . . you educate a nation.”
A deafening applause fills the room. Jerome reaches over and gently squeezes my leg. He is smiling at me, as proud as I’ve ever seen him.
“This is all you,” he leans over and whispers. “She’s giving an extraordinary speech, but you made this happen.”
Preeti’s public validation, the topic of her speech, the fact that she credited me, that she made sure everyone here knows
that I am with her every step of the way, is the first time I feel I have truly been seen. Not as Marty Cooke’s daughter.
Not as a spoiled little rich girl playing at having a career. Not as someone who has privilege handed to her every step of
the way, but as someone who thinks for herself, whose thoughts, and feelings, and dreams are valid, and important, and real.
Preeti finds me at the reception and flings her arms around me. “Will you ever forgive me?” she says.
“I don’t know,” I respond. “I don’t know whether to thank you, or kill you.”
She laughs. “Come say hi to Pavit. He’s dying to meet you.”
She leads me over to her brother, who is already deep in conversation with Jerome, and he turns, his face lighting up.
“I have to tell you,” he says to me, “my sister doesn’t often get excited by the people she meets. You must be very special.”
“I’m not special at all.” I shake his hand. “We just bonded at a party.”
“But that’s not all,” he says. “If that were all, we wouldn’t have done this deal. She sees something in you that she recognized.
I understand what it is. You are a quiet force, Missy, and your motivations are the same as my sister’s. I’m so pleased you’re
at the helm of ipryy. How is your father? I know he’s in Switzerland. Is he responding to the treatment?”
I tell him what I know. That it is looking good, that his markers are down, that Scarlett reports he is in better spirits than he has been in a while, and that we are all hoping he will be home in a couple of months.
“Are you coming tonight?” Pavit asks. I frown, turning to Jerome.
“Tonight?”
“The Inferno reception,” Jerome reminds me.
“We’ve taken over Vegaluna,” says Pavit. “It’s going to be a spectacular party.”
Preeti walks up and rolls her eyes. “It’s not going to be a spectacular party,” she says. “It will be filled with tech geeks.”
“Preeti!” he admonishes her. “It will be great. You’re coming, yes? I promise you, as tech parties go, it’s the place to be.”
“Of course we’ll be there,” says Jerome.
A crowd is forming around us, patiently waiting to speak to Pavit, to Preeti, to congratulate them on their speeches, their
success.
“We’ll let you two go,” I say, steering Jerome away. “Everyone wants to talk to you. We’ll see you later at the party!”
“Wear some bloody sequins,” shouts Preeti as we walk away. I turn back and she gives me a wink. I start to laugh.