Chloe perched on the edge of the couch. “Ooh, are you stripping?”
“Not the right audience.” Liz blushed. “Or rather, his target audience isn’t going to appreciate that. I promise.” Quickly, before Chloe could argue, she added, “Jordan needs to do this until he’s comfortable with the whole live-talking thing, but that’s not a big deal, because it’s awesome and you’ll love it.”
Chloe wasn’t worried about that. “Have you seen Jordan on stage?”
“Yes.” Liz’s cheeks darkened another shade of red—something Chloe would have said wasn’t possible until she witnessed it.
“Where?” Jordan paused in the middle of plugging in his laptop, and looked at Liz.
“Research.” Liz turned her attention to the stack of paperwork in her hands.
Jordan straightened up. “That’s a bit vague. You can’t say that and not offer details.”
“I... uh... Everyone kept talking about those Rinslet kids, and what they said never matched up with what I know about the two of you. So before I called Jordan with the offer, I looked you up online. All your old E3 presentations are on YouTube, starting with the fake marriage proposal.”
Chloe expected the reminder of that first show to tug at regret inside. The reaction wasn’t there like it always had been in the past. Not because she felt any different about wanting Jordan in her life—she still couldn’t picture a future without him—but the symbolism of the ring didn’t have the same pull to her as in the past. She was comfortable he meant what he said, with or without a ring.
“What did you think?” Jordan’s question interrupted Chloe’s spiraling memories.
Liz’s papers seemed to grab her attention again. “You were adorable together that day.” The rustle of pages muffled her words. “You still are. More important to this though, you started strong as showmen and grew. That’s why I know Jordan can do this. Both of you really truly work an audience in ways I’ve never seen.”
Chloe liked the awe in Liz’s words. It sank deep under her skin and buoyed her. “In that case, I’m your captive audience until you’re done.”
Jordan stepped back from the laptop and pointed at the screen. “Imagine that’s projected on the far wall. I will have a projector, won’t I?” he asked Liz.
“Already reserved,” Liz confirmed.
Chloe listened for the next several hours, as Jordan spun through multiple iterations of his demo. The practice wasn’t new for her, but the details of his plan were. She watched in awe, as he rolled out numbers, images, plans, and concepts she never would have dreamed of. Sometimes Liz stopped him, made tweaks, and asked him to start over. Every time Chloe had a question about feasibility, he either had an answer ready or learned from Liz as she spun a reply. Morning turned into afternoon, and Chloe lost track of time until Liz’s phone chimed.
“Crap. I didn’t realize it was already five. Hang on.” Liz grabbed her phone. “It’s going to be Mercy”—she seemed to be speaking to herself—“to ask if I’m on for my weekly dinner with her and Ian.”
Skip out. Spend the evening with us. The request died in Chloe’s throat. That wasn’t fair to ask.
Liz looked from the phone to Jordan and then Chloe, while she fiddled with the device, rolling it over in her hand. She twisted her mouth, as if considering something.
Would she stay after all? Flutters of hope danced inside Chloe.
Liz stood, no longer making eye contact with either of them. “You’ll be amazing on Tuesday.” Her gaze was directed at Jordan’s feet as she spoke. “Thanks for letting me invade your private space for a few weeks. Let me know how things go. The three of us will hang out again sometime. If we have time. Bye.” She all but scampered out the door.
“Did I miss something?” Jordan asked.
“If you did, so did I.” Chloe spun the last thirty seconds or so of rambling through her head. It felt as though Liz finished with a different conversation than the one they were having before her phone went off.
Jordan settled next to Chloe on the couch. “I guess that means we have our quiet home life back. Now what?”
“I don’t know.” Chloe wasn’t sure she was prepared to think about life without Liz, and she couldn’t figure out how that made sense.
Chapter Twenty
Liz felt bad about brushing off Chloe and Jordan the way she had. Part of it was the way she stretched the truth as an excuse to bolt like a scared rabbit.
Mercy’s text actually said, Just dropped Ian at the airport. Last-minute Monday meeting in Atlanta. No flights out tomorrow. You should hang out with your new friends tonight.
Where did Mercy get the notion that was a good idea? Liz sent back a reply. You still in the valley? My place. Bring—pizza had too many memories associated with it. So did Chinese. And sushi. And bar food—Curry.
While she waited for Mercy, she flipped down the options in her wine rack, hoping something would catch her eye. Except, even wine had memories attached to it. She should have asked for cheap beer, too. That should be safe.
The rattle of keys in the lock drew Liz’s attention, and seconds later, Mercy entered, holding up a plastic bag filled with take-out boxes. “You ask, and I deliver.”
“How much do I tip in a case like this?” Liz met her halfway, grabbed the food, and then crossed back to set it on the bar separating the living room from the kitchen.
“Hmm...” Mercy grabbed silverware from its drawer. “Usually I’d say service is its own reward, but tonight, you owe me information.”
Liz set out two glasses of iced tea, and each picked her favorite bar stool and sat half-facing the other. “I don’t have a lot of that. The price of gold dropped three points today?” Liz said.
“I want specific information. For instance, I talked to Jonathan Woodhouse today.” Mercy dished rice onto her plate, then covered it with mango and pork in green curry, handing each container to Liz as she finished.
Liz froze mid-scooping out rice and tried to cover her hesitation with a nervous question. “I wonder why he didn’t call me. Is everything all right with K.M.?”
“I assume.” Mercy studied her as she spoke. “He wanted to thank me for being a great business partner and give me his new company information, because he’s leaving K.M. I thought it was sweet of him to call me directly. Even said so. Asked if he’d already talked to you about it. He told me you already knew he was leaving and why, and you were kind enough to keep his secret.”
So Mercy hadn’t heard about the offer to Liz. Good. Liz was still deciding how to bring it up, and despite the segue, she didn’t think she was ready. “Surprise.” She gave a light laugh. “Nice to not be hiding that anymore.”
“I bet.” Mercy poked at her food but didn’t eat any. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Liz bit the inside of her cheek, unable to ignore the hurt in Mercy’s question. “He asked me to keep it to myself until he was ready to let the news out.” That was the easy answer.
“But... it’s me. I wouldn’t have let personal matters impact business.”
“Except you have. And you continue to.” Liz’s frustration slipped out. “When it comes to me. When it comes to Ian. Every single line has blurred for you in the past six months. I don’t know where personal ends and professional begins anymore.”
Mercy dropped her fork. “I thought we were okay.”
“I did too, but we’re not.” Now Liz was talking, she didn’t want to stop.
“So tell me. Please?”
Liz scrubbed her face, trying to make sense of her thoughts. “I was so jealous when the two of you got together. I still am. Everything’s changed, and I don’t know if you even need me anymore, Mel, which is selfish of me to worry about, but I can’t help it.”
“I’ll always need you. I promise. Who else is going to tell me stories about their sexy escapades with fun couples around the world?”
Liz laughed through the sadness. “You’re trying to make me feel better, and that’s not the way to do it.”
&
nbsp; Mercy raised her brows in question.
“You were right.” Liz needed the wine after all. She grabbed a bottle of white from the rack, uncorked it, and poured them each a glass. “A hookup with a couple isn’t permanent. That’s all. Nothing more. No big secrets here.”
“I was wrong. Completely and one-hundred percent.”
This was gutting Liz. “Don’t do that. It’s not reassuring.”
“Suck it up and hear me out anyway.” Mercy’s voice took an edge. “When you told me about L.A., I was jealous. I’m putting that out there, because you deserve to hear the truth.”
That didn’t make any sense. “Why?”
“Lots of reasons. You moved on so quickly. From me. I mean, who wants to hear that?” Mercy’s mouth tugged up at the corners. “And as I’m settling down, you’re starting to live life. My feelings are misplaced. I wouldn’t give up Ian for the world—I’m not saying anything like that—but... remember what you said to me that day?”
Liz did. “It’s a shame we didn’t get to explore with each other when we were younger.”
“Not only who we are, but the world,” Mercy said. “I don’t want to go back. We can’t change the past, and I love my present. But sometimes the mind wonders.”
“I get it. We both turned out fine though, and I wouldn’t have survived seeing the world with you. I’m not cut out for this life. I can’t even walk away from a fling.”
“You’re kidding.” Mercy frowned. “You’re not. Wow. Okay. You can’t walk away from them.”
“Once again, you’re not helping.” Liz’s gut turned in on itself. She could walk away. It was exactly what she’d done this evening, and she refused to look back.
“I saw the three of you together at Takashi. You’re brilliant with them. Flawless. They adore you.”
The words slammed into Liz, and as much as her heart wanted to hold them, her mind refused. “You misinterpreted. They’re friendly people.”
Mercy shook her head. “Maybe, but I don’t think so. There was more there.”
“Even if that’s true—and I’m not saying I believe it—they adore each other more, and I can’t stand between them or shield myself from how much it hurts.”
“I’m sorry. For everything. That we fell apart. That you got hurt.”
“It’s okay.” Liz felt better having shared with someone. Not healed, but not quite as miserable. “We’ll be okay. At least, I’d like to believe we will. The rest, I’ll get over.”
“Why do you have to?” Mercy asked. “Call them. Talk this through.”
“I can’t. That’s a kind of hope I won’t cling to, because it doesn’t pan out.” Liz didn’t know how to make herself any clearer.
Mercy searched her face. “You’re set on letting this hurt.”
“I’m set on moving on now, rather than prolonging the agony.”
“I guess it’s a good thing Ian had to leave last minute. You should come up to the house for the rest of the weekend and keep me company.”
“You might not want that after you hear what I have to say next.” Liz couldn’t put this off any longer. She wanted it over and done with, and the only way to make that happen was to push through it.
“We’ve already spilled our guts. How much worse can it get?”
“I’m giving my notice.”
Mercy worked her jaw up and down several times, no sound coming out. “But we’re better.”
“That’s not why.” Rip the bandage off—that was the best way to do this. “I’ll always love you for giving me this chance. You’ve done so much for me. The thing is... I knew what Jonathan was up to, because he invited me to join them. I had to think about it. A lot. And I’m going to do it.”
Mercy’s shock melted into a grin. She hopped from her stool and hugged Liz. “Oh my God. That’s amazing. That’s brilliant. It sucks for me, because you’re irreplaceable, but you deserve more, and yay for you.”
“Thank you.” Liz broke the embrace. “I’m probably also going to L.A. They gave me the option to do this remotely, but I need...”
“A change of scenery. I get it.”
And once Liz had been out there on her own for a few months, it would feel right to leave Chloe and Jordan behind. She’d never really moved into the condo, since it was meant to be temporary. She could be packed up and out of here by the end of the week. Maybe she and Mercy could even take a weekend and make a road trip out of the transition. This was the only way Liz could think of, to start getting on with her life.
JORDAN AND CHLOE WANDERED the exhibitors’ hall at the trade show. She took the day off to be by his side, and he couldn’t be more grateful. This wasn’t like the industry mega-shows they spent big budgets on at Rinslet. There were maybe one-hundred-fifty attendees, and the hall was only open for a few hours a day. All of ten tables framed the small room. The cozy, personal feeling didn’t do much to calm Jordan.
“Iverson.”
Jordan whirled at the unfamiliar voice calling his name. Someone jogged toward them, and it took Jordan a moment to process the face. “Daryl.” Jordan extended his hand in greeting. “I didn’t realize Synchronicity was here.” He masked any bitterness from his words. Daryl was Synchronicity’s Chief Technology Officer, and while they were the first to withdraw their offer after the news went public, it worked out for Jordan.
Daryl shook his hand. “Checking out the new tech, seeing what’s out there and what we want to leverage. Who are you with?”
“Myself. Can’t say more yet.” Jordan gave him a tight-lipped smile.
“Right. I get that. Listen, I’m sorry about how things happened. We’d buy you now if we could do it without losing face.”
“That’s business.” Jordan heard the acid spill into his tone and swallowed it. “For the record, it wasn’t me who leaked your offer information. I had no interest in sabotaging my own career.”
“That’s part of the reason I’m so sorry. Turns out some new kid in HR has a friend who’s a blogger.”
“Really?” Chloe said sweetly. “Don’t suppose you know the blogger’s name?”
“Stan? Stew? Not sure. Anyway, I hope you both enjoy the show. Can’t wait to see what you’re working on.” Daryl nodded at them and strode toward one of the tables at the far end of the room.
“That little troll,” Chloe muttered as soon as he was out of earshot.
“Daryl?”
She squeezed his hand. “Stew. Fucking prick. Not that it’s a surprise, but wow, I really don’t like that little bastard.”
“And we’ll rub his nose in our success. I’ll go set up and text you when I’m done.” He kissed her.
Chloe gave him a huge smile. “Good luck.”
Forty-five minutes later, he’d nailed every talking point and answered each question without hesitation. He flipped his laptop to the last slide and turned to Jonathan. “Any other questions I can answer for you?”
“No. I think you covered everything fantastically.” Jonathan’s impassive mask never shifted, regardless of his words. He’d been this way the entire presentation.
Jordan suspected he was a hell of a poker player. “Great. So what are our next steps? We can discuss terms. If you’ve got a sample contract, I can look that over.”
“I appreciate the confidence”—for the first time, Jonathan’s expression faltered—“and the time it took to assemble something this intricate. I’m sorry, though. I can’t bite.”
“Of course. I understand. Actually, no I don’t. Why not?”
“Your numbers are solid, and so is your product. Someone else might jump on this, and I suggest you shop it around. Selling art and merchandise based on a name takes a huge platform, though. A brand of epic proportions. I was hoping to see that in your presentation. Your name is out there, but not enough. Not for me.”
Jordan felt as if he’d been punctured—a sharp spike jabbed in his chest that let all the air out. “I appreciate your honesty.” He didn’t. He loathed it. Saying so wouldn’t
do him any good. “Anything I can do, to change your mind?”
“No. I wish you luck, though. Liz speaks highly of you, and if she sees potential, someone else will too. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Jonathan shook his hand one more time and then left.
Defeat turned to irritation and then to self-righteous fury, as Jordan packed up his laptop and the rest of his belongings. The rage wasn’t at Jonathan, but at an overall boiling sense of fuck, this sucks. He needed to find Chloe, get out of here, and go somewhere he could blow off steam.
He sent her a quick text. I’m done. Meet me out front. Take your time. It didn’t matter if she was thirty seconds away or on the other side of the convention center. Jordan needed to cut a straight line to outside and talk to as few people as possible along the way.
When he pushed through the doors, the summer sun hit his face, the scorch mingling with the heat inside. He closed his eyes and turned toward the sky, concentrating on finding some inner calm. Nope. Not there.
“Jordan. Buddy.” The overly friendly greeting snapped something inside.
Jordan shot his head toward the owner of the voice, eyes narrowed. Stew. “This isn’t a good time.” He spoke through clenched teeth. In his pocket, his hand tightened into a fist.
“No worries. I just wanted to say hi. Make sure you were doing okay.” If Stew had any idea of the anger directed at him, it didn’t show in his smile. “Rumor is you’ve had a rough month.”
It was two in the afternoon on a Tuesday. Most of the conference was in break-out sessions, and lunch was over for any nearby office workers. Except for the little pockets of people passing by occasionally, no one was around. Jordan stalked forward, forcing Stew away until the blogger’s back collided with a nearby wall. “What’s your problem with me?” Jordan growled.
“I don’t have a problem with you. We’re buddies. Pals. Colleagues. Practically best friends.”
“Bullshit.” Jordan spat out the word. “You don’t like me. Never could stand me. And something happened in L.A. to give you a way to express that. What did I ever do to you? How did you even pull that off? The bruises, I mean. We both know I never touched you.” He was tempted now.
The Geeks and the Socialite Page 18
