by Shae Ross
“What can I say? I’m in it to win it.”
“Yeah, well, I was thinking I’d be in it to win it and have some fun with a beautiful brunette at the same time. Haven’t you seen the way she’s been looking at me?”
“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at her.”
“Dude, she’s crazy about me,” he says, throwing out his arms. “What’s not to love?”
“You snore like a bear on steroids,” Vaughn chirps, not bothering to lift his head as his fingers speed through a text message.
“Hey, I resent that coming from you, young man,” Ben retorts, feigning insult.
I’m watching Ryan through the boardroom’s glass wall. She’s the presenter for their group, and all eyes are fastened on her as she glides up to the front of the room with graceful confident steps. She looks prepared and comfortable in her role. I lean my elbows forward on my knees and drop my hands, watching the show. If my comment upset her, you’d never know it. She moves, extending her arms into motions of explanation, hovering cupped hands over the words on the screen and clicking through their PowerPoint.
Her hands clasp in front of her, she raises her eyebrows, and responds to something Mr. Trott said. A few board members drop their heads back and laugh while Robert snaps out a round of applause. Even Jillian flashes a brief smile.
Devi and Jade speak occasionally, but Ryan’s leading their charge, and along with the rest of the room, my gaze keeps returning to her. I realize that although I spewed all of my personal stats at her in the limo, I know nothing about her other than the details Mr. Trott read in her bio. Strike that. I know she’s smart, and quick, and brave. If I wasn’t paired against her in this competition, I’d be all over her. It’s easy to find pretty girls, but pretty, smart girls are another story entirely. I’ll never admit it, to anyone, but I am impressed…and getting hard sitting here thinking about her. Shit. I stand up and pace, dismissing Little Miss Michigan State. The group within the boardroom circles around the table, shaking the girls’ hands before they filter out.
“We’re up.”
Our presentation lasts the full half hour. The board throws questions our way, and we take turns answering. Smooth sailing. They dismiss us into the waiting room while they discuss and decide the winner of today’s task. We fill in the open seats around the girls and wait.
I watch the board members, deep in silent discussion behind the glass, and Ryan. She and Jade are leaning into one another whispering, tense expressions furrowing their brows. Ryan’s hand is covering hers, as if she’s consoling her. They haven’t lost yet. I wonder what’s up, and I wonder if Vaughn can find out. I’m sensing weakness and perhaps we can twist it to our advantage.
Ben has plopped himself next to Devi and is holding her hand within his own, acting as if he knows how to read the meaning of the lines on her palm, which is a complete bag of bullshit staged to draw her in. Vaughn is texting and glancing every few minutes at Jade.
After a twenty-minute interim, Jillian opens the door and asks us back into the boardroom. The other board members have departed, leaving us standing in front of the Trott family. Mr. Trott thanks us for our hard work and immediately announces that Team Jett outscored Team Ryan by three points in accomplishing today’s task.
Sweet victory! We smile and high-five one another before glancing over at the girls. They are staring straight ahead, looking as if someone just dumped a bucket of Gatorade over their heads.
We settle back into a humble stance as Mr. Trott explains how Team Jett’s proposal resulted in the most savings for the corporation and included an approach for corporate change and employee change.
One down, four to go. We’re nowhere near breathing easy, but I have to admit, winning the first challenge feels damn good, especially considering the rodeo ride the girls put us through yesterday.
Mr. Trott dismisses us, and we spend another ten minutes with Jillian, talking about our proposal’s highlights versus Team Ryan’s proposal. I glance at the women and Robert has his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. He’s leaning over their small circle, nodding his head at them. A pep talk, I guess.
We’re out on the street, attempting to hail a cab, when the girls glide out of the turn-style door. I stand with my hands in my pockets, smiling at Ryan as they walk closer toward the curb. Her mouth is pressed into a tight line, and I know it won’t take much to set her off. She looks as if she hates losing as much as I do. The March wind blows her blond hair over her shoulder, and she turns her head in an attempt to ignore me.
As they stand on the curb next to us, Devi congratulates Ben and they engage in casual conversation while Ryan’s scouring the traffic for an empty cab.
I just can’t resist getting in one more shot.
“What was that?” I turn to her with a questioning expression. She stares blankly back at me.
“I didn’t say anything,” she responds.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you said ‘Congratulations.’”
She flicks her head toward me and pins me with a fuming look.
“You know the only thing worse than a poor loser, Jett? It’s a poor winner.” Her words fly out in a harsh tone, loud enough to draw everyone’s attention.
“Well, you’d better brace yourself then, Rose, because I don’t expect to lose.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and takes a step toward me. “You know, Robert told us about all the details you had in your report—enough details to make me wonder if you had some help.” Her eyes measure mine as her statement hangs in the air for a beat, everyone focusing their attention on me. She takes a step closer and continues. “Did you call one of your frat brothers and borrow someone’s old report?” She makes air quotes around the word “borrow” with her fingers. I roll my head back on my shoulders.
“Oh, come on. You’re seriously going to accuse us of cheating, just because you lost?”
She ignores my question and continues. “I mean, our team was assuming we needed to use our own work…not someone else’s.” She points a finger toward my chest. “I know your bio, Jett. And Ben’s. Both of your families own businesses.” She’s saying it as if the mere fact alone is worthy of an accusation. She gives me a scanning look. “Did you call your daddy?”
I twist my jaw against her words. She’s struck a chord, hitting way too close to home. Ben and Vaughn are staring at me, and I’m really hoping the looks on their faces aren’t giving anything away. Man, this girl is wicked smart. I can’t believe she almost uncovered our strategy. I am not going to let her turn this around on me, though.
And I’m sure as hell not going to tell her I called my dad’s office but it was my work and Team Jett was free to use all of the resources we had at our disposal, including past work experience—as was Team Ryan. Now I’m pissed. The spoiled, undeserving, rich-boy stereotype does not sit well with me, partly because I’ve heard it a hundred times, but mainly because I’ve worked my ass off for my dad’s company—starting out as the lunch delivery boy when I was in high school, working every summer, holiday, and open weekend to earn my position at Jett Industries. Being the boss’s son has only meant I’ve had to work twice as hard for the respect I’ve earned. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. But, if she’s going to dish it out, she sure as hell is going to learn how to take it.
“Oh, come on, Ryan, talk about a poor loser. Did you ever stop to think your proposal might not have been on the same par as ours?”
“No.” Her voice is close to shouting. “I never stopped to think that for even a second.”
I smile at her. “Well, if you want me to proofread your report tomorrow before you turn it in, I’d be glad to offer my services. Maybe if you used a few more two-syllable words next time it would be better received.”
She points her finger toward my face and takes a giant step forward. Devi lunges and wedges herself between us. Ryan lets loose a barrage of disparaging slams to my character.
“He’s trying to provoke you, Ry, and yo
u’re totally falling for it.” She turns Ryan’s shoulder and pulls her off the curb.
Ben steps out into the street, hails a taxi, and opens the door. He’s glaring at me and signaling the girls over to offer them the cab. “Hey, Devi, are we still on for a drink later?” he asks as the girls scramble in.
Devi twists out a smirk. “No, you ass-clown!”
Ben’s jaw drops and his arms fly out. “Ass-clown? What’d I do?” he pleads.
Devi tilts her head toward me. “You’re friends with him,” she says and pulls the door shut in his face.
Ben shakes his head and turns to me. “Dude, you’re seriously killin’ my game here. Did you hear that? She just called me an ‘ass-clown.’ She was all over me until you decided to throw down with her friend. Isn’t it enough we won today?”
I remain silent.
“Seriously, man, as talented as this team is, I’m confident we can beat these girls without having to be complete dicks to them. I mean, I want to win and all, but I’d like to still be me. How we play the game should matter just a little, don’t ya think?”
“It doesn’t to the girls,” I respond.
“I’m not talking about the girls, I’m talking about us. Winning shouldn’t blind out all other opportunities here.”
“What other opportunities, Ben? I came to New York to win, not to get laid.”
“Well, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed then.”
“Tell ya what. You go ahead and keep schmoozing the brunette. I’m fine being labeled as the asshole if it gets us the win.”
“Being a certified asshole is not a qualification for this competition, Jett.”
I have to admit, being called an asshole by your best friend since fifth grade stings a little. I start walking away, but he’s not finished schooling me on the Ben Winslow philosophy of life.
“Everything else is not in conflict with you winning, Jett.”
“The girls are.”
“No. They really aren’t. Are they our competition? Sure. But we can beat them without destroying them. You know we can. Your own words, Jett, ‘They’re party girls from Michigan State.’ Come on.”
The cab pulls away, and I glimpse the silhouette of Ryan in the backseat with her head bowed over her lap. A jolt of guilt wrenches my stomach and then disappears. I wonder if she’s really that upset by my taunts. I didn’t mean for it to spin into a fight on the streets of New York. Shit. I could have handled that better. I’ve got to get ahold of myself.
That’s the problem, though. Ever since meeting Ryan Rose, most of my interactions with her end up off the rails of civility. Every time I think I’m going to get the last word, she sasses back something smart and ups the ante.
I exhale a long breath. I should know better from my time spent on the Michigan debate team. Stick to the facts and don’t get sucked in emotionally to the arguments. I know how strong my own motivation is for wanting to win this competition, and from what I’ve seen from the girls, they appear equally as motivated. I’ve got to calm down and settle into this competition.
I should apologize to Ryan, but the thought stirs my stomach. Ben’s right. I shouldn’t be all over her like this. I should be the bigger man. Truly, I am the bigger man, and I’ve been throwing down with a little blond princess like we’re in a big-time wrestling match. Seriously. I’m better than that.
“I am so glad you gave our cab away to the girls,” I say to Ben after fifteen minutes of trying to hail a taxi. He shoots me a ‘don’t start with me’ look and we give up and begin walking back to our hotel. Cold rain starts to drop from the gray sky and for a few blocks no one says a word. You can always count on Ben for not being able to hold a grudge longer than two minutes, though, and he starts in on me again.
“Ya know, I think we’re going about this all wrong. Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?’ Making them mad is just going to motivate them more to beat us.”
“Agreed,” Vaughn chimes in, and his dark eyes try to beam some sense into me with their gaze.
“We oughta be trying to distract them—seduce them, make them think we’re more serious about them than we are about the competition,” Ben says with added enthusiasm, now that he knows he has Vaughn’s vote.
All right, I’ve already convinced myself. Beating down women just to get a rise out of them is not who I am. In fact, I’d be in the face of anyone treating Ryan the way I have been—even a stranger. Ben is looking at me, and he knows I’m thinking about what he’s said. Time to change strategies.
“What? You afraid the real Jett Trebuchet ain’t got enough game for Little Miss Michigan State?” He nudges me with his shoulder.
“Ha! I could have her swooning at my feet by the end of the week.”
Ben stops walking and holds empty hands out to me “Really? ’Cause I haven’t seen much swooning going on. Have you, Vaughn?”
“Nope. Definitely no swooning.”
“Care to place a wager?” Ben taunts with a raised eyebrow. I stop, turn to him, and cross my arms over my chest.
“Like what?”
“How about the first guy to score with one of the Spartans gets another five thousand from the other two’s prize money.”
“You’re on. You in, Vaughn?”
“Yeah, I’m in.”
Ben laughs and rubs his hands together. “All right, boys, now we’ve got ourselves the makings for a good week! Gorgeous women, tats, and cash prizes!” He raises his thumb and index finger into the sky. “Locked and loaded!”
Chapter Five
Ryan Rose
“Aren’t smart guys supposed to be nerdy…and skinny…with zits on their eyelids?” My voice floats into the air with no particular target. I’m lying on the couch, one arm draped over my forehead, rehashing the day. I hate losing. Especially to him. The silk curtains make a whizzing noise as Devi pulls them across the window in our suite. “C’mon, girls, this is New York City. Let’s go out,” she whines.
She is standing with her nose plastered against the window, tapping her fingers and staring out at the yellow lights twinkling across the city skyline. I did promise her this competition wouldn’t be all work and we’d have some fun, too. I crane my neck and look for Jade. She’s sitting at the desk, turning her phone over and over in her hand, chewing on the inside of her lip. She keeps her cell charged and within arm’s reach at all times. I know she’s bummed that her mom’s call came through and then dropped this morning. Between Jade’s schedule and the time difference in China, it’s hard to coordinate calls with her mom.
“Just for an hour,” Devi pleads.
“She’s right. We should go out.” I push myself to a sitting position. I need to do something to get my mind off losing.
“Robert said there’s a new brewery down the street. We may see someone we can add to our contact list. Come on, team,” she says, shaking Jade’s limp arm. “Whaddaya say?”
“Okay,” Jade relents. “But I’m not staying long.”
“Yes!” Devi claps her hands and heads for the closet.
We step out onto the street, and I’m feeling much better. A spring breeze puffs over us as we walk. The streets are wet from the earlier rain and the air smells of grass and damp ground. I jump a puddle. My foot lands with a sharp click. Exchanging my career-woman clothes for jeans and boots has freed my mind from the pressures of that boardroom, at least for now.
The Monkey Kick Brewery is a convenient five blocks from our hotel. We push through the double doors and sidestep through the people and up to the bar.
I order a San Pellegrino and listen as Devi strikes up a conversation with two twenty-something men in jeans and oxfords. Jade and I smile at each other and tip our glasses together watching Devi do what she does best—flirt.
They’re nice guys. In town from Philadelphia to attend a business conference. Devi drifts into chatting with a mixed group of men and women from the local area, and I’m introduced to a man who attend
s NYU law school. I let him know that NYU is one of the law schools I’ve received an acceptance letter from and ask him how he likes it there. He gives me his number to call if I have more questions and I don’t get the feeling he has any ulterior motives other than to support a fellow student.
I think about his positive response in contrast to that of Phil’s. This guy’s virtually a complete stranger and a five-minute conversation with him gave me more of an encouraging boost than anything Phil ever said. When I told Phil I was thinking about law school, his first response was, “Well, how’s that going to work if I get transferred to another team mid-season?” He followed up that thought by saying, “I guess we don’t have to worry about it until you come up with a way to pay for it.”
I hate it when my mind wanders into the Phil zone. I tuck the memory back on my I’ll-think-about-that-later shelf. Someday, I’d like to have an, I’ll-think-about-that-never shelf and move his memory gone.
I thank the guy from NYU and spin my gaze over the crowd in search of my friends. In the last thirty minutes, the atmosphere has gone from boisterous to blistering. The bar is as packed as any opening night on MSU’s campus. Through a gap in the crowd, I spot Jade’s shiny black bobbed hair and then see Devi flashing a smile. They are at the end of the bar, talking to Ben. Great. I search the area around Ben’s large frame. No Jett. And I don’t see Vaughn, either.
A group of rowdy, Jersey Shore-looking men start to fill in around me. I definitely don’t want to be sandwiched into their homeboy party as they pound mugs of beer and slap each other on the back. I start to make my way around, but they’re like an obstacle course of half-sawed stumps. One of them steps in front of me.
“Hey, where ya goin’?” His round face mocks offense.
I smile and brush him off. “Just heading to the bathroom.”
“Oh, okay then, as long as you’re coming back.” He gives me a sideways smile. On closer inspection, I don’t think he’s with the Jersey guys. His complexion holds the darkness of some ethnic variety, other than Jersey. He steps aside, and I head for my friends.
