by Camy Tang
He shifted in his seat. “I was aware some of his duties were necessarily delegated, yes.”
“So you’re expecting me to do the job of two positions without an increase in pay, and without a promotion.” She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, although her heart was pounding in her ears by now. No need to let him know that being so confrontational made her armpits sweat and her legs quiver. Never let them see you as anything but strong.
Yardley didn’t look away from her, exactly, but he didn’t make direct eye contact with her. More like eye contact with the file drawers directly behind her desk. “We chose Edgar because he’s very good at what he does—”
“I have yet to see him do anything. I seem to be expected to do his job for him.”
He continued nodding and smiling at her file drawers. “Edgar’s destined for great things, just like his father—”
“His father?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Ah…we’re old college buddies.” Yardley scratched his thinning yellow hair.
Venus stared him down. “It’s a bit dangerous to foster nepotism in the company.”
“Oh, it’s not nepotism. We’re not related.”
Venus couldn’t understand why he was nodding his head. But now she could understand why they’d promoted Edgar. “Regardless of why you gave Edgar Game Lead, is this what you’re asking me to do? I don’t intend to work for peanuts, Yardley.” Whoa, that was strong, even for her. She crossed her legs tight to still her trembling and hoped Yardley couldn’t see.
“That’s partly why I wanted to talk to you today, Venus.”
This better be good. “What about?”
“A h… I heard…It came to me…”
Telling her CTO to spit it out probably wouldn’t go over well.
“I found out…you’re working on a software program.”
The temperature in the office dropped ten degrees. “Where did you hear that from?” She laughed, but it came out sounding brittle even to her ears.
“Edgar talked to one of your old programmers from your last company, what was his name?”
Dan.
“Ben? No… Tom?” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Venus didn’t trust the light in his eyes. “Anyway, he mentioned he’d seen you working on a certain software that would revolutionize game development. A development tool that was compatible with design software, animation software, motion capture data, programming software.”
“You can check my computer.” She swiveled her laptop around. “There’s nothing on it like that.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Venus wondered if he had been about to mention her computer setup on her desk at home—wires and cables, but sans laptop—which he wasn’t supposed to know about.
“Here’s what I’m offering, Venus.” He touched his hand to her desk. She wanted to reach for her bottle of Lysol and spray his hairy fingers. “That program could help us a lot. You know that. It would take us to our next milestone months ahead of schedule, and the investors would be fighting for the privilege to throw money at us.”
As acting Game Lead, she had taken them to their previous milestone ahead of schedule without that program, but Yardley had conveniently forgotten that.
“Venus.” He made eye contact with her again, his baby blues reaching out to her with sincerity and a touch of arrogance. “If you sell us that program, I’ll make you our new VP of Programming.”
He had asked Edgar to steal it.
Her CTO had asked a junior programmer to break into her home and steal her software.
This was not happening.
What also wasn’t happening was her cousin’s baby.
Lex flung herself into the plastic waiting chair next to Venus. “They gave her another epidural.”
Venus put down her magazine. “Another one? Why? Didn’t the first one work?”
“They gave it to her too early. It’s already worn off.”
“She’s going to be okay, right?” Venus could barely voice the question. An emptiness echoed in her head, behind her eyes. Trish wasn’t in danger, was she? Sweet, fun Trish?
“I think so.” Lex’s voice was soft.
They sat in silence. The murmur of the waiting room washed over them. Venus forgot to breathe through her mouth and caught a whiff of hospital smell—antiseptics mingled with sweaty children’s bodies from a few other families waiting for their own mothers. She wondered if in the future she ought to carry a bottle of Febreze or Lysol in her car.
Neither Venus nor Lex were huggy types, but she reached for Lex’s hand, squeezing it. Lex squeezed back so tightly, Venus’s bones creaked.
Lex suddenly let go. “Aiden.” She leaped up and darted toward her boyfriend, who’d just entered the waiting room.
Venus liked Aiden. Quiet and controlled, he complemented Lex’s craziness. He was a bit too sensitive a person for Venus—she tended toward causticness, and sometimes surprised him with the things she said—but he always treated her with respect. He saw Venus, the person.
The two of them stood talking, Lex slim and athletic (Venus would kill for hip bones like hers), Aiden lean and fluid in his motions. The volleyball player and the runner. Made for each other.
No one was made for her. Because even if the perfect man found her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to trust him. In the past, she’d been one of the guys—aggressive by necessity of her gender, but valued (she thought) for her abilities. Now she was never sure what men wanted from her—it seemed like they only saw her as a sex object. She hoped there were some who didn’t, but she couldn’t tell. All of it made her too cynical to ever be in a relationship.
And after seeing Trish’s torturous labor, she wasn’t really sure she wanted to do the whole “get married and have babies” thing. Although, granted, Trish had skipped the “get married” part.
She admired Trish. Bubbly, ditzy, determined Trish, pregnant with her ex-boyfriend’s baby, yet plowing forth as a single mother. She’d decided on this before the engagement, before she and Spenser even started dating.
She had more guts than Venus had ever had.
Trish had been in too much pain—she hadn’t wanted anyone in the room with her except Jenn and Spenser. So Venus sat out here, no help to Trish’s parents, not willing to sit next to Grandma to be quizzed or nagged, and not wanting to sit next to her mother, who still remained with them in the waiting room.
She tossed aside her gossip mag and crossed her arms. She should pray. It was so hard, especially after a long, stressful day, to just stop her mind from thinking and be able to focus on anything that didn’t involve graphics and game controllers. She knew God was there, but it seemed jarring to drop everything, to stop and talk to Him.
Dear God. She cleared her throat. Refolded her hands. Shifted in the seat. Dear God.
You already said that.
Dear—um… Please watch over Trish. Please help the baby come soon. Without too much pain. Or problems. Please don’t let Trish… She didn’t want to say the word, as if saying it would make it come true. Please keep her safe and, uh…alive. And the baby too. Amen.
Her prayers were horrible, but even more so in times of need, like now. She figured God didn’t mind, since He listened to her prayers every morning.
Wasn’t prayer supposed to make her feel better? She only felt more agitation in her body. It had suddenly, fully dawned on her that Trish’s life was in danger. Her wonderful, fun-loving cousin Trish. They didn’t always get along, sure, but she wouldn’t trade their friendship for anything.
Her cousins were all she had.
Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. Trish would be okay, right? Venus had to be making something big out of nothing. So why did her relatives look so somber? She pressed her hand to her sternum, feeling her heart beating against the bone.
She couldn’t even pray for Trish properly. Since when had praying become so hard? Hadn’t she had an easier time of it when she first became a Christian in coll
ege?
She’d done a lot of things differently then. Maybe that was it. She’d gone to weekly Bible studies in addition to church, studying the Bible and soaking in all that she could. She’d attended college group, worshiped with complete abandon, felt at ease with both the guys and girls…because she’d been fat. She had recognized it, even back then.
The guys had thought of her as one of them—androgynous. The girls had been friendly with that hint of pity, that relaxation in their smiles because she wasn’t more competition for the cuter guys in the group.
She still read her Bible every day, she still prayed (badly) every day, still attended church every week. But it didn’t have that same enthusiasm, that same spark.
Since when had her faith turned into a smelly, stagnating pond?
Lord…maybe through all these troubles at work you’re trying to tell me something. But I’m not sure what.
In the meantime… There’s just so much going on at once right now. Please take care of Trish. I’ll bother you later with all my other stuff.
She was sure that made God just giddy with anticipation.
She pressed her forehead into her hand.
Someone sat beside her. She caught a scent of… Mom’s perfume. Expensive and elegant.
Her eyes snapped open. She raised her head, already feeling her shoulders knot like sailor’s rope.
Mom grabbed her hand, lying loosely in her lap, before Venus could snatch it away. “It’s okay, darling.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” She sat straighter in the uncomfortable plastic chair.
“I saw her earlier. She’s fine, you know.”
Venus didn’t answer, but her mother’s voice had such a strange confidence. It eased the pain in her chest a little, despite the fact she didn’t want it to. She didn’t want her mother’s comfort.
“She’s just like how it was when I had you. First babies typically take longest.”
“It’s over twenty-four hours, Mom. How can that be normal?”
“You took thirty-six.”
Did she know that already? She must have. Mom must have told her at some point in her life, right? Why couldn’t she remember that? “You were in labor for thirty-six hours?”
“It started around midnight, so I was awake for about two days straight.” Despite the horror of her words, Mom’s face seemed serene. Pleasantly reminiscing, even.
“Did you even have strength to push?”
She laughed, and this time it wasn’t that brassy tinkle she usually had. “By that time, I was begging you to come out.”
They lapsed into a silence more comfortable than any she’d had with her mother in a long time.
“Anyway.” Mom patted her hand, then released it and stood up. “I just wanted to tell you that what Trish is going through is fine. You looked worried.”
“Yeah…th-thanks, Mom.” Her mouth almost couldn’t form the words, she’d rarely said them.
Mom moved back to sit with Trish’s parents. She chatted with them with such ease—sweet smiles, nonstop mouth, animated hands.
And the worry lines on Aunty Marian’s face disappeared, and Uncle Arvin flashed one of his winning smiles at his younger sister.
How strange to see Mom useful, rather than whiney, flighty, and irresponsible. No, that was mean. Her mom was always like that—charming, putting people at ease with effortless energy.
Venus didn’t have any of that charm. But she had lots of organizational skills, and a keen mind for business. Rather like…
She saw Grandma sitting on a seat, as elegantly dressed as her daughter, flawless makeup even after hours in this waiting room. Her still-slender figure relaxed as best she could against the chair, cool and collected.
Ruthless, nagging, manipulative. Always getting her way. Ruling her family like a queen over a small country. Running Grandpa’s bank as smoothly as if she’d founded it herself.
No, Venus wasn’t like Grandma.
And yet, Venus had to admit there were times when she envied her. Grandma’s constant poise and command, her sharp mind, her focused energy.
Grandma wouldn’t have gaped at Yardley after his astounding suggestion this afternoon. She’d have given him a decided answer in a heartbeat, and it would have been whatever was best for her career.
Whatever answer that was. Venus didn’t know.
Yardley had told her to think about it, then sauntered out of the office as if he already knew she’d take his offer. Arrogant twit. She wouldn’t be bullied or bribed.
Every cell in her body rebelled at giving Yardley the Spiderweb. Look at what he’d already done—since he couldn’t steal it, he’d tried to buy it from her. And she couldn’t forget the tiny fact he gave her the boot, too, after trying to steal it from her. No way could she stay there and work under him, no matter how much he offered for the Spiderweb.
But…a V P.
How much power would she really have? They already treated her like a second-class citizen because of her gender, or her looks, or both. And they could fire her at any time, in which case it would all be for nothing.
Her own company was the only way to go. She needed to talk to Grandma.
Right now, before she changed her mind.
Okay, one step at a time. And remember to breathe. Don’t want to faint before you even get to her. Avoid the toy truck and the Highlights magazines on the floor. Wouldn’t be good to fall flat on your face and knock yourself out.
“Grandma?”
She barely heard herself, but apparently Grandma heard her. Red lips parted in a wide smile. “Sit, Venus.” Come into my lair, my pretty…
Venus gave herself a mental slap. Focus. “I had a question—”
Spenser burst into the waiting room. His hair looked like he had blow-dried it upside down, pink splotched his pale face, and he still wore his surgery room smock. He was also grinning brighter than a pulsar.
“It’s a girl!”
SIX
I am so tired of people saying I got off easy!” Trish, sleep-deprived and recently delivered mother, had the wild eyes and hair of one of the three Furies, and looked like she would bite someone’s head off if they came within three feet.
Venus didn’t blame her. Twenty-eight hours of labor wasn’t exactly a cakewalk, even if it wasn’t close to the horror stories everyone was telling her about.
“Everyone” had expanded to Spenser’s mom, who arrived with his son Matthew, and Jenn’s mother. The crowd in Trish’s hospital room made Venus ease out into the hallway, but some nurses rushing past compelled her back into the room, squeezed close to the doorway. She forced herself to breathe deeply, to not hyperventilate. She was very happy for Trish, but she also wanted to go to a quiet place and recover from the stress of the waiting room, the noise of all these people.
And she needed to talk to Grandma.
That probably stressed her out the most. To have to approach her to ask for something, to wait for what she’d require in return. It was like asking Tony Soprano for a favor.
Venus also didn’t do “humble,” “contrite,” or “biddable” very well. If Grandma asked her to do something heinous, Venus wouldn’t be able to hide what she really thought of the idea. And that probably wouldn’t go over too well.
For now, she had to wait. Grandma was busy with Trish, who was holding the baby and trying not to fall asleep. It was kind of cute to see Trish smiling at the baby and dozing at the same time.
And was it just her, or was that baby kind of ugly? Red and wrinkly, and everyone kept saying she looked like Aunty so-n-so or Uncle what’s-his-face, but Venus didn’t think she looked like anyone alive that she knew.
“What are you going to name her?” Aunty Marian touched her granddaughter’s ear.
Grandma straightened. “Oh, you can’t name her yet.”
“What do you mean?” Trish’s eyes popped open. Despite her tiredness, she was wide awake at Grandma’s statement. Venus sighed. Grandma might be back on speaking terms with Trish now
that the baby was here, but Trish wasn’t about to kowtow to her after months of the silent treatment.
Grandma had on her “Let’s be reasonable” face. “We have to call the bonsan in to tell you what letter the baby’s name has to start with.”
“I’m not even Buddhist. Why would I want the priest in, telling me what to name my baby?”
Uh-oh. Trish’s weariness had ratcheted her temper up a notch. Venus started squirming her way around people toward the bed.
“But he has to bless the baby.” Grandma seemed genuinely confused why Trish wouldn’t follow the same tradition she followed with all the aunties and uncles, the same tradition the other cousins in the family followed with their children.
“I’ll get my pastor to bless the baby, and I’ll name—”
“Grandma.” Venus grabbed Trish’s foot under the blanket to make her shut up. “Trish is really tired. We should let her rest.”
On the other side of the bed, Venus’s mom just had to stick her nose in. “I was in labor for thirty-six hours and didn’t need to rest.”
Trish opened her mouth, but Venus pinched her toe hard. Trish gave a soundless yelp and subsided.
“Mom, why don’t I take you and Grandma home.” It wasn’t a question. She speared her mother with a look that dared her to rebel.
Mom flung her hands up, ringed fingers sparkling. “Fine, fine.”
Grandma, however, gave Venus a speculative glance. She never offered to take Grandma home; she usually waited for someone to ask her to do it. And half the time, she had the excuse she was going back to work. A strange smile played on Grandma’s lips as she gathered her purse and said good-bye to everyone.
Venus ignored her mother’s huffing and puffing when she put up the convertible top for Grandma, after refusing to do it for her yesterday. “Mom, is your car still at my place?”
She paused in fluffing her short, permed hair (which Venus didn’t understand, considering there was no one around to see her). “No, Jenn drove me over to get it, and she drove to my apartment with me so she could take me back to the hospital.”
Venus paused, one foot inside the car and one foot out. “Aside from that, you’ve been at the hospital the entire time?”
