by Sadie Hayes
Lisa waited for her to say more and, realizing Amelia wasn’t going to, went on. “I think we could set up an interesting dissection of the supporting female characters, and the similarities and differences between Isabella and Mariana, whose moral stances are pretty much antithetical to each other, and yet, working together, the women resolve the central dilemma.” Amelia wasn’t reacting and Lisa started to realize she hadn’t read the play. “And, of course,” Lisa continued, “consider the implications of having Mistress Overdone—the prostitute—in the work. Like, is Shakespeare trying to drop a hint that we all prostitute ourselves for something, even a nun like Isabella?”
Amelia nodded absently. “Sure. That sounds good.”
“Okay,” Lisa said. She was beginning to sound a little frustrated by Amelia’s neutrality. “Well, I actually really like this stuff, so what if I take a stab at the outline and I’ll e-mail it to you?”
“Great,” Amelia said, starting to stand up. If she sat there any longer, she was certain that Sundeep would walk in and join them, and she’d have to pretend not to care.
Lisa looked at her in disbelief. Was Amelia really going to let her do this whole project? Lisa wasn’t letting her off that easily. “Let’s meet again later this week to talk about it,” she said.
Amelia stopped and searched for an excuse. There was nothing. She sighed. “Yeah, sure.”
By the following week, Lisa had e-mailed Amelia a thorough outline of her proposed thesis. Amelia read it on her laptop during class. It actually made the book sound kind of interesting, which led her to read the play. Well, most of it.
When they met again, Amelia had been a little more animated. Lisa had proposed that they write that Isabella used Mariana for her own gain and, therefore, was no better than Mistress Overdone, the madame in the local brothel. But Amelia insisted Isabella had done what was necessary to stick to her moral ground and that made her strong and respectable. Besides, she said, Mariana didn’t have strong morals, she just wanted to get married.
“I think you misunderstand Mariana,” Lisa had said.
Amelia looked at Lisa. There was something deliberate and serious in Lisa’s tone. Was Lisa talking about Mariana, or about herself? Either way, Amelia respected Lisa’s assertiveness and agreed to write the first draft of the paper.
When they met to review the paper the following week, Lisa had basically rewritten Amelia’s draft, fixing the broken prose and circular logic. It was a lot better. Amelia was a little embarrassed.
“You did a really good job,” Lisa offered. “I love this part.” She pointed to the one section of the paper she hadn’t changed.
“Shakespeare isn’t my thing,” Amelia deflected.
“If I had your talent, it wouldn’t be my thing, either.” Lisa smiled.
They sat in silence for a moment. Amelia hated to admit it, but Lisa was incredibly sweet, and she was actually starting to enjoy their meetings. No one had ever really explained English to her, or forced her to take ownership of her opinions about a character. Even if her attempt at the paper had sucked, it was the first time she had written an essay she hadn’t hated, and seeing Lisa’s improvements made her respect her partner’s ability to understand this stuff.
“I’m sorry I’ve been a pain of a partner,” Amelia finally said.
“It’s okay. I wouldn’t have wanted to work with me if I were you, either.”
More silence.
“For what it’s worth, I really care about Adam. A lot,” Lisa finally said.
Amelia looked at her over her glasses.
“It’s complicated,” Lisa said. “I have an obligation to Sundeep.”
“I’m not going to break my brother’s heart,” Amelia said. “It’s up to you to tell Adam, but you ought to do it soon.”
* * *
That had been two months ago, and Adam was still in the dark. Amelia believed it was Lisa’s responsibility to come clean to Adam, but keeping this secret from her brother made her nauseous. There were nights when she wanted to blurt out, “Adam! Lisa is cheating on you and I’ve known all along—please forgive me!” but she couldn’t seem to form the words. Now, after two months she made up her mind to do it after the conference. That would give him winter break to recover, she reasoned, and start the new year fresh.
45
Get to Know Me
T.J. saw Adam and Amelia step off the elevator and gave a big wave to them, excusing himself from the tiki table where he was sipping a mojito with two hot, blonde club promoters who had just promised him a VIP table that night at Timba, Maui’s hottest celebrity nightclub. The party theme was “Santas and Snowbabes,” which was code for hot girls in skimpy fur-trimmed costumes.
“Hey guys!” he said cheerfully, shaking Adam’s hand and giving Amelia a kiss on the cheek. “How’s the room? Was your flight okay?”
“Yeah, it was cool,” Adam said in his best frat-boy, chill tone. Amelia tried not to roll her eyes, embarrassed for her brother. But T.J. didn’t seem to notice the way Adam tried so hard to be like him.
“And you, Amelia? Feeling good?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “This place is amazing.”
T.J. looked genuinely pleased. “Wonderful! Listen, there’s a press conference that starts in about ten minutes. They’re all dying to hear from you, but I didn’t want to commit you if you weren’t feeling up to it.” He looked at Amelia questioningly.
“Oh, sure. I feel up to it. Adam, are you okay with it?”
“Great!” T.J. clapped his hands without waiting for Adam to answer. “Let’s go get you ready, then.”
T.J. led Amelia and Adam to a large meeting room that was set up like a postgame sports conference. There were a hundred or so seats for the press that faced a stage with a long table and three chairs, each accompanied by a bottle of Fiji water. Behind the table was a whiteboard covered in the logos of conference sponsors and, behind that, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto a veranda leading to the white sandy beaches. The press corps was starting to file in to their seats, and T.J. gestured to a man with a headpiece and a clipboard.
“Are these the Dorys? Are they up for joining the panel?” The man smiled at Adam and Amelia.
“Yes! Mike, meet Adam and Amelia Dory. Mike is the press organizer for the conference.”
“We’re thrilled to have you,” Mike said as he shook both their hands. “We’re going to get started in a few minutes. Shouldn’t be any difficult questions. No one’s going to be drilling you on technology or funding or anything. They’re just here to get to know the entrepreneurs.”
Mike smiled at them both as he snapped his fingers at an assistant, gesturing for her to put two more chairs on the stage for Adam and Amelia. Then, responding to something broadcast in his headpiece, he ran off.
“Wow.” Adam turned to Amelia and T.J. “This is so official.”
T.J. smiled. Back in Palo Alto, Adam and Amelia had done a lot of one-on-one interviews with tech bloggers, but nothing on this scale. T.J. had spent the last six weeks networking with the press, raising excitement for Doreye and making sure that Adam and Amelia had a seat on every high-profile panel.
T.J. understood that great technology was only part of the formula for a really successful start-up. The other part was about image and perception, making sure users and influential thinkers promoted the brand the way you wanted them to. And this was the part where T.J. really hit his stride. He was determined to guarantee that, when it launched, every cool kid in America would be chomping at the bit to download and own Doreye.
Besides, Amelia had the potential to become an absolute media darling. Sure, at first he’d written her off as awkward and uncool. But then he realized how much America loves a rags-to-riches tale, and what could be better than a foster-kid-turned-successful-entrepreneur story? Not only that, but there weren’t many successful female tech geeks. The more time he’d spent with Amelia, the more he’d started to see past her secondhand clothes, unkempt hair, and ch
unky glasses. She was actually pretty. Her slim waist and long legs were kind of hot, and with contact lenses and a little mascara, her eyes could be stunning.
But it wasn’t time for that just yet. People would take to her more now while she was still awkward and poor. Once Doreye started to take off, they’d do a makeover and guys would buy into Doreye because they wanted to sleep with her, while girls would buy into it because they wanted to be her. The only thing people loved more than rags-to-riches, T.J. thought, was ugly-to-hot, and he was planning to accomplish both with Amelia.
Mike’s assistant led Adam and Amelia to two seats at the middle of the table and adjusted their microphones. In the other seats were two venture capitalists and the CEO and founder of PocketFun, a mobile gaming company worth $2 billion. They smiled as they introduced themselves to Adam and Amelia.
“You’re with Roger Fenway’s incubator, right? I’ve heard such great things about Doreye,” said one VC. “I can’t wait to see the demo.”
Amelia smiled politely. Adam grinned. “We’ll be sure you get a front-row seat!”
Mike stood on the side of the stage and coughed into a microphone to get the attention of the press, who started to quiet down. He introduced the panel and opened the floor for questions. The journalists immediately focused on Adam and Amelia, hardly asking any questions to the venture capitalists or the guy from PocketFun.
“Did you come to Stanford expecting to start a business?” a woman in a blue dress asked.
“Not at all!” Adam answered. “We didn’t even know what we wanted to major in, much less whether we would start a business.”
“But then Roger Fenway found you?”
“That’s right. Roger spotted Amelia at University Café and the rest is history.” Adam smiled. He was totally in his element with all these people hanging on his every word.
“What is the dynamic like in Roger Fenway’s incubator?”
“It’s great. We all get along really well, and there’s always plenty of free food.” The audience laughed, and Adam glowed.
“Amelia, we haven’t heard much from you,” a young, slender redhead with a foreign accent piped up from the back. “How are you enjoying Hawaii?”
Hearing her name startled Amelia. She had been studying the chandelier hanging from the ceiling—a thousand tiny crystals refracting sunlight into the spectrum of visible light. It was absolutely beautiful. Amelia liked when Adam answered the questions and she could just listen. This was the part he loved, and she was happy for him to take care of it.
She looked at the woman and sat up to speak into the microphone in front of her. “Oh, it’s just wonderful,” she said, thinking about the beauty of the chandelier. “Then again, I’m happy anywhere I can code.” The room laughed lovingly. There was something surreal and comforting about sitting in a room full of people who were so captivated and supportive.
The woman smiled, but her face lacked the warmth of the other journalists; her eyes were piercing. “Does that include juvenile detention?”
Amelia blinked. What had she said? Suddenly the chandelier looked like it was going to fall. How could it be suspended by such a thin little cord? “That…” she started, not sure if the word had actually come out. How long had it been since the woman had asked the question? Everyone was staring at her. “That’s not … public information,” Amelia stammered.
No one was smiling anymore. The woman tilted her pretty head and swept her red hair over her shoulder. She glared at Amelia. She was gorgeous and terrifying.
“How did breaking through bank firewalls and embezzling money inform the creation of Doreye?” Every word was perfectly enunciated in the woman’s elegant accent.
Amelia felt like the chandelier had crashed down on her, like the gold cord had snapped and the shimmering crystals were shattering around her. She looked over at Adam for help, but he was as dumbstruck as she was.
“They didn’t inform it at all, actually. Doreye is the pure creation of a brilliant and promising young entrepreneur.” T.J. was leaning over Amelia’s shoulder, speaking into the microphone. His hand rested on her back and he smiled charismatically at the audience. “And we, as the Doreye team, are thrilled to give you all the first view of our app at this weekend’s expo.”
Amelia nervously lifted her eyes back to the crowd. They were nodding and smiling, looking at T.J. with encouragement.
T.J. continued to speak. There wasn’t the slightest hint of worry or embarrassment in his voice. “And now we’re going to go set up the Doreye demo booth so that we can enjoy this beautiful beach before we show off the technology to you tonight. It’s Adam and Amelia’s first time in Hawaii, and I want to be sure they catch a few waves while they’re here.”
The journalists beamed. Adam and Amelia left the panel in stunned silence, grateful for T.J.’s quick save. With a single sentence, he had turned them back into the poor, pathetic foster kids that the journalists loved to write about.
As they filed out of the room, Amelia glanced back for the beautiful redhead who had asked about juvenile detention.
But there was no sign of her.
46
Is This Seat Taken?
Across the lobby, Mr. Hawkins, Patty, Chad, and Chad’s parents and sister were gathered in their hiking gear, waiting for their driver to arrive and take them to a nearby waterfall for a sunset hike.
Shandi and Mrs. Hawkins had opted for the spa over the hike, worried that Shandi would get mosquito bites or some other ailment that might threaten tomorrow’s perfect day.
Patty wanted a drink. She’d had to finish three exams and a fifteen-page research paper in two days in order to catch yesterday’s flight to Maui. To reward herself, she’d spent the day recovering, lying out on the beach, reading all the gossip magazines she’d neglected during the last two weeks of studying. She couldn’t believe how much she’d missed!
She’d made the mistake, though, of coming in at one o’clock in the afternoon to jump in the pool. While she was ordering a pineapple smoothie at the pool bar, she had run into Chad’s kid sister, Molly, who hadn’t left her alone since. Even when she’d put her headphones in (a clear signal that she didn’t want to talk), Molly had poked her to ask what color nail polish she was going to choose for their mani-pedis tomorrow morning. Patty had sucked hard on her smoothie straw, trying to be polite and wishing she’d had the bartender make the smoothie alcoholic.
Now, Molly was going on about which Harry Potter movie was her favorite when the driver pulled up in a Land Rover.
“We ordered a town car,” Chad’s mother insisted, her tanned arms crossed over her perky, cosmetically enhanced chest. Chad’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Bronson, were Nantucket chic: both ultra tan, blond, and always wearing solid pastel colors, like they’d stepped straight out of a Ralph Lauren advertisement. “There are six of us.”
I don’t have to go! Patty thought, sensing an opportunity to escape Molly’s chatter.
“We can squeeze in,” Chad’s father insisted. “Molly can sit on Chad’s lap.”
“Ewww!” Molly squealed. “I am thirteen years old and absolutely not sitting on my brother’s lap for the next half hour.”
Mrs. Bronson consoled her. “Don’t worry, dear. Patty can sit on Chad’s lap. Right, guys?”
Chad looked at both of them. Patty wondered if her cheeks were as red as they felt.
“Of course.” Chad smiled at Patty as they walked out to the car.
Patty blushed as she crawled onto Chad’s lap. She grabbed the headrest behind him for support, but doing so caused her breasts to brush against his face. He pretended not to notice. When she was finally seated, the small of her back pressed into his arm. She tried to balance her weight onto her heels so she wasn’t too heavy on his thighs.
“Sarah’s cousin’s best friend lives in L.A., and she auditioned for that new show Choir Kids and said the lead actress Mia Rochelle was totally not that pretty in person,” Molly was telling her father with authority.
The car hit a pothole. Patty fell back onto Chad.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” he said, and blushed.
“And I totally believe it,” Molly went on. “I mean, she’s got good hair, but everyone would if they spent as much time on it as she does.”
They were on a dirt road now, the car bumping and Patty bumping along with it. She tried to stay forward on Chad’s knees, tried not to slide back to where his … parts … were. That was just what she needed: to ram into her future brother-in-law’s balls the day before his wedding.
But she kept sliding back. “Here,” he said, and he lifted her by the waist, opened his legs, and shifted her weight onto one thigh, pulling her legs between his. “That better?”
“Yeah,” she said, noticing that he’d left his hand around her waist, his other arm resting on the top of her thighs.
“Besides, I bet her voice isn’t even that good. They can edit everything on TV.”
Chad glanced at Patty, who, between Molly’s jabbering and the stomach-turning bouncing, looked miserable. He poked her side with his finger and grinned at her in silent commiseration. Patty met his blue eyes—unhappy as she was, she couldn’t resist returning his grin.
47
Dinner Table Confessionals
Mr. Bristol had made a reservation at the fanciest seafood restaurant in Maui for a family dinner on Friday night. Between the wedding and the conference, he knew he’d be running around all weekend, and he needed to schedule some family time if he had any hope of not pissing off his wife. Of course, he’d had to book a 5:00 P.M. table to make it to the 8:00 conference demo, so the family was seated at a center table in an empty room, the sun still shining brightly through the restaurant’s large, ocean-facing windows and the pianist on the baby grand in the corner playing chipper Christmas carols that sounded totally out of place.
Ted had even been so generous as to invite Lisa’s boyfriend, Sundeep, a young Indian guy who was working on some medical device with Roger Fenway’s incubator. He wasn’t sure what Lisa saw in Sundeep; she was so beautiful that she could have any guy she wanted, especially now that she was in college. Sundeep was a nice guy, sure, but he was a little … dull. He didn’t play or watch any sports, had no interest in Scotch or cars or cigars, and, frankly, Ted was at a loss for what to talk to him about. But young love was young love, he reasoned, and inviting him along for the weekend had made Mrs. Bristol very happy.
