“That’d be cool, Laurel.” Jason grins. “Name the time and I’m there. We could go—”
“Let’s get back on track,” Carlos interrupts. His eyes are frozen Fudgsicles, frosty and cold.
What’s up with that?
“We need to take a vote.” Carlos points to the paper. “Let’s do it.”
“We’re each just going to vote for our own ideas.” Trish tosses a paper clip in the air and Elijah reaches out to catch it.
“Except Jason and me, since we didn’t suggest anything. We’re the tiebreakers.” Carlos points to the paper. “Who votes for the Sharper Image catalog?”
Ashley raises her hand and so does Jason. Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me; the guy has always been a sucker for pretty blondes. Carlos writes a “2” next to Ashley’s idea.
“Comic Con booth.”
Trish raises her hand but no one else does. Her glower has the force of a thousand Death Star explosions. As Carlos writes a “1” next to her idea, she mumbles something rude under her breath.
“Okay, Geek Squeak podcast.” Carlos looks expectantly at Elijah, whose hand doesn’t go up.
“Raise your hand,” I whisper, but Elijah shakes his head.
“No votes for this one?” Carlos waits for a beat, then scrawls a “0.” He clears his throat and is clearly avoiding eye contact with me. “The Big Bang Theory?”
Elijah’s hand shoots up. I gape at him.
“It’s the best idea,” he says. “Even if it’s not mine.” He winks. “Raise your hand, Special K.”
Did he give me that cereal box? I take a breath, then raise my hand because I believe in my idea. Now I’m tied with Ashley’s Sharper Image idea. Everyone watches Carlos, who still won’t look at me, even as he raises his hand.
“Boo-yah!” Elijah raises his other hand for a fist-bump and I oblige, even though I’m embarrassed, and no one else is smiling. Carlos writes a “3” next to my idea and circles it.
“Congratulations, Laurel.” His expression is blank, quashing my tiny thrill of victory. “So if this campaign were real, what would we do next?” He affixes a fresh sheet of paper to the window.
“Laurel would suck up to her daddy and wrap him around her little finger,” Trish snaps.
I swallow, trying to come up with a response, but Ashley jumps in.
“Having connections is nothing to be ashamed of. That’s what makes the world go ’round.”
Jason nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’m totally gonna ask your dad about connecting me with his producer friend. Maybe you can send him some of the photos we’ll take.”
I’ve unleased a publicity hound. Elijah’s leg bumps mine under the table, in sympathy I assume. Jason and I can talk later. Right now, I need to deal with Trish.
It’s not easy for me to stand up to people, but I gather my courage, like Qa’hr when she told the pilot of her stowaway ship she can fix anything even though she can’t. I meet Trish’s challenging gaze.
“Look, Trish, I don’t know why you…” I take a breath. I remember my sister’s advice and start again. “If this scenario were real, I’d write something up, a proposal or whatever to present to my—to Mr. Kristoff—about why he should call in a favor.”
Trish snorts, but I press on. “I bet your dad has contacts, too. Maybe for another type of client. It just so happens that the speaker is a natural fit for TBBT.”
“Uh huh, and why is that? Did you tell Daddy Dearest what test product to give us so that you could be the—”
“That’s enough.” Carlos steps toward the table. I don’t think he means to threaten Trish, but she doesn’t finish her sentence. “Picking fights is unproductive. And unprofessional.” He taps his marker on the table. “We need to move on to our presentation. Who wants to be in charge of it? We can all contribute, but someone needs to take the lead.” He looks at me expectantly and my stomach flips over.
I don’t feel ready to take any kind of lead. I just want to participate, not be in charge of something.
“Do it, Laurel.” Elijah grins. “I’ll be your Huckleberry.”
His old movie reference makes me smile, but I still don’t want to do it. Still, what would Qa’hr do? Or Rey and Leia?
“I, uh, could come up with some ideas.” I gesture to everyone else. “But everyone should help. We’re supposed to be a team, right?”
Trish mutters under her breath again but I ignore her. “Also, if we went with the Big Bang strategy, it wouldn’t cost any money for my dad to call the producer. We’d still have our budget to work with.”
“You’re right.” Carlos’s Fudgsicle eyes thaw slightly, which warms me to my toes.
A movement in the doorway catches our attention, and everyone freezes as my dad walks in. Carlos rolls down his shirt sleeves and smooths his hair. I wish I could send him a psychic message. Relax. You’re doing great. Also, that shirt makes your eye color pop.
“How’s everyone doing?” Dad grabs a chair from a nearby desk. Jason and Trish scoot over so Dad can squeeze in between them. Trish darts me a suspicious look and I shrug, hoping to communicate I have no idea why he’s here.
“So, I hear you’ve been given your test product to market as a team.” Dad studies us, steepling his fingers. “What’s your strategy?”
Everyone’s gaze shifts to Carlos, our de facto leader. My dad notices, of course, and turns to Carlos, a smile transforming his face from scary CEO to nice guy. The thing with Darth Vader was you never knew if he smiled, because of the mask, though I doubt he ever did. Dad Vader, however, is approachable today, even friendly.
Carlos clears his throat and rolls the marker between his hands. Relax, I will him with my Jedi mind, but he doesn’t get the message. He looks frozen, like he’s been left on the surface of Hoth for too long.
“We just voted on our ideas,” Elijah pipes up, so Dad focuses on him.
“Tell me more.”
Crud. I want Carlos to get credit, since he took the lead and got everyone focused.
“Can I ask you something, Mr. Kristoff?” Trish tugs on her spider necklace and my skin prickles with apprehension.
“Of course.”
“So, who chose the product for us to market? Was it you?” She points to the Death Star speaker like it’s poisonous.
Dad shrugs. “Ms. Simmons must have chosen it, or someone on her team.” He studies Trish. “I didn’t select it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Dad Vader isn’t an idiot.
“It was a good choice,” Carlos says. “It generated a lot of creative ideas.”
I’m practically giddy that he found his voice.
“Such as?” Dad leans back in his chair and pins Carlos with an intense stare. I hold my breath, but Carlos doesn’t flinch. Instead, he steps toward the window and points to the papers affixed to the glass.
“Everyone pitched their ideas, then we took a vote.” His voice is steady and confident. I release the breath I was holding. “Since our number one choice doesn’t cost anything, we’re deciding which other strategy we can use, too.”
“Mr. K, I have a question.” I wince at the nickname but Elijah plunges ahead. “Do you really know a producer on The Big Bang Theory?”
Dad tilts his head, surprised. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“It’s part of our marketing strategy.” Carlos’s eyes flick to me, then back to my dad.
“Do you stay in touch with him?” Jason pipes up.
Oh no. I refocus my Jedi mind control powers on Jason, willing him to be quiet.
Dad locks eyes with me, transmitting his own Jedi message: We’ll discuss this later, Laurel.
“I’ve got a meeting, but I look forward to seeing your presentation next week.” He stands and nods at us. “Sounds like you’re making good progress.”
I hum the Darth Vader theme song under my breath as he leaves and Elijah snort-laughs. Once he’s out of sight, everyone turns to me, making me squirm.
“Did you tell Daddy to check up on us?�
�� Trish’s voice is harsh, making my stomach churn.
“What? No. I didn’t know he was coming up here.”
“It’s his company,” Carlos says to Trish. “Of course he’s going to check in with us.” His eyes narrow. “Just like your dad does.”
Trish flushes and drops her gaze to the table.
I swallow and place my hands on the table. I have to fix this. I can’t let my dad’s scholarship dream project go off the rails.
“Let’s leave the dads out of this, okay? We all need to work together. Everyone has great ideas. Let’s not argue.”
“She’s right,” Carlos agrees. “Besides, Mr. Kristoff and Mr. Mantoni are our bosses.”
“Suck up.” Elijah tosses a crumpled paper at Carlos, who bats it away.
He’s obviously frustrated. I wonder if it’s with the job, or Trish, or all of us. Maybe he wishes he’d never signed up for this internship. He’s obviously smart and a great leader, even though he had a momentary freeze-up with my dad.
He sounded so passionate and sincere during his introduction the first day. I hope he still feels that way, even though things are a bit wacky with the Manicotti’s rules and two “daddy’s girls” engaged in a weird feud. A feud I’m going to stop, one way or another.
Carlos tosses his marker in the air and catches it behind his back. “You know what? Let’s all take a break. We can figure this out later.”
Definitely a smart leader.
…
Dad and I take opposite corners in the elevator at the end of the day.
“We need to talk, Laurel.”
“Can it wait ’til we’re in the car?” I’m all about procrastinating when I’m in trouble.
Dad’s frustrated Vader energy seeps into me, enhancing the creepiness of the garage. I can’t name one movie where the parking garage scene doesn’t end with somebody kidnapped or dead. A horrible screeching noise makes me jump. The mechanical goat bleating originates from an older sedan with the hood up.
A figure leans over the engine, one hand gripping the raised hood. A very familiar figure.
“Try it again!” Carlos calls out.
“Come on,” Dad says. I follow him, because what else can I do? As we get closer, Dad calls out, “Need some help?”
Carlos steps out from under the hood and brushes his hands together. His dark gaze can’t seem to decide whether to focus on Dad or me.
“We need to jump it. Any chance you have cables in your car?” Now his gaze is fixed on my dad.
“I have something even better. Be right back.” Dad leans down to peek in the driver side window. “We’ll get you on the road in just a few minutes, Emmy.”
Miss Emmaline gives him a grateful smile. I wonder what would happen if I called her Emmy? Nothing good.
Dad jogs to our car and Carlos finally looks at me.
“You’re a mechanic in your spare time?” I try to joke.
He shrugs. “Not really, but I know enough.”
Miss Emmaline’s watching me. Maybe she’ll crack a smile since we’re off the clock. I squat to look her in the eye.
“Miss Emmaline, do you know how many tickles it takes to make an octopus laugh?”
As usual, I get the scowl, but I can’t leave a punchline unsaid.
“Ten tickles. Tentacles. Get it?”
Behind me, Carlos snorts. “That’s worse than this morning’s joke. Where do you find these?”
“Online.” I smile at Miss Emmaline as I stand, willing her to at least blink, but she sighs and turns away like I’m trying to sell her a magazine subscription.
My dad returns, carrying a fancy battery-powered gadget that does everything—inflates tires, charges batteries, and who knows what else.
Carlos checks out the all-in-one-save-your-car appliance. “Sweet. Where’d you get this, Mr. K?”
Dad and Carlos devolve into caveman car talk and my eyes glaze over. I lean down and smile at Miss Emmaline again. “They’re about to get you on the road again. Once they stop grunting.”
She nods and taps her fingers on the steering wheel. “Your father always takes care of me.”
I’m shocked she actually responded.
“How long have you worked for him?
“Since the beginning. Fifteen years this August.”
“Wow, that’s amazing. He should throw you a party.”
She sniffs and looks down her nose at me, even though she’s sitting down. “He most certainly should not. I’m just doing my job. I don’t need to be celebrated.”
No matter what I say, it somehow offends.
“Start your engines, Emmy!” Dad calls out, and this time she chuckles at the corny joke, because it came from my dad. She turns the key and the engine roars to life. Carlos lowers the hood back into place after my dad unhooks the magical car gadget and they share victorious grins, like they just hunted down a mastodon with spears.
We step away from the car as Miss Emmaline drives away. She lifts a hand from the wheel to wave, but keeps her gaze focused straight ahead. I bet she never runs yellow lights.
“Thanks for helping her out,” Dad says to Carlos. He clears his throat. “Sorry, I forget—are you Jason?”
Nice one, Dad. Way to make your interns feel special.
Carlos shakes his head and his mouth curves in that delicious smile, the one that shows the dimple. “I’m Carlos.”
“Oh, right. Jason’s the one who goes to school with Laurel.” His mischievous expression sends panic streaking through me. “The guy you had a crush on, right?”
Oh. My. God.
This is worse than if he choked me with his thoughts like Darth Vader, but it has the same effect, rendering me unable to speak.
Carlos turns the dangerous dimple on me. “Oh yeah? Interesting.”
Interesting? More like humiliating. Mortifying. Life-ending.
“Dad.” My voice is a strangled gurgle. “Stop. Please.” I can’t look at Carlos, but I know he’s laughing on the inside. I can feel it.
Mortified, I march toward our SUV, not caring that I’m acting like a kid throwing a tantrum. All I do care about is escaping mortification.
I don’t have a remote for the car, so I’m unable to hide behind the tinted windows. I watch Dad say goodbye to Carlos, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back. What has gotten into Dad Vader, cracking dumb jokes and humiliating his daughter?
The unlock beep startles me into action. I slide into the car and slam the door closed. Dad slides into the driver seat and lets out a sigh.
“I’m guessing I said too much.” He starts the engine.
“You think?” My voice drips with sarcasm.
He puts the car in reverse and doesn’t say anything until we’ve exited the garage. It’s hard to believe that a few hours ago I was enjoying a gorgeous sunny afternoon and taking photographs. Now I want to curl up in a hole.
“I was…” he begins and clears his throat. I glance at his profile, which is chiseled and boss-like. Not at all the face of someone who jokes about crushes.
“Maybe it wasn’t the best strategy.” His fingers tap restlessly on the steering wheel as we wait at a red light. “But I know the interns haven’t been as…welcoming to you as I’d hoped, so I thought—”
“Who told you that?”
He glances at me, guilt clouding his face. “Uh, I don’t—”
“Ms. Romero? The Manicotti?”
Guilt gives way to disapproval. “You know I don’t approve of that nickname.”
I shrug. “Whatever. Anyway, so you heard right. But that doesn’t mean I want you to try to fix it or whatever. Because what you just did made it worse, not better.”
Dad focuses on the road when the light changes. “Carlos seems like a good kid. I thought maybe if I joked about you and Jason, it would make you seem…I don’t know. Like one of them, I guess.”
I glare out the window. “How do you even know about that stuff?” It’s not like I ever told my dad about my crush drama.
My mind reels as I try to process this information. Since when does Mom evaluate my infatuation levels? “I didn’t think Mom was involved in your business.”
“Your mom always has input. I trust her opinion, especially when it comes to people. She was the one who told me to hire Emmy. And Tom—Mr. Mantoni.”
In other words, Mom stinks at reading people. I love my mom, but what was she thinking?
“So explain to me how my producer friend is now on the interns’ radar,” Dad says, deftly changing the subject. Vader doesn’t want to talk about my secret crushes any more than I do.
“Um, yeah. Sorry about that. We were brainstorming ideas for the Death Star speaker, and I realized how well it would fit in a Big Bang episode. Sheldon would love the speaker and Jason apparently wants to be actor and—”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm.” Dad glances at me and his lips quirk. “But I’m not calling in a favor for Jason. I don’t care how good of an actor he is, I’m saving my bigtime favors for something special.”
“Bigtime favors?”
Dad revs his engine as he rockets us into the far left lane. “Sure. When you have friends in powerful positions, you don’t ask for random favors. You choose wisely, holding onto the bigtime favor until it’s something important, for someone special.” Apparently he’s given this a lot of thought. “That’s the type of favor I hold close to my vest.” He reaches over and takes my hand, surprising me. “Remember this, Laurel. Good friends aren’t to be taken advantage of, especially when they achieve a high level of success.”
There’s a whole subtext here, and I’m pretty sure I get it. He squeezes my hand.
“So tell me, Vader, if this was a real project, and I was the real account manager, and I came to you with my brilliant idea, would you call in your favor?”
Spies, Lies, and Allies Page 10
