RomeCODE and JulieTEST (Startup Crossed Lovers Book 1)

by Jade Bitters

  RomeCODE and JulieTEST

  Startup Crossed Lovers, Volume 1

  Jade Bitters

  Published by Jade Bitters, 2014.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  ROMECODE AND JULIETEST

  First edition. July 21, 2014.

  Copyright © 2014 Jade Bitters.

  Written by Jade Bitters.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One: Act One, Scene One

  Chapter Two: Act One, Scene Two

  Chapter Three: Act One, Scene Three

  Chapter Four: Act One, Scene Four

  Chapter Five: Act One, Scene Five

  Chapter Six: Act Two, Scene One

  Chapter Seven: Act Two, Scene Two

  Chapter Eight: Act Two, Scene Three

  Chapter Nine: Act Two, Scene Four

  Chapter Ten: Act Two, Scene Five

  Chapter Eleven: Act Two, Scene Six

  Chapter Twelve: Act Three, Scene One

  Chapter Thirteen: Act Three, Scene Two

  Chapter Fourteen: Act Three, Scene Three

  Chapter Fifteen: Act Three, Scene Four

  Chapter Sixteen: Act Three, Scene Five

  Chapter Seventeen: Act Four, Scene One

  Chapter Eighteen: Act Four, Scene Two

  Chapter Nineteen: Act Four, Scene Three

  Chapter Twenty: Act Four, Scene Four

  Chapter Twenty-One: Act Four, Scene Five

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Act Five, Scene One

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Act Five, Scene Two

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Act Five, Scene Three

  About the Author

  Chapter One: Act One, Scene One

  Two companies, both alike in dignity,

  In fair San Francisco, where we set our tale,

  From Web 1.0 rivalry break to new mutiny,

  Where stolen code makes androids fail,

  From forth the cursed offices of these two foes,

  A pair of startup-crossed lovers take their lives

  Whose misadventured piteous overthrows,

  Doth with their shutdowns bury their corporation’s strife

  Samantha was grabbed and propped up by her best friend before she slipped on the marble stairs. “Georgina, I swear, we can’t lose. Not to them, not again.”

  “No, of course, not, or else we’d definitely be losers,” said the more sober Georgina, helping Samantha up. The night wasn’t exactly young, but she’d held her liquor better than Samantha...as usual. The pair of interns didn’t look different than anyone other female interns at the party, clad in tight black dresses with matching heels, but they’d worked together at Thisbia for the second year in a row and were now close friends.

  “If we lose, we’ll just challenge them to another drinking game, and then be winners,” said Samantha.

  “Maybe we should get you sobered up,” said Georgina, looking at Samantha, whose eyeliner was smudging. Georgina looked around and kept her eye on the door. All she’d have to do is get out of the penthouse, and then they could get a cab from Potrero Hill to the Mission, and she could sober up Samantha with a good burrito and some horchata.

  Samantha let out a scoff. “I play better when I’m drunk.” Still, she walked with Georgina in whatever direction her friend was taking her.

  “But it’s pretty hard to get you drunk, isn’t it?” said Georgina. As long as Samantha was talking, she’d be okay. A loud Samantha was a Samantha who could still be sobered up, unlike quiet zombie Samantha, who’d need her head held over the toilet, her hair kept back by her best friend.

  “Obviously, not that hard...given how easily those assholes at Pyrymyn won,” she said, glaring at the business interns from across the rooms.

  “Well, we’ve passed the point where your drunkenness is an asset. You’re too drunk to play these games, Sammy,” said Georgina, propping Samantha up by wrapping her arm around her shoulder.

  “Even one of their interns is able to piss me off to the point that I’d challenge them to a drinking game. If I see one of them outside, they better watch their back,” said Samantha, her Southern twang coming out.

  “Don’t let them get to you, really, they’re not worth it,” said Georgina with a sigh. She’d seen this sort of drama in prep school and had hoped that the Bay Area, with its supposedly chill and laid back atmosphere, would be different, but it turned out that the only thing that changed was that she used Uber instead of Lyft to get to work.

  “I know they’re not worth it, but those fucking interns are weak, I bet they didn’t even pregame. I’ll get them next time, after work sometime, when we haven’t drank anything yet,” Samantha promised.

  “This fight’s supposed to just between our CEOs but I guess it’s between the interns too,” said Georgina. “It’s crazy. People get rejected from one company, go to the other, and become that dangerous mix of bitter and loyal.”

  “Bitch, I am the CEO! At least compared to them. I’ll buy out their whole damn company and fire every fucking intern,” promised Samantha.

  “Fire the interns? Really?” asked Georgina with a laugh.

  “Fire them, cut their benefits, whatever, you know what I mean, Georgie, ol’ girl,” said Samantha, shooting another uncaught glare at the interns from Pyrymyn.

  “Do you think the interns are smart enough to get that you’re the HBIC?” asked Georgina.

  “They’re gonna fucking have to, everyone knows I’m the head bitch in charge,” said Samantha, swearing up a storm that would’ve given her mother another heart attack.

  “More like the bitch in charge of head,” teased Georgina as another young woman in a black dress brushed by her. She looked back and saw that she was wearing a triangular silver lapel pin. “Samantha, you might want to watch what you say. Remember, we’re in mixed company, and that girl is from Pyrymyn.”

  Samantha looked up at Georgina. “I don’t care. I’m not here to make friends.” Networking was not the same as making friends, especially in this industry.

  “What can you really do? You’re drunk as fuck, Sammy,” said Georgina.

  “Don’t worry,” insisted Samantha.

  Georgina sighed. “I have to worry about you.”

  “I don’t wanna get kicked out or piss off Mrs. Hathaway, so I won’t start shit, but if they do...well, that’s on them. And you know that Pyrymyn scumbags can’t resist pissing me off!” she said, too loudly, as usual.

  “I’ll throw shade, but that’s all,” said Georgina. “They can take it as they will.”

  “You mean as they won’t, they’ll just think you’re another hottie rejecting them,” said Samantha, glancing over her curvy friend. “Fuck’m. I’m going to flip them off. I’m gonna do it, Georgie, I’m doing it!” Georgina looked behind her back, but it was too late: she couldn’t grab Samantha’s arm before she’d extended it back and out, her middle finger extended.

  The girl with long blonde extensions and a black dress was talking to her coworkers, but Samantha was hard to ignore. She excused herself from the group and walked over to them. “You two work at Thisbia, don’t you?” she asked politely. Samantha took note of her nametag: Abigail. “Are you flipping me off?”

  Samantha whispered to Georgina, “Can we get kicked out if I say yes?”

  “Yeah,” said Georgina. Keeping cool was easy, when there weren’t girls like Abigail trying to start something. Couldn’t the blonde tell that Samantha was in no condition to get into a fight? Her blood started to boil.

  “No, ma’am
, I’m not flipping you off...I’m just flipping off,” said Samantha with her biggest fake grin, making spinning signs with her fingers around her temples.

  “Are you trying to start something?” Georgina asked Abigail, looking her over. Pearls. Of course, a member of the elitist Pyrymyn corporation was wearing pearls, probably her grandmother’s, handed down from generation to generation. Those preppy Pyrymyn girls were like sorority sister clones. She probably had a collection of fleece-lined boots in her closet.

  “Start something? Of course not,” said Abigail, flipping one of her extensions over her shoulder and shooting the brunette a wide smile, a marketing smile. She glanced at the pins on their black bodycon dresses: they were both wearing matching bee pins, made of black enamel with gold stripes and silver wings. Of course: the Thisbia bee. These Thisbia girls were all such tacky wannabes, with their tight black dresses and sparkly, gaudy jewelry, and their touchy-feely “community” junk.

  “Honey, if you wanna start shit, let’s fucking go! Thisbia’s just as good as Pyrymyn,” said Samantha. Georgina resisted the urge to sigh: they’d been so close to the door too.

  “But you’re not better than us,” said Abigail, her eyes narrowing as her smile widened.

  “Oh really?” asked Samantha, standing up on her own and raising her arms out as a man in a suit put his hand on Abigail’s shoulder. Georgina looked around: there had to be someone else from Thisbia in this area of the penthouse party. These events were all the same, in terms of how people clumped together: they did exactly that, clump together with people they knew or with people from their company. Breaking off from the group had been a mistake, as had been playing beer pong with the Pyrymyn marketing boys, but the night could still be saved...just not by her.

  Right in the nick of time, there was Mr. Balt. Ty Balt, one of the board members of Thisbia, and a major investor, was on the same floor of the penthouse, so if anything bad happened, he could always intervene. “Samantha, Mr. Balt is here... make this bitch pay,” whispered Georgina. There was no reason for Samantha to hold back now: the Silicon Valley was competitive, take-no-prisoners competitive, and just because they couldn’t cut throats didn’t mean they couldn’t be cut throat.

  “Pyrymyn’s scum compared to Thisbia,” said Samantha, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

  “As if,” said Abigail, rolling her eyes.

  “Let’s settle this with a drinking game...unless, you’re not smart enough to keep up with the rules. Georgina, you remember how to play Fizz Buzz?” asked Samantha.

  “Remember? I own at this,” said Georgina, walking with the group over to the open bar and ordering a tray of assorted mixed shots. “The rules are so simple, even you’ll get them. Because you’re more sober than Sammy, we’ll play one on one, but you’re the lucky one, because Sammy fucking kills it at this game. We start counting at zero, but replace any number divisible by three with the word “fizz”. If the word is divisible by five, say the word “buzz”. If it’s divisible by both, say “fizz-buzz”. Keep counting until you fuck up...and then, take a shot. Then the next person goes, starting from the number you fucked up on.”

  “How do you decide who wins?” asked Abigail.

  “Whoever gets to two hundred and fifty-six is the winner,” said Samantha.

  “Why two hundred and fifty-six?” asked Abigail.

  Samantha and Georgina stifled their laughs. The closest thing to their math that Abigail could do was probably forming a two by two matrix for a marketing presentation. “It’s a computer science thing. Are you going to play or not?”

  “I’m not about to turn down a challenge from Thisbia interns, if that’s what you’re getting at,” said Abigail, taking the first shot in her hands, a pina colada gelatin shot with real coconut shavings on top. “One, two, three –”

  “Take a shot!” said Samantha. “You lost without even getting past the first number, that’s so sad. Georgie’s turn.”

  Georgina took a red, white, and blue stripped liquid shot. “Fizz, four, buzz, fizz, seven, eight, fizz, buzz, eleven, fizz, twelve –” Georgina cringed as she realized the basic mistake she’d made.

  “Twelve’s divisible by four, take a shot!” said Abigail with a laugh. “Thirteen, fourteen, fizz, sixteen –”

  “Fifteen is fizz-buzz, take a shot,” ordered Samantha. Abigail frowned and took the shot. “

  Georgina picked up another light looking shot. “Fizz-buzz, sixteen, seventeen, fizz, nineteen, buzz, fizz, twenty-two, twenty-three, fizz, buzz, twenty-six, fizz, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, fizz-buzz – ”

  “Take a shot!” said Abigail.

  “Uh, no, thirty is fizz-buzz, it’s divisible by three and by five. Take a shot, and start counting,” said Georgina, rolling her eyes. Wasn’t math a general education requirement for every major?

  Abigail swallowed down a tequila shot, instantly regretting not picking something with a lower alcohol content. “Fizz-buzz, thirty-one, thirty-two, fizz, thirty-four, buzz, fizz, thirty-seven, buzz, fizz –”

  “You skipped thirty-nine, take another shot,” ordered Georgina. Abigail picked up one that looked mild, but as the taste of herbal liqueur hit her tongue, she realized she should’ve gone with a safe choice, like the vodka gelatin shots, and she gagged.

  Her colleague in the suit took the shot from her and downed it himself. “This game ends now. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

  A man put his hand on Georgina’s shoulder. She turned: it was Ty. “What do you think you’re doing, Ben? Playing drinking games with interns? Play with someone your own size.”

  Ben and Ty moved so they were practically touching shoulders. Georgina had no idea that the man in the suit was Ben Volio, a Pyrymyn investor and board member, as well as their CFO. “I’m only trying to stop this madness before it gets any worse. Either help me break it up...or walk away.”

  “You’re here, you’re taking shots, and now you want to quit playing just because I showed up? I hate quitters, almost as much as I hate you Pyrymyn Scrum-bags. Let’s settle this now, asshole,” he said, taking off his suit jacket and handing it to Georgina. Ben circled around and passed his own jacket to Abigail, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.

  “The rules of the game are simple,” started Ben.

  “Oh trust me, I know the rules,” said Ty. “Who do you think turned this into a drinking game? What number did you stop on?”

  “Thirty-eight or thirty-nine,” said Samantha, finding it suddenly hard to remember.

  “Easy. Child’s play,” said Ty. “Thirty-eight. Fizz. Buzz. Forty-one. Fizz. Forty-three. Forty-four. Fizz-Buzz.” Ty continued as a cocktail waitress brought over another tray of shots. More and more people crowded around the open bar...including William Stratford and Miranda Hathaway.

  “What’s going on? I’m going to sub in,” said William.

  “You’re too old to play these games,” said Miranda.

  The situation couldn’t get any worse...until Ferdinand Caliban and Arial London showed up, Ferdinand carrying a tray of shots.

  William said, “Miranda, I have to play now. Caliban is here, and he’s going to make things worse just to get back at me.’

  “Stratford, you bastard,” said Ferdinand while Arial held his shoulder with one hand. He turned to his Chief Technical Officer as he balanced the tray. “Don’t hold me back.”

  Arial looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t take even one step towards that vile man.”

  Georgina heard a lone voice in the crowd, between the cheers from the various tech company employees: “Break it up! You all, in the middle! I’ll have you all kicked out if you don’t stop this at once! Blacklisted from future events! Listen to me! I am your host!”

  At the last sentence, all fell quiet, as the crowd realized Alex Escalus, the billionaire investor, who had thrown the party, was there. Unlike the most of the patrons of his party, he was in a plain hoodie and jeans, their colors and style unassuming, belonging more on a startup script kid
die than on an investment whiz kid. Behind him, in a V-formation, were four bouncers, all tall, strong, and wearing black jeans and hoodies over their firm thighs and biceps, their heads shaved...so that people being ‘removed’ from parties couldn’t pull on their hair. All fell quiet at his appearance: Ferdinand put down the tray of shots, Ben and Ty put their jackets back on, and even Samantha went silent.

  “This is what, the third party, this season alone, that Thisbia and Pyrymyn’s rivalry has messed up? That’s three parties that I’ve not only had ruined, but had to ask private security to break up, and that’s not cheap. If either of your companies causes any more problems, you’ll be blacklisted from all my events, and those of other tech investors. I’ll see to it. Everyone, pack it up, except you, Stratford and Caliban.” The twenty-five year old sighed as the crowd dispersed: all he’d wanted to do was make people happy, but instead, his gift with code had turned him not only into a billionaire, but a mediator between companies where executives behaved worse than their interns, executives that were old enough to be his parents. “Stratford, come with me, and Caliban: You. Me. My office. Tomorrow. Everyone else: get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.” They didn’t have to be told twice: everyone left, except the cleaning staff, who worked silently in the background to clean up the dropped shot glasses and spilled drinks.

  Ferdinand, Arial, and Ben waited for an elevator together to avoid having to talk to employees, from other companies or from Thisbia, about what had happened. They faced directly away from the three employees from Thisbia, who were also waiting for an elevator. Six of the most powerful people in San Francisco and they were divided to the point that they wouldn’t even acknowledge the presence of the other side to make chit-chat. What had happened at the party was an embarrassment, given that the three highest-level Pyrymyn employees, all C-level executives, had sunken to such a low level. Finally, an elevator freed up, and although they were quiet at first, finally, Ferdinand broke the silence. “Who started it this time?” he asked.

  “The interns were fighting among one another, and I saw that one of them was going to lose at the game. I tried to get them to stop and obviously failed, but Ty saw me and assumed the worst, challenged me, and I wasn’t about to back down from that challenge. People surrounded us, you two showed up, and then Escalus broke it up,” said Ben with a sigh. These interns were more of a handful every year.