by JD Hawkins
“I could have taken him,” I say.
“Right. You want to have to go into the office with a black eye or a broken nose, a couple missing teeth? Way to set an example, Mr. CEO. Think your investor friends’ll be impressed?”
“Point taken. I was being stupid. Won’t happen again,” I grunt.
He sighs, getting quite for a moment. “Are you and Zoe still not talking?”
“I told you, dude, it’s over. She lied to me and then cheated with her ex. End of story.”
Darren nods. A referee blows a whistle in the distance. “I hear you. I’m sorry it went down like that. Definitely didn’t see that coming. I’ll drop it, though.”
I shrug. “It just doesn’t make sense. I thought I knew her so well. I was—I think I was in love with her. But you should have seen how easy it was for her to lie to me. She didn’t hesitate even once. And then afterward, she still tried to make excuses for it. She said the guy’s mom had cancer, that she wanted to be there for him or whatever. You believe that?”
Darren pauses. “Did her story make sense?”
“Who cares if it did? She’d already told me enough lies. I wasn’t gonna give her the chance to tell more…why are you giving me that look?”
He plays dumb. “What look?”
“Like you’re judging me.”
He sighs. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“I don’t know, do I?”
We curve past the baseball diamonds. The batter hits a ball deep into left field. Darren clears his throat.
“Look, dude. I’m not saying you’re wrong, or that Zoe lying to you and then hanging out with an ex wasn’t messed up. What I will say is that, judging by what you’ve told me about her, and seeing the two of you together in person—the cheating thing doesn’t make a lot of sense. Not saying it isn’t possible, but…is it plausible? You really think she’d play you like that?”
I scoff. “She’s two-faced, Darren. Plenty of people are two-faced. You think you have them figured out and then the reality of who they are is entirely different. Happens all the time.”
Darren gives me the side-eye. “I’m a lawyer, man. You think I don’t see that shit with my clients? Or in the courtroom? And I would get it, if you and Zoe were having problems, or she had a history of acting shady or sneaking around. But she doesn’t. And you guys weren’t. So this isn’t really adding up for me. But what do I know? You know her better than I do. So do you.”
Darren jogs away and I race to catch up.
After I’m showered and changed, I feel my phone buzzing in my gym bag as I head across the parking lot toward my car. When I check it and see Zoe’s name on the screen, I send the call to voicemail. Darren may be my best friend, but as a lawyer he’s been conditioned to give people the benefit of the doubt—innocent until proven guilty and all that. As far as I’m concerned, Zoe’s guilty. After the launch on Monday, that’ll be the end.
25
Zoe
Monday morning I’m filled with both excitement and trepidation as I hit the Off button on my alarm, cutting off the soulful Sam Cooke song playing on my favorite oldies radio station.
I worked hard to distract myself over the weekend, spending all my time with Kiley and Savannah and Veronica, hiking all day on Saturday and then spending Sunday morning at the spa with Veronica and the afternoon helping Kiley at the gallery. I finally caved on Sunday evening, calling Liam and leaving a restrained voicemail asking if he wanted to talk.
I’m not surprised that I never heard back. Given the way he ended things, the best I can hope for is that if and when he’s ready, he’ll reach out. And if not…well, I still have Garfield. The sadness sits heavy in the pit of my stomach, and I force myself not to rehash the events from last week all over again. What’s done is done. I can’t change the past.
Even still, after two days off it feels daunting to have to go back to LoveLife and see Liam, even if we manage to completely avoid one another. I also think about what he said, about how I would be done at LoveLife after the launch, and worse—that after today, he never wants to see me again. The possibility of living with that loss is too overwhelming to contemplate, and every minute Monday morning brings me closer to having to accept that possibility.
I take a shower, letting the hot water pound against my back, closing my eyes and wishing I could wash everything away. After that I put on a simple black dress, a blazer, and black patent leather heels before giving my hair a quick blow dry and applying a light touch of makeup. I’m too nervous for breakfast but I force down some dry toast, knowing I’ll regret it if I try to make it to noon without eating.
I don’t know if Garfield understands what it feels like not to have much of an appetite. He wolfs down his cat food in about four giant bites, then looks up at me, his eyes pleading for more, as if he’s this poor, neglected cat who never gets any sustenance or affection.
“Wish me luck, pumpkin,” I tell him as I sling my purse over my shoulder. He gives me a deep, throaty meow.
“At least I still have you,” I murmur to myself as I lock the front door.
I didn’t think much about the app over the weekend. When I left on Friday, everything was set in place, ready to go. I’d almost forgotten that Kiley had edited together a new and improved version of the promo video for the launch, and that she had interviewed me last Monday for it, before the call from Jonathan, before the lies, before the falling out with Liam.
I have no recollection of what I even said. This past week has just been too traumatic to have held onto those details. Either way, I have plenty of experience in front of a camera, and most of that experience relates to talking about makeup. Hopefully it turned out fine.
LoveLife is bustling this morning, and the launch is set for 10 a.m., followed by a champagne brunch to celebrate. There’s not actually all that much to do at the launch, since once the app goes live, our job is to sit back and wait for people to use it.
First, Liam will give a brief introduction to all the employees. I was supposed to give a short speech as well, but I have no idea if that’s still happening—either way, I’m prepared. After that, we’ll premiere the promo video on my YouTube channel and hope that I have a large enough following for it to go viral. We’ve invited everyone who contributed to the app to join us at the launch, along with a huge number of Austin-based journalists, magazine and digital media editors, and beauty influencers from various social media platforms.
Our goal, of course, is to get our campaign exposure at the national level, and get enough street cred, media attention, and endorsements that users all over the country start downloading the Makeup for the People app and buying our customized products.
Soon, people begin filing into the auditorium. Given the crowd outside, I’m not sure we’ll all fit, and then I see that a projector, a large white screen, and folding chairs have been set up in the adjacent conference room to livestream the event for anybody who doesn’t get a spot otherwise. I climb down and get settled in the leftmost seat in the front row, so that if Liam does ask me to speak, I’ll be close to the stage. I see him peek out from backstage, scoping out the audience. A few moments later, he steps toward the podium, and my heart starts hammering in my chest. It feels completely surreal, that the smiling, calm, confident man standing before us could be capable of the level of fury and outrage he expressed in his office last week.
“Hello everyone, thank you for joining us. If you could please get settled, I’m going to start our presentation in just about a minute or two.”
I hear shuffling as people make themselves comfortable or try to snag the last seats in the very back of the auditorium. Liam is dressed in a dark suit, his thick hair brushed back like a GQ model, his slate gray eyes matching his shoes. He doesn’t wear a tie, just a crisp white shirt, embodying the look of a CEO who wants to appear both professional and stylish.
“I am so thrilled to celebrate the launch of LoveLife’s Makeup for the People app,” he begins, pausin
g for applause. I know they’re clapping for him, and for the app, but I can’t help basking in the applause too. Regardless of what happens with me and Liam, I’m proud of the work I’ve done here—and I believe in this app, and in its message.
“LoveLife has had the pleasure of serving the Austin community for the past five years with its lifestyle and wellness products, and I have had the honor of being the CEO here for just about a year now. I came to Austin because of LoveLife, and I came to LoveLife because I saw an opportunity unlike any other. What’s extraordinary about this company is its inventive vision, its commitment to products that enhance and support mind and body wellness, and its body positive mission statement. I took this position because I knew I wanted to enrich and empower the products and programs already in place while also developing my own passion project, which, as it so happens, was an idea for a makeup app.
“I’m sure many of you are wondering what drove me to this passion, but I have to give the real credit to our interim Director of Marketing, Zoe Skye, for helping me clarify our vision for the app and put the pieces in place to move it forward. Zoe…Ms. Skye…”
He trails off as he glances at me, and my heart drops into my stomach. He looks away, clears his throat, and goes on.
“Ms. Skye has been the single most assertive driving force for getting this app launched. She even allowed us to name it after her hit YouTube channel, Makeup for the People, on which our promo video will be premiering this morning. Ms. Skye, would you like to speak?”
My adrenaline spikes, my pulse pounding in my ears. I knew Liam would probably still ask me to speak, that, it would have been completely unprofessional of him to just cut me out of the introduction given how much I contributed to this app. But I wasn’t prepared for how overwhelming it would be for Liam to once again acknowledge my existence, compliment me, invite me up onto the stage. Even knowing this is all for show, that it doesn’t mean Liam has forgiven me or changed his mind about never seeing me again, I can’t help the hope rising in my chest. I try to balance hope against the potential for disappointment. Liam offers me a hand up the steps to the stage, and I wish I didn’t have to let go, the warmth of his palm against mine.
“Thank you, Mr. Bartock, for your kind introduction, and to every single one of you in the audience who participated in making this app a reality. Several months ago, we undertook an enormous task. Makeup for the People is an immensely complex app, requiring a combination of technical ingenuity, creative marketing strategy, and rapid product development. But we made it happen. As of today, everyone who has a smartphone will be able to download our app for free and gain access to our high-quality, fully-customizable skincare and makeup products—products that the app will choose for them, rapidly and accurately. On that note, I would love to present our promo video. This is Makeup for the People. This is for all of you.”
I return to my seat as huge digital screens on either side of the stage begin playing the promo video. It starts out the same as it did for the investor meeting in New York—a diverse array of people with half their faces covered in products that doesn’t suit their skin. Then it cuts to an image of the app—the real app this time, rather than a mock-up—but before we see a demonstration of the app in action, there’s another cut, to an interview with Liam against a well-lit, cream-colored background.
He says, “Makeup for the People is going to be revolutionary because it’s not just about profits. It’s about people. Real individuals who deserve to have access to unique, bespoke products made just for them. We are on the frontier of the customization economy, and we intend to be leaders in helping people out of boxes and into whatever three-dimensional shapes best suit them.”
I don’t know if it’s what Liam is saying or how he’s saying it, but I believe him. I believe that this app is revolutionary, that we are leaders in a movement that’s going to be much bigger than LoveLife or this app or any single one of us.
The video continues, showing a variety of people using the app, gleeful at the results, a montage of products created uniquely for them, in every shade of the rainbow. Then it cuts to the interview with me, and I’m beaming, a weightless quality to my happiness as if I’m floating on a cloud.
“I’m so grateful to our CEO and to everybody at LoveLife who contributed to the Makeup for the People app. This is the future. Not just tutorials, but services and products for my viewers, for everyone. We are about empowerment and inclusivity, about recognizing and acknowledging the beauty of the diversity all around us.”
We watch the last few scenes of the promo, and immediately thereafter I see everyone in the audience taking out their phones, downloading the app, murmuring with excitement.
Peter from the Tech Lair jumps onto the stage and grabs the microphone. “And as our Head Data Engineer, I can officially confirm that our promo video has been successfully uploaded to YouTube. Go LoveLife! Champagne brunch is in the lobby. Let’s go celebrate!”
As I’m walking out of the auditorium, one of the junior marketing associates pulls me aside. “Look,” she says, and I see that downloads of the app, made available to the public earlier this morning, are already skyrocketing. The promo video is piling on views and shares. The announcements we’ve made on Instagram and Twitter are getting thousands of likes.
There’s no question about it. We’re going viral.
My work cell starts blowing up with emails and calls. Within the next hour, as I’m sipping champagne and schmoozing with investors and coworkers and fans, I receive notifications that TrendBlend and Buzzfeed have decided to spotlight our promo video. A few prominent national newspapers, magazines, and culture websites are reaching out to us for interviews, and the managing editor of Wired wants us for the cover of their next issue as part of a larger feature on the science of beauty. And then I get a message from the showrunner of a late night show—they want to book me. I can hardly believe it.
I’ve been so focused on how our app was going to change other people’s lives that I never even considered the degree to which my own life could be affected as well. I don’t know what’s next for me after LoveLife, but what I’ve realized is that I’m in the midst of a defining moment in my career, on the precipice of transforming from a “before” into an “after.” But as sweet as all the success is, I can’t help thinking it would be even sweeter with Liam at my side.
After too many glasses of champagne, at the point where I’m definitely tipsy and most likely drunk, I look around the crowd for him, determined to march myself over and at least congratulate him on the success of the launch. Despite his plan to shut me out of his life again today, to the public, we need to appear as a team—at least for a little while. I’ve been in the marketing world long enough to understand that if we want to capitalize on the opportunities that this app will create for both of us, we have to present a unified front. Our narrative needs to match our mission, and nobody wants the story of the Makeup for the People app to be tainted by what they’ll see as petty personal bullshit or creative differences.
I make several rounds through the lobby, then pop my head into the Tech Lair, the main conference room, the auditorium again. I catch Savannah in the hallway chatting with Ama Thyst and Cherry Poppins, delighted they made the cut into the final, official promo video. “Have any of you seen Liam? The CEO?” They all shake their heads.
Finally, I knock on the door to his office. No response. I knock again. Nothing. When I push the door open, he’s not there.
As far as I can tell, Liam walked out of his own launch party.
26
Liam
I wind through the streets of downtown Austin, deciding to walk the mile and a half to my favorite coffee shop.
I snuck out just after the launch party started, and my plan is to return just before it ends. I’m perfectly capable of making small talk and trading ego-inflating compliments with investors—what I’ve found, however, is that by ducking out on your own party, you come off as mysterious and unavail
able. It tells everybody that you’re confident enough in yourself that you don’t need their praise, and those in attendance begin to speculate as to what important task must have drawn you away, how wildly in-demand you must be.
Back when I was living in LA, a business colleague mentioned using this tactic, and I decided to give it a go when I launched The Seed Project app. The results were astounding. I had an unprecedented number of emails and calls from important potential investors and networking opportunities over the next few days, inquiring about my availability to meet. It makes sense, given that the same principle applies to dating. I’m all for honesty over playing games, but there’s truth to the age-old wisdom that you should never seem too available. There’s nothing like the chase.
The coffee shop is packed when I enter, and I realize that my timing has lined up perfectly with the deluge of the lunch crowd. I don’t mind the waiting. I’m not in a rush. I pull out my phone to sort through some emails when I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn to see a lanky man with dark hair and thick glasses who I don’t recognize. He seems familiar, though, like an actor who’s played bit parts in a couple movies you’ve seen.
“Can I help you?”
“You’re Liam? From LoveLife?” he says.
“I am. Am I that famous already, or have we met?”
The man laughs and points at the nametag still clipped to my breast pocket.
“Ah,” I respond sheepishly, taking off the nametag and slipping it into my bag. “Seriously though—have we met before? You look familiar.”
“No. I just saw your company’s promo video for your new app, though, and it looks great. Did Veronica do the cinematography? It reminded me of some of her older work.”
One of the baristas blends a frozen coffee drink. “Um, yeah, Veronica Martinez did do the cinematography…are you a friend of hers? Didn’t catch your name.”
