Last Call

by Bella Michaels

  Enzo thanks the waitress who delivers his wine, unfortunately not Cabernet, and waits for an explanation.

  “Who said that?”

  “Joseph Campbell.”

  “And what exactly would Joseph Campbell have to say about our NDA and the lovely Doctor Flemming?”

  I run my fingers through my hair, wishing away a headache that was brought on by an afternoon phone call with my father. You’d have thought the guy would be thrilled I spent an afternoon with Paul poring over reports, but no. He’s now on to being worked up about the contract with our mid-Atlantic beer distributor. He’s never quite pleased with me.

  “He’d say that nothing will keep love apart. That when the heart speaks, we should take good notes.”

  Enzo’s eyes widen in genuine shock. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with Hayden?”

  “I’m in love with her, Enz.”

  I’ve thought about nothing else this whole week, and after last night . . .

  There is no doubt in my mind.

  His only reaction is to nod for me to continue.

  “She sees past the bullshit somehow,” I say. “Like you.”

  I tilt my head back, closing my eyes. No way am I going to let him see the tears forming in my eyes. I don’t cry.

  “Hayden.”

  Holy shit, I can’t stop them.

  Think of something else. Like Ada straddling your lap in the car last night.

  “Hayden?”

  Not working.

  Screw it.

  I look at my friend, wiping an errant tear away as I continue to fight off the surge of emotion.

  “It’s OK,” he says.

  But it doesn’t feel OK. I can practically hear my father telling me to man up. That no one likes a crying baby.

  “Do you think she feels the same way?” Enzo asks. If he’s flustered by my reaction, he doesn’t show it.

  “Maybe.”

  “So this amazing woman who is smart and sexy and beautiful—” he pauses, “—all your words, by the way—has fallen for . . . you?”

  “Potentially.”

  “And you love her?”

  “Yes.” Now that I’ve admitted it out loud, it feels less scary.

  “So maybe you can trust our judgment a bit, huh? Mine and Ada’s? Maybe you can realize you’re someone worth fighting for.”

  I don’t have time to mull over the fact that maybe, just possibly, Enzo isn’t an anomaly. That maybe I’m not a complete waste of space.

  “I can’t wait until the entire process is over to be with her.”

  “So don’t.” I open my mouth to say something, but Enzo shakes his head. “Talk to her. You’ll figure it out.”

  My chest tightens. “And if figuring it out means bringing my father into the company?”

  Enzo leans closer, giving me a knowing smile.

  “I think you’ve already decided what you’re going to do. ‘Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen.’”

  Emerson.

  Sometimes I forget my chemist friend was a philosophy minor.

  “Don’t look so surprised. Just because I didn’t have a fancy European education doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two.”

  As the waitress sidles up to our table, I consider his words. Enzo knows me well. And he’s right. I know what I have to do.

  This weekend is shaping up to be one of the most important ones of my life.

  30

  Ada

  “How’s the traffic?” Hayden asks on speakerphone.

  I turn up the volume to make up for the fact that I’m blasting the air conditioning.

  “It’s a parking lot.”

  I’m supposed to be with Hayden tonight, finally, but Jenna called in tears. Apparently her boyfriend broke up with her two nights ago. She might be nineteen with plenty of boyfriends in her future, but they’d been dating for nearly a year. Her world, at least this week, was shattered, and so I’m heading home. When I took the job in New York, I promised myself to be there whenever anyone in my family needed me, and my sister was upset so off to Maryland I go.

  I can hear Hayden shifting positions. For a moment, I feel a pang of regret. He offered to come with me, even though it would have required him to reschedule his visit to the Angel, Inc. lab, but I said no. Although I do plan on telling my family about him—everything—it would be a lot more difficult if he showed up with me.

  Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. I’d like you to meet my new boyfriend. You know that case I’m managing? Well, this is the co-owner of the company.

  Nope. Not a good idea. Especially since the reason I’m heading home is because of my sister’s breakup. The last thing she needs is me showing up with a new boyfriend.

  “I have to talk to you about something,” I blurt out, just as the cars ahead of me finally start to move. “Traffic is moving again, though, so I’ll be going through the tunnel soon. If we get cut off, I’ll call you back.”

  “No worries. I have nowhere to be tonight.”

  “You didn’t make any other plans?” This really isn’t the same guy I met just a few weeks ago. “Staying home on a Friday night?”

  “Actually, I have a date.”

  I almost drive into the car in front of me.

  “I’m keeping this super-hot chick company while she drives home for the weekend.”

  Seriously, I’m going to kill him.

  “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  He chuckles through my car’s speakers. “Sorry about that. Hold on a sec.”

  I don’t drive enough these days to be totally comfortable with the amount of zigzagging going on around me. As I enter the tunnel, I can’t be sure if I’m still on hold or if I lost Hayden.

  “Still there?” he asks.

  “Yep.”

  I glance at my navigation and follow signs for I-95 South.

  “You said you wanted to talk about something?”

  Yes and no. Truthfully, I’ve been dreading this all day.

  “So . . . I know we said no work talk, but . . .” My insides quiver, thinking of it.

  “My boss called me into her office this morning, just before my mom called.”

  “You sure you want to tell me about this?”

  No, actually, I’m not. I know I’m crossing another line, but knowing what I know about Hayden’s agreement with his father, I can’t keep quiet about this.

  “Yes. I mean, maybe. I don’t know. But we have to talk about it anyway.”

  The phone goes silent.

  “She flagged a potential problem in the tox report.”

  This would be so much better in person.

  “It’s actually not an unusual problem, but . . .”

  “But?”

  “Without getting too technical, there’s both good news and bad news.”

  “It sounds mostly like bad news.” Understandably, Hayden’s tone has changed.

  I take a deep breath. “We can talk about it more next week. She wants to convene the team to discuss a Phase IV study.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, there’s a possibility approval, if granted, could be contingent on an additional study based on the toxicology results. She wants to talk about the study design and inclusion criteria and possible follow-up length and outcome measures.”

  “In English?”

  “Depending on the scope of the study, there could be a delay.” I rush to add, “Or not.”

  I’m not making any sense.

  “I’m only telling you now because she wants me to get in touch on Monday and set up a meeting as soon as possible. If it’s something that can be designed and implemented fairly easily, it might not cause a delay at all.”

  “You mentioned good news?” His voice is clipped, which is completely understandable.

  “I don’t know where she’s at with this exactly. I was serious when I told you that my job is to gather all of the data, not make decisions.”

  If that were dif
ferent, this call wouldn’t be happening. This relationship would be indefinitely on hold too.

  “But there is good news. We typically don’t talk about Phase IV studies on NDAs that aren’t in the pipeline for approval.” I wait for him to catch my meaning.

  “You’re saying you think this will be approved?”

  Oh shit, I almost missed my turn. Resituating myself and looking at the navigation, I answer his question as honestly as possible.

  “I’m saying that I’ve been asked to bring you in to discuss a potential Phase IV study. And by definition those aren’t necessary for drugs that haven’t been approved. That’s all I can say without compromising more than I already have.”

  “How long of a delay?”

  I knew he would ask that question.

  “That’s impossible for me to say. The study may not even be warranted. That’s what the meeting is about. If it is needed, there could be no delay at all. Or a minimal one. Or, if it’s complex enough, it could be weeks. Or months. There isn’t a single answer. All drugs are different.”

  More silence.

  “So it looks like I’ll be coming back to your office sooner rather than later?”

  “Yes.”

  Is he upset about a possible delay? Happy there are signs it’ll be approved? Based on everything I know, both from his case specifically and others I’ve worked on, approval is a forgone conclusion, but I don’t dare tell him that. It’s only my opinion, and again, I won’t be making the ultimate decision.

  Thank God.

  Still, things are getting complicated already, and only a few people know about us. How much more complicated will our relationship get if this process takes months longer than expected?

  “Enough work talk,” he says, his tone more lighthearted, “tell me something about you I don’t know already.”

  I settle in for a long drive, grateful to have Hayden to keep me company, but my mind can’t stop whirring.

  Hayden didn’t say it, but I know he’s scared. Terrified, actually, of the possibility that his father might become an integral part of a business he and Enzo created. And as little as I enjoy thinking about it, there’s no denying the fact that the actions of my team, my boss, will directly affect the course of Hayden’s life.

  If the NDA isn’t delayed because of the study, it just might be anyway.

  Because of me.

  And that thought isn’t sitting well at all.

  31

  Hayden

  This time, I’m early to my meeting at the FDA, partly because I didn’t get to see Ada all weekend. Karlene’s birthday was Sunday, it turns out, and I couldn’t steal her away like I wanted to. Nor could I attend Karlene’s surprise party, because other FDA employees would be there.

  When I enter the lobby, Ada is nowhere to be found. I texted her on my way in, but she didn’t answer. An administrative worker sitting behind her desk is looking at me suspiciously.

  “Mr. Tanner?”

  I turn, unable to place the voice.

  “Hey, Qasim.”

  He looks very much like a guy who knows everything, which, according to Ada, he does. Or almost everything.

  He doesn’t know I had the weekend from hell, pacing my apartment, turning in my sleep. I’ve never told a woman I loved her. Not once. But that’s the plan.

  “You’re early for the meeting.”

  “I am,” I admit. “Are you joining us?”

  Qasim is a chemistry guy, like Enzo. So I’m not surprised when he nods. The red flag had to do with the toxicology numbers. He motions toward the meeting room. “Yeah. I can take you in.”

  I’d been hoping to talk to Ada alone, but it seems like our discussion will have to wait.

  “Thanks.”

  As we walk into the boardroom, Qasim asks if I want a coffee. I don’t.

  All I want is for this entire approval process to be over so I can get on with my life. So Ada and I can get on with our relationship.

  “You must be ready for all this to be over?” Qasim asks, his smile infectious.

  “You’re not kidding. It’s been a bit of a process.”

  He laughs. “You can say that.”

  “How long have you worked here?” I ask.

  “Started here right out of college.”

  Impressive. From my understanding, these jobs aren’t easy to come by.

  “And you like it? Working for the government?”

  Qasim doesn’t answer immediately. “I do,” he says after a moment’s consideration, “but we get frustrated with the red tape too sometimes. Every once in a while I think about going private.” He shrugs. “But there are a lot of benefits too. And I was fortunate to find a place in this office.”

  The majority of the FDA is located down by Ada’s family, in Maryland.

  “You from here?”

  His answer is interrupted by the door opening. Ada’s boss. I’m stepping forward to shake her hand when I see a flash of blond hair behind her.

  My mouth goes dry.

  This is her professional look—a black suit with her hair tied back in a low ponytail—but she’s every bit as tempting as when I last saw her.

  Well, maybe not that tempting. I force out thoughts of our car ride back from Rooftop 40.

  “Good morning, Mr. Tanner,” says Ada’s boss, the DNPD chief, as she reaches for my hand. Not surprisingly for a woman in her position, she has a firm handshake. And a no-nonsense air about her.

  “Good morning, Doctor Davis. Doctor Flemming.”

  When I shake hands with Ada, it’s like an electric shock passes between us. She looks away quickly, but not before I give her hand an extra little squeeze.

  “You’re early,” she says with a hint of amusement in her voice.

  I remind myself, for the first of likely many times this morning, not to flirt with her.

  “You can never predict the traffic,” I explain instead, sitting back down.

  Doctor Davis sits between Ada and Qasim.

  Across from all three, as if I’m on trial, I wait for the two women to get settled, and attempt not to stare at Ada.

  I catch Qasim’s eye, and he winks.

  Cheeky bastard. I do my best not to smile like a fool and instead focus on the woman with my fate in her hands.

  “Doctor Flemming has explained the reason for this meeting?”

  I nod. “Yes. We spoke yesterday,” which was true, although we talked plenty over the weekend as well, “and she told me about the possibility of a Phase IV study.”

  Two men from toxicology join us, and after another round of introductions, Doctor Davis basically explains what Ada already told me.

  “We will make every effort to avoid further delay,” she says, “and we should have a clearer idea of what the timeline will be like moving forward.” She turns to Qasim. “Do you have those numbers we discussed?”

  He slides a stack of papers toward her. And then slides a single sheet of paper toward Ada, who pulls it to her chest, looks at it, and then glances back up at me.

  “You have a copy of the numbers already?” her boss asks her.

  “I do,” she says. “And I went through them twice this weekend.”

  Would she have been scouring through data on a weekend home with her family if it weren’t for me? Probably. Ada loves her job.

  And I love her.

  The rest of the meeting carries on, but I struggle to concentrate. I keep thinking about this weekend. Telling Ada how I feel. Seeing her reaction. Does she feel the same way? What will it mean for us moving forward?

  Are we moving quickly?

  Yes.

  Too quickly?

  No.

  I don’t need another week or month or year to know this is it. Last call. Ada Flemming is the only woman I want. When I see her boss looking between us, I glance away.

  Don’t mess this up, Hayden.

  “I know you’re busy preparing for market,” Doctor Davis says, standing, “so I appreciate you coming in toda
y.” She turns to Ada. “We’ll talk tomorrow morning. I’m going to be out of the office for the rest of the day.”

  Ada nods and says to the others, “I’ll walk him out. Do you guys need me for anything else?”

  The two latecomers shake their heads and filter out of the room, but Qasim isn’t letting her off so easy.

  “Actually, I do have a few questions about the report,” he says, and it’s obvious—to me, anyway—he’s about to burst out laughing. “Lunch?”

  Ada looks like she’d rather punch him than share a meal. But she’s good at keeping her cool, and she just says, “Sure. My turn to buy. The usual?”

  He grins like a bartender who was just handed a hundred-dollar tip.

  “Sure thing. Noon.”

  I follow her, presumably to her office.

  “Well, hello there.”

  Stopped by Karlene, I nearly run into Ada’s backside. Which would be kind of nice, to be honest. Unless, of course, groping is frowned upon in the hallowed halls of the FDA. I want to touch her so badly it’s physically painful.

  “How did it go?” Karlene asks, seemingly of both of us.

  “Good,” Ada says, which is just as well because I really have no fucking clue how it went. I’m just glad to be out of there and headed toward some alone time with Ada.

  If I could get a grip, I would. But I can’t. So I don’t bother trying.

  “Good to see you again,” Karlene says, her gaze as knowing as Qasim’s.

  “Same to you,” I say. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”

  She seems surprised by that. “Thanks.” She glances around, then leans in toward me. “Sorry to have pulled her away. I promise she didn’t dance with any strippers this time.”

  “Kar!” Ada admonishes her. Laughing, her friend moves on.

  As we reach Ada’s office, I tell her, “You have good taste in friends.”

  We go inside, and I notice Ada doesn’t move to close the door. I know why, but I’m still disappointed.

  “Yeah,” she says slowly, making her way behind her desk, “ones that will get me fired.”

  Despite her words, I’m pretty sure she’s kidding . . . until I look at her face.