Page 91 of Advanced Chemistry

“We tried,” I said in a low voice as I hit the elevator button. “Onward.”

I put my hand on Anton’s shoulder and led him into the elevator. The doors closed. We would be okay.

“We’re going to make one hundred cold calls today,” I said. “We’re going to find another Hollis, an even bigger Hollis.”

The smile that I loved so much cracked onto his face. “Hell yeah.”

Anton pulled me into a kiss as the doors opened into the lobby.

Where Hollis was waiting for us.

Shit.

He cleared his throat. We stepped out of the elevator and jumped back into business mode.

“Gentlemen,” he said uneasily. But then a grin broke out onto his face as he handed over the signed contract. “I look forward to working with you.”

I took the contract, but it didn’t feel real. None of this felt real. Had the elevator plummeted us to our deaths?

“Set up a call with my admin for Monday morning.”

“Yeah. Yes. Will do.” I shook his hand, which again, didn’t feel real.

“How did you beat us down here?” Anton asked.

“I have a private elevator.” Hollis shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Clearly, we had a lot to learn about wealthy businessmen. “And speaking of elevators, no hanky panky in mine.”

He pointed a warning finger in our faces. Then he broke into a laugh, clapped us each on the back, and was gone. Off to his secret elevator.

Anton and I walked to our car in dead, shellshocked silence.

“We did it,” he said matter-of-factly, no emotion in his voice.

“Yeah, I think we did,” I replied, just as confused.

* * *

The next night,Anton and I were still on the top of the world. And then we entered the kitchen.

“It says to broil it. What does broil mean?” Anton looked at me, then back at the steak simmering in the skillet, then back at me.

“I don’t know. Is that a fancy term for cooking it?”

“Maybe it means boil it? Should I get a pot of hot water?” Anton asked.

“Who boils meat? Is that really a thing?”

Anton and I had conquered wrestling matches, starting a business, and landing our biggest client to date. Surely, we could handle making one meal.

It wasn’t until we bought all the ingredients and began cooking that we realized just how tiny and unstocked our kitchen was. Our one skillet was too small for the meat, we had no appliances outside of a wooden spoon Anton’s mom made us buy, and the only “spices” we had were the salt and pepper packets from takeout.

But we promised Chase a delicious steak dinner, and by golly, our nerdy boyfriend was getting a steak dinner.

“In Burger King commercials, they talk about broiled whoppers. Should we call someone at BK and ask?”

“Let’s call the King himself.” I rolled my eyes. Fast food employees weren’t paid enough to care about broiling.

“I’m spitballing here!” Anton threw his hands in the air, and because of the tight quarters, he accidentally smacked me in the head.

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