Page 15 of Work with Me

I opened my laptop and flopped into the chair.Alicia Weber University of Texas Austin,I typed into the search box.

I found her middle name, Diane. The dean’s list for every semester she’d spent at school. The scholarships she’d won. The programming prizes. Her page on a professional social network that listed her previous employers and projects. No wonder Cooper thought she was better than I was. She was a shining star.

I picked up my phone.

“Jackson! What’s going on?”

God, I missed Marlee. She was the one friendly face I could count on at work. Who accepted me for who I was, fuckups and all. “Remind me again why you aren’t out here with me.”

“You know I can’t leave Dad.”

I knew. Still, I was a fucking selfish bastard. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. He gave a talk at the Young Astronomers’ Club the other day. He did pretty well.”

Even over the phone, I caught the slight hesitation in her voice. “What happened?”

“Nothing. He just mixed up Betelgeuse with Antares. And one of the kids had to correct him.”

“Oh. But that’s an easy mistake, right? Aren’t they both…red?”

“Good Galileo. You’ve been listening to me.”

“I always listen to you, Marlee.”

“That’s a damn lie, but I’ll allow it today since you actually called me. Whydidyou call me, Jackson?”

“Just to hear your voice?”

She made a sound like the buzzer at a basketball game. “Try again, boss.”

“Fine. What do you know about this new consultant we’ve hired? Alicia Weber.”

“The one Cooper hired to save your ass, you mean?”

I winced. “He said that?”

“He didn’t have to say it. Cooper’s been pulling his hair out about that project. I tried to give him status updates, but when you don’t call me for weeks, it’s kind of hard.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I should’ve—”

“It’s okay. It’s done. Alicia’s there now. What’s she like?”

“Annoying. Bossy. Brilliant.”

“What was that last word? You mumbled, but it sounded like you said ‘brilliant.’”

“I did, okay? She’s smart. I feel a little…irrelevant.”

“No, Jackson. You’re important. Cooper needs you there. The company needs you. Don’t disappear, okay?”

“Disappear? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You know what I mean. Don’t give up and hide, okay? Don’t run off to Amsterdam or Monaco or Rio or freaking Antarctica. You’re important. You’re worthy. People rely on you. Say it.”

Too bad I hadn’t had a Marlee back in school when I’d been the slowest kid in the class, unable to focus on what the teacher was saying or what I was supposed to read. The other kids had called me stupid. The best way I’d found to cope had been to laugh it off. Pretend I didn’t care. Then run away and hide my tears. Once I left school, the world was full of ways to show I didn’t give a fuck—booze, raves, yacht parties, bungee jumps—to hide how much I did.

I mumbled, “I’m important. I’m worthy. People rely on me.”

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