Page 113 of The Sebastian Guarantee
“You are correct. But we are not matchmakers when it comes to love. We’re matchmakers when it comes to investing. We are the Marieuse Group, an investment firm. We partner with STEM Development. We’re quite interested in Go Girl.”
“You are?” Phoebe breathed.
“Did you say Marieuse Group?” a man barked.
And holy irate man bun!Phoebe knew that petulant, peevish tone. “Jeremy?”
With his strawberry locks poufed on top of his head in a—yep, you guessed it—man bun, Jeremy Drewler elbowed his way through the growing crowd. He marched up to them and eyed the sisters. “Your firm emailed me. You expressed an interest in my concept. But you haven’t returned any of my messages. Now I’m stuck pitching at LETIS Live.”
Bernadette and Claudette didn’t bat an eyelash at the man-bun-baby tantrum.
“After careful consideration and a deep dive into your background, Mr. Drewler,” Bernadette began, “while we expressed an initial interest in you, we came to the conclusion that our philosophies do not mesh.”
Claudette nodded. “Our values are more in line with Miss Gale’s Go Girl vision.”
“What?” Jeremy yipped, going full Chihuahua. “Once I secure funding, my Man Bun Nation app will revolutionize hipster men’s grooming. You’re passing up on that to work with Phoebe Gale?”
“Hold on,” Sebastian said, suppressing a grin as he turned to her. “This guy’s innovative concept is an app about man buns?”
Phoebe bit back a grin of her own. “I didn’t tell you?”
“Oh, I would have remembered something as ridiculous as that.”
“The man bun will define this generation of men,” Jeremy grumbled.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sebastian shot back, unable to stop himself from laughing.
“You know what the problem is?” Jeremy barked, glancing around at the crowd, his words dripping with contempt.
Phoebe slapped a syrupy-sweet grin on her face. “Enlighten us, Jeremy.”
“Women don’t belong in tech. They should step aside and let men who know what they’re doing lead the way.”
As if the man had awakened a sleeping giant, the energy shifted. A feverish buzz cut through the air as a mass of pink T-shirts closed in on them.
“Did you say that women should stay out of tech?” a blond girl with a tablet in her hand demanded.
“You better run, Strawberry Man Bun,” Sebastian cautioned. “The future of tech is coming after your ass.”
“What?” Jeremy blathered.
The buzz intensified to a grinding hum as a miniature tank of a robot sporting a catapult arm loaded down with cookies headed straight for Jeremy.
“Meet Mr. Cookie Combat,” a girl in pigtails snarled.
“Ready, aim . . .” the tablet girl called.
“Fire!” a gaggle of Tech Tweens cried.
“Help!” Jeremy squealed.
Cookies soared through the air. Jeremy bolted, but he wasn’t getting off easy. A throng of children and one hell of a cookie-flinging robot ran his misogynistic booty clean off the property.
“If that’s not a sign that women will usher in the new age of technology, I don’t know what is,” Sebastian mused as Jeremy disappeared, running into the sunset like the little crybaby cream puff he was.
“We agree. Women must play a major role in tech development,” Mae replied. “But the road to providing girls an opportunity to join the industry isn’t as clear-cut as one would like. There are many good programs for girls, but currently, they’re like quilting squares. They’re important, but they’re only the pieces. What’s missing is the binding, the structure that holds the squares together.” Mae paused. “‘The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.’ That was your mother’s high school yearbook quote. I understand it was yours as well.”
Phoebe swallowed past the emotion in her throat. “Yes.”
