Page 78 of The Bet
“True,” she said, running her hand over the sleek shiny top. “After all, you used it. How hardcanit be?” She scratched her head. “This is an expensive machine. Do you buy these for all your VAs?”
“Most of them already have MacBook.”
She looked surprised.
“You don’t want it?”
“I don’tneedit. I mean, it’s an expensive solution. All you had to do was export your spreadsheets.”
There she went again. “I don’t have time to do that, Laronde. Time is money and I’m a busy man.”
“I bet you’re really busy,” gushed Cara. He let her have his signature smile, because he liked her, and she seemed to be on his side, and was a million times friendlier than Laronde. “I don’t think she likes it,” he said to her.
“Well, on her behalf, I’d like to thank you,” Cara replied, returning the smile.
“You’re welcome,” he said, enjoying the banter and aware that they were deliberately blocking Izzy from the conversation.
“Sorry,sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,” said Izzy. “Thank you for this. It’s just that it’s so … it’s so …expensive.”
Her constant whining about the cost was making more sense now. He was reminded of the conversation with Savannah, when she had said something about Izzy wanting to do it alone, and the other jobs she had on the side. He had assumed that everyone who went to Columbia was rich, otherwise why go there? But even though he’d known she wasn’t rich, he hadn’t been aware of quite how much she worried about money. Maybe she was just trying to make it, do the best she could. He looked around the small dingy apartment, and in a neighborhood that didn’t scream ‘safe’, it confirmed his suspicions.
“Like I said, it’s a business expense, and you’re free to use it until you no longer need it, but I’d be grateful of you did your charts and my work on that, and not your laptop.”
“Of course. Thank you. No, really.Thank you.I wasn’t expecting you to go and buy me a machine. You’ve surprised me.”
He’d surprised her, huh? Well, that had to be a first.
His work here was done, and thank fuck this was sorted.
“What happened?” he asked again, pointing to her friend’s ankle brace for he was still none the wiser.
Izzy replied, “We got trampled on at the Women’s march yesterday. You must have heard about it?”
He thought it was something to do with a bunch of lesbians complaining about more rights. “Women’s march?” he asked, hesitating in case he said the wrong thing and they jumped down his throat.
“That’s right.”
He blinked. “And you went to it?”
“Yes, we went to that.”
“Oh-kaay.” He scratched his head, wondering why they’d gone. Who the hell went to marches and shit like that? “What was it for?”
“Taking a stand,” replied Izzy, folding her arms.
“It was good fun,” her friend added. “It had a party vibe to it.”
He was curious now. “Taking a stand for what?”
“You don’t know?” Izzy asked, looking at him as if he were a rat.
“Not really.”
“We were marching for basic human rights—you know, equal pay, and standing up for women who have been victims, of sexism, and sexual harassment, and for women being underpaid, and underrepresented. Where do you want me to start?”
He cleared his throat. “I see.”
“I could go on, but you get the idea.” Izzy’s face was hard, and she eyed him as if she was testing his reaction.
