Page 67 of A Little Too Late
“Tonight?” I echo as I do the math. It’s Friday night, and VCs are pretty notorious for working like dogs. Even the billionaires.
But a Friday night call from the boss is still a little extreme.Uh-oh.
“He didn’t say exactly why he was calling,” she says softly. “But I fear the worst.”
Shit. “You think Deevers didn’t sign the paperwork? Fuck—is he going to back out?”
Her expression is tense. “I don’t know. Maybe Prashant only wanted a Netflix recommendation. But my mind ran to the worst-case scenario.”
“Fuck.” I slide down on the sofa like a slouching schoolboy. “Thank you for coming to Colorado with me, Sheila. I know you probably have better things to do on a Friday night.”
“The hours of this job suck, Reed, but the entertainment value is high. Besides, the skiing is going to be awesome tomorrow.”
I smile up at the ceiling. “I used to skip school on powder days. My mother would call us in sick, and the secretary at the middle school would joke with her. ‘It’s altitude sickness again, Mrs. Madigan?’ And she’d say, ‘Yeah, it’s really bad this time of year.’”
“And now you don’t miss work even when youaresick,” she points out. “You work most weekends. You only go out for business dinners.”
“Enough, Sheila. You’re making me look bad in front of Ava.”
Sheila just grins. “Call Prashant. Eat some dinner. I’m going to go down to the bar to meet Harper.”
I lift my head. Hell, I’d forgotten Harper was here. “Is she doing okay?”
“Totally!” Sheila beams. “She had a massage and a snowboarding lesson today.”
“Snowboarding, not skiing? I knew she and I were incompatible.”
Ava rolls her eyes at me, and Sheila lets herself out.
That leaves Ava and me alone together. I pass her a glass of wine. “How do you feel about cabernet?”
“I feel great about it.” She takes a sip and watches me. “Is this your go-to? I don’t really even know what adult Reed likes now that we’re not drinking from a warm keg at somebody’s off-campus house party.”
“I like lots of things,” I say quietly. “Like you, for example.”
Ava flushes and then looks away.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, flipping up the top of the pizza box and offering it to her.
“Thanks.” She takes a slice and then bites it, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m okay. But it’s just sinking in that the Sharpe deal is going to be dead in the water.”
“And you feel…?”
“Conflicted. I worked hard on that deal. Weeks of preparation. I wasn’t looking forward to working with the Sharpes, but…” She sets her wine and her food down in order to rub her temples.
“You were getting a promotion,” I say softly. “That will probably still happen, don’t you think?”
“Will it? Your father has to start from scratch now. Not that he’s gotten his head around it. He…” She sighs.
I wait for her to eat a little more before I press for details. “What did he say?”
“Nothing good. He behaved like it’s our fault the Sharpes are assholes.”
“Huh.” I take a fortifying sip of wine. “You mean he acted like it wasmyfault.”
She looks guilty. “He implied that you must be happy to be right. As if being right was all you cared about.”
Ouch. I let that sink in. “Honestly, it’s not even the worst thing he ever said to me, Ava. When I left here, he was blaming everyone for his own unhappiness. I’m glad you mostly haven’t seen that side of him.”
