“I can afford it,” I quipped.
“Hmm,” she hummed noncommittally. “Do you work on new products here before you bring them to Flawless?”
“Of course not. Across the hall is our educational lab. It’s mainly for getting kids—especially girls—excited about STEM. We do field trips, science clubs, that kind of thing. And with our equipment, they can run more complex and interesting experiments than what most high school labs are capable of.”
On cue, a chorus of cheers erupted across the hall.
“That usually means someone found a parasite or something gross,” I told Lona.
“What about this space?” she asked, undeterred.
“Off the record,” I repeated. “This particular space is a DIY lab. Scientists or those with scientific interests can sign up to use the space and share communal equipment. We’re linked to similar cohorts around the country so each lab can be working on its own data sets and sharing them.”
“This feels like a passion project,” she insisted, not put off by my flippancy. “You’re happier here than you are in your office.”
Why did people feel the need to keep pointing that out?
Of course being hands-on in a lab surrounded by other nerds was more exciting than my ass going numb in a meeting about other people’s work. But I was a CEO. I steered the ship, not stoked the engines. I maintained the vision.
“I enjoy dabbling,” I said carefully. Off the record or not, this was a piece of my life that I kept quiet. “But I’m not the focus here.”
“Said the woman on hour two of her photo shoot,” she reminded me.
“What I mean,” I said dryly. “Is the focus here is on education and process. Not who owns what and what her hair looks like today. I opened these doors so kids who want to learn and so fellow nerds who don’t have access to their own state-of-the-art lab space can have a place to experiment and grow.”
“Okay. Fine. Tell me something I can use on the record about DIY labs,” she said.
“Big things are coming out of DIY labs every day. They don’t need grants and funding and can specialize in areas that private companies and Big Pharma aren’t interested in. DIY labs are the future of disease eradication because they can take the business out of science. They can develop a cheap malaria vaccine or study antibiotic resistance because there’s no large corporation behind them making decisions based on profits and losses.”
“So what’s this DIY lab working on?” she pressed.
“Ms. Stanton, we’re ready for you,” the assistant director called from the gray backdrop they’d erected.
“That’s need to know,” I told her, starting for the front of the room. “And it’s pretty freaking cool.”
“Tease.”
My phone signaled again in my pocket. Trey again.
“I just need a second,” I told the assistant and ducked out into the hallway. “Trey, what’s up? I’m in the middle of something.”
“Hey, listen. Is that offer for some cash still good?”
We hadn’t spoken since the gala. More specifically, since his hissy fit at the gala. And I hadn’t actually offered him cash then. But that was just like Trey.
I thought about Derek, his family, about Jane and Cam and Luna and Daisy. I shoved my hand through my hair and remembered. I was a badass.
“Actually, Trey. I’m busy, and there was no offer. There won’t be an offer. It’s time for you to figure your own shit out.”
“Whoa, someone gets herself an edgy haircut and suddenly thinks she’s above it all. Real dick move, Ems.”
My brother was so used to getting what he wanted, he wasn’t even capable of asking nicely. It was sad, disgusting.
“You would know,” I said, keeping my voice low. “You don’t think of me as a sister. You think of me as a blank check. You don’t even know what family is supposed to be.”
“Let’s be real. None of us do. Not our fault. Listen, I’m in trouble, Em. The festival fell through, and there’s not enough money for refunds. Lawyers are involved.”
I closed my eyes. Took a breath. My adult brother was not my responsibility. I couldn’t fix him. My money, my help couldn’t make him a better brother, a better son, and a better person. The only chance he had was suffering the consequences of his actions.