I stare at my Cosmo, and swizzle the stick pensively. I could make better, I think. It doesn’t taste bad, though, I’ll give them that, although for the amount of money they’re charging, it ought to taste like the tears of angels. Yeesh, things are different to how they were in college, that’s for sure. Next to me, Abby is swiping furiously at something on her phone. I really don’t want to know what she’s swiping.

“Hey, Abby.” I carefully avoid looking at her screen. “Do you know if Errol and Adam are coming? They said they had something to finish working on, but I’m surprised they’re not here.”

“Uh.” Abby doesn’t look up. “No, no, maybe, maybe, ugh, what the hell were you thinking? Sorry, Ron, what did you say?” I lean over, still trying not to look at her screen. “Errol. And. Adam. Where. Are. They?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, they messaged me about ten minutes ago, said they were coming with the quantitative team. Don’t worry.” She thrusts her phone under my face. “Hey, what do you reckon about THIS one?”

* * *

Terrified at what I might see, I put my drink carefully on the table, and look down. The sight that greets me is not what I’d expected.

“Abby, it’s a flower.”

“Actually, Ronnie, it’s a flower arrangement. Do you like it or not?”

I am really not sure what to say at this point. “Uh, sure. You’re on an…app where you are rating flower arrangements?’

“Yeah. Flowr. It’s cool, you should try it. Look, I’ll send you a signup code, and you can get ten bucks off local florists. Seriously.”

I need another drink. “Thank you, Abby. I…thank you.”

Heading for the bar, I see Adam and Errol walk in, along with a bunch of people from Tom’s team. I wave to them, and they start forging through the crowd in my direction.

“Adam! What do you want?” He goggles at me. I mime drinking motions, and he nods and says something, but in the din it’s impossible to hear. I gesticulate to where Abby is trying to occupy a booth by taking up as much space as possible with coats and handbags, and resolve just to buy him a Cosmo instead.

If there were a universal hand-sign for ‘look out for unexpected flower arrangements”, I’d make it, but I don’t think there is.

Round of Cosmos perched on a tray, I skirt the dance floor, and by the time I get back to the booth everyone’s ensconced, packed in tight. I hand out drinks to everyone—hope they remember that considering how much more they get paid than I do—and perch on the end.

“Hey, Ron—how’s it going?” Billy Flynn claps me on the shoulder. Since I joined the team, Billy’s been cheerily oblivious to the fact I’m a woman, and has included me with gusto in his dirty jokes and endearingly infantile pranks. He’s like a nice version of one of the guys at the back of the room.

“Billy! Pretty good, although I’m sick of busting my ass on those papers. Don’t you wish academics wrote a bit more like human beings sometimes?”

He laughs. “I hear you, Ron. When I was teaching, I got a constant stream of people asking me how to ‘write like an academic,’ and I kept on wanting to tell them ‘Don’t write like an academic! Run a mile from it!”

“Hold on. You were a college professor?” It comes out more surprised than I intended, and Billy chuckles at my sudden discomfort.

“Because I look more like I ought to be holding a football than a piece of chalk, is that it? Ooo, stereotypes.” He drums his fingers on the table. “Truth is, Ron, I did actually go to college on a football scholarship, but when I got there I realized I liked teaching more than I liked football, and one of them was going to take me a hell of a lot further than the other. So here I am.”

“Thanks, Billy. I had no idea.” I push one of the Cosmos toward him. “Have a drink?”

He looks at it warily. “Thanks, Ron, but I might just go for a beer, if that’s okay with you. I appreciate the thought though.”

“Sure thing. Let’s see if we can get you out.” Extracting Billy from the middle of a crowded booth takes some doing, and by the time we’re finished, he’s got a round of drinks orders to go with him. When he gets back, I’m wedged in opposite Errol and Abby; Abby is excitedly showing Errol flower arrangements, and Errol’s doing his best to look equally excited.

“So, Ronnie,” Billy pushes another Cosmo in my direction, and I grasp it, grateful to be away from flower-arrangement-Tinder, “how are you finding the team? I can imagine it’s pretty overwhelming, but I hope you’re finding your feet okay. Tom keeps talking about how great it is to have you on board for this project.”

“Does he?” I try not to look too surprised.

Billy nods vigorously. “Sure does. I haven’t heard him be this enthusiastic about a trainee since…well, ever, now that I think about it. He should be telling you this himself.”

“Is he coming tonight?”

Billy laughs. “Not a damn chance. He never comes out for drinks, as much as me and Mike and the team try to make him. I’ve been trying to get him to come out and enjoy himself for years now, and it never damn well works. He comes to dinner, and to Christmas with the kids, but this kind of thing? Forget it.”

“Christmas with the kids? I wouldn’t have thought that would really be his speed.”

“Are you kidding? Every year he comes to visit us, and brings presents. He does the same for Mike’s family too, I know. Mike’s little girl was in hospital and Tom was in every damn day for two weeks, writing her poems and songs and things. My kids keep asking me when he’s coming to visit again.”

“Huh. I had no idea.”

Billy is serious for a moment, looking into his beer. “Tom takes care of the people around him, you know? That’s why his team is so loyal to him. Truth is, we could all make more money somewhere else. Those Global Finance pricks email me every week to offer me a job at twice my salary, and I’m nothing special. But it’s more than just money. This is a cutthroat business, and in most businesses, people are climbing over each other to get to the top. Not here.” He takes a big swig of beer. “Here, we’re a family, and that’s because of Tom Macaulay. You won’t find a better guy to work for than him.”

“Okay. Thanks, Bill.” He beams, and pounds me on the back again. I hold onto my drink, with some difficulty.

“Hey, don’t mention it! Glad to have you on board. Man, once this deal goes down, we’re all going to deserve a vacation.”

Across the other side of the table, Abby looks up from her phone and waves to me. The music is too loud to hear what she’s saying, but she rolls her eyes. I give her a what are you talking about? face, and she gesticulates again. Maybe it’s my drink? I study it carefully.

“Good evening, Ronnie.”

I look up; Tom’s standing right next to me, dark suit and crimson tie, and a thrill of electricity runs through me. How can he be an ass and so Goddamned sexy at the same time? He notices the expression of surprise on my face, and opens his mouth to speak, but before he does, everyone else notices him, and there’s a chorus of appreciation.

“Tom! What are you doing here, man? I was just telling Ronnie that you never come out to these things? Want a beer, to toast the inevitable future success of the great Macaulay Bond?”

Tom holds up his hands placatingly. “Easy, everybody. I’m afraid I can’t stay. Go back to your drinks.” He kneels down next to me, and speaks carefully into my ear.

“Look, I’m sorry to bother you here outside of work time. Can we talk for a moment?”

“Sure, I…uh, it’s fine.” I move over as much as I can in the crowded booth, and Tom perches on the side of it. I can feel his lean body pressed against me, his thigh jammed against mine, and smell the scent of his cologne. It’s dark and noisy, and he moves close to me, putting his arm on the back of the booth so it’s almost around my shoulders. My head spins, and I don’t think it’s the Cosmos. Focus, Ronnie. Fantasizing about your boss could be deleterious to your career prospects.

“What do you need?” It comes out a bit more formal than I mean it to, and his face falls.

“I came here specifically to talk to you. You know those papers I gave you? Well, I did some digging on their references and, I’ve found something pretty important about the model we’re using. If I’m right, using this approach could give us,” he pauses, “some real problems.”

I stir my drink to distract myself from the deliciousness of the contact with his body. “Okay.”

“So, I need to investigate this quickly and quietly. And I need your help to do it. Are you able to stay after work tomorrow night and go through this with me?”

I nod slowly. “Okay, if you think I’m the right person to—”

“Ronnie, you’ve been working on that material for the past week, and you know it better than anyone. We don’t have time for anyone else to get up to speed on it.” Tom’s face is close to mine, and I do not think about what it would be like to kiss him right now. “And I trust your judgment. That might surprise you, but it’s true. I need your help. You know this deal is make-or-break, right? I need to know that everyone here is okay, and that I’m not leading them into trouble.”

“I see.” I look around the table of people; Billy good-naturedly arguing with Abby about flower arrangements, Adam and Errol with pen and paper out - at a bar on a Wednesday night, dammit guys! - and I realize I need to help. “Of course, Tom. Whatever the team needs.”

“Thanks, Ronnie. I’m…looking forward to it.” He straightens up. “Before I go, drinks!” A cheer goes up from that part of the table not already preoccupied with flower arranging or differential equations.

While Tom’s at the bar, Abby leans over the table to me, close enough that I can hear her for once. “Looks like you and Dr. Sexypants were getting pretty intimate there, huh?”

I shake my head. “Abby, he came to ask me if I’d work on some research tomorrow night with him. Reading academic papers on applied mathematics is the least intimate activity known to humanity. Seriously.”

A whole evening alone with him. It’ll be fine. It won’t be difficult to concentrate at all.