“Come on, Finnley, it won’t be this bad. I promise you it won’t.”
“Do you? Better be careful, Clara, it’s not a good idea to make promises about things you can’t guarantee.”
“But it might even be fun! You said it yourself, you’ve been super-tired of just sitting around and not being able to do anything.”
“True.”
“Well, now you’ll be able to get to work again! That’s a good thing! And who doesn’t like to go to a happy hour every now and again? It’s not the worst thing for a new boss to start off his tenure, right? I mean, I can definitely think of worse ways to do it.”
“Sure, I know. I guess you’re right. It’s just...it’s not going to be the same, you know? Things aren’t going to be the same.”
There was a silence on the line then, and Finnley closed her eyes tight, wishing she hadn’t said anything at all. She hadn’t really meant it to be, at least she didn’t think she had, but now that she’d made the comment, she couldn’t ignore the fact that it was relevant to more than one recent change in her life. It wasn’t only the change-over to a new regime, the regime being headed by a man named Mr. Jack Wallace, whom none of them had yet met but were somehow supposed to just get behind without any sort of question, that her comment was relative to. It was also her two friends who defected from Cubed over the past year and a half. At one point, not too long ago, the three of them had been like the freaking modern day Charlie’s Angels, always together and working through many cases, some of which were bizarre enough to warrant some kind of television show. It had been stressful at times, stressful enough to make them resent the hell out of it sometimes, but it had been their deal, and they had been in it together. Now it was just her, just Finnley, and she missed her friends. It wasn’t like they were completely gone or anything, nothing so dramatic as that, but it felt like it might as well have been that way. It was something she had been trying hard not to think about and not to sulk over, but some days were easier than others. This evening, with Clara on speaker phone while Finnley tried her best to figure out what kind of outfit a girl was supposed to wear for a happy hour forced upon her by her old boss in conjunction with her new one, was one of those times when it was anything but easy. What she wanted to do was scream, to tell Clara to get over her stupid plan to help Weston with his new endeavor and get back to Cubed. Better yet, bring Elsie along, too, get the old gang back together again. She didn’t want to be the only one making the move into the unknown future of the company she loved. At the same time, she didn’t want to be the kind of friend that tried to force her own choices on her friends. She’d already come dangerously close to ruining her friendship with Clara, and she knew that keeping her mouth shut moving forward was an important thing to strive for. Unfortunately, it was also making her second guess everything she did, and she couldn’t help but cringe at how awkward things felt between her and one of her best friends now. It was so cringeworthy that she was seriously relieved when Clara spoke up, and she was even more relieved that she did it with a voice that didn’t sound too terribly annoyed.
“Hey, I know it’s gotta be really weird for you, Finnley. I know it would be for me, too. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be bad, right? It definitely doesn’t have to be. It might turn out to be awesome, even though you aren’t expecting it to be. Sometimes that’s how things go, you know? Sometimes they turn out to be totally awesome even though you don’t think they will be. I think sometimes it’s because you don’t think they will be. Not just you, all of us. Don’t you think it might turn out like that with this? Who knows? Maybe you’ll get a whole bunch of awesome new people around, people that’ll make it so that you don’t miss having me and Elsie around there at all.”
“Maybe,” Finnley responded, doing her best to sound positive and not to give away the fact that she was pretty sure that was the last thing on the planet that was going to happen. “You may just be right.”
“Exactly!” Clara practically yelled, the relief in her voice palpable enough that Finnley felt guilty for the stress her own unhappiness must have been causing Clara. Elsie probably didn’t even notice, or if she did, she didn’t feel like it was anything she needed to worry her head over, but Clara was the kind of girl to worry over everyone. She was the kind of girl that wouldn’t be able to be happy herself if the people around her weren’t at least reasonably happy themselves. It was something Finnley knew about her and something she’d always tried to be protective of. It made it doubly unpalatable to her to make Clara feel shitty this time around.
“Sure,” Finnley continued, catching the momentum of her own attempt at making Clara feel at ease, “you’re probably right. You’re always telling me I need to be less negative about shit, right?”
“Um, yes, I believe that may be the case.”
“Right, exactly. I just need an attitude adjustment.”
“Aw, come on, Finnley, I wasn’t trying to say that.”
“No! No, I know you weren’t, and you didn’t. I’m saying it. I do, I really do need that. And I’m going to give it a shot tonight. But first, I need you to answer a very important question for me.”
“Sure, anything. What’s up?”
“Do you, or do you not think this happy hour thing is the kind of event I could get away with wearing sweatpants to? Seriously, don’t hold back, now.”
“Not!” Clara said and laughed. She laughed in a way that made Finnley laugh as well, making everything feel like it was back to normal again, if only for a moment. “Definitely not, Finnley.”
“Crap. Okay, you’re probably right. Okay, I’m gonna let you go now. I’ve got a little bit of work to do, I think. And by that, I mean a whole hell of a lot.”
“Are you in sweats right now?”
“Don’t ask questions, Clara!” Finnley shouted with a giddy laugh, still dreading the idea of going to the stupid happy hour, but feeling so much better than she had before that it was difficult to wrap her head around it. “I’ve got a near crisis on my hands and a major need for some dry shampoo!”
“Oh Lord,” Clara laughed, her own relief obvious across the connection. “Is this the kind of crisis I should be coming over to help you with?”
“No, don’t worry about it. Stay home with that beautiful man of yours. I’ll let you know if everything ends in disaster, which we both know it probably will.”
“No, don’t say that. You’re beautiful and super-talented—and unless these people are total morons, they’ll see that right off.”
“Thanks, lady. For the pep talk, I mean. Talk to you later, okay?”
“Sounds good. Just don’t get in trouble, alright? Don’t...don’t talk too much and you should be good.”
“I’ll try my best,” Finnley said and giggled, feeling positively giddy with the relief of how normal everything was starting to feel again. “I’ll try to remember not to say anything you wouldn’t say.”
Finnley hung up the phone feeling very close to good for the first time in a lot longer than she’d even realized and went about the arduous task of getting herself “happy hour” ready. This was a good feeling she managed to hold onto right up until her cab pulled up in front of yet another stupidly posh bar for the purpose of hanging out with people she didn’t even care about spending time with. Once she was idling inside of the cab and looking at a place with the unendingly stupid name of “Posh,” which seemed like it was making a dig against itself, and perhaps without even realizing it was doing so, she was back to wanting to go back to her apartment, wanting to just run away and be done with it. She even found herself wishing she had that same snippy cab driver from the night when Elsie and Caleb had gotten engaged. He would probably have said something shitty to her in a situation like this, but it would have undoubtedly have been the perfect shitty thing, the kind of shitty thing that would have been exactly what she needed to hear. As it was, there was no such luck. She was in this on her own, and as much as she wanted to bail, she’d made an explicit promise to Travis that she would show up and help represent them.
It was that promise that did it, that acted as the nail in the coffin of her evening. She’d made that promise and the idea of letting Travis down was something she just couldn’t stomach because when he’s extracted the promise from her, he’d looked afraid. She’d seen him navigate all sorts of totally nuts work scenarios and never even break a sweat, but this time, he looked afraid. And what did a person do when a friend was afraid? A person, given that she was a good person, which Finnley liked to believe she most of the time was, did whatever she could to make sure she was there for her friend. This locked Finnley into forcing herself inside of stupid Posh, the dumbest name for a bar ever to exist in the history of the world, as far as Finnley was concerned. With this thought, this thought about how stupid this place had to be and how stupid she must be to be going inside, Finnley climbed out of her cab and pulled on the hem of her probably too-short black bodycon dress.
“Right,” she breathed to herself heavily, feeling like her heart was pounding far too quickly inside of her chest, “you can do this. Stop acting like such a baby because you can so do this.”
This made her think about that cab driver again, and when she did so, she couldn’t help but laugh. What was the advice he’d given her? Oh, that’s right, he’d made it very clear that—in his opinion—talking to oneself was a very bad idea indeed. Shit, she should have just brought that guy along, if her other friends weren’t interested anymore. He would probably have spent the whole evening telling her all of the ways she was doing things wrong, but at least she would have had somebody to keep her in check. If nothing else, she’d proved to herself many times over during her life that somebody to keep her in check was a definite necessity.
“Jesus, Finnley! What the hell are you doing out here?”
Finnley’s attention snapped towards the front of the club, where she saw Travis spilling out of its front doors, his face white, save for several bright, hectic spots of colors. In short, he looked like a complete mess. As she watched, he fumbled around inside one of his pants’ pockets, his face grim and set with determination before he managed to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“Woah!” she answered in surprise, actually taking a step backwards at the sight. “I think the more important question is, what are you doing out here, Travis? Since when did you smoke?”
“I don’t.”
“Um, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but what you’ve currently got in your hands is a lighter and a pack of smokes. Last time I checked, those were pretty much the only two things a person needs to smoke. That, and a pair of lungs, which you won’t have in working order for nearly so long as you’d probably like if you keep up with the ‘not’ smoking.”
“I know what I’m holding, Finnley, believe me, both me and my wallet are well aware. Do you know how expensive this shit is?”
“No,” she answered as she wrinkled her nose in disgust, then shivered in the cold late October air, “I don’t. You wanna know why? Because I don’t freaking smoke!”
“I told you, I don’t either. At least not usually. I only smoke when I’m seriously stressed, or nervous.”
“And which one are you now?”
“Both! Are you kidding me? I’m most definitely both! I was starting to think you weren’t going to come, in which case I would have had to hunt you down or something.”
“Of course, I came,” Finnley admonished, pretending that the long moments in which she considered turning and running as far away from Posh as she could get hadn’t actually happened. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”
“Sure, but—”
“But nothing. If I tell you I’m going to be here, I’m going to be here. I’m not one of the ones who jumped ship, remember?”
“Yikes,” Travis said in a husky voice, a voice strained with the task of getting his cigarette lit in an evening’s chilly breeze that was only picking up strength. “So I take it you aren’t okay with Elsie and Clara choosing to leave?”
“Nobody said that,” Finnley shot back defensively, her arms only tightening around her and making herself seem like exactly what Travis was saying about her. “I’m just talking about me. Don’t see any reason to bring the two of them into it.”
“Okay, okay, whatever you say. I’m glad you showed up, though. I’ll try not to underestimate you next time.”
“Excellent. Now, let’s get back to the real issue at hand.”
“Which is?”
“The thing making you so stressed out that you felt the need to start nervous smoking. Is the new boss inside?”
“He is indeed, my dear. How very astute of you to connect the dots there.”
“What do you think?”
“He’s great,” Travis answered automatically, sounding to Finnley a hell of a lot like a robot who had been previously programmed to give this exact answer. “You know, seems like a real go-getter.”
“Oh Lord.”
“What? What did I say?”
“A real go-getter? Please, Travis! You aren’t giving an interview for CNN or anything like that. It’s just me, okay? And I showed up the way I was supposed to, so the least you can do is be straight with me.”
“Alright, well if we’re being honest and shit, I don’t know. He talks a good game; I can say that much for sure. The whole thing in there is really informal, so it’s hard to say what he’s trying to get out of it. He hasn’t given a speech or anything, and I don’t think he’s going to, at least not tonight. He’s got some of his own people here, it looks like, people he must have hired on before he even got here, and some of ours that haven’t been around in a while are back, too.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Sure. Sure, it is; it’s definitely good.”
“Then why so flustered? And don’t tell me you aren’t because you so clearly are.”
“I don’t know, Finnley,” he answered thoughtfully, inhaling deeply and then expelling the smoke into the air. “I really don’t. It’s just a feeling I get, you know? It could very easily be jealousy and nothing more, but it’s this feeling. For one thing, he keeps talking about this as a ‘merger.’”
“A merger? But that’s not what it is, right? It’s not like Cubed merged with his company or anything. They bought us outright.”
“Exactly, and there’s no way he doesn’t know that. He’s supposed to be some hotshot businessman from L.A., and assuming that’s the truth, and I have no reason to think it wouldn’t be, he would know the difference between a merger and a buyout. That’s one thing.”
“Do you think it matters?”
“Matters?” he asked skeptically, taking another drag off of his smoke and then wincing as he let it back out again. “What do you mean, do I think it matters?”
“Like, do you think it’s that big of a deal? Is it something we need to look into? Because if you think it is, I can get right on that.”
“Come on, no, Finnley; you can’t do that.”
“Actually, I could. My guess is that this Mr. Wallace guy and whatever yahoos he’s brought here wouldn’t even notice. They wanted to buy Cubed because we’re the best, right? And he’s here from L.A. to make sure it goes smoothly? I’m thinking that if he already had people as good as us working for him, he wouldn’t have needed to go to all of that trouble.”
“No, that’s not what I meant, although I’d have to say I agree with you on the talent-level front. I meant you can’t do that because it’s not the right way to start this relationship out. It doesn’t exactly show a level of cooperation, you know?”
“Okay, fine, I can see that. Then it doesn’t have to be me, does it? I know Elsie and Clara aren’t working with us anymore, but I promise you they would be more than happy to help. And they’re just as skilled as they’ve always been, right? Now they’re skilled without a whole bunch of other work stuff weighing them down, which as far as I’m concerned makes them the perfect people to be looking into this. If there’s anything to find, they’ll find it. Who knows? Maybe we can make it so that everything goes back to normal before this Wallace guy even gets a chance to start making changes.”
“No, Finnley. The answer to that is no.”
“But—”
“No.”
Travis dropped his half-finished cigarette on the sidewalk and then ground it out with the heel of his shoe. With both hands free, he took Finnley by the shoulders and held her firmly. All of the sudden, she felt incredibly uncertain, when only seconds before she’d been sure that she was onto a plan that while not necessarily genius, was certainly going to work. The look in Travis’s eyes, however, told her that was not the case at all. She wanted to argue with him and normally would have had no problem doing so, but there was a level of intensity, a level of seriousness to his expression now, that told her keeping her mouth shut might be a much better option.
“Hey, listen to me, okay? This is important. I don’t want you digging through any pasts and looking for any skeletons. I don’t want you doing it, or the other girls either. I just want this transition to be as smooth as possible, so that Jack Wallace will go back to L.A. where he belongs, and we can get things back to normal.”
“Normal? You really think things are going to be normal? Because I’ve gotta tell ya, Travis, things have been so weird for so long now that I’m not even sure what normal would feel like.”
“Okay, so maybe not normal, but closer to what it used to be than what it is now. I just want things to move forward, Finnley, and for us to be as much a part of that as possible.”
“What do you mean, for us to be a part of it? Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Nothing, Finnley, no reason. I’m just talking to talk, at this point. Just stressed, like I told you.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“As a matter of fact,” Travis said with a slightly shaky grin, as he held out his arm for her to take, “there is. Come inside with me? We’ll face the enemy together.”
“Of course, Travis. You know I’ve never been able to resist an invitation to go up against a real-live enemy.”
Travis laughed and then gave a little shudder of relief when she took the arm he’d been offering. Finnley noted this and found that it was all she could do to keep her mouth shut and follow her boss and friend inside. There were about a thousand things going through her head, none of which were happiness to be entering the fray of this new “merger.”
She wanted to ask Travis, who had never been a particularly dramatic kind of guy, what it was that had made him call this Mr. Wallace character the enemy. She wanted to ask him more about his feeling, his feeling that something wasn’t right here. She wanted to tell him that what she’d come to realize was that feelings like the one he’d mentioned were worth looking into, not the kind of thing that should be ignored. She wanted to say all sorts of things, but she wanted to make Travis feel at least a little bit okay, too, and so she kept her mouth shut, making a mental note to return to all of those points once they were in a situation less full of stimulus. She made this decision out of a desire to help her friend, but almost immediately after entering Posh, the idea of being anything but quiet left her mind entirely.
“Holy shit,” she said breathlessly, clinging to Travis’s arm tighter without even realizing she was doing so. “Is this place for real?”
“I know, right? Believe me, it wasn’t my choice. It’s pretty impressive though, isn’t it? Here, come on, I’ll introduce you to some of the people I’m been schmoozing with. Jack! Jack, my man, I thought I’d lost you!”
From that moment on, everything was a blur of bullshit conversation and booze. As far as Finnley could tell, there had been no need for her to be there whatsoever. The only instance of nerves she’d caught in Travis for the whole evening had been out on the street while his shaking had worked to keep a hold of his cigarette. The moment they’d entered Posh, he’d turned into a different person, one she wasn’t too sure she liked all that much. If she was being objective, something that had never really been her forte, she understood that this alternate personality was probably necessary for him to get through everything he was trying to keep together. It was his “I’m just one of the bosses” persona, his schmoozy persona, and while she understood why he might need it, she also found it to be utterly loathsome. She found it so loathsome, in fact, and she knew that after a round of two of introductions to people that she was one-hundred-percent positive she would never remember them. It was miserable, exactly the kind of thing she hated doing, and she extricated herself from the situation as soon as humanly possible. She planted herself at the bar, where she busied herself sipping on cocktails and waiting for enough time to have passed for her to go home without it looking like she was being a bad sport. This was the only thing she had on her mind, which made it even more surprising when the beautiful man approached her from the side and basically scared the shit out of her.
“Do you hate this kind of thing as much as I do?”
“Ah!” she shrieked, spilling her drink all down the front of her dress as she jumped about a mile up into the air. “Oh my God! What the hell is wrong with you?! Who just sneaks up on people like that?!”
“Shit,” the man whom she’d yet to get a good look at said in response, setting his own, undisturbed drink on the counter and grabbing for a handful of napkins. “Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. My friends always tell me I have an unpleasant way of sneaking up on people, and I’ve never believed them, but it looks like my days of lying to myself are through.”
“You think?” Finnley asked sarcastically, trying to wipe her dress off despite the fact that she could already tell it was basically a futile effort. “Woah! Hey there buddy, don’t you think you’re getting a little bit handsy there?”
“What? No! I mean no, that’s not what I’m trying to do. I was just trying to help you clean your dress off.”
“Why don’t we just leave it, okay? It’s black, so it’s not like anyone is going to notice. The worst thing that's going to happen is that I’ll be cold, and that’s something I can live with.”
“Well here, take my jacket at least, will you?”
“I’m really fine.”
“And I really insist. It’s the least I can do for acting like such a jackass. I was just trying to get to know somebody in this stupid city, and I guess it backfired. Serves me right for leaving Denver.”
Finnley turned to accept this stranger’s jacket, which was the first time she managed to get a good look at him. At once, a good portion of her annoyance evaporated and was replaced by a strong desire to make the best of her evening by spending some time with this clumsy, super-hot guy. She actually looked around her, looking for anyone who might notice just how dreamy this guy really was. She saw several other women doing just that while simultaneously shooting her dirty looks for being the one who got to talk to him, and she couldn’t help but laugh. As soon she started doing so, the man she was with began to grin, too, at which point Finnley came to the conclusion that this evening might not be as bad as she’d come into it thinking it would be.
“Hey, so let’s start over, shall we? First of all, I’m going to get you another drink, hopefully several of them.”
“Alright,” she answered coyly, enjoying flirting with this scruffy, tall man with almost-black curly hair and green eyes that looked like orbs of fire. “Sounds like a good start to me.”
“Good, I was hoping you would say that. Now, put your hand out so I can shake it properly. My name is Garrett. What’s yours?”