CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
EVAN
I SEE MY MISTAKE THE second Callie says, “What?”
It’s the kind of “What?” someone says when they know exactly what was said but can’t believe the idiocy behind the words.
“You don’t know what she’s working on?”
“Um …”
“How can you not know, Evan? You understand how this is supposed to work. First project approval and assignment, then budget. I wondered why the hell you were bringing this project to me personally. The project manager usually handles it. But I guess that can’t happen because there is no PM on Rebecca’s project?”
“It’s different with Rebecca. She’s a pure creative. You can’t give her too many instructions, or it’ll hamper her ability to do the job.”
“I thought her job was as a consultant for God knows what, for a million-dollar retainer?”
“This is something new.”
Callie seems unbelievably exasperated. I don’t even disagree. I know perfectly well that Callie is right, that this isn’t how things are supposed to work and that I’m a blind, foolish idiot. I don’t have a single solid argument.
“Evan …” The word is almost pleading. More exasperation. She’s not mad at me, either. She just doesn’t understand why I want to sabotage the company. “I’m not talking about giving her directions or squashing her creativity. This is about oversight and accountability. You want to authorize this much expenditure and not so much as check in to see how she’s doing? It seems okay to you that nobody’s making sure she does things according to protocol, that she’s not breaking confidentiality without meaning to, or any one of a dozen other things?”
I don’t want to answer. Callie is asking if I “want to authorize this much expenditure.” She’s going to be even more upset when she connects the dots: I already have authorized it, behind her back, several days ago. It wasn’t just broken protocol; it was also a subtle slap across Callie’s face. I’m undermining her position and weakening her hand — things she needs to do her job. But what choice did I have? She’d have said no if I had asked. At least I’m letting her know the money is already transferred so that she can keep track of it.
Callie sighs, shuffling papers. I know there’s nothing about this project on the papers. It’s a nervous tic — straightening her desk whenever it feels like things around her are falling down, just to exercise some control.
“Evan …”
“She’s right for this, Callie. You have to trust me.”
“It’s not about trust!” Poor Callie. She looks somewhere between wanting to throttle me and wanting to cry.
“LiveLyfe can afford it,” I say.
“It’s not about that, either!” Papers find their stacks, so Callie can finally meet my eyes. I’m trying to sound sure, but I’m not. I know she’s right. I don’t know why I agreed to Rebecca’s terms. “Do you know what I did yesterday? I reviewed all of our insurance policies.”
“Now that sounds like a good time.”
“I wanted to know what our libel exposure is. Defamation of character, that sort of thing.”
“Why?”
“Because our competitors hate us. Because at the first chance of a lawsuit, we’ll get a dozen.”
“That’s why we have lawyers.”
“For things that are defensible!” Callie calms herself. “Evan, you know the bad press we’ve been getting lately. People are talking antitrust.”
“That’ll never stick.”
“You act like this company is ironclad, but it’s far from it. We’ve got enormous cash reserves, true. But what happens if public favor turns while we’re getting attacked?”
“Callie …”
“Don’t act like it’s not a possibility. You have a history of burying your head in the sand. You even asked me to call you on it when you did it. Remember? Well, you are right now, Evan. We’re exposed on some of the deals we’re extending, and whatever secret things you’re doing with your billionaire buddies …” She shakes her head. “You think that we’re huge. That even if bad things happen, it won’t be enough to dent us. And you know what? You’re right. But you know how fast things change in social media, and a big black eye in public could trigger a downward spiral. Even if we don’t slowly die over the next twenty years, you can forget about funding your little sideline projects. We’ll be too busy digging.”
I consider what Callie is saying, mainly because I typically dismiss her predictions out of hand as fears that the sky might collapse any minute. It’s her job to be conservative and paranoid, and I think she overreacts. But this time? I still think she’s giving me the worst of all worst cases. Nonetheless, it rings true. I’ve been flippant. Rolling the dice for no good reason.
“Look, I know you like her. But you know she talks without thinking. You’ve set her loose in LiveLyfe’s innards. If she says the wrong thing — even accidentally and with the best of intentions — it’ll go viral. People are lining up to take shots at LiveLyfe.”
“It’ll be fine.” But I’m not sure. Becca herself would admit that she speaks without thinking. That she has no filter. That she gets triggered and often regrets her actions when it’s too late.
“At least have someone watch her.”
“I promised I wouldn’t.”
“You promised.”
“Yes.”
“Come on, Evan. You know as well as I do that—”
“I said, I promised,’Callie.”
She shrugs. Drops a stack of papers on the desk. “I guess that’s it, then. There’s nothing to be done. Just tell me one thing, Evan. Is this professional? Or personal?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Professional,” I say.
“Curtis told me you took her to Los Angeles last week.”
“Yes. For business.”
“What business?”
“On that plane ride was when I had my breakthrough on the education project I told you about.”
“Uh-huh. And you had to be in a plane for that? You had to eat at Bella by the Sea?”
“What exactly are you implying?”
“I keep hearing from people, Evan. God knows why they come to me, but they do. Both of your assistants say you’ve been bumping back important calls and appointments, and it seems like you’re spending all that extra time with Rebecca.”
“Because what we’re building together matters more than the other things.”
“I got Taylor on the phone. She told me your driver and others get the feeling that you two are becoming an item.”
“I’m not sure I like you checking up on me, Callie.”
“I’m not sure I like you lying to me, Evan.”
There’s a long, heavy silence. Then Callie continues.
“You have feelings for her, don’t you?”
“I feel that she’s brilliant.”
“I’ve met her,” Callie says. “I like her. I’ve read her, too, and when she’s not scaring me about the damage she could do to LiveLyfe, I like her writing. And if you two are a thing now? Then awesome; I do hope you’re happy. But you need to separate your feelings from your business. This isn’t just your future you’re screwing with. This company has a responsibility to its stockholders and employees. You have to think clearly. And based on what I’m seeing …”
Another silence.
“Are you with her, Evan? Is that what this is about?”
“It’s not what this is about.”
“And are you with her? Do you like her?”
The truth is obvious. I don’t know if I’m “with” Rebecca or not, but I like her. A lot. “We get along.”
“The money for her new project. You’ve already authorized it, haven’t you? There’s no calling it back. The cow is out of the barn.”
I nod.
“And this?”
She hands me a printout of my company calendar. She’s pointing at a block of time on Friday night that says, DINNER.
“I’m having dinner with a consultant.”
Callie nods. “Are you happy, Evan? With life in general?”
It’s hard to keep my face straight. Meetings with finance aren’t supposed to be this emotional. “Life, in general, is grand.”
Callie looks again at my calendar.
“Use the company card and order the lobster,” Callie says. “Rebecca scares the ever-loving shit out of me, but it sounds like she’s worth it.”