Eight
The warm Colorado sun beats down as I merge with the lunch crowd filling the sidewalks. Out here, I’m just a girl with a camera, not a spoiled “daddy’s girl” or a spy. Tension eases out of me as I pause to put on my rhinestone-studded sunglasses, a gift from Lexi.
LoDo, Denver’s lower downtown area, is vibrant and diverse, full of historical buildings that have been repurposed and given new life. I have a long list of places to photograph. Today I’m starting with the oldest painted advertisement on a Denver building.
I head toward an alley off Fifteenth Street, where I find an entire building wall painted in old fashioned letters advertising Studebaker Carriages and Buggies. The letters are faded, but that’s hardly surprising, considering they were painted in 1883.
As I select my lens and filter, adrenaline buzzes through me. I love photography because I forget about myself and become one with the camera. I become a giant lens, taking in what’s in front of me, blinking and adjusting until I capture what I see with my heart as well as my eyes.
Time passes quickly as I fill my memory card with photos. My pace is quick as I head back to work, energy pulsing through me. That’s what happens when I do what I love. Rounding a corner, my breath catches at the sight of an enormous sidewalk planter full of colorful blooms, but someone has graffitied the planter with an obscene phrase.
The contrast of the beautiful and the profane intrigues me, so I move closer, squatting down so I can zoom in.
“Hey, look, it’s Jimmy Olsen. Where’s Superman?”
Carlos and Elijah stare down at me, both of them wearing sunglasses so I can’t read their expressions.
Flustered, I stand up and brush off my skirt. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” Elijah says, grinning. “Are you a professional paparazzi or what?”
Carlos’s expression remains inscrutable, so I focus on Elijah and his mirrored sunglasses.
“Not exactly. It’s just a hobby.”
“Sweet setup for just a hobby.” Elijah gestures to my camera, a Nikon D750. He’s right. It was my Christmas present last year, after I was bitten by the shutterbug––Dad’s dumb joke, not mine.
“Where’s everyone else?” I want to change the subject from my expensive camera. I feel self-conscious, knowing that neither of them could probably afford it.
“We ditched them.” Carlos finally speaks, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
That makes me laugh. We head toward Dad’s office and somehow I end up next to Carlos, which only amps up my adrenaline buzz.
“So, this was your ‘other plans’ for lunch?” Carlos asks. “Taking pictures?”
Ouch.
“Yeah.” I take a breath. I owe him an explanation since he was so decent earlier. “Taking pictures makes me happy and I’m pretty good at it.”
Neither of them speaks as we traverse the final block to Dad’s office. When we reach the office, Carlos holds the door open, gesturing for me to go first. I pause inside the lobby, removing my backpack and stowing my camera.
“I’m grabbing a Coke from the kitchen,” Elijah says. “See you upstairs.”
I expect Carlos to follow Elijah, but he doesn’t. Instead he falls into step next to me as we cross the lobby.
“Wanna try another joke on Miss E?” His teasing smile kick-starts my heart.
“No, that might tip her over the edge.” I hope I sound unaffected by his smile. “Besides, I only do jokes in the mornings.”
He laughs as we head upstairs. I wish I could change things so that it was just Carlos and me working here this summer. And maybe Elijah.
“How long have you been into photography?”
“About a year or so. It just sort of…grabbed me and wouldn’t let go.”
We start up the second flight of stairs and I wonder if he thinks I’m a dork.
“I know what you mean.”
“You do?”
We’ve reached our floor. He glances down the hall to the sky box, then back at me.
“Yeah. I think everybody has something they’re passionate about. Or if they don’t, they’re missing out.”
He studies me, his expression thoughtful. I’d like to believe I see flickers of romantic interest in his eyes, but that’s not it. I think he’s trying to figure me out, or maybe he still feels obligated to be nice to me.
“You going to join us?” he asks. “I’d like your opinion on our Death Star strategy.”
“I have a really bad feeling about this.”
Carlos frowns.
“Star Wars quote, when the Ewoks capture Han Solo and are about to roast him for dinner. Also, when Han and Luke and Leia are about to be squashed in the trash compactor.”
He cocks an eyebrow, but that doesn’t stop my inner nerd from providing further clarification.
“Actually,” I continue, “in all the movies somebody says that line, with slight variations.”
The cocky smirk slides firmly into place and I shrug, embarrassed.
“Never mind.”
“Now you definitely have to join us. We could use another expert.”
He’d better not be mocking me.
“I should check my email first and, uh, do some…stuff.” Like try to find you on Instagram. Snapchat. Tinder.
“Okay. I’ll let you know when we need you, Sheldon.”
I gasp. I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. His grin is devilish as he saunters off, whistling.
Sinking into my desk chair, I make myself focus on non-Carlos related topics. Kendra texted me this morning with a reminder to work on female solidarity in the office.
Make friends with the girls! Ask how you can help them.
Trish and Ashley are both busy on their computers. Ashley has a vase of fresh flowers on her desk. Star Wars action figures are my desk decorations. I’d brought them in for fun but looking at Ashley’s sophisticated bouquet I suddenly feel young. Sighing, I sweep the tiny plastic figures into a drawer and close it with a bang. Trish glances up at the loud noise and meets my gaze, frowning.
This hostility has to stop. What would Qa’hr do? Filled with determination, I cross the room.
“Hi.” Use the Force, Laurel. “Do you want anything from the kitchen? I saw cupcakes in there earlier.”
“Maybe an apple,” Ashley says with a snowy white smile.
Trish twirls her nose stud. “I don’t like cupcakes.”
“Um, okay. Something else, then?”
Her eyes stay on mine, which is unnerving, but I don’t blink.
“An espresso,” she finally says. “No sugar.”
“That fits.” I wait for the smackdown, but it doesn’t come. Instead, her pale lips twitch. Was that an almost smile?
“Be right back.” I leave before I lose my nerve.
…
After I complete step one of my make-friends-with-the-girls plan, I resume my online investigating, starting with Facebook and Trish’s name. Nothing, but that doesn’t surprise me. Most people my age aren’t on Facebook, or if they are, their pages are sanitized for grandparent viewing. I discover a locked-down page for Ashley, with a much sexier profile photo than the one on her LinkedIn page, and I also find a sanitized Elijah page.
I know all about Jason’s page, since I’ve stalked it for years, but he hasn’t posted anything for weeks.
Once again, I’ve saved Carlos for last. His cover photo is a family picture, full of all the people from the restaurant photo and then some. The younger kids wear cone-shaped birthday hats…and so does Carlos. He also wears a giant “18” button on his shirt. It’s sweet that he’s posted such a goofy family picture for everyone to see.
An audible sigh escapes me as I drink in Carlos’s family photo and scroll down to check out his posts. He’s disgustingly cute in all of his pictures, even the random, blurry ones his friends have tagged him in. Also, he’s got a lot of girl friends. Girlfriends. Whatever.
I linger over one photo in particular—whoever took it was highly skilled, or maybe just lucky. Carlos sits on a bench in a church courtyard. He’s wearing a suit and tie and he’s flanked on either side by two little girls dressed in frilly white dresses. Maybe it was their First Communion or a wedding. They’re clearly besotted with him, their adoring faces turned up like twin reflections. He grins down at one girl, while a hand rests protectively on the other girl’s shoulder.
Nobody should be allowed to be so swoon-inducing. There should be a Facebook filter to protect girls like me from randomly stumbling upon such adorableness.
“Ready to join us?”
Gah! I grab my mouse, closing my browser. I need to be more careful. I have no idea what I’d say if he busted me cyber-stalking him.
“Uh, um.” I’m incoherent, plus I’m blushing because my thoughts eagerly jumped to fantasizing about kissing him.
“Paper clip emergency?” he teases, one side of his mouth quirking up.
“You’d be surprised. There was a run on file folders and I almost got trampled to death.”
His grin widens and I’m relieved I managed to come up with a joke in spite of my embarrassment.
“If this meeting blows up in my face, you owe me.” I grab my Hello Kitty notebook.
“It won’t.”
I shrug as we walk toward the table. “It might,” I mutter under my breath.
He glances at me. “If it blows up, I owe you a Hello Kitty…something.” He gestures to my notebook. “Obviously you’re a fan of the feline.”
That makes me blush, and I take a seat next to Elijah.
“Okay, back to work, everyone.” Carlos moves toward the giant pieces of paper stuck to the window. He pulls a marker from his back pocket and taps a sheet of paper. “We need to vote on our marketing strategy. We’ve only got three grand and need to be smart about how we spend it.”
“Which is why you should go with my idea.” Elijah preens, his bright gaze sweeping around the table.
Trish rolls her eyes. “Sponsoring a podcast? I don’t think so.”
“Which podcast?” I ask.
“Geek Squeak.” Elijah makes a fist and brushes it against his chest in an “I know I’m brilliant” gesture.
“That’s perfect!” I squeal. “The hosts are hilarious—smart and nerdy and they love Star Wars. We could send them a speaker, and they’d rave about how great it is.”
Everyone is quiet, staring at me like I’m crazy. Heat creeps up my neck. Enthusiasm is never cool, I need to remember that. Especially geeky enthusiasm.
“You do realize this is a fake campaign, right Laura?” Ashley asks.
“Laurel,” I correct through gritted teeth. “And of course I know that. I just thought it was a great idea, that’s all.” I shrug at Elijah, who telegraphs me a thank you with his eyes.
“Nobody listens to podcasts, do they?” Jason asks. He doesn’t say this in a mean way, more like he’s confused.
“Sure, they do.” Carlos’s jaw tightens, and I try not to stare. Now that I’ve scrutinized his Facebook photos, I feel like I have a glimpse into who he is, and I might like that guy more than I should.
“Name one person you know who listens to them. Besides Elijah,” Trish demands.
“My sister,” Carlos responds, a defiant glint in his eyes. “My favorite AP teacher.” His eyes flick to me, making my heart do an expert imitation of Thumper. “I like the idea,” he tells Elijah, “but I’m not sure how broad their reach is.”
“About three hundred thousand listeners each week.” Elijah waves his phone in the air. “I just looked it up.”
“Wow.” Even Jason looks impressed. “That’s weird. I don’t know anyone who listens to podcasts.”
Another chunk of Jason’s imaginary pedestal crumbles. It’s a good thing we never dated; I don’t know what we’d have talked about.
Ashley tosses a shiny wave of blond hair over her shoulder. “Well, I like my idea,” she purrs. “Everyone likes the Sharper Image catalog.”
“I think my Comic Con idea is best.” Trish pouts.
“It’s a great idea,” Carlos agrees, “except travel costs are high and booth space is expensive. We need something that hits a ton of people at once. Some way to get it into the pop culture zeitgeist.”
Whoa, this dude is smart. And sexy. My pulse rate zings.
“The Big Bang Theory,” I blurt out, and everyone turns to stare at me. I swallow and plunge ahead. “Imagine an episode where Sheldon gets one as a birthday present and tests it out. He’ll love it. Maybe Leonard steals it.” I decide to go for broke. “Star Wars is huge on that show. Remember when Amy and Bernadette made a Death Star cake? And when Sheldon builds the Lego Death Star?”
No one speaks. I wish for a hole in the floor to swallow me up. Then a slow grin spreads across Carlos’s face and his eyes lock onto mine, like he’s sending me a private replay of his earlier Sheldon comment.
“Genius,” Elijah says. “I bow to you.” And he does, leaning forward so his forehead smacks the table, making me laugh.
“Yeah, right,” Trish snarks. “We’ll just call Hollywood and make that happen.”
I hesitate, because what I’m about to say might make her hate me even more. But it’s also a chance for me to prove my value as more than a supply-fetching assistant.
“Okay, so the point of clients hiring a company like Emergent is for their expertise and connections, right?”
“Right.” Carlos nods. “So how could Emergent make The Big Bang Theory happen?”
“Well…my dad went to college with one of the show’s producers. They stay in touch.”
“For real?” Elijah’s whisper is reverent.
“You think he could get me in for a casting call?” Jason’s whole face lights up with excitement. “If I somehow manage to go to college in Cali?”
“But I thought you wanted to study international business.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s a backup plan. I’d rather be an actor.” He ducks his head, his cheeks reddening. “I don’t know if I’m good enough for prime time, but maybe?”
Is this his big dream? My heart twists in sympathy. He’s got the looks for it, but he can’t really sing, or, um, act. He’d have way more luck going pro in the NFL than hitting it big in Hollywood.
I give myself a mental shake. Who am I to shoot down someone else’s dream?
“I could take some headshots for you,” I offer. “You know, for future casting calls. And for college apps, if you do major in theater.” I smile, more to bolster my confidence than his. “I’ll make it fun, promise.”
“That’d be cool, Laurel.” Jason grins. “Name the time and I’m there. We could go—”
“Let’s get back on track,” Carlos interrupts. His eyes are frozen Fudgsicles, frosty and cold.
What’s up with that?
“We need to take a vote.” Carlos points to the paper. “Let’s do it.”
“We’re each just going to vote for our own ideas.” Trish tosses a paper clip in the air and Elijah reaches out to catch it.
“Except Jason and me, since we didn’t suggest anything. We’re the tiebreakers.” Carlos points to the paper. “Who votes for the Sharper Image catalog?”
Ashley raises her hand and so does Jason. Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me; the guy has always been a sucker for pretty blondes. Carlos writes a “2” next to Ashley’s idea.
“Comic Con booth.”
Trish raises her hand but no one else does. Her glower has the force of a thousand Death Star explosions. As Carlos writes a “1” next to her idea, she mumbles something rude under her breath.
“Okay, Geek Squeak podcast.” Carlos looks expectantly at Elijah, whose hand doesn’t go up.
“Raise your hand,” I whisper, but Elijah shakes his head.
“No votes for this one?” Carlos waits for a beat, then scrawls a “0.” He clears his throat and is clearly avoiding eye contact with me. “The Big Bang Theory?”
Elijah’s hand shoots up. I gape at him.
“It’s the best idea,” he says. “Even if it’s not mine.” He winks. “Raise your hand, Special K.”
Did he give me that cereal box? I take a breath, then raise my hand because I believe in my idea. Now I’m tied with Ashley’s Sharper Image idea. Everyone watches Carlos, who still won’t look at me, even as he raises his hand.
“Boo-yah!” Elijah raises his other hand for a fist-bump and I oblige, even though I’m embarrassed, and no one else is smiling. Carlos writes a “3” next to my idea and circles it.
“Congratulations, Laurel.” His expression is blank, quashing my tiny thrill of victory. “So if this campaign were real, what would we do next?” He affixes a fresh sheet of paper to the window.
“Laurel would suck up to her daddy and wrap him around her little finger,” Trish snaps.
I swallow, trying to come up with a response, but Ashley jumps in.
“Having connections is nothing to be ashamed of. That’s what makes the world go ’round.”
Jason nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’m totally gonna ask your dad about connecting me with his producer friend. Maybe you can send him some of the photos we’ll take.”
I’ve unleased a publicity hound. Elijah’s leg bumps mine under the table, in sympathy I assume. Jason and I can talk later. Right now, I need to deal with Trish.
It’s not easy for me to stand up to people, but I gather my courage, like Qa’hr when she told the pilot of her stowaway ship she can fix anything even though she can’t. I meet Trish’s challenging gaze.
“Look, Trish, I don’t know why you…” I take a breath. I remember my sister’s advice and start again. “If this scenario were real, I’d write something up, a proposal or whatever to present to my—to Mr. Kristoff—about why he should call in a favor.”
Trish snorts, but I press on. “I bet your dad has contacts, too. Maybe for another type of client. It just so happens that the speaker is a natural fit for TBBT.”
“Uh huh, and why is that? Did you tell Daddy Dearest what test product to give us so that you could be the—”
“That’s enough.” Carlos steps toward the table. I don’t think he means to threaten Trish, but she doesn’t finish her sentence. “Picking fights is unproductive. And unprofessional.” He taps his marker on the table. “We need to move on to our presentation. Who wants to be in charge of it? We can all contribute, but someone needs to take the lead.” He looks at me expectantly and my stomach flips over.
I don’t feel ready to take any kind of lead. I just want to participate, not be in charge of something.
“Do it, Laurel.” Elijah grins. “I’ll be your Huckleberry.”
His old movie reference makes me smile, but I still don’t want to do it. Still, what would Qa’hr do? Or Rey and Leia?
“I, uh, could come up with some ideas.” I gesture to everyone else. “But everyone should help. We’re supposed to be a team, right?”
Trish mutters under her breath again but I ignore her. “Also, if we went with the Big Bang strategy, it wouldn’t cost any money for my dad to call the producer. We’d still have our budget to work with.”
“You’re right.” Carlos’s Fudgsicle eyes thaw slightly, which warms me to my toes.
A movement in the doorway catches our attention, and everyone freezes as my dad walks in. Carlos rolls down his shirt sleeves and smooths his hair. I wish I could send him a psychic message. Relax. You’re doing great. Also, that shirt makes your eye color pop.
“How’s everyone doing?” Dad grabs a chair from a nearby desk. Jason and Trish scoot over so Dad can squeeze in between them. Trish darts me a suspicious look and I shrug, hoping to communicate I have no idea why he’s here.
“So, I hear you’ve been given your test product to market as a team.” Dad studies us, steepling his fingers. “What’s your strategy?”
Everyone’s gaze shifts to Carlos, our de facto leader. My dad notices, of course, and turns to Carlos, a smile transforming his face from scary CEO to nice guy. The thing with Darth Vader was you never knew if he smiled, because of the mask, though I doubt he ever did. Dad Vader, however, is approachable today, even friendly.
Carlos clears his throat and rolls the marker between his hands. Relax, I will him with my Jedi mind, but he doesn’t get the message. He looks frozen, like he’s been left on the surface of Hoth for too long.
“We just voted on our ideas,” Elijah pipes up, so Dad focuses on him.
“Tell me more.”
Crud. I want Carlos to get credit, since he took the lead and got everyone focused.
“Can I ask you something, Mr. Kristoff?” Trish tugs on her spider necklace and my skin prickles with apprehension.
“Of course.”
“So, who chose the product for us to market? Was it you?” She points to the Death Star speaker like it’s poisonous.
Dad shrugs. “Ms. Simmons must have chosen it, or someone on her team.” He studies Trish. “I didn’t select it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Dad Vader isn’t an idiot.
“It was a good choice,” Carlos says. “It generated a lot of creative ideas.”
I’m practically giddy that he found his voice.
“Such as?” Dad leans back in his chair and pins Carlos with an intense stare. I hold my breath, but Carlos doesn’t flinch. Instead, he steps toward the window and points to the papers affixed to the glass.
“Everyone pitched their ideas, then we took a vote.” His voice is steady and confident. I release the breath I was holding. “Since our number one choice doesn’t cost anything, we’re deciding which other strategy we can use, too.”
“Mr. K, I have a question.” I wince at the nickname but Elijah plunges ahead. “Do you really know a producer on The Big Bang Theory?”
Dad tilts his head, surprised. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“It’s part of our marketing strategy.” Carlos’s eyes flick to me, then back to my dad.
“Do you stay in touch with him?” Jason pipes up.
Oh no. I refocus my Jedi mind control powers on Jason, willing him to be quiet.
Dad locks eyes with me, transmitting his own Jedi message: We’ll discuss this later, Laurel.
“I’ve got a meeting, but I look forward to seeing your presentation next week.” He stands and nods at us. “Sounds like you’re making good progress.”
I hum the Darth Vader theme song under my breath as he leaves and Elijah snort-laughs. Once he’s out of sight, everyone turns to me, making me squirm.
“Did you tell Daddy to check up on us?” Trish’s voice is harsh, making my stomach churn.
“What? No. I didn’t know he was coming up here.”
“It’s his company,” Carlos says to Trish. “Of course he’s going to check in with us.” His eyes narrow. “Just like your dad does.”
Trish flushes and drops her gaze to the table.
I swallow and place my hands on the table. I have to fix this. I can’t let my dad’s scholarship dream project go off the rails.
“Let’s leave the dads out of this, okay? We all need to work together. Everyone has great ideas. Let’s not argue.”
“She’s right,” Carlos agrees. “Besides, Mr. Kristoff and Mr. Mantoni are our bosses.”
“Suck up.” Elijah tosses a crumpled paper at Carlos, who bats it away.
He’s obviously frustrated. I wonder if it’s with the job, or Trish, or all of us. Maybe he wishes he’d never signed up for this internship. He’s obviously smart and a great leader, even though he had a momentary freeze-up with my dad.
He sounded so passionate and sincere during his introduction the first day. I hope he still feels that way, even though things are a bit wacky with the Manicotti’s rules and two “daddy’s girls” engaged in a weird feud. A feud I’m going to stop, one way or another.
Carlos tosses his marker in the air and catches it behind his back. “You know what? Let’s all take a break. We can figure this out later.”
Definitely a smart leader.
…
Dad and I take opposite corners in the elevator at the end of the day.
“We need to talk, Laurel.”
“Can it wait ’til we’re in the car?” I’m all about procrastinating when I’m in trouble.
Dad’s frustrated Vader energy seeps into me, enhancing the creepiness of the garage. I can’t name one movie where the parking garage scene doesn’t end with somebody kidnapped or dead. A horrible screeching noise makes me jump. The mechanical goat bleating originates from an older sedan with the hood up.
A figure leans over the engine, one hand gripping the raised hood. A very familiar figure.
“Try it again!” Carlos calls out.
“Come on,” Dad says. I follow him, because what else can I do? As we get closer, Dad calls out, “Need some help?”
Carlos steps out from under the hood and brushes his hands together. His dark gaze can’t seem to decide whether to focus on Dad or me.
“We need to jump it. Any chance you have cables in your car?” Now his gaze is fixed on my dad.
“I have something even better. Be right back.” Dad leans down to peek in the driver side window. “We’ll get you on the road in just a few minutes, Emmy.”
Miss Emmaline gives him a grateful smile. I wonder what would happen if I called her Emmy? Nothing good.
Dad jogs to our car and Carlos finally looks at me.
“You’re a mechanic in your spare time?” I try to joke.
He shrugs. “Not really, but I know enough.”
Miss Emmaline’s watching me. Maybe she’ll crack a smile since we’re off the clock. I squat to look her in the eye.
“Miss Emmaline, do you know how many tickles it takes to make an octopus laugh?”
As usual, I get the scowl, but I can’t leave a punchline unsaid.
“Ten tickles. Tentacles. Get it?”
Behind me, Carlos snorts. “That’s worse than this morning’s joke. Where do you find these?”
“Online.” I smile at Miss Emmaline as I stand, willing her to at least blink, but she sighs and turns away like I’m trying to sell her a magazine subscription.
My dad returns, carrying a fancy battery-powered gadget that does everything—inflates tires, charges batteries, and who knows what else.
Carlos checks out the all-in-one-save-your-car appliance. “Sweet. Where’d you get this, Mr. K?”
Dad and Carlos devolve into caveman car talk and my eyes glaze over. I lean down and smile at Miss Emmaline again. “They’re about to get you on the road again. Once they stop grunting.”
She nods and taps her fingers on the steering wheel. “Your father always takes care of me.”
I’m shocked she actually responded.
“How long have you worked for him?
“Since the beginning. Fifteen years this August.”
“Wow, that’s amazing. He should throw you a party.”
She sniffs and looks down her nose at me, even though she’s sitting down. “He most certainly should not. I’m just doing my job. I don’t need to be celebrated.”
No matter what I say, it somehow offends.
“Start your engines, Emmy!” Dad calls out, and this time she chuckles at the corny joke, because it came from my dad. She turns the key and the engine roars to life. Carlos lowers the hood back into place after my dad unhooks the magical car gadget and they share victorious grins, like they just hunted down a mastodon with spears.
We step away from the car as Miss Emmaline drives away. She lifts a hand from the wheel to wave, but keeps her gaze focused straight ahead. I bet she never runs yellow lights.
“Thanks for helping her out,” Dad says to Carlos. He clears his throat. “Sorry, I forget—are you Jason?”
Nice one, Dad. Way to make your interns feel special.
Carlos shakes his head and his mouth curves in that delicious smile, the one that shows the dimple. “I’m Carlos.”
“Oh, right. Jason’s the one who goes to school with Laurel.” His mischievous expression sends panic streaking through me. “The guy you had a crush on, right?”
Oh. My. God.
This is worse than if he choked me with his thoughts like Darth Vader, but it has the same effect, rendering me unable to speak.
Carlos turns the dangerous dimple on me. “Oh yeah? Interesting.”
Interesting? More like humiliating. Mortifying. Life-ending.
“Dad.” My voice is a strangled gurgle. “Stop. Please.” I can’t look at Carlos, but I know he’s laughing on the inside. I can feel it.
Mortified, I march toward our SUV, not caring that I’m acting like a kid throwing a tantrum. All I do care about is escaping mortification.
I don’t have a remote for the car, so I’m unable to hide behind the tinted windows. I watch Dad say goodbye to Carlos, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back. What has gotten into Dad Vader, cracking dumb jokes and humiliating his daughter?
The unlock beep startles me into action. I slide into the car and slam the door closed. Dad slides into the driver seat and lets out a sigh.
“I’m guessing I said too much.” He starts the engine.
“You think?” My voice drips with sarcasm.
He puts the car in reverse and doesn’t say anything until we’ve exited the garage. It’s hard to believe that a few hours ago I was enjoying a gorgeous sunny afternoon and taking photographs. Now I want to curl up in a hole.
“I was…” he begins and clears his throat. I glance at his profile, which is chiseled and boss-like. Not at all the face of someone who jokes about crushes.
“Maybe it wasn’t the best strategy.” His fingers tap restlessly on the steering wheel as we wait at a red light. “But I know the interns haven’t been as…welcoming to you as I’d hoped, so I thought—”
“Who told you that?”
He glances at me, guilt clouding his face. “Uh, I don’t—”
“Ms. Romero? The Manicotti?”
Guilt gives way to disapproval. “You know I don’t approve of that nickname.”
I shrug. “Whatever. Anyway, so you heard right. But that doesn’t mean I want you to try to fix it or whatever. Because what you just did made it worse, not better.”
Dad focuses on the road when the light changes. “Carlos seems like a good kid. I thought maybe if I joked about you and Jason, it would make you seem…I don’t know. Like one of them, I guess.”
I glare out the window. “How do you even know about that stuff?” It’s not like I ever told my dad about my crush drama.
Dad clears his throat. “Your mom and I talked about it. She looked at the applications when I decided to start the scholarship program. She recognized Jason’s name and told me about, uh, your…feelings.” He glances at me. “I almost didn’t hire him because I didn’t want any drama this summer, but your mom assured me there wouldn’t be. She said you’d probably moved on from that, uh, infatuation.” He looks as embarrassed as I feel.
My mind reels as I try to process this information. Since when does Mom evaluate my infatuation levels? “I didn’t think Mom was involved in your business.”
“Your mom always has input. I trust her opinion, especially when it comes to people. She was the one who told me to hire Emmy. And Tom—Mr. Mantoni.”
In other words, Mom stinks at reading people. I love my mom, but what was she thinking?
“So explain to me how my producer friend is now on the interns’ radar,” Dad says, deftly changing the subject. Vader doesn’t want to talk about my secret crushes any more than I do.
“Um, yeah. Sorry about that. We were brainstorming ideas for the Death Star speaker, and I realized how well it would fit in a Big Bang episode. Sheldon would love the speaker and Jason apparently wants to be actor and—”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm.” Dad glances at me and his lips quirk. “But I’m not calling in a favor for Jason. I don’t care how good of an actor he is, I’m saving my big-time favors for something special.”
“Big-time favors?”
Dad revs his engine as he rockets us into the far left lane. “Sure. When you have friends in powerful positions, you don’t ask for random favors. You choose wisely, holding onto the big-time favor until it’s something important, for someone special.” Apparently he’s given this a lot of thought. “That’s the type of favor I hold close to my vest.” He reaches over and takes my hand, surprising me. “Remember this, Laurel. Good friends aren’t to be taken advantage of, especially when they achieve a high level of success.”
There’s a whole subtext here, and I’m pretty sure I get it. He squeezes my hand.
“So tell me, Vader, if this was a real project, and I was the real account manager, and I came to you with my brilliant idea, would you call in your favor?”
Dad grins. “I thought Princess Leia didn’t need to call in favors.”
“Of course she did. Look at Obi-Wan—that was the biggest beg of all time.”
Dad’s shoulders stiffen. “I’d say taking down an evil dictator is worthy of calling in a favor.”
“Okay, but in my boring world, let’s pretend this is my first real job and I’m being tested and if I fail, I lose my job and have to move home and live in the basement. Are you calling your friend or not?”
Dad laughs and shakes his head. “You sure you don’t want to be an actress? I know a guy.”
That makes me laugh, but I still want his answer. “Come on, Dad. Yes or no?”
He turns to me, and I’m startled by the darkened hue of his gray eyes. “There are three people on this planet I’d do anything for, and you’re one of them.”
My heart squeezes. Dad’s not a sentimental guy, but what he just said is like giving me a lifetime of hugs in one sentence.
“So that’s a yes?”
Dad grins and presses the accelerator, leaving the other cars in the dust, and I have my answer.
…
After dinner, I corner Mom in the kitchen while Dad takes a bin of veggies out to our backyard composter.
“Why did you talk to Dad about my…my…about Jason Riggs?”
She freezes mid–dish scrub and pivots to face me. “Uh-oh. Problems on the job?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. So many problems, I think.
“Yeah,” I admit. “But I’m never going to confide in you again.” I realize I sound about five years old, but I can’t stop picturing Carlos laughing in the garage.
Mom grimaces. “I’m sorry, honey. Maybe I should’ve told your dad not to hire him, but he has”—she breaks off, glancing away from me—“he deserves a chance at the scholarship.” Her forehead crinkles with worry. “What’s going on?”
I lean against the counter, thoughts careening through my mind. “It’s nothing.” Dad’s teasing isn’t a big deal, in the scheme of things. Yeah, it embarrassed me in front of Carlos, but I’ll survive.
“Can you tell me what was on the applications? They had to write an essay, right? About why they need the scholarship?”
Mom shakes her head. “I can’t tell you about the essays, hon.”
“But if I’m supposed to vote I need to know the full picture.”
She sighs and tosses the wet sponge in the sink. “Ask your dad and Mr. Mantoni.”
“I already did. They said the apps are confidential. The Manicotti told me to check out LinkedIn, which I did, but it’s not helpful.”
Mom brushes a few curls out of her eyes. “You have the rest of the summer to get to know them. I’m sure they’re all great kids and will open up to you.” Her expression relaxes into a knowing smile. “You’re easy to talk to.”
Right.