“Oh, yeah? Too bad, I was going to give you a book idea. You wanna hear it? It’s on why Bernanke sucks.”
“Right,” Evelyn said. She had worked in marketing at a textbook publisher, doing research on market trends and creating presentations for buyers, but no matter how many times she had told that to Nick, whenever she saw him he offered lame ideas for business books. “The site is pretty interesting. We’re in stealth mode, so I can’t say too much.” She had heard Arun refer to the site as being in stealth mode and had thought it sounded absurd but predicted, correctly, that this would pique Nick’s interest.
“Stealth mode?” he said. “Do tell.”
“Well, I have to be careful about what I say—our backer is high profile—but think a super elite Facebook. It’s pretty restrictive in terms of membership, though—oh, excuse me for a second, would you?” Evelyn walked off, hoping she’d left Nick wanting more. Charlotte had gone to the bar, standing on her tiptoes and talking to Preston, and Evelyn joined them.
“Beer? We have Ubu, though be warned it has the alcohol level of straight liquor,” Preston said.
“Gin and tonic,” Evelyn said.
“Gin and tonic?” Preston repeated, surprised.
“Yes.” Evelyn could see Charlotte’s questioning look but ignored it. They then heard a crash, as Scot had apparently tripped and caught himself on the screen door. His face was deep red as he clung to the flimsy wood-and-screen frame.
“What’s his story?” Evelyn asked Charlotte quietly, as Preston cut into a lime and the rest of the group pretended, kindly, not to have seen anything amiss.
“Scot? I don’t really know him, but he’s really smart. Graystone would hire him in a second. Undergrad somewhere random, HBS a couple years before me, where he met Greenbaum through some professor. I can’t remember the story, but Greenbaum recruited him and made him a VP in a hot second. Single, obviously. He’s brilliant on deal analysis, apparently. Nick can’t stand him, though—Scot’s a level above him now—but he’s smart enough to get Scot on his side. Blatant suck-up-ery.”
“Hmm.” Evelyn turned to Preston. “Pres, could you make that two G and Ts?” She stepped into a pool of sunlight and put what she hoped was a placid look on her face.
Charlotte snorted when she saw the beatific smile Evelyn was displaying. “Ev, why do you look possessed?”
“Not possessed, Charlotte, dear. In recruitment mode.” PLU was going to need up-and-coming people on the site at some point. It would be smart to at least make the connection now. With the fresh gin and tonic in her hand, Evelyn approached Scot and offered it to him. “I thought you could use a drink after the long train ride,” she said.
”Oh. Gosh. Thanks. Thank you.” He wrapped his large fingers around it, sloshing some over the side onto Evelyn’s hand; she let the liquid sit there rather than wringing it off and risk making him feel even more ill at ease. “I was late because I thought Hamilton’s dog treats were cookies and ate some,” he blurted.
Evelyn gave him an it-happens-to-everyone smile.
*
At dinner, served at a long wooden table with antler candelabras, hunting-themed place mats, and stiff wooden-wicker seats, Evelyn practiced. A dinner party with old-money sorts was a series of hurdles that Evelyn had to clear if she wanted to come away from this weekend with PLU members. She remembered much of the etiquette that her mother had burned into her once they moved into Sag Neck, and as she flirt-talked with the ancient neighbors seated on either side of her, she revived her muscle memory to scoop her soup spoon away from her.