“Hmm. That’s cute. Inadvisable but cute.”
“It’s not…” I shake my head. “We’re not … together, anymore.”
Saanvi looks unconvinced, but with a quick glance around, she seems to realize Alex isn’t here. “Regardless. Your YouTube contract is terminated due to the fact that I say so.”
“Right,” I say. “Makes sense.”
* * *
After the party, I stop by Tracy’s office to clear the air. She’s pacing in Vince Camuto kitten heels, one hand pressing her phone to her ear and the other gesturing wildly. I watch her for a minute—the nonstop hustle—until she sees me outside her glass walls and mutters something, then hangs up the phone.
Now that my initial emotions have quelled, I’ve admitted to myself that Tracy wouldn’t have gotten where she is if she didn’t have a cutthroat side to her. She used me—but in the end, she owned it, and even though I can’t put her on a pedestal anymore, she’s more human to me than ever before. And I’m still rooting for her.
She opens the door and gives me a weary smile.
“What will you do next?” I ask softly.
Tracy pulls the door open wider, beckoning me inside. “I was just on the phone with Harold Cooper’s wife, begging her to call for a vote of no confidence in Mr. Dawson. Besides that? There’s not much I can do. I have no proof of anything, no evidence of wrongdoing or ill intent I’d be able to pin to Robert or Dougie’s sleeve.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it. Guilt slithers through my veins like a cold shot of espresso. “I just … can’t help you more than I already have.”
Her eyes turn pitying. “What did I tell you all those years ago about that unnecessary apologizing, Casey?” She steps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what Alex did, what exactly you’re protecting him from. But I do know you tried your best to break a pattern of complicity. That’s something to be proud of.”
“I’m still keeping secrets,” I whisper.
“Because you love him.” She smiles softly.
“He’s with Robert now, today,” I tell her. “I think it’s too late.”
Tracy sighs. “Then it’s too late.”
To stop myself from crying, I redirect. “You didn’t seem at all surprised when Don said it should have been me that got Alex’s job. Did you know I applied for that?”
Tracy nods. “Of course I knew one of my own was looking around.”
I nod. “Did you put me up for the travel cost manager position?” I ask.
After a beat, she admits, “Of course I did.”
I nod again and breathe out, “Thank you,” accompanied by half a sob. “For pulling me up the ladder.”
* * *
“You know the CEO of CycleBar just got divorced?” Benny says. He picks up my pencil holder, upturns it, and shakes out a unicorn-shaped eraser he proceeds to glare at. “I’ll be sure to keep you updated on her whereabouts in proximity to our COO.”
“You better,” I say, dumping an entire drawer full of paperwork into the recycling bin.
“Casey,” Fari says, her tone stressed. “I really don’t know if I have room for all these plants—”
“Ohmigodfine.” Benny grabs the heartleaf philodendron and the monstera and storms back to his desk.
“Don’t say I never gave you anything!” I call after him.
“Don’t say I never gave you anything!” he shouts back.
* * *
My tote bag of meager office belongings comes with me to my HR exit interview. It’s boring and stupid, but Molly is nice and not boring or stupid, so I answer all her questions even though they are basically the same question rephrased every time.
On my way out, I run into Dougie Dawson.
He’s walking in the opposite direction and nods once before his eyes catch mine in recognition. His face is still purple, and his belly is still round. We both slow, watching each other from half a foot away.
“You,” he says. “The finance girl.”
“Hello, Mr. Dawson. Casey Maitland, yes.”
“You’re friendly with Alex Harrison.” His eyes cloud with bitter resentment he’s so clearly incapable of keeping at bay. “Be careful with that family, girl. Robert Harrison is the sneakiest son of a bitch New York City ever saw. His son is no different.”
“They’re not a family,” I say quietly. “And Alex is nothing like his father.”
Dougie makes a disbelieving face. “He is just as ambitious. That much was made obvious during the BTH presentation.”
In a split-second decision that I quite literally make on my way out the door, I decide to poke the bear. “Yes, well, I suppose that kind of professional drive isn’t for everyone. I hear you’re planning to retire soon?”
Dougie narrows his eyes. “That’s not for you to know.”
“Well. Anyway.”
My hand sticks out for him to shake. He raises an eyebrow but places his palm in mine. I think about leaving it alone—and part of me still wants to—but Tracy’s words ring out clear and powerful, urging me on: You tried your best to break a pattern of complicity. That’s something to be proud of.
“This is the way you should have greeted me at that Yankees happy hour,” I say. “And I am the last person who should have to teach you this.”
His purple face goes violet—all fear, no room left for retaliatory, finger-wagging anger—and the only word I manage to think as I walk away is Good.
* * *
I kept it together the whole day until now. I thought for sure he’d want to see me—even if it was only to say goodbye—but Alex didn’t even give me that. On the subway back to Brooklyn Heights, I full-on melt down in tears. Beside me, Brijesh doesn’t say a word. He just rubs my back and waits out the five minutes it takes me to be able to breathe normally again.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Brijesh says softly, “he’s been a walking ghost.”
I sigh. “Am I a horrible person if that does make me feel a little better?”
Brijesh laughs. “It makes you an honest one.”
When Miriam gets home from the hospital, all three of us go eat together one last time at the same place we went the night I introduced them.
“You got my shared note of East London restaurants?” Brijesh asks.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll go somewhere new every week, sit at the bar until someone with impeccable taste in food forces me into his friendship.”
Brijesh grins, spinning a lock of Miriam’s hair around his finger. “Fate.”
“Coercion,” I counter.
“Fate,” Miriam agrees.
* * *
My flight is at 10:00 P.M. Miriam and Brijesh want to stay with me until then, but I have to call my parents and I want to be alone doing it, so I hug and kiss them goodbye after dinner and tell Miriam to sleep at Brijesh’s place.
In our apartment, I say goodbye to silly inanimate things, like my air-conditioning unit and the stove we’ve never turned on. Just for fun, I try to turn it on now and realize it doesn’t even work, which makes a gurgle of deranged laughter peal out of me.
I sit on the floor, legs crossed, and call Dad. Jerry’s holding the phone, but it’s pointed at Dad, who is holding a guitar and waving.
“Hi, guys.”