I know that my pitch is spot-on; I spent well over a week proofing the thing, and several more weeks before that doing the actual work of putting the proposal on paper and making sure I didn’t promise more than I could deliver, both in terms of technological prowess and manpower to make it happen.
Right now, Fairchild Development employs exactly one person—me. And if I get this contract, I’m confident that I can handle the work. But Greystone-Branch is a multinational consulting firm, and with their business locked in, I’d not only make enough off the contract to hire at least two developers, but my little company would also be settled more firmly on the map. Which would mean more customers. Which means more employees. And more income. And on and on and on.
Planning for the possibility of rapid growth makes me nervous, so all my projections on paper are conservative. But I’ve reviewed every nickel and dime and decision with Damien, and when a man like Damien Stark says that my overall plan for growing the company looks dead-on doable, then I’d be a fool not to at least be cautiously optimistic about my little company’s chances.
I’m scribbling some bullet points on possible tweaks to the user interface I’ve designed when my phone starts to blare out The Dixie Cups’ classic Chapel of Love at full volume.
“You are a such a brat,” I tell my best friend Jamie after I’ve dug my phone out from under my backseat pile of papers. “I told you to take that ringtone off.”
“Why would I do that? It works, doesn’t it? You totally knew it was me.”
I roll my eyes. She’d been completely wasted when she grabbed my phone and fiddled with my ringtones not too long before she and Ryan got married. “What’s up?” I ask, making a mental note to change the ringtone myself.
“Not a thing.” Her voice is bright. A little too bright.
I slump back against the leather upholstery and cross my arms over my chest. “Give it up, James,” I order, using the familiar nickname. “I know you too well.”
She exhales. “It’s just that you’re in Dallas.” Her words are almost tentative. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay. Thanks.”
“Oh, please,” she says. “That’s what best friends are for.” But there’s still something odd about her voice.
“Jamie?”
She sighs. “Sorry. I’m just having one of those days. But you’re really okay? It’s not weird being home? You’ve been so obsessed about your mom lately.”
“I haven’t been obsessed,” I correct.
Jamie’s been with me at least once when I saw my mother in Los Angeles. Except it had to be my imagination. Because there is no reason for my mom to be in Los Angeles without wanting something from me. Even when she’d arrived unannounced to supposedly help with my wedding, she’d really been angling for a chunk of Damien’s money. So I knew damn well that she wouldn’t come to LA to simply watch me from a distance.
I’d told Damien after the first sighting. At the time, I’d been working on the Greystone-Branch proposal, and he’d suggested that I was worried about coming to Dallas if I landed the contract. A reasonable theory, and one that I considered accurate when weeks went by without seeing her again.
The next time, though, the proposal hadn’t even been on my mind. “Well, duh,” Jamie had said when I’d met her for coffee and consolation. “I know exactly why you’re seeing her.”
I’d almost choked on my latte. “You do? Why?”
“Because you have mommy issues.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Oh, come on. You and Damien have been together longer than Sylvia and Jackson. They have two kids, you and Damien have a cat. You adore Ronnie, that’s obvious. But when you hold little Jeffery, you light up so much it’s blinding. Damien’s the same way. It’s like you guys are primed to procreate.”
“He’s our nephew, and he’s adorable,” I’d said defensively because kids weren’t in the cards for us. Not then. Not yet.
But she’d been right. About everything, really. And now I’m sitting here in the back of a hired car with my hand over my belly, wondering if my mother’s been in Los Angeles all this time, and thinking about why I was so nervous about having a baby when clearly Damien and I are more than ready to make this work.
“—how did that go, anyway?”
I straighten, realizing that I’d zoned out. “Sorry. What?”
“Your mom,” she says.
“Oh.” I exhale loudly. “I think I was right all along.”
“You went to see her, right? How did—” She was speaking over me, but she cuts herself off sharply. “Wait. What?”
“My mom’s not here. She sold her house. She’s gone, Jamie.”
“So you really think she’s been in LA all this time?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. But at least that would mean I haven’t been seeing things.”
“Fuck.”
“Yup,” I say, because honestly, that sums up the situation nicely.
“Are you okay?”
I hesitate because what on earth am I supposed to tell her? The news about my mom is all mixed in now with the news of the baby, and even though I desperately want to share that with Jamie, I don’t want to tell her from fifteen hundred miles away.
“Nicholas?” Her voice is firm, and she uses her nickname for me in emphasis. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes,” I repeat more forcefully. “Honestly, James, I’m great. Damien’s here and—well, everything is fine. It’s good. I’ll tell you all about the trip when I get home. And, hey,” I say brightly, because I am totally changing the subject, “was there some other reason you called?”
“I—what?”
“You just sounded weird when you called. Like there was something else on your mind.”
“Oh! Well, actually, yeah. Um, you’re still coming to the premiere on Friday, aren’t you?”
Our friend Jane’s book has been adapted into a movie, and the red carpet premiere is Friday at the Chinese Theater. “Are you kidding? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” she says vaguely. “I just wanted to make sure.”
I frown. “You still sound weird. Is something wrong? There’s not trouble between you and Ryan is there?”
“Are you kidding? I’m drowning in marital bliss. Apparently, to my husband, a wedding ring is an aphrodisiac. I mean, everyone said the honeymoon phase would be over by now, but they were so wrong. Seriously, I thought I was well-fucked before we tied the knot, but now I—”
“Got it,” I say, cutting her off before I have a visual picture that I’ll never be able to un-see. “Ryan’s going early to oversee security, right? Do you want to share the limo with us?”
“Normally, I’d jump at it. But this time, I’m turning you down cold.”
“Really?” I can’t help but laugh at the tone of her voice. “Why?”
“Because this girl is going to be on the red carpet interviewing celebs as they come traipsing into the theater. Live on camera in a seriously awesome dress.”