It’s really over.
She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as she shut the phone off and tucked it into her purse. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. She closed her eyes for a beat and conjured up her mother’s stern voice. No pouting. No whimpering. No frowns. Up, up, up with your chin. Jessica lifted her chin, doing her best to swallow the ache seeping from her heart and filling her chest, tightening her throat, and making her heart race. With another deep inhalation, she recalled her mother’s voice again. Shoulders squared. Eyes forward, serious and happy, happy, happy. Remember, when you’re on that stage, there’s no place else you’d rather be.
Shoulders back, chin up, she followed the group to the stage.
There’s no place else I’d rather be. There’s no place else I’d rather be.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
AMELIA WALKED ACROSS the conference room where Jamie was meeting with the directors and managers of several divisions, strategizing new ways to track down the drone in their system. The large conference room looked like a war zone, with empty coffee cups scattered around the table, whiteboards filled with strategies for deciphering where the drone in the code might be, and documents and files spread across the large mahogany table. There were twenty-seven managers and directors around the table, each looking worn-out and frustrated, but because of their dedication to OneClick, and in turn, Jamie, they were still there, hours past closing time.
The group continued discussing the issue while Amelia handed Jamie an envelope and whispered, “Sage’s contact had this delivered. It’s for tonight at eight. It was the best he could do.”
Jamie glanced at his watch. Seven thirty. “Thank you.”
“I had Marcia bring your tux. It’s in your office, and she said to tell you not to spill anything on it this time.” Amelia smiled at that. Marcia was Jamie’s housekeeper. In addition to cleaning, she ran various errands for him, and after six years as his employee, she knew him well.
“Please thank her for me. I’ll never make it in time, but maybe I’ll catch the tail end.”
“I’ll tell her.”
Jamie turned his attention back to his division managers and programmers. They’d spent hour upon hour trying to track down the bug, and still, no one had any clue where to look. There were too many levels of code, too many paths to follow. Jamie was stymied as badly as his staff was, and it made the situation that much more untenable. Jamie was a master troubleshooter, and when it came to coding, whatever his highly effective, experienced staff couldn’t handle—which was almost nil—he always could. But after days of going through enough code to scramble his brain, he was still at a loss.
Jamie listened to his top-level managers tossing ideas back and forth and realized that there was only one way to ensure nothing had been missed. It was late, and no one wanted to be there, least of all him, but he had to try to get to the bottom of this.
He addressed the group. “Obviously we’re missing something, somewhere, and the only way I can see to do this is to start at the top again. We’ll work our way through each level with a fine-tooth comb and find this drone.”
A collective groan rose from the group.
“Jamie, we’ve gone over this, starting from scratch, for over a week. Do you really think starting from square one is going to help? Maybe we need to start someplace else.” Rick Masters was the director of programming at OneClick. He had a wife and three young children waiting at home, including a newborn baby. He looked like he’d been up all night, and Jamie hated to keep him even later, but he had no choice.
“Do you have a specific suggestion of where to start?” Jamie asked. “I’m all ears, Rick, but if we don’t find this, you know the consequences.”
Computer glitches happened. Users knew that and to a large degree generally overlooked those things, but when an issue lingered, it tended to magnify in the eyes of the public, and the glitch had already hit the media. Not to mention that children and military hardware did not mix. It was only a matter of time until they began losing credibility and users at an insurmountable rate, not to mention sponsors.
“I don’t know. I just can’t imagine that we missed something at the top level,” Rick said.
“I hear ya, Rick. And believe me, I have more faith in the people in this room than I have in the Oval Office, which is why I think we start at the very beginning.” Jamie held his gaze. Time to hit home. “If your son were being bombarded by ads for guns and ammo, would you want us to start at square one, or would you want us to sit and knock our heads against the same wall for another few hours?”
Rick sighed loudly. “Point taken.”
“Okay, let’s start at the top. We’ve got kids searching for dragons, toys, games, movies, and videos, and they’re resulting in ads for military hardware. What do they all have in common?”
Two hours later, they were still knocking heads. Selfishly, Jamie ended the meeting, and they agreed to regroup in the morning.
Traffic was thick for a Monday night, and as he watched the minutes tick by, his nerves started to get the better of him. He glanced at the sealed manila folder Mark had given him. Maybe he was being stupid, following his heart instead of his head. Mark had never led him astray before. Why would he now? What did he have to gain? Jamie was too nervous to think it through. He debated opening the envelope. It would be the most efficient way to know the truth, but Jessica wasn’t a job. Jessica wasn’t an employee. She was the woman he’d fallen hopelessly in love with. The woman he thought about night and day, and ached to see, to touch, to love.
He reached Symphony Hall at ten minutes after ten and punched the cracked dashboard as he drove into the lot. He’d missed the concert. Was this what Vera had been trying to tell him? That he just needed to see for himself that he and Jessica were not meant to be together?
He floored it to the rear entrance where the musicians came and went, still refusing to believe she’d lied.
The devil on his shoulder whispered, You’re a fool. You saw the musicians’ roster on the BSO website. She wasn’t on it.
He cut the engine, feeling as though he was living on deep breaths lately. The devil tried to be heard again, and this time Jamie made a deal with him. He was good at deals. If she doesn’t walk out that door, I’ll walk away and never look back.
With his heart hammering against his chest, he stepped from the car and into the dark night. He was parked over to the side, beyond the bubble of lights illuminating the lot. He didn’t need strangers thinking he was some poor sap stalking one of the musicians.
The thought made him feel even more stupid. What was he doing standing in a dark parking lot waiting for a woman who probably didn’t even exist? She wasn’t on the list. Jessica Ayers could have been a made-up name, for all he knew. She could be anyone, anywhere.