I didn’t notice the sunrise until I was in my car. I hadn’t seen one in months, maybe years, and the golden light beckoned me home and bathed the street in a warm, gentle glow. My eyes burned, as though unable to contain the emotions of the past few days. There had been plenty, many of them confusing, and I had to hit my sternum with my balled-up fist before starting the car.
I was about five minutes from home when my phone rang.
New York City was only one hour ahead, but Nyota was the kind of “work hard, play hard” person whose early mornings were likely to be spent at the office—or staggering home from the club. Still, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d received a call from her at such an odd hour.
“Is Tisha okay?” I asked when she picked up.
“I hope so. She better not be dead, because I have zero time to go scatter her ashes at some meaningful but hard-to-reach location. If there’s a mountain to climb or a boat to rent, you’re going to have to take care of it.”
“Sure.”
“Nice. Consider this a legally binding agreement, because I will hold you to it.” She sounded exceedingly satisfied. “Were you able to give those statements to Harkness?”
“Yes. It’s nice of you to check on it at”—I glanced at the dashboard clock—“six forty-two a.m.”
“Yeah, that’s not what this call is about. What’s that noise? Are you driving?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, well . . .” A pause. Nyota sighed, and alarm tingled in my belly. “I think you should pull over. I have something very important to tell you, and it’s pretty fucking atrocious.”
35
CAN’T HAVE BOTH
ELI
Eli was so fucking giddy, even his own damn dog found him irritating.
“I know, I know. Not ideal,” he told Tiny during their morning walk, when he kept glancing back with a forlorn expression, as if wondering where his new favorite human had gone. “She’ll come over again soon.”
He was certainly going to try to lure her back tonight. And maybe it wasn’t going to be too hard—because she’d as good as acknowledged that she wanted to be with him. He knew it, and Rue knew it, too. Together, they were different. Unlike anything before—or after, he suspected. And last night she’d finally given them a fighting chance.
“Just trust me,” he told Tiny when the lovelorn puppy eyes wouldn’t stop. “And stop pining. It’s undignified.”
His morning was full of off-site meetings, and he glided through all of them. “Eli! Why do you look so much better than usual?” Anton asked him when he strode through Harkness’s lobby. Eli considered firing him on the spot at the implied insult, but the paperwork would have delayed his reunion with his one true love: texting Rue.
Which was delayed anyway, when Hark impatiently gestured him inside from the glass window of a conference room. “Do you ever pick up your damn phone?” he asked before Eli had even closed the door.
“Not during meetings, no.”
“What about when the meetings end?”
“Depends on how annoying the caller is. Are you conducting a survey pertaining to habits around electronic devices, or is there something you need to tell me?”
“It’s about Kline,” Minami said. Eli glanced at her and Sul for the first time. Noticed their serious expressions.
The tension in the room finally cut through his good mood. “What happened?”
“The documents your girlfriend gave us,” Hark said. A minute earlier, the words would have made him smile. Hark’s tone, though, gave him pause. “The lawyers went through them.”
“Already?”
“Not that time consuming. She sent precisely what we needed.”
Yup, that was his girl. “And?”
Hark’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Florence’s fucked, Eli. She’s underwater on her ratios, the audited financials might as well have been written in crayon on a diner menu, and she’s got fifteen material contingencies under the couch cushions. But you know what’s fucking brilliant?”
Eli shook his head.
“The insolvency clause. If Kline is unable to meet its financial obligations or pay off its debts, the lender will be able to convert the debt into equity—or claim ownership.”
“We knew about that already.”
“But we didn’t know how bad off Kline was. And that it’s never going to be solvent by the end of the second quarter.”
“That’s June thirtieth,” Eli said unnecessarily. Everyone at the table already knew.
“Less than a week, Eli.” Hark grinned. “We got it. We really got it.”
“There’s more,” Minami interrupted, sounding incongruously cautious. Eli’s scalp tingled in alarm.
“What?”
“So.” She nibbled at the inside of her cheek. “Florence knows she’s in deep shit. She might even know that Rue gave us the books—I don’t know. But she’s aware that her only choice is to pay back the loan before the quarter ends.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Hark interrupted. “There’s no way she can gather enough funds—”
“There isn’t,” Minami agreed, still looking at Eli. “That’s true. But that won’t stop her from trying, and since she’s exhausted most of her avenues, the only way for her to generate cash is by selling company assets.”
Eli pulled out a chair and sat—next to Hark, across from her. “She can’t sell the biofuel tech. It’s the collateral for the loan. So if that’s what you’re worried about—”
“That’s not what worries Minami,” Sul said, and the tingle sharpened. The energy in the room was just off. Beside him, Hark was buzzing with excitement. The others looked, at the very least, preoccupied. “There are other assets Florence is shopping around.”
“Such as?”
“Tech from side projects. Such as Rue’s microbial-coating patent.”
“She can’t. I already asked Rue about that—she has a written agreement with Florence that she will retain ownership of whatever tech . . .” he trailed off. Minami’s and Sul’s looks were pointed in a way he couldn’t misconstrue. “No. There’s no way.”
Minami just nodded.
“She has a contract.”
“That was never ratified by the board.”
Eli pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck.” He thought about Rue last night, the last time they’d had sex. Her slow, graceful movement against him. Her breathless laugh as he listed everything he loved about her in toe-curling detail. The serene, trusting way she’d fallen asleep in his arms.
He felt queasy.
“The contract isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on,” Sul said. “Florence can sell the patent, and she will. She has a buyer.”
The room fell into a tense silence. Eli leaned forward. “Is Rue aware?”
“I doubt it. She clearly did not have the foresight to consult a lawyer or wonder about Florence’s character. Not very smart,” Hark drawled. Eli’s head swung around, ready to fuck off ten years of friendship, but when their eyes met, Hark looked self-effacing. “Once again, she reminds me of these three assholes I know.”
“How do we know about the buyer?”
“Sheer luck, that’s how,” Hark said. “The buyer is NovaTech. And Hector Scotsville’s brother is CTO there. I met with Hector this morning to go over some agri-tech shit, and he told me about this fun coincidence, since we’re connected with Kline.”