“Gentlemen, we should be clear,” Ellie said. “If you’re hiring Monroe and Spencer, you’re hiring the two of us. And that’s all. I hope no one has a problem with that?”
All three men shook their heads.
“I was at that Dolly Parton concert at the Hollywood Bowl, too, wasn’t it great?” one of the men behind Brad blurted out.
Olivia tried to remember how to smile.
“Indeed. It was my first time at the Hollywood Bowl, actually.”
All of the men exclaimed at this, and spent a few minutes relating their favorite trips to the Hollywood Bowl as they ushered Olivia and Ellie out of the conference room and waved good-bye.
Ellie smiled brightly at Olivia as they walked out of the building and toward her car.
“We’ll talk about it when we get into the car,” Ellie said between her gleaming white teeth. “You never know who is listening around these tech companies.”
They got in the car, and Ellie gunned the motor.
“We’re getting the hell out of this parking lot before we talk about anything,” she said. They drove a mile down the road without speaking, a Beyoncé song from Olivia’s power playlist the only thing breaking the silence in the car. Ellie pulled into a fast-food parking lot and threw the car into park. Olivia started talking before the car was off.
“Ellie, what the HELL just happened back there?” She stopped herself. “I’m sorry, I’m not yelling at you, I’m yelling with you, you know that, right? I just have to yell right now.”
Ellie slipped out of her blazer and folded it on her lap.
“Yell as much as you want. Yell for the rest of the day, at minimum, as far as I’m concerned. I can’t believe he did that.”
Olivia shook her fists in the air.
“I can’t believe he did that! ‘Tell your boyfriend’—what the fuck? In what world is that ever appropriate? But it’s especially inappropriate when my boyfriend is a fucking senator! I let that comment about getting in trouble with the law go, even though it annoyed me; I’m sure his experiences getting into trouble as a privileged white dude were a lot different than mine. But ‘Tell your boyfriend’ was my limit, Ellie!”
Ellie pulled out her phone.
“Say the word and I’ll email that asshole and tell him we don’t want his business.”
Olivia pulled her blazer off and tossed it into the back seat.
“Let me think about that. I can’t decide which one would be better: a cold refusal to do business with them or charging them a great deal of money for our work.”
Ellie grinned.
“Either one would be satisfying, but you’re the one to make this call.”
Olivia put her hand on Ellie’s arm.
“Thanks. I really appreciate that. And I’m sorry, again, that all of this drama has had an impact on our firm. That’s the last thing I ever wanted.”
Ellie patted her on the cheek.
“You don’t have to apologize for that, either. We’re in this together, remember?”
Olivia smiled at her.
“I remember.” Ellie started the car and rounded the parking lot to pull into the drive-through. “Two large fries, one regular Coke, one diet,” she said into the speaker.
Ellie took the cash Olivia handed her and pulled forward.
“And, Olivia Grace, you hear me, you’re not going back to the office, you’re going straight home. I can tell you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, and I need you to rest. I’d take your phone away from you for the night if I didn’t think you’d kill me for it.”
Olivia took the bag of food from Ellie and pulled out a fry.
“I know when I get Olivia Grace’d I’d better do what you say.”
Olivia fell asleep about five minutes after she walked into her house. She woke up in a panic to the sound of a door opening and closing. Had someone just broken into her house?
Before she could react, Max appeared at the door of her bedroom, suit on, briefcase over his shoulder, hair in full Senator Shellac.
“Max?” She sat bolt upright. What was he doing here? It was still Wednesday, wasn’t it? She hadn’t somehow slept for two days straight?
He smiled and dropped his briefcase on the floor.
“There you are. I didn’t expect you to be home this early, but then I saw your car outside.”
She rubbed her eyes.
“I . . . what are you doing here? Aren’t you in DC? I mean . . . you know what I mean.”
He sat at the foot of her bed.
“I fly back tonight on a red-eye. I had to see you. These past few days, those stories . . . I’m so sorry, Olivia. I didn’t realize how bad this would be. I couldn’t wait until Friday. I hope you meant it when you said you wished I was here.”
She stared at him. Was this a dream? Had he really flown across the country just to see her for a few hours, because of an idle wish on her part? Her lingering anger at Max faded away.
“I’m so glad you came.” She blinked away the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “It’s really good to see you.”
He pulled her into his arms.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see someone,” he said in her ear. “I’m so sorry. I should have done something to prevent this.”
They sat like that for what felt like hours, just holding each other.
Finally, she kissed his cheek and pulled back, but kept her hand in his.
“Thank you,” she said. “I needed that.”
He kissed her softly.
“I did, too. Badly. How did the pitch go?”
She laughed.
“At first really well. I was worried they’d say something shitty to me, especially after those stories over the past few days, but . . . well, they sort of did, but they also offered us the job. In part, it seems, because of you.” She held up her hand at the look on Max’s face. “I know, I know, I was pissed, too, and so was Ellie. We’re still figuring out whether we’re going to take it.”
“I’m not sure whether to congratulate you or commiserate with you,” Max said.
Olivia leaned her head against his chest.
“Both sound great right now.”
Max kissed her again, then pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Speaking of those stories. Kara didn’t want me to read them, but I did, and on the plane I drafted this press release telling them all to stop being so racist and also to fuck off.” He shrugged. “Not quite in those terms, but close. I sent it to Kara on my way here so it could go out first thing in the morning, but she suggested I show it to you first.”
Olivia’s eyes widened as she scanned the draft on his phone. She quietly sent up a thank-you for the existence of Kara.
“Max, this is one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me, so thank you, and also, I’ll murder you if you send this.” She paused, and then raised her voice. “Wait, I won’t actually murder you, sorry about that; this is not a threat to a member of Congress, if you’re listening, FBI, that was a figure of speech. What I meant by that was, I’m thrilled by your vigorous defense of me, your ability to recognize racism, loud and subtle, and especially your recognition of your own privilege, but no, absolutely don’t send out this press release. We want these headlines about us to die down, not flame back up, remember? This is like pouring oil on the embers; it’ll start another round of articles and summaries and phone calls to my parents and sister, and I want all of that to stop.”