Someone started telling about one that had something to do with painting and cats, but Roman didn’t hear it because his dad had noticed that most of the people had gathered in one group, laughing, and he was on his way over. This could not be good.
His dad was all smiles, but just under the surface, Roman could tell he didn’t like not being in on whatever was happening. “It sounds like all the fun is over here.”
Several people nodded, all while a chorus of “Did you see the one where...” continued on around them.
“What am I missing?”
One of the guys his dad went golfing with clapped Richmond on the shoulder. “Didn’t you know? Your boy here is an internet sensation!”
Roman wished they would all stop. Or better yet, that they would’ve never started. He wished that his dream of none of them ever seeing a single thing about his interviews had come true. He wished a lot of things, including the ability to teleport so he could get himself out of there instantly.
Instead, everyone filled in his dad, and with as much laughter as the crowd made, you’d have thought it was a college frat party instead of a respectable business reception.
“Richmond,” Roman’s mom said, “could I get you to help me bring out some more refreshments for our guests?”
Roman’s dad nodded, and then he leaned close to Roman. “As soon as you can slip away, I want to talk to you in my office.”
Then he went into the house. Not to help bring out refreshments—they had hired servers for the evening. His mom had probably noticed the look on his face that said he was about to make a scene in front of everyone, so she was getting him away from the crowd. He gave his dad seven minutes to cool down, knowing that was about the length of his patience before he would start fuming that Roman hadn’t come in.
When he walked in through the patio door, his mom gave his shoulders a quick squeeze. “Good luck, honey.” Then she slipped back outside to their guests.
When he went into his father’s office, he found him sitting behind the desk. No more sitting side by side—this time, he wanted to intimidate. And great—he was looking at his laptop. Roman didn’t even need to guess what he had looked up.
Why did he feel like a kid again, about to get into trouble for bad grades or for toilet papering the boys restroom that one time in third grade?
His dad just kept looking at whatever he was watching for several excruciatingly long minutes, not even acknowledging that Roman had walked into the room. Eventually, he pushed the laptop aside. Which, honestly, wasn’t any better, because now his eyes were piercing Roman. And he still wasn’t talking—just studying Roman. His dad had always been the master at getting the upper hand and making anyone else in the room feel like an ant. A little tiny ant who just spilled milk on the floor.
Finally, the man spoke. “I thought you had learned a hard lesson with that Business Success interview. But then you went and made a fool of yourself on a stage with two million viewers. A stage that can be accessed anywhere in the world, no less. And that’s not even counting the number of people who saw the memes, once they went viral. I can’t say I’ve ever been more disappointed in you.”
His dad wanted him to respond. But he had no idea what kind of response his dad could possibly want. So he went for the truth, to see how that went. “Those investors who just gave LivenUP a pile of money? They liked the Business Success interview. They said they would only invest if they could see more of that. Of me showing the spark that told them LivenUP was going places and I was going to lead them there. Those interviews I did showed them that. That was why they invested.”
Roman’s dad pounded his fist on the desk, making everything on it—and Roman’s heart—jump. “You carry the Powell name, Roman! That means something. People hear that name and they know they are going to get someone who is a professional through and through. That name is a gift, and you need to treat it as such.” He clenched his jaw, giving Roman a look of disgust that he had perfected over the years. “Instead, you’re trying to bring down the family. You don’t change who you are just because a group of investors wants to give you a pile of money to do so.”
All Roman could think of was how he hadn’t changed who he was—he had let the real him come forward in those interviews.
His dad turned his attention back to the laptop, clicking a few things. Then he turned to Roman. “That audience targeting specialist I saw you with a few weeks ago—that was her, wasn’t it? She’s the woman behind all of this.”
“She is the producer of Bexlandia, yes.” He ignored the flinch on his dad’s face when he mentioned Bexlandia. “She wasn’t behind it—we went to her to ask for the interview when my head of social media and marketing identified her audience as our target audience for Nudge Out.”
“Then you need to fire your head of social media and marketing and do what you need to do to get those interviews taken down.”
Yeah, like he was going to do either of those things.
His dad studied him for an uncomfortable moment. “You’re dating this woman.” It was a statement, not a question, but it was clear his dad didn’t know the answer. He was fishing. But Roman wasn’t going to hide their relationship any more.
“Yes.”
Richmond let out a long, slow breath. “Is it a fling?”
“No.”
“Roman, I don’t think I need to remind you about the kind of woman you are expected to marry. She needs to be respectable and have a respectable career—not name her company something like Bexlandia and post simpleton content to a simpleton site. She needs to be someone who will respect the Powell name and the kind of public image we need to maintain.”
“Dad, I—”
Richmond stood up. “I don’t want to hear it, son.” He walked to the door, but paused before he walked out. “Oh, and the Columbia River trip is off. You can see yourself out.”
17
Bex
“Oh my exclamation points, I can’t believe how beautiful you look!” Peyton said. She was working on Bex’s hair for the awards ceremony and Bex’s sister, Nikki, was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, while Bex sat at the vanity in her bedroom.
Nikki nodded. “I hope you win. But, girl, you are going to leave a trail of scorch marks all the way up to the stage if you do.”
Bex looked down at her silky, red, form-fitting, full-length dress. It wasn’t too low in the front, but the back did dip down quite a bit. “Do you think it’s too much?”
“I think it’s exactly enough,” Nikki said. “Your entire female audience is going to be going insane experiencing this vicariously through you—living the dream, getting dressed up all fancy, looking incredible, having everyone talking about how awesome the thing you created is. I know I am.”
“Yep,” Peyton said as she twisted one of Bex’s curls to lay just right. “Especially since they know you well enough to know how down-to-earth you really are. I mean, they’ve been with you at the drugstore as you were getting Tylenol and socks. Your viewers know you are practically them.”