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February 2, 10:12 p.m. 17 seconds
(BirdsEye Office)
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Kyle strode up to his office door and shut it. He leaned against it and groaned. Outside the door were three of his assistants and two engineers who had chased him for answers to questions. Questions they had asked in emails and texts he'd ignored. For the past three days, Kyle had been AWOL. It was Tuesday and he had flown in late last night, after spending a weekend with Juniper in Detroit. On entering BirdsEye offices 20 minutes ago, he had been subjected to a breathless tour of all his executives’ and engineers’ offices. Saying something vague about an important phone call, he had ignored his staff (who'd launched themselves at him with justified but endless requests) and locked himself in his office.
Throwing off his blazer, he went to stand by the window wall, looking down at the ant-like activity of the people below. He rarely spent any time looking out and now he enjoyed the sight of the fog rolling in at the edges of the bay—the type of time-wasting thing Juniper had forced him to notice. Since they had been together (together as an actual couple, not just as a time-limited-not-sure-what-is-going-on-fuck-buddies) he had changed. A lot.
Two whole months—7 weeks, to be precise, since Christmas—with Juniper.
How could he not change?
Everyone noticed.
Once a time tyrant, he—who was always on schedule, always accessible via email, phone, text, messenger, video chat—was now reckless with time. He was vague, elusive, and outright MIA. At times, Kyle flew in late on Mondays from Ann Arbor and other times, he flew out early on Fridays. His dedication to BirdsEye went from 24/7 to a nonspecific time between Tuesday and Thursday.
The shift in his priorities fluctuated the entire company’s schedule. He missed meetings, turned up late for deals at other companies, refused all requests for headlining conferences on weekends, enraged his publicity director for refusing media interviews, and drove all six of his assistants into a scheduling tailspin.
“Damn you, June-Bug, you’re under my skin,” he said to his reflection in the glass.
He felt polarized.
As a scientist, he was acutely aware of the universal Law of Polarity that dictates all things have their own polar opposite. The Law states all actions have a negative and positive outcome and within every failure is a latent success. He loved the novelty of love and hated the force of his feelings. He was on a perpetual high, but his addiction to Juniper meant that all the other things that once mattered to him seemed useless.
For awhile, he stood by the window wall and relived every minute of his life with Juniper—minutes that had become his most valuable commodity. He was briefly distracted by a Thai food street vendor cooking noodles in an old wok. It was surprising how happy the old lady looked making and remaking Pad Kee Mao, the only thing on her menu, for a line forming by her cart.
But his bliss was short-lived. Evan began battering his office door and when Kyle did not respond, the door just rammed harder. When he finally let him in...he went back to watch the scene below. Now the lunch line stretched around the corner, but the cool lady had them all entertained by her mad wok skills.
How does she do it?
“Kyle, what the hell?”
From behind him, Evan went on an epic rant. Though a big backer of Juniper, he ripped Kyle apart for his absence. After he was done, Evan sat down and put his feet up on the desk. “In conclusion, every decision we make without you is a wannabe shitstorm.”
“Uh-huh.” Kyle stood by the window wall, his back to Evan, oblivious to being shredded.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes. Look, I trust you. You can run this shit better than I can. How many times have I asked you to be VP?”
“As your executive assistant, I can be the inside man instead of cracking under a ton of my own duties.”
“True,” Kyle said.
“Kyle Castillo Paxton! You’ve been totally out of it. I get it. Juniper’s more awesome than a Top Ten list of lattes and funky socks. But I need your head back in the game.”
“My head’s here.” His hands formed into fists on the glass window and he leaned in slightly. He felt as boneless as his wavy reflection in the shiny glass. His eyes were bloodshot under the black frame glasses, his hair messy, and his stubble had grown way beyond stylish. “I think I need a haircut.”
“Who cares? You got the girl. Accounts forecasts we will be 10% down this quarter if we lose the Argentinian deal. The board is breathing down our necks. Jesus. This is giving me death in small doses.”
“Lose the Argentinians?”
Evan sighed. “You do realize that BirdsEye runs on Kyle-juice.”
“Kyle-juice is here.”
Salmon day. Salmon day today.
Fuckin’ spend my life swimming upstream. For what?
If it wasn’t for Juniper, I’d say Drunken Noodles lady is happier than I am.
“I think he was tapped in Ann Arbor. Dirt intended.”
“Lame dirt. Catch me up on today’s agenda.”
Kyle heard an angry exhale as Evan flipped on his tablet. “Okay, so at 1:00 HoloEye lab tests. 2:00 lunch with execs—”
Kyle’s eyes glittered and he swiveled away from the wall of windows. “Where’s lunch from?”
Evan shrugged helplessly. “I don’t do that stuff. Probably a fancy steakhouse.”
“Get Stella to order us all drunken noodles from the cart lady.”
Evan gave him a strained glance. “Fine. And 3:00 is the hardware engineers meeting. A 4:30 video call with Tokyo. Don’t forget the board meeting’s tomorrow—have to go over your presentation. Now. Oh yeah. Tech Crunch wants to do a feature vlog on you. Fit that in tomorrow...done. Today is the Popular Science interview at 5:30. Donna Madison wants to coach you before that.”
Donna was their publicity director and her shrill voice was Kyle’s kryptonite. “Tell her no time. She keeps shoving interviews down my throat.”
“She’s doing what we pay her for.”
“She says I don’t translate as human in interviews. Ad nauseam with the repetitive media coaching.”
“She’s right, you come across as a soulless capitalist instead of a whiz innovator. Speaking of nauseam, Sylvia is now officially working for Cirrus. Told ya. I’ve been keeping tabs on her.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t keep tabs on her...let legal continue to handle her.” Kyle walked to the desk, sat down across from Evan and fired up his laptop. “Why are you in my chair?”
Evan spun around in Kyle’s chair. “Whee. I like your chair. Mine hurts like the Iron Throne. Do you have gum?”
“No. You smoking again?”
Evan started opening all of Kyle’s drawers. “Yes, you do. Left drawer. I’m on a cleanse.” Evan took out the gum, leisurely unwrapped six and popped them in his mouth. His phone pinged and he shook his head. “Not these guys again. Listen, the Proto-Smash conference is in Chicago this year and they want you as a keynote speaker. They keep calling me. Stella has been asking you for two months now.”
Proto-Smash was the Oscars of the technology awards. Each year, they held a banquet with one keynote headliner with the likes of tech gods Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, the founders of Twitter, Google and LinkedIn gracing the stage. Three months ago, Kyle would have jumped like a circus poodle at the chance, but now that he was with Juniper, he lacked the drive to spend his free time with anyone but her.
He held up a hand and said, “Not interested. I told you my weekends are tied up.”
“Kyle this is imperative. They want you. No proxies. You synced up calendars with Juniper and she is also in Chicago that weekend. Third week of February.”
“Tell me more.”
“We’re recipients of their innovators award for BeesEye, which you’ll accept at the banquet. So you’re going.”
“RSVP for Juniper and me. But tell them I’m on limited time. No networking thing before or after.”
“Roger that.” Evan sent out a confirmation email. “Hey, can you send me the specs for CamEye 09?”
Kyle pulled up a document on his laptop. “Emailing you the approved prototype specs.”
“So why the locked door? Why are you more mopey and dopey these days?”
“This is the happiest I’ve been in my life.”
Evan rubbed his thin mustache. “Really? If this is happy then you’re not doing it right. All okay in June-Land?”
“Yes. It’s never been better. Zero glitches. Zero hassles.”
“I know what it is. You’re in love. Gag. The toxic fumes cloud your brain.” Evan began to hum the old Police song, “Every Breath You Take.”
Kyle was in love, but he would rather die than admit it. He got up, strode around the desk and towered above Evan. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face or the gum comes out your ear drums.”
Evan spat out the gob of gum into the pristine stainless steel garbage can. “Why are you salty these days?
Kyle twisted a hand through his hair and began pacing the office. “I don’t know. I don’t get why I have these fears something bad is gonna happen. I’m a grown fuckin’ man. I should not be worried about crap like this.”
“I’d switch ‘worried’ to ‘tortured’,” Evan said with a wry laugh.
“I am at work in the middle of the day. At work. Can’t work. I just can’t turn her off.”
“I told you.” Evan was serious now. “This has nothing to do with Juniper. It’s Chloe. She’s still here, isn’t she? For fuck’s sake, you need to get over her. Go see a shrink so you can finally be happy.”
“I don’t need a witch doctor.”
“Visit her grave or something. Talk to her parents. Meet her sister for coffee. Atone for what you think you’ve done.”
Kyle shut his eyes. He did not want to add Chloe to the equation. Pulling up a chair next to Evan, he said, “Let’s just work on the presentation.”
Evan turned his laptop screen to Kyle. “Alright, Romeo, brainpower on exec slide now.” To Kyle’s irritation, he hummed the song again as he worked.
Kyle clicked through a few slides. “If you don’t shut up, I’m gonna throw you out the window. Been meaning to get the glass changed.”
Evan was not listening. With an imbecile smile on his face, he clutched his ribs like he was having a seizure. He started to belt the song lyrics and though he had a terrific singing voice, he made it as shrill as possible.
“That’s it, maggot. You’ll kaput on the street and they’ll be collecting little pieces of you till dawn.”
Unrepentant, Evan sang on.
