see the back of Alicia Weber. Not only because those red slingback heels and black pencil skirt did fantastic things to her ass. It meant I could get a minute of peace without the polished pink tips of those long fingers flying over the keyboard, without the wispy threads of her hair that escaped her bun at her nape teasing me, tempting me to touch them. Without the whisper of her ruby silk blouse setting my teeth on edge.
Without that judgmental set to her pink lips, showing she found me lacking, just like everyone else.
A babysitter.
Had Cooper told her I needed one? That she needed to watch me to ensure I didn’t fuck up the project? That, if left to my own devices, I’d destroy the company I’d built, like some two-year-old with a tower of blocks?
Had my best friend told her he didn’t trust me?
He didn’t need to tell her that. Her presence at Synergy communicated that, loud and clear.
My hands poised over the keyboard, I gazed at the code we’d written that day. She was pretty good. Not as practiced as me, but who was? I’d been coding since I could read. Since Dad had given me that old desktop computer and a book on the Linux programming language. Still, together we’d produced more code in one day—a short one—than I’d done all last week. Something about working elbow-to-elbow with someone else, that subtle sense of competition, kept my brain from wandering. Why hadn’t I thought to do it before?
Oh, right. Does not play well with others. I’d been getting that message since before I could read.
“Ah, Jackson?” It was the new guy looming over my desk. The one with glasses. Tyler. He still had to unlearn some of the crap they’d taught him in college, but he had potential. I hadn’t hated some of his code.
“Yeah?”
“Is Alicia still here? I had a question.”
“No, she left. She has to leave early on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” And what was up with that? As a consultant, she could set her own hours, but I was sure Cooper had given her the same message as me—this project can’t fail—so why not rearrange her schedule of manicures or girls’ nights out or volunteer work with underprivileged puppies or meetings of the future dictators’ club? Where the fuck did she go?
“Oh, okay,” Tyler said. “Could you—”
I stood. “She’ll be back tomorrow. You can ask her then. I’m getting a coffee.” I tucked my laptop under my arm and strode toward the stairs. I’d figure it out. And if I couldn’t, I knew someone who could shed light on the Alicia enigma.
In the small local coffee shop a few blocks away—not at the Starbucks across the street where anyone would think to look for me—I settled at a corner table painted in bold flowers.
I opened my laptop and flopped into the chair. Alicia Weber University of Texas Austin, I typed into the search box.
I found her middle name, Diane. The dean’s list for every semester she’d spent at school. The scholarships she’d won. The programming prizes. Her page on a professional social network that listed her previous employers and projects. No wonder Cooper thought she was better than I was. She was a shining star.
I picked up my phone.
“Jackson! What’s going on?”
God, I missed Marlee. She was the one friendly face I could count on at work. Who accepted me for who I was, fuckups and all. “Remind me again why you aren’t out here with me.”
“You know I can’t leave Dad.”
I knew. Still, I was a fucking selfish bastard. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s good. He gave a talk at the Young Astronomers’ Club the other day. He did pretty well.”
Even over the phone, I caught the slight hesitation in her voice. “What happened?”
“Nothing. He just mixed up Betelgeuse with Antares. And one of the kids had to correct him.”
“Oh. But that’s an easy mistake, right? Aren’t they both…red?”
“Good Galileo. You’ve been listening to me.”
“I always listen to you, Marlee.”
“That’s a damn lie, but I’ll allow it today since you actually called me. Why did you call me, Jackson?”
“Just to hear your voice?”
She made a sound like the buzzer at a basketball game. “Try again, boss.”
“Fine. What do you know about this new consultant we’ve hired? Alicia Weber.”
“The one Cooper hired to save your ass, you mean?”
I winced. “He said that?”
“He didn’t have to say it. Cooper’s been pulling his hair out about that project. I tried to give him status updates, but when you don’t call me for weeks, it’s kind of hard.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I should’ve—”
“It’s okay. It’s done. Alicia’s there now. What’s she like?”
“Annoying. Bossy. Brilliant.”
“What was that last word? You mumbled, but it sounded like you said ‘brilliant.’”
“I did, okay? She’s smart. I feel a little…irrelevant.”
“No, Jackson. You’re important. Cooper needs you there. The company needs you. Don’t disappear, okay?”
“Disappear? Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t give up and hide, okay? Don’t run off to Amsterdam or Monaco or Rio or freaking Antarctica. You’re important. You’re worthy. People rely on you. Say it.”
Too bad I hadn’t had a Marlee back in school when I’d been the slowest kid in the class, unable to focus on what the teacher was saying or what I was supposed to read. The other kids had called me stupid. The best way I’d found to cope had been to laugh it off. Pretend I didn’t care. Then run away and hide my tears. Once I left school, the world was full of ways to show I didn’t give a fuck—booze, raves, yacht parties, bungee jumps—to hide how much I did.
I mumbled, “I’m important. I’m worthy. People rely on me.”
“Good job. I miss you, you know. Work isn’t nearly as fun when you’re not here.”
“My work isn’t nearly as fun without you, either.”
“Aw. But remember what I said: no hiding. Make friends. Go out and have fun. I bet Austin has amazing food.”
“Yeah, it’s not bad.”
“You’re remembering to eat, aren’t you?”
Shit, she sounded like my mother. Not my mother, but someone’s mother who worried about more than her family’s perfect appearance. Without a mother of her own, Marlee had taken on the caretaking role at home for her dad. And since she’d joined Synergy a few years ago, she’d done the same for me, even though she was younger than me.
She must’ve interpreted my silence as a lack of recent nourishment. “I’m going to set a reminder on your calendar for mealtimes. Anything else you need, boss?”
“Yeah. If you get a minute, could you check up on Sam? I don’t think she’s sleeping.”
“You got it. I’ll drop by the university tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you again soon, okay?”
“Yeah, right. Take care of yourself, Jackson.”
“You, too. Tell your dad I said hi.”
I stood, stretched, and went to the counter, where I ordered a sandwich. While I waited for it, I made another call.
“Hey, Jay.” Jamila’s familiar husky voice came through my wireless earbuds.
“Why the fuck do you sound so smug?”
“I may have made a bet with a certain friend of ours about how long it’d take you to call me.”
“Cooper had more faith in me than you did?”
“My money was on our girl Alicia.”
“So you did send her to be my kryptonite.” What kind of game was Jamila playing? Cooper had said jobs were on the line.
“No, honey. Don’t get your cables in a twist. I sent her because I think you two will work well together. She’s smart, right? A stellar coder?”
“She’s not as good as me. Or you. Better than Cooper, though.”
Jamila’s voice gentled. “She doesn’t have to be as good as you. All she has to do is bring out your best. And the best of the rest of the team.”
Before Alicia, that had been my job. And as Marlee had pointed out, and Cooper before her, I’d fucked it up.
“Look, I’m trying, okay? I just needed more time. Not some Stepford programmer to take over my team and make me look bad.”
“From what I understand, Jay, you’re out of time. Alicia is there to save your project and make you look good. When are you going to realize that you have so much more to offer than your programming skills? That it’s time for you to step up and lead?”
The heat that had bubbled inside me ever since Alicia forced us to do goddamned pair programming boiled over. “When Cooper fucking gives me a chance to lead and stops putting babysitters in charge of me!”
My own labored breathing hissed through my earbuds. Jamila said nothing but left my angry words—unfair words, really, since he’d given me three months to prove myself and I’d blown it—echoing in our ears.
“Jay,” she said at last in a voice so soft I put my hands over my earbuds to block out the other sounds in the coffee shop. “Alicia is a professional, a damn good one, and her job is to get the team working together to produce results. Including you. She won’t be your babysitter unless you act like a child.”
Serious Jay hadn’t worked, so it was time to pull out fuckboy Jay. I tried to make my voice light, careless. “Me, act like a child?”
“I’m going to tell you this once. Don’t fuck this up for her. She needs this job, this testimonial, to build her business. I’m going to be back out there in two weeks, and I’m going to check in with Alicia. If I find out you’re sabotaging her—”
“No one said anything about sabotage.”
“If I find out you’re fucking with her, I will kick your ass. You know I’ll do it.”
“God, Jamila.” She wouldn’t actually kick my ass. But that tongue of hers would make my ears bleed for a week.
She gave me a sample of her ass-kicking tone. “Am I understood?”
“Loud and clear.”
“I really do think you’ll be great together.”
A few more productive days like today, and they’d all realize they didn’t need me at all. Cooper would figure out I was more trouble than I was worth, and we’d have a replay of what’d happened during the IPO. But this time I’d be out on my ass. Completely, not only demoted.
Not. Going. To. Happen.
“Still there, Jay?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”
“’Kay. Bye.”
I let my head fall forward into my hands so I didn’t have to look at my screen that showed a photo of Alicia in her cap and gown with her honors medallion and cord.
Cooper had told me to do three things: produce good code on time, earn the respect of the team, and some bullshit about working together. I’d show him. All he really needed was for me to produce good code on time. I’d do that. And I didn’t need help from fucking Alicia Diane Weber.