Tyler buried his face in his hands.
Alicia and I sat side-by-side at our desk, frantically searching through Tyler’s fucked-up code for the bug. Her lips were compressed and pale, and a droplet of sweat trickled from her temple down the flawless skin of her cheek. I’d never seen her this rattled, not even when she’d been struck by a hailstone minutes before her first meeting with Cooper and me.
When we hit the bottom of the program, Alicia barked, “Again. From the top.”
I rubbed my eyes. They ached almost as much as my toes in my fuck-you-Cooper boots. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’? We have to find the bug and fix it.”
“We’re out of time. Cooper texted me he’s coming up.”
Alicia’s eyes widened. “He’s here? Already?”
“Promptness is kind of his thing.”
“Shit,” she muttered. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
She wasn’t so perfect now with the sweat trickling down her neck and her lipstick chewed off. I wished there was anything I could do to help—Cooper was going to rip all of us a new one, including Alicia, who was blameless in the mess—but the only thing that’d piss him off more than this code fiasco was if we made him wait.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler said again. “I was trying to help. I felt bad about coming in late on Friday, and I decided to work over the weekend, add some new functionality. I didn’t think I’d fuck it up so bad.”
He’d already been in the office when I arrived that morning. His bloodshot eyes, stubbled chin, and grayish skin indicated he’d been there at least overnight. “You should’ve called someone, man. Me or Alicia. Or Amit. We’d have come in and helped you.”
“I thought I could fix it.” He laid his face on the desk. He lifted his head and dropped it with a thunk. “I should’ve been able to fix it.”
“We’re a team, Tyler.” Alicia’s words came out strangled through her clenched jaw. “We work together, not alone.”
My chest tight, I stood. “Let’s go in.”
Slowly, the team gathered up their laptops and notepads. Tyler took his satchel like he expected to be fired on the spot and walked out of the building.
When I entered the conference room, Cooper looked up from his phone. “Jay!” He smiled, the real one he saved for friends. Then he caught my expression, and his smile dimmed. He raised his eyebrows, and I shook my head a fraction.
He squared his jaw and stood, offering handshakes all around. Tyler, who went last, wiped his hand on his jeans before offering it to Cooper. He looked everywhere but in Cooper’s eyes.
“Okay.” Cooper took a seat at the end with a direct view of the screen. “Show me what you’ve got.”
No one moved to connect a laptop to the display cable. In fact, no one moved at all. Silence hung in the room for three…four…five seconds.
I stood. Might as well take the blame. It wasn’t Alicia’s fault. She’d tried to keep Tyler from taking that sticky note out of the backlog. I was the one who’d encouraged him. Besides, Tyler had only followed the example I’d set when I’d tried to show Alicia up by finishing our module solo. At the root of it, I was the one who’d fucked up. As usual. “Cooper, I—”
“We don’t have anything to show you, Mr. Fallon.” All eyes swiveled to Alicia, who’d also risen from her chair. “I’m still trying to set norms with the team, and there was a miscommunication. I miscommunicated. The code isn’t ready today. We should have something prepared in a couple of days, and I can schedule a remote demonstration then.”
That vein throbbed at Cooper’s temple. The one that told me he was about to lose it. “I’m here now. Today. You couldn’t have told me this on Friday?”
I paced along the wall. Fuck. He was building to one of his blow-ups.
Her lip trembled. “I’m sorry. We thought we’d be prepared, but at the last minute, unexpectedly, we—we weren’t.”
He splayed his hands on the table the way he did to keep from balling them into fists. “I’m sure you understand how disappointed I am. And you’ll all ensure nothing like this happens again.” He raked that icy blue stare over the team that encircled him. Tyler flinched. “But for today, this time will be best spent working on the code. Back to work, everyone. Alicia, a word.”
I stabbed my hands into my pockets and paced back toward the table. She shouldn’t have to take the brunt of Cooper’s wrath alone. She’d stood up for us although it hadn’t been her fault. She was being fucking noble. I’d never done a noble thing in my life.
“Cooper, I—” I started again.
But, not bothering to look at me, he said, “Jackson, you, too. We’ll talk later.”
I glanced at Alicia’s pale face. Would she be able to handle it? Of course she would. She could match Cooper, word for cold, calculating word. Still, guilt gnawed my insides. “Alicia—”
She held up a hand. “Go on, Jackson.”
I slunk out of the room, following the team.
When Alicia rejoined us half an hour later, she looked like her normal, not-a-hair-out-of-place self. Maybe he’d gone easy on her since she’d been on the job only two weeks. She set down her laptop and joined us where we’d all huddled around Tyler’s workstation. Leaning over as if to get a better view of the screen, she whispered in my ear, “He wants to see you in his office.”
My dread at her words battled the thrill of her breath on my skin. Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck and traveled down my arms. I brushed down the hairs that stuck up. What the fuck? My body had reacted like she’d told me she wanted to suck my dick, not that I was due for a very different kind of tongue-lashing.
No doubt Cooper had seen through Alicia’s admission of guilt and knew I’d been the one who’d acted like Batman, some kind of lone avenger. I was glad. Alicia shouldn’t take the blame for what was my fault.
I nodded at Alicia, holding her gaze for a second longer than I should’ve, trying to convey my gratitude for what she’d done. She’d been right, and I’d been wrong. It was time to let go of our petty rivalry. It was time for me to let it go and let her do what she’d come here to do: lead. Otherwise, we weren’t going to make it.
She straightened, and I rolled my chair a few feet away from her before I stood up, discreetly adjusted my jeans, and headed to the executive offices.
Holding his phone in one hand, Cooper beckoned me in with the other. He held up a finger to show me he was almost done. He barked out a few more commands, thanked his assistant, and hung up.
“Jackson.”
Uh-oh. He’d used my full name twice in a row. Not a good sign.
“Ms. Weber seemed to be under the impression that I didn’t have anything better to do than drag my old bones all the way from California to Texas to hear her mea culpa. I’d have expected you to disabuse her of that notion.”
“You’re not old.” I crossed my arms. “You’re the same age as me. Thirty-two.”
“That’s what you want to say? Not, ‘I’m sorry we wasted your time, Cooper’? Not, ‘We fucked up, and I will personally ensure we turn this project around’?”
Anger boiled inside me, but on the outside, I shrugged. “If you’re going to tell me what to say, why do I even need to be part of this conversation? You could’ve pulled up a picture of me on your phone, yelled at it, and left me alone to fix the fucking code.”
“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re still acting like a lone programmer, and you haven’t integrated into the team.”
“Is that what Alicia said?” She didn’t seem the type to rat me out, especially after she’d publicly taken the fall for all of us.
“No, but I’ve known you for almost fifteen years. I can guess what happened.”
“We just fucking started. You can’t expect us to get it done in two weeks.”
“You’ve been here, working on this code, for three months. How much more time do you need to sort out the team and figure out what the fuck you’re doing?” His voice had risen to a volume that must have carried outside the office.
The hot wave of anger broke through the dam I’d built. I slammed a hand on his desk. “More fucking time. You threw this curveball, a new project lead, at us, and we’re adjusting. I’m trying. We’re all trying. I’m going to try harder, okay?”
“Okay.” He lifted his hands, palms out. “That’s all I wanted to hear. But next time, I need to see results. Good ones. We can’t afford to fuck around any longer. Understand me?”
“Yeah, I get it.” My breathing slowed, and the heat in my chest slowly dissipated.
“You have plans for lunch?” That was Cooper. His anger went from zero to sixty faster than my Lamborghini Aventador, but it evaporated just as quickly.
“Yeah. Some fucker’s making me work through lunch to fix the goddamn code.”
“Not today. Today your best friend wants to take you out. Then you can fix the goddamn code.”
“Fine.” For the first time that day, I smiled. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten.”
On the way back to our work area to tell the team I was leaving for lunch, I heard familiar voices coming from the conference room where we’d had our asses handed to us earlier.
“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. Sorry, so freaking sorry. And now Jay’s getting his a— his behind chewed out, and it’s my fault. I guess he was mad at you, too.” Tyler’s voice broke.
“It’s not your fault,” Alicia said so gently even I felt better. “Like I said in the review, it’s mine. I let you guys think you could break our process. I took the easy way out. I won’t do it again. And you won’t go all Lone Ranger on me again, will you?”
“No. Promise.”
Fuck. These were things I should’ve said to him. But here was Alicia, being a leader. Not like Cooper with his flashfire anger or like me with my jokes, but with gentle words that actually made Tyler feel better. She was a pro. I patted my pockets for a notepad.
“You’re a good programmer.” Behind the frosted glass, Alicia’s form moved closer to Tyler. Was she touching his back? I wished I could see what she was doing. So I could take notes on her coaching methods. Not because I wished she’d rub my back and make it all better. “You’ve got a lot of potential. You just need to work on your discipline. I’d like you to partner up with Amit again next sprint. He’s steady and careful, and he can teach you a lot.”
Unlike me. I was a fuckup who couldn’t teach anyone anything. I’d tried to turn it all around—the project, myself—and still failed. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I shuffled to our workspace, told Kevin I was headed to lunch, and walked back toward the stairs, keeping my eyes on the hardwood planks to avoid checking out the conference room where Alicia was making Tyler a better programmer, no expensive certification or thick coding guides required.
“Jay!” Before I had a chance to look up, I was enveloped in Jamila’s jasmine scent and crushed by her embrace. I hugged her back.
“What are you doing here?” I stepped back, taking in her perfectly pressed, plum-colored business suit and cherry-red silk blouse. The colors blazed against her dark skin.
She grinned. “I told you I was coming to check on you.”
“You didn’t come all the way from California to check on me.” God, I hoped not. If so, I was in deeper shit than I’d thought.
“Looks like I needed to. Those boots? Just no, honey.” She shook her head.
I glanced down at them. If only I could give them up. But Cooper hadn’t gotten the message yet. “When in Austin, do as the Austonians do, right?”
“Austinites, Jay.”
“Whatever. Why are you here?”
“I’m giving a talk tomorrow at the Texas Women Engineers’ Association. I flew out with Cooper a day early so I could check in with Alicia. And you. You treating her right?”
“Um—”
“Jamila!” Alicia jogged up to us, arms wide. For Jamila. What would it be like to have her look at me like that, open her arms to me? Heaven. I scowled and shoved my hands into my pockets.
The women hugged, and then Jamila stepped back. “This one’s behaving himself, then?”
Alicia’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t think you’ve met. This is Jackson Jones.”
Jamila roared out a laugh. “She’s got your number, Jay.” Hooking her elbow through Alicia’s, she pivoted in her red-soled heels and strode toward the stairs. “Now, tell me everything.”
I watched the tops of their heads, one blond, one black, disappear down the stairs. Two smart, successful women. One liked me—or at least fondly indulged me—and the other despised me. Especially after my role in today’s disaster. And after being reamed out by Cooper.
I scratched my beard. Alicia had known me for only two weeks, and she already knew what a fuckup I was. She’d categorized me as an obstacle to be dealt with and corrected. Not an equal or a partner. And she was right: she’d stepped up as the leader today, not me. I could learn a lot from her.
I needed to keep my head down, do what I was told, do the fucking work. Act like her teammate, not a rival. Maybe she’d still hate me, but at least I wouldn’t fuck up anything else.