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Nyota was twenty-four, a law school prodigy, and a newly minted bankruptcy lawyer whose billable hours were worth more than my tragically high car insurance premium.
“As I was going to explain, private equities are…groups of people with lots and lots of money and spare time. And instead of frolicking in their hard-earned cash Scrooge McDuck–style, or leaving it in savings accounts like the two of you—” “Bold of you to assume I have savings,” Tisha muttered. “—they use it to buy other companies.” “And they bought Kline?” I asked.
Anyway, when Florence founded Kline, she got a big loan. But now, whoever gave her the money decided to sell that loan to Harkness.”
“Which means that now Kline owes the money to Harkness?”
“What about our personal projects? Employees’ patents?”
“It’s something that makes produce stay fresher. Longer.”
“This is your project? Your patent? And you have an agreement that guarantees you ownership of this tech?” “Yes. But if Kline changes hands—” “As long as the agreement is in writing, you’re good.”
Florence. Brilliant, resourceful Florence. She was Kline. She’d fought tooth and nail for it, and wasn’t going to allow anyone to take it from her.
“The first is to reassure all of you that your jobs are safe.”
I am still the CEO of this company, the board remains unchanged, and so does your employment situation.
Harkness has a long history of uplifting tech and healthcare startups, and that’s why they’re here.
“That’s quite a…I believe the scientific word for it is ‘coinkydink.’ ”
“You were able to maintain ownership of what you created,” I told Florence, truthful. “I thought it was very impressive.”
Thanks to scholarships and my PhD stipend, I’d recently graduated from poor to broke, which was downright inebriating, but I still wasn’t the type to turn down money.
I did begin an internship at Kline, and then another, and a few more. I worked in research and development, manufacturing, quality assurance, even logistics. Above all, I worked with Florence, which turned out to be life altering in the best possible way.
“According to legal, the most likely case is that Harkness bought the loan because they want full control of the fermentation tech.”
“Unfortunately, Rue, the tech is the company. More accurately, the patent is part of the collateral for the loan.”
“You met Eli Killgore last night?”
“We matched on an app, made plans to meet last night. Nothing physical happened.”
“We didn’t steal anything, Rue,” he told me, voice low. “What we did was buy a loan. And what we’re doing is making sure that our investment pays off. That’s it.”
I left the room, not quite sure where his disappointment ended and mine began.
Minami and Sul on one half of the sectional, being disgustingly in love, and Eli and Hark on the other, being…Disgustingly in love in your own manly, grunting way, Minami had once said. She was probably right.
“We matched online. An app. And met up last night.”
He was the angriest out of all of them, and the one most likely to let his rage coalesce into something sharp and focused. Nine years ago, Eli had been drowning in student debt while
epically failing at taking care of a tween, and Minami had been drowning in something else, something that made her struggle to get out of bed to brush her teeth in the morning. Hark had been the one to drag them out of their wallow, to go to the father he despised and ask—beg—for the firm’s starting capital. “This is how we get even,” he’d insisted, and he’d been right.
“Dr. Florence Kline,” Hark said now, like the words tasted bad in his mouth. “Have any of you talked to her yet? In private?”
she was a student athlete just like you,
“Rue Siebert and Tisha Fuli were hired by her a year ago. Your
girlfriend has no social media that I could find, so I looked up Tisha—who, by the way, is a rock star. Summa cum laude at Harvard, scholarships, awards. She’s hot shit, and judging by her unlocked Instagram account, she and Rue might be besties. Look at this #tbt pic of them. They can’t have been older than ten.”
“Love Tisha’s bio, by the way. ‘No im not looking for a sugar daddy and ur not Keanu reeves stop DMing me.’ Might steal it.
There was clearly a personal relationship here. Rue’s words today, her hostility, suddenly made much more sense.
Guess where your future wife got her PhD?” Minami asked. “Don’t say UT engineering, please.”
“Why don’t you go to her lab tomorrow, Eli? See what she’s working on. Snoop.”
“Minami. Her work is not even related to biofuels. She’s beyond irrelevant.” “What do we have to lose?”
“Give it two days, and she’ll have you sleep with her for info,”
But here he was, living with his sister. His sister, who used to accuse him of crimes against humanity and couldn’t get away from him soon enough at eighteen, had decided to “come back home” for her master’s,
“Did you see Hark today?” Maya’s tone was the personification of casual disinterest. Eli swallowed a snort and sat on the stool next to hers. “How is he?” “Still not age appropriate for you.” “I think he’s into me.” “I think it’s a felony.”
I don’t want to marry him. I just want to—” “Do not say it.” “—use his beautiful, former rower’s body.”
To eat I needed time and quiet. I needed to stare at my meal and know, feel, that more food would be waiting for me after the bite I’d just swallowed was gone. My issues were deep-rooted, multilayered, and impossible to explain to someone who hadn’t grown up hiding expired Twinkies in secret spots, who hadn’t discovered fresh produce only well into her teens, who hadn’t fought with a sibling over the last stale cracker.
“I’m about to start an experiment that will need constant monitoring. Your timing is not ideal.”
“I’ve created a new type of protective layer for fruit and vegetables. It’s an invisible substance that I put around produce. Then I measure whether it extends the shelf life of that produce in different types of situations.” “Such as?” “Today, humidity. So I’m not sure I can—” “What’s the layer made of?” This was pointless. I swallowed a sigh. “Its main ingredient comes from shells, but it’s combined with lactic acid.”
How will you test the efficacy of this chitosan-and-lactobacillus-based microbial coating, Rue?” I stiffened in surprise. How the hell did he even— “Will you be using salt solutions?” he continued when I didn’t reply. “Spraying?” “I…we have a humidity chamber.”
“I’m harvesting microbial growth every thirty minutes, and logging chamber conditions every fifteen, just to be safe.”
“What I heard is”—Tisha wagged a crab rangoon at me—“that you and Eli Killgore were engaged in a passionate, child-making embrace on the floor of the humidity chamber lab.”
“Did you guys know that Minami Oka has a doctorate in chemical engineering from Cornell?” I asked. “She was at UT at some point, too.” Tisha gasped. “No shit.”
“Your damn mouth,” he murmured, “is the most obscenely lovely thing I’ve ever had the burden of seeing.”
“Rue. It’s humbling, how bad I want
you.” His thumb stroked my nipple. It was instantly hard, and we both shuddered into another rich, frustrated kiss. Because this wasn’t close enough.
Eli covered his eyes, wondering how he’d ever thought that once was going to be enough.
“Uh-huh. Is that why you’re so clearly drunk at your workplace at six p.m.?” “It’s journal club.” He seemed intrigued. “You get drunk at journal club.” “Maybe.” I shrugged. My head swam. “The first rule of journal club is, don’t talk about journal club.”
