NINE
Suddenly, my life was incredibly full. Or rather, incredibly busy. There was no time to be the shoulder to cry on at work or the problem solver to my mum. There were no third Thursdays out for fancy dinners and personal growth. There was work, and when there wasn’t work, there was Dylan, with Priya and Ben running interference trying to keep things friendly, or at the very least civil.
Tola had wanted us to continue doing our other Fixer Upper activities. After all, we’d been booked in for months in advance, but she was taking the lead on that so I could focus on Nicki and Dylan.
“I’m not as good at pretending to be someone else,” she said, sighing on the phone to me on a Wednesday evening, as I folded my laundry and wondered whether to buy another dehumidifier for the peeling paint on the walls. God, I hated my flat.
“That’s because you’re so excellent at being you,” I replied, mobile in the crook of my neck. Watching Tola try to wear nude makeup and dress conventionally was almost heartbreaking. It was like all the life was sucked out of her.
“Well, hopefully things will calm down soon. They’ve been easy plays, anyway. More career motivation and more thoughtfulness. The last one was super easy. The wife sent a bottle of champers—I’ll keep it to share with you.”
I laughed, giving up on the laundry and heading over to my kitchenette, filling a pan with water, and setting it on to boil. I’d been in my little studio for years now, and I knew I was lucky because it was rare to be able to afford to live alone in London. But still, the more I thought about Jason and all those exes with their houses and spouses, the lower I felt when I came home every day. The Artex ceilings and lack of natural light were the worst features, along with the damp. I’d tried to make it homey: a bright squashy blue sofa, with yellow cushions, a multicolored tapestry I’d found in a charity shop that hid the big crack along the back wall.
But it was only meant to be temporary, and that’s how it felt. I hadn’t made a home, I’d made a place to sleep in between workdays. I got my single wineglass out of the cupboard and narrowed my eyes. I was thirty-three, and I was still living like a student. And not in the fun way.
Tola’s voice pulled me from my irritation.
“And how’s things with the Boy Wonder? Were you terrorized today?”
“I sent an email with creative templates for presentations and some research I did on the firm they’re pitching to,” I said lightly. “Dylan sent an email that said thanks, so I guess that’s a win.”
“What did the email actually say?” she probed, and I laughed.
“Literally just the word ‘thanks,’ no greeting, no sign-off. No full stop.”
“Man knows how to hold a grudge, apparently. He still pretending he doesn’t know you?”
“Yep. I’ve got a full day with them day after tomorrow, so I guess we’ll see how well that holds up. Felix is pissed about my time off. Says it could affect my chances of the promotion.”
I could almost hear her frown. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, babe. I’ll have a chat with Irene in HR; she’s partial to a caramel macchiato and a bit of office goss. But apart from that, the work itself is going okay?”
“You know,” I said, almost incredulous, “it’s shockingly easy to prep them for the presentation. I’m loving it. Is that bad? Am I, like, some evil, power-mad master manipulator or something?”
“You’ve got years of experience in a high-pressure environment, you practically run this place without getting any of the credit, and you still deal with Hunter’s bullshit with a smile on your face,” Tola said, before pausing dramatically. “So obviously, you’re a psychopath.”
I snorted. “Good thing I’ve got you to keep me grounded.”
“You kidding? You’re a goddess in my eyes, all hail Aly, queen of the long game. We will be toasting your promotion and Hunter’s demise by the end of the month.”
“If there is any justice in the world.” I sighed, suddenly unsure. “They like him.”
“They’re idiots. You are a ballbuster and a go-getter and whatever other stupid shit they say about ambitious women. If being paid to turn your ex–best friend into a proposal Ken doll for a social media socialite was what it took for you to finally recognize you’re a goddess, I’m on board.”
Tola was a one-woman cheer squad. She was also sensitive to caffeine and I could tell it had clearly been a “three Red Bulls” sort of day.
I snorted. “Okay, well, thank you for the support. Let’s see how the next meeting goes. Dylan might push me over the edge. Either figuratively or literally off the building, the way these calls have been going.”
“Call me if you need backup,” she said seriously, then paused. “But not tonight, because I am going dancing, and I’m gonna pull someone fit who won’t remember my name in the morning. Just the way I like it.”
I laughed, and we said our good-byes. I considered pouring myself a glass of wine in my sad single glass. God, just going out to dance and kiss someone because you wanted to. What would that even feel like?
I needed to be more like Tola, even if tonight that just meant eating twice the recommended portion of pasta, simply because I wanted to. Just as I started crawling through my cupboards in search of carbohydrates, my phone rang. A number I didn’t know always made me nervous.
“Hello?”
“Do you always answer your phone like an ax murderer might be on the other end?” a male voice asked, and I struggled to place it, heart suddenly racing.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Ben! From EasterEgg Development? Good to know I made an impression.”
“Hi, sorry! I just wasn’t expecting a call!” I went into problem-solving mode. “Is everything okay? We’re still booked in for our session this week?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of what I was calling about. I thought it might be good if we got together and did some prep beforehand. Maybe tonight? With some really toxic cocktails?”
Oh. That was unexpected.
“Um, Ben, that really sounds lovely, but I’m not sure it would be professional—”
He burst out laughing. “Oh god, no, that wasn’t—”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to—” I could feel my whole body erupting into a blush, and I cringed. Damn Tola and her pep talks.
“Aly,” Ben cut in, “you are a beautiful and interesting woman, and were I ever to stray to the dark side, it would be an honor. But I like men. This was more of a dastardly scheme for me to give you some of that important information that I don’t think Dylan’s going to mention.”
“Tonight?”
“Have you got plans?” he asked, and I looked at my saucepan of boiling water on the stove, visualized eating alone at the breakfast bar again.
“Could there be some food included in these drinks plans?” I asked and heard him chuckle.
“My kinda gal. Meet you at seven.”
—
It is terribly important to make friends with people who know the best places in the city, and it was clear straightaway that Ben was one of those people. La Bamba was hidden down the backstreets from Embankment, a cute Mexican affair, with outdoor seating and bulbs strung across the courtyard. A warm breeze promised summer was on the way, and he stood up from the table when I arrived.
“I always think tapas is the friendliest way to eat whilst you’re drinking,” he said in greeting and kissed me on both cheeks. “What do you think?”
Two huge margaritas arrived at the table, and I half closed my eyes as I sipped at mine—perfect.
“I think you’re in the running for my new favorite person. Thank you for this, definitely beats my sad bowl of pasta in front of old Friends reruns.”
“Hey, sometimes those nights can be good, too.” He raised his drink and clinked it against mine. “Downtime is important. Most people never figure out how to be on their own, so when they’re in a couple that’s all they are.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about Dylan?”
“How ever did you guess?” He snorted, pretending to be looking at the menu. “I’ve been with him a while, and before Nicki it was Delilah, and before Delilah it was Nadia, and before that . . .”
“Okay, I get the picture.” I frowned, wondering why that made my stomach hurt a little.
“He just doesn’t know how to be by himself. He attaches himself to women who look at him and see . . . I don’t know, not him, but . . .”
“They see potential,” I said sadly. Oh, you have no idea. “I’ve been there myself.”
“On which side?”
“Both.” I tried to smile. “It’s a powerful drug.”
“That’s why I don’t date casually.”
I laughed. “Then how do you get to date seriously?”
“I take my time and pick the right person. I’ve got my life almost exactly how I want it. I’ve got my lovely flat and amazing friends. With your help, my sometimes great job is about to become absolutely fantastic all the damn time. I’ve got my puppy and my pottery class, and I’ve finally found an eye cream I’m happy with.” Ben winked and tucked a strand of hair back into place. “I need to find a person who complements that. Someone who wants to be a part of it.”
“You sound like my friend Tola. But as brilliant as that sounds, all self-love and self-worth, I’ve gotta wonder, do you ever meet anyone? Does anyone ever seem worth bringing home?”
Ben laughed and made a face. “No, not really.”
Talk turned to the menu and we ordered, with Ben chatting to the waitress and choosing the wine to follow our too-soon-finished cocktails. It was nice to be taken care of.
“So what’s your first impression of Dylan?”
Tread carefully, Aly.
“He is clearly someone who cares about his company and his team. And he’s proud and wants to protect what he’s built. And maybe he doesn’t want someone his girlfriend hired messing around in his business. Or knowing that he’s not quite the big success story he’s let her think he is . . . ?” I raised my voice in a question, but Ben fought a smile and looked away, coy. “I can get that. We want the people we love to be impressed by us. But I also think he’s scared.”
Ben picked at the tortilla chips on the table, munching one thoughtfully. “Nicki’s never really gotten what we’re about. She sees everything as an opportunity for either money or recognition. But the app is about connecting teens with mental health support in a variety of formats. It’s about doing something good. Sure, we want to get paid, so we can keep making stuff, but we didn’t get into this to get rich and famous. But the longer Dylan’s around her . . .”
“He forgets?” I offered, and Ben shook his head.
“No, it’s not that, he just . . . he ties himself up in knots trying to make it seem like he’s exactly what she wants.”
Apparently, he’s not doing a good enough job.
“How do you mean?”
Ben cringed, and I almost felt bad watching the war wage across his features. Was he betraying his friend to a near stranger, or helping their business get the support it needed?
“It wasn’t too bad with the others,” he started, swirling his wine around his glass. “They were normal. He was perfect with their parents, sent flowers for no reason. It was like he’d been given a user manual, but the truth is, Dylan just likes making people happy. And obviously, eventually he couldn’t keep it up, or they’d push for more, or he’d have a bad day and they didn’t know how to deal with it, and then the cycle would start again.
“But Nicki, with her family, her upbringing, her influencer lifestyle? The fifty-quid flowers weren’t going to impress someone like Nicki. So things got more expensive, holidays went on credit cards, and suddenly we moved from our basic basement office to a swanky place by the river and he’s wearing designer suits and talking about being a ‘tech entrepreneur.’ ”
I winced. “He’s in debt.”
Ben looked down at the table. “I think so. I’m just worried about him. The guy’s been my friend for years, and I’m worried he’s losing himself. Until you turned up, I’d never seen him snap at anyone, ever.”
“I . . . clearly bring up some stuff for him,” I said. Understatement of the decade. “And that’s okay, I can handle it.”
Ben nodded and tapped the table again.
“Was that what you wanted to tell me? About the people pleasing and the debt?”
Ben looked guilty, raising his eyes to the sky. “Nope, I’m just giving up secrets left, right, and center this evening. What a good friend.”
“Hey,” I said, getting his attention, “you seem like a great friend, one who wants to look out for his mate and his business. It’s your livelihood, too, after all. Whatever you say will be kept in complete confidence.”
“He won’t want me telling you.”
“Is it going to make a difference to how you approach the big business deal?”
“It might explain Dylan’s . . . hesitance?” Ben paused. “And attitude.”
I gestured for him to continue, and then rested my chin on my hand as I sipped my red wine, giving Ben my full attention.
“In the early days, EasterEgg was Dylan and one other guy, Peter. Peter got Dylan into coding, helped train him up. Dyl had this idea for an app, something he’d been fiddling with since he dropped out of uni—”
“Dropped out of uni?!” I yelped, then winced. “Sorry, that sounded judgmental. Just surprising.”
I’d spent months helping him choose where to go, what to study. When he got his acceptance, he’d grabbed me round the waist and spun me round in the school library, yelling in celebration. Even the librarian had smiled, despite the noise. He’d been so excited for his future.
And he hadn’t even stuck it out?
“He said he lasted a few weeks, but his heart wasn’t in it. He ended up moving to a flatshare, living off his loan, and volunteering at the library to teach old people how to use computers. I imagine he was pretty good at it, he’s quite patient. Most of the time. With most people.”
“I can see that,” I said politely. “So what happened?”
“He and Peter started working on this app, and I joined them soon after. It was called HomeSafe. It was a way for parents to stay connected to their kids, track their phones but with permission. It wouldn’t show you exactly where they were, but it would give you an approximation and ping off registered safe spaces. Like a friend’s or a relative’s.”
“Cool,” I said, immediately thinking of promotions. I could sell something like that, no problem.
“Yeah, Dylan was super passionate about it. He said it was something from his school days that prompted the idea. Something about calling a friend’s mum when she got too drunk, the shame and embarrassment of it. The fear in the mother’s voice. He didn’t want parents to have to worry anymore. He had this idea that if parents could see where their kids were, safe at the party, or still within the school gates, maybe they wouldn’t rush to pick them up in a panic. It would be safer for everyone.”
My heart clenched a little at that. I wondered if he knew about Dylan’s mother’s accident. Probably not. And that mother out of her mind with worry when her daughter didn’t come home? That was my mama. Dylan had been righting wrongs after I’d disappeared.
“That’s . . . that’s brilliant,” I said softly. “It sounds like a wonderful idea.”
“It was, and the app was so good,” Ben said. “We were killing it, honestly. We were all in our twenties, full of energy, pulling all-nighters. Living on energy drinks and frozen pizzas. We wanted this thing to be the best it could be, Dylan most of all.
“We took on more developers, and it really felt like we were onto a winner, you know? It was like when you’re a teenager, hanging out with your friends and laughing and creating something. Having fun.”
He paused, as if trying to figure out how to tell the rest of the story without getting anyone in trouble.
“So what went wrong?”
“Peter was really desperate for us to properly pitch the app. Or even just get it up on the store and charge for it, make changes as we went. But Dylan wanted it to be perfect. Every time we got close to being ready, he’d find something else to work on or want to add another feature. He was just never ready to let it go.”
Ben shook his head. “We were all exhausted, stressed, no money coming in. He and Peter had this huge argument and they parted ways. A few of the other developers went with him, tired of working and never seeing anything come of it. And about two weeks later we realized Peter had gone and sold the app to one of the bigger developers. Got himself a job out of it, too.”
“Did you guys sue him for breach of contract, intellectual rights? Copyright? Noncompete?” I asked, thinking, Oh, poor Dylan.
“We would have . . . if we’d had contracts or anything official. There was nothing to stop him. Whoever hadn’t left at that point quit. There was no money, no project, and no hope. It was just me and Dyl at that point.”
“Why didn’t you leave, too?” I asked. “Clearly you’re talented. You got screwed over.”
“We got screwed because Dylan cared too much and trusted too much.” Ben shrugged. “I’d rather work for someone like that than someone who’d use me without a second thought. He made a mistake, but he deserved my loyalty. So I went back to bartending, and he went back to working in construction during the day, and a few months later we turned up again and started pitching ideas. Starting from scratch. That’s where the teenage mental health app came from.”
“I can see why you wanted me to know,” I said, tapping the rim of my glass.
“He may pretend everything’s all right, but that’s because he can’t afford to be seen as a failure. He can’t afford to let being afraid stop him from making this work. And I don’t think he will . . .” Ben said, but trailed off, his eyes softening slightly.
“But?”
Ben looked torn, taking a moment to clean his glasses on the bottom of his shirt, and then taking a huge bite of the last taquito so he didn’t have to talk, focusing on chewing. The poor guy looked miserable. I waited.
“The Nicki thing worries me. He’s so busy playing Mr. Businessman, he forgets to make the choices that don’t look good. The boring, unsexy stuff. We didn’t need to be in that office. We could update our website so we don’t look like a huge company. He could stop walking around with a smile on his face like he hasn’t got a worry in the world. He needs to be honest.”
“Sometimes you need that smoke and mirrors when you’re making a deal. Make them think you’re a bigger fish, get a bigger payday?”
Ben shrugged. “I guess.”
I frowned, trying to figure it out. “Is he trying to build an online brand, like Nicki? Influencer stuff?”
“No, at least that would be useful!” Ben exclaimed, then laughed at himself. “He completely takes a back seat when it comes to her life. Like he’s afraid of the limelight.”
“He loves her, right?” I asked before I could stop myself, and then noticed Ben’s raised eyebrow.
“Why?”
“Because . . . a lot of men would find it helpful to have a famous girlfriend when they’re pitching for the deal of their career.” Switch it around, take the pressure off you.
“He’s not like that, he doesn’t use people. He’s a good man. I know you haven’t seen much of that . . .”
“I’ve seen enough.” I smiled and patted his hand. “If I judged every man on how he reacted when I came in to point out his flaws, I’d never date anyone.” Well, that joke was a little too close to the bone. “Tell me: you guys all have contracts now, right?” I crossed my fingers and smiled widely, hoping to distract him.
“We do.”
I exhaled. “Good.”
“But only because I wrote them and me and Priya signed them. Dyl doesn’t have one.” So close.
“Why the hell not?”
“He says he trusts us.”
“So he wants to play the part without having any semblance of a real business?” I put my head in my hands. “Ben, I’m glad we did this, don’t get me wrong, but you’re ruining my life.”
Or rather, Dylan is.
I lifted my head. “Real talk—is there anything else you think I need to know, about this situation, about Nicki, about Dylan?”
“Just that . . . well, he’s a really good guy. I know he’s not acting like it right now, but I promise you, he really is.”
“I know,” I said gently, patting his hand. “And believe me, I am just as motivated as he is that this works out. Maybe more so.”
Ben held his glass up in a cheers to my dedication and to our success. To being phoenixes, singed wings and all.