Zarley was no longer where he’d left her but standing by two empty seats at a table for ten near the front of the room. She waved; he waved back. He had the length of the place to negotiate before he could get to her and the rest of his plan to put in action. He should’ve come alone; he’d left her waiting too long. He hadn’t thought this through and it was an asshole move to leave her to fend for herself, even with Dev smoothing the way.
He made for Nerida. As head of marketing, she’d have been responsible for the official program tonight. She’d obviously been warned he was here.
“Hi, Reid.” She looked up from her tablet. “Good to see you. Surprising, but good.”
He dug Nerida, she was a straight talker, no bullshit. “I like the shoes.” She wore a fifties-style formal dress with a big poufy skirt to her knees with gym boots.
They both looked at her shoes. She shrugged. “I got no time to be glam tonight.”
“I need you to put me on the program to speak.”
“Oh. Er. No.”
“You can make it happen.”
“I don’t think so. Kuch and Owen have speeches, and we have a band, and the sculpture exhibition.” She lifted her eyes to the gallery above them. “It’s not meant to be a talk-fest. There are staff awards. It wouldn’t be right.”
He frowned, pretend concern. “You don’t think so?”
She grunted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t make this hard for me. You aren’t supposed to be here eating the rubber chicken, let alone on the podium.”
“You wouldn’t serve rubber chicken.”
“I hope not,” she grimaced.
“Five minutes. Let me go first, that way if I do any damage Kuch and Owen can fix it.”
She put her tablet up over her face and mumbled into it. “You’re going to get me fired.”
He put a finger to the top edge of it and drew it down. “No chance, it’s me, remember.”
“Th
at’s what I’m worried about.”
He was in. He gave her a grin and stepped away, but she called after him, “Reid. What happened? One day you were the boss, and the next Owen was telling us you’d moved on to do something new. I thought you loved Plus. There’s all this talk you were let go. Do I believe that?”
He nodded. “I was an asshole. Plus has always had a no asshole rule and I guess I forgot that as we got bigger.”
“Yeah, you could be an asshole, but you never were to me. That whole sexual harassment thing was bogus, and I’ve had some horrible bosses so I know what that’s like. I’ll come get you when it’s time to go on, but if I need a reference you’re going to make it so I glow like the sun.”
“Like a thousand suns,” he said with a laugh as she swished by, her skirt bouncing.
That left one more person he needed to speak to before he made it to Zarley. Adnan Kuchnitski. He was waiting. Looking immaculate in a suit that was likely tailored in Europe, shoes shined so they were glassy enough Reid could probably see his face in them. Kuch didn’t try to ape the offbeat cool of Plus, but he embraced it and won respect for not trying to meddle in the business he chaired. Except where it had come to Reid. But then CEO sacking was a chairman’s prerogative.
“Reid.
“Adnan.”
They shook hands, eyed each other, while people watched their little sideshow. The tightness in his chest was back. Convincing Kuch to take the chair’s role was one of Reid’s notable achievements. He was a catch and brought old-world money and alliances to an upstart company. He’d been a guiding hand, a class act who’d never made Reid feel anything but his talent was going to hold him back. Until the day that changed.
“You always had brass balls. What are you doing here?” Kuch said.
“I’m a stockholder.”
Kuch looked at the ceiling. “Then you must see the sculpture exhibition we sponsored. It’s wonderful.”
“Money would’ve been better spent on experimental robotics.”