Page 14 of The Weight of Love

“As you can see, we already have buy-in from three target audiences above and beyond our initial use case. The crossover into the young adult crowd gives us a fresh wave of users with growing disposable income and impulse control issues.”

I’m met with nods, and I can see in their eyes that I have them on the hook for the bid.

“We capitalize on that, move quickly before the market is oversaturated, and expect over a 200% return within the first year. Then, we plan to scale into education markets.”

We wrap up with the investors and are left with the two of us, our new Chief Financial Officer, Matthew Sheffield, and Johnathan Santiago, sitting around the table. At the same time, Steve runs copies of the pitch deck out to the various department leads.

“Well, guys, what do you think?” I look around the room, leveling them all with a frank stare.

“Smashed it!” Matthew’s thick British accent comes through more than usual. I catch Emily’s eyes getting that soft, gooey look they often do when he’s in the room.

I may be sitting here fantasizing about a 25-year-old with endless stamina…but it could be worse. I could be lusting for the serial Sugar Daddy of the office.

I like Matt as a CFO. He has a sharp business mind and is a killer salesman—that’s why we hired him. He’s also an absolute idiot when it comes to women, though.

He is a beautiful idiot if I’ve ever seen one. If I remember correctly, he is three times divorced and has more complicated ex-girlfriends than I can even remember.

Johnathan, our Director of Marketing, catches my eye and nods his head towards Emily with an exaggerated eye roll as we share a laugh.

“Absolutely, Doll,” Johnathan laughs, “Couldn’t have done it better even if you had actually read the analysis notes I’d sent you.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t read the brief?” Matthew’s brown eyes are round and concerned, and I realize that in the brief week he’s been with us, he’s not been exposed to my oddness quite yet.

“Honestly? No, I don’t need it. I know our sales; I can forecast without referencing it.”

“Wow, that’s quite impressive. Can you really?”

“Don’t feel the need to flatter me, Matt. I know I’m a genius; it’s okay. You can all bow down to me later when we have the funding. But feel free to check my stats on any of it if you think I’m wrong.”

“And so very humble,” Emily laughs.

“Incredible. I will check you on it, though. I do need to dash. I have to get the follow-ups over to them for their sign-off.”

Matthew stands, looming over the table with his extremely tall, lanky form. He extends a hand to me, then Emily, then Johnathan. He gathers up his things and starts for the door. Emily’s eyes follow him with that starry-eyed, schoolgirl look.

I am entirely prepared to launch into the details of last night with Johnathan and Emily as usual but stop short as the conference door swings back open and Leslie shuffles in.

You have got to be kidding me.

His regular Velcro tennis shoes have been replaced with floppy bunny slippers, and he’s in the absolutely thinnest pajama pant shorts ever known to man. He’s got his MacBook balanced on a spindly hand, and his eyes have that look of profound code genius shining out of them.

He looks like he belongs in a psych ward.

“I cracked it, Stella. I finally cracked it! Look!”

He shuffles closer to me, causing the bunny ears to flop erratically. He crosses the room and slides his machine down in front of me. I want to focus on the code, but there is an extremely thin amount of fabric with a very small button closure keeping his aged male genitals from my face.

“Em…Pants. Pants. There should be pants. Em. Balls in the face.”

Jonathan dissolves into a riot of giggles in the corner. Emily is too busy trying to catch her breath from a gasping laugh that is clearly stealing her ability to breathe.

Leslie snaps his fingers before my face, then points to the screen.

“Yes, I have balls and no pants. But look. I solved the issue with encryption with .01% of the run time we had before.”

My mind snaps into gear as the words register beyond the terrifying image of his balls that was taking over my mind in the most disturbing of ways, and I turn to his computer in relief.

“No way…you got it below sub-second?” My eyes scan his code, and my jaw drops as I watch the job execute with the testing software he uses pulled up.

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