Page 67 of The Photograph

“But I have a condition. No more secrets, okay? I’m not okay with secrets.”

He presses his lips to my hand and nods again. “I’m not okay with them either, actually. I’ll try and be more open, Des. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“What for?”

Sweeping my hand around the hospital room, I say, “Being a drama queen?”

He shakes his head. “I like it all.”

His hair has dried now, and long dark lashes rest against his cheeks as he studies our clasped hands.

“I like it all, too,” I say. He raced over here to see me, to check I was all right. My mouth starts to curl. “So, Alex Sachs, eh?”

His eyes meet mine, and his serious expressions lifts as his lips twist. “If only I was from the wealthy branch of the family.”

I laugh. “If only.”

26

ALEX

The supervisor on the analysts’ floor sends a Slack message asking me to pop into her office just as I’m packing my bag for the day. I catch Mei’s eye and make a face at her. I’ve never been called in to see Marie, but she has—plenty of times. Politics around China, apparently.

When I slide in the door, Marie peers at me over her screen. “Alex,” she says, “AlexSachs, isn’t it?” Her mouth twists sardonically. “Any relation?”

What do I say to that? Yes, but not in the way you think?

“No.”

She nods. “I got your report on technology companies.”

Ah, okay. I sent it to her weeks ago.

“It’s taken you quite a while to put it together.”

Well, that is true. “Tracking down information on each company’s financial performance prior to listing took some time. You approved that data subscription for VC-backed and private businesses so I could dig further into that.”

“Ah yes, I remember.”

Does she? “Things move fast in the tech field, so I could review it again for you?”

She waves her hand. “That won’t be necessary.” Her beady eyes narrow. “It was a competent report. Plenty of detail. I’m sending it on.”

“Sending it on?”

“Circulating it within the company. Most reports aren’t good enough for that.”

What do I say to that? And hang on, all the previous stuff I’ve produced thisdidn’thappen to? What did they do with it? Is there some research slush pile like a trash chute?

I swallow. “That’s good.”

“Keep it up, Alex. We like fresh ideas.” Her head swings back to her screen and she starts typing. I’m dismissed.

As I walk out, people are still at their desks, heads bent. Do they know their reports never make it past Marie’s desk? And as I’m going down in the elevator, I start to wonder about this job. It’s as boring as hell, but maybe I could make it work. Maybe my dad would be proud of this, proud ofme.

My sister Rachel calls me as I step into Penn Station.

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