Page 8 of Some Like It Hott

“I’veearnedthe right to say that.”

She shakes her head. “There’s a reason every major world religion warns against pride, Preston.” She sighs. “Look. Olafssen is working on something big. Rumor has it he’s aiming for an August-first announcement that’s going to change the dynamics of the promotion situation radically in his favor.”

“Shit,” I say. “That’s six weeks from now.”

“Right. Exactly. You need to ink the MegaStar deal before that,” she says. “Otherwise, you have zero chances of convincing the other managing directors and the board that you’re their guy.”

“No one can question my commitment to this job and this company,” I say.

“I would never. You work harder than anyone I’ve ever met.” She crosses her arms. “Too hard. We’ve talked about this, Preston. Your focus is always on the win, never on the people part of the equation. You get it done—but you don’t make friends doing it.”

I wave it off. Making friends has never been my goal. Installing myself on the throne has.

Anjali shakes her head. “It’s going to come back to bite you in the ass, Preston. When people raise questions about your fitness for the promotions, it’s always about culture match.”

Culture match.In other words,We like the other guy better. “You know that’s bullshit.”

“’Course I do. We both know it’s code for ‘doesn’t golf or go out for drinks or accept the Hamptons weekend invitation.’ Code for ‘doesn’t look like us, think like us, or play the gameour way—’” She scowls. “And I of all people know not everyone can play that game—and also that even when some of us do, it’s still not enough.” She crosses her arms. “But, Pres, when was the last time you did anything besides work?”

“I went to my brother’s fake bachelor party.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Over a month ago. When was the last time you went out for drinks with coworkers? Or sat around in someone’s office and ate takeout? Or tried to make yourself accessible to the junior analysts working for you?”

I wince. We both know the answer to that question:Not in a long time.

“Look,” she says, “when the culture-match thing comes up, I say all the right things. I say we’re not an old-boys’ network anymore. What matters is who gets the work done. That there’s no one in finance—hell, no one anywhere—who can get this job done like you can. That they should be glad you’re serious about business, because you mint money.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“It’s true,” she says, picking up a stack of papers and moving them to the other side of her desk. “I’m just saying—and this is coming from someone who’s been called an ice queen on multiple occasions—maybe you should lighten up a little. Let a few more people around you see your—” She cuts herself off.

“Were you about to say ‘fun side’?”

She sighs. “Just—whatever it is you have to do in wherever the bumblefuck it is, get it done fast. Keep your eye on the ball, get your ass back in the office within the month, and if I say you need to show up in person, be on a plane before I can hang up.”

“Got it,” I say.

In my head, I can see my grandfather laughing, Satan with glowing eyes and evil mirth. One last obstacle thrown up in my path—but I won’t let it stop me.

I’ll fly across the country, save my sister’s business, and be home to seal this deal.

4

Natalie

By the time I start my new job a week after my coffee-shop encounter with Lloyd and Susie, I’m starting to feel more optimistic about things. My new boss, Hanna, hooked me up with a swanky room in the Hott Springs Eternal lodge; I’ve deleted all Lloyd’s emails, texts, and photos; and I’ve pawned all the jewelry he gave me.

I’m not sleeping great, and I’m still a little weepy…but you can’t have it all.

It’s a short walk from the lodge to the main offices of HSE, which are located in what used to be the ranch house. It’s a gorgeous old sprawling place, bare-log construction, huge wraparound front porch, giant windows—the works. I let myself in the front door, which tinkles merrily, and greet Julia, the dark-skinned woman with a Jamaican lilt to her words who staffs the reception desk.

“Oh, hey, Natalie. Congratulations on getting the job! I was rooting for you.”

We’d had a nice long conversation when I interviewed, about her four kids and seven grandkids and our shared love ofYellowstone. “Aw, thank you,” I say.

“Hanna’s ready for you,” she tells me cheerfully, gesturing toward Hanna’s office door.

I poke my head into Hanna’s office and say, “Hey!”

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