Page 89 of Gifted & Talented

That morning, Meredith called a defense lawyer, one she knew had done good work in the past; a woman with a keen eye for employment-based discrimination.

She called a few different PR firms, then chose one who’d made tidy work of a defamation case in tech some years back.

She read the transcripts of her previous speeches to try to pull together a cohesive narrative, a ready-made defense, and watched her phone, waiting for me to text her back.

She called her father’s lawyers and they said just a little bit longer, Ms. Wren, not long now, we’re just waiting for the judge’s decision.

She called Ward, whose phone was off or maybe he had blocked her number, she didn’t know which but either way she understood what that meant. He wasn’t on her side anymore, and who cared? She’d turn on him too if she had to, and by every imaginable definition it seemed like she would, indeed, have to. She loved Ward for his mind, always had, but even he must have known he had more enemies than friends when it came to the industry, from top to bottom. He worked his employees too hard, he was anxious in a way that demanded not just perfection but absolute acquiescence to his constant interference, he chose stick over carrot every single chance he got. To his peers he behaved like a little Napoleon, rubbing his successes in the face of his haters, judging any little win to be the equivalent of an empire. Meredith had always known what she’d done when she chose a business partner even less likable than she was. She’d always had the tools to bury him to save herself, and to his credit, Ward was smart enough to know it. It was no wonder he’d put himself one step ahead.

She was staring at her phone screen, legs pulled up onto the chair in her father’s study, waiting to see my name when her phone finally rang and she snatched it up.

“Hello?”

“Meredith.” Jamie sounded carefully toneless. “I heard you lawyered up.”

Meredith’s throat felt dry. “News travels fast.”

“I’ve had feelers out for a while. Took you longer than I thought it would, to be honest.”

“Look at you, investigative journalist.” She wanted to scream at him but sensed it would be unproductive. “Did you call to gloat?”

“No. To give you an update.”

“You’re pulling it.” She held her breath. “Don’t tell me the lawyer scared you.”

“I’ve had a lawyer of my own since I started writing this. I knew that if not you, then Tyche would come for me. I’m not scared.”

“Of course not, you’ll win a Pulitzer. I hope you thank me in your speech.” Meredith could taste the bitterness on the tip of her tongue. It warred with her ongoing desire to cry.

“Look, Meredith, my editor got a call this morning.”

“From who? Tyche? I told you this was insanely stupid.” She wanted to heave a sigh of relief. Thank god!

“Not Tyche.” Jamie cleared his throat. “TheTimes.”

(SILENCE.)

“So you’re getting a promotion,” Meredith wryly observed.

“I’m a freelance writer, Meredith. And that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?” Don’t do it, she thought. Just don’t.

“The article isn’t just running inMagitek.” Jamie sounded far away for a second, like he’d turned his head away. “It’s Monday’s cover story in theNew York Times.”

Meredith hung up and threw the phone away from her, breathing hard. She stared around her father’s office, looking at the painting of the ballerina on the wall.

Fuck, she thought, fuck fuck fuck.

Then she picked up the phone again and called Jamie back.

“Meredith, I’m sorry.”

“Come say that to my face.” She sounded breathless, barely over a whisper.

“I’m on my way,” Jamie said, and the relief in Meredith’s chest, it was icing. It was just the fucking cherry on top.

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