Page 34 of Like It's 1999

I pace back and forth, needing to expel the giddy energy incited by the situation—or the guy. “There’s got to be something. Her kids? No, I hate to use that.”

“Baked goods?”

“Are there any?”

He points at me. “There’s a Y2K cake! It’s supposed to be pushed out at the end of the PowerPoint.”

Dammit, all I want to do is grab his face and kiss him.Down, girl.I point back at him instead. “That’s it.”

Hands dropping to his hips, he bites his lower lip the way I want to. “They dropped the cake and Kate has to decide what to do.”

“Perfect. Where’s the hard drive?”

“In my car.” When he grabs my hand to pull me toward the exit, I have the fleeting, ridiculous feeling that I’d follow him anywhere. Because I can’t do that, I put on the brakes. “Dude! You couldn’t have brought it up with you?”

“Have you seen a hard drive? It’s way to big to fit in a pocket, and it weighs like ten pounds.”

“All right, lead the way. We can finesse the cake plan on the way. But we’ve gotta book.”

STEVE

The dropped-cake wild-goose chase only buys Alice fifteen minutes. I hope it’s enough because now Kate has one eye on her watch and another on the giant descending screen as she trots across the ballroom with me in her wake.

Trying to slow her down, I call, “I don’t know what that was all about. Maybe a cake for another event got dropped.”

All I get is the back of her shaking head. When the lights dim in the ballroom and a spot goes up on the podium, she picks up the pace. As Alice steps up to the microphone, I sprint to catch Kate before she charges up on the stage. “I forgot to tell you. Alice wants to introduce you.”

Kate pushes me out of the way just as Alice says, “Good evening.”

Alice clears her throat, and the last of the chatter dies down. Kate’s head swivels back and forth from the stage to me to the crowd. Finally, she crosses her arms and mutters, “This better be good.”

Alice takes a sip of water. She looks a little nervous. “I’m Alice Kim. I’m here to thank you all for coming tonight and to introduce my best friend, Kate Bishop. I’m sure most of you know her already. What you might not know is that for Kate, it’s not just the last New Year’s Eve of the twentieth century—which is a pretty big deal—it’s also her tenth wedding anniversary. Why do I bring that up? I want you to know that she is so determined to do good in the world that she’s spending this momentous occasion with all of you people.”

She taps a finger on her chin. “What can I say that will convince you to open your wallets wide so that Kate can continue to give female entrepreneurs a leg up? So those women can create small businesses in towns and cities across this country. Businesses that help grow local economies. Hmm. You know, Kate had some lovely charts and graphs to show you, but I’ve got something better. What if we hear from the women themselves?”

Kate grabs my arm, whispering, “What is she doing?”

“Just wait.” I squeeze her hand. I can’t wait till Kate sees the video we put together. Well, I just called in a favor and had a buddy edit the slides into a montage, with music and the women’s recorded testimonials in the background. Alice spent the past few months flying around the country meeting with Kate’s grantees who live outside of Boston. Since it didn’t make sense to bring them all here, Alice got them talking on tape and shot portraits that reveal each woman’s pride, joy and personality.

The crowd is as spellbound as Kate by the presentation. When it’s over and the applause finally fades, Alice steps back to the podium. “Get out your checkbooks, folks. Heeeere’s Kate.”

I have to give Kate a little shove to get her moving. When her steps falter, I steer her to the stage and escort her up the steps. She hugs Alice and then continues to hang onto her hand as she makes her own short speech.

When Kate finishes and the lights in the auditorium rise, she’s mobbed by guests, giving me the opportunity to grab Alice’s hand. Pulling her close, I whisper, “That was perfect.”

When she pulls away from my embrace, it’s like there’s an entire movie playing in her eyes, but I can’t tell if it’s a romantic comedy or a buddy caper. Either way, I want in on the action. So I take action.

Locating the closest exit, I guide her to it and pull her out into the hall. Taking a chance, I kiss her. She freezes for half a second, and I worry I’ve miscalculated. But then she’s all in. As in, she pushes me up against the wall and kisses me like no one has kissed me for the past ten years.

But then she pulls away. Walks, like, ten feet away. And starts cursing.

I follow, but she wheels on me, her right hand a stop sign between us. “No way, farm boy. This will not work.”

I’m stunned for moment, but then I get it. Thankful I had the forethought to bring it with me, I pull my copy of Kate’s wedding program from my jacket pocket. “It’s okay, Alice. We don’t have to get married. We can be like Lloyd and Diane—friends with potential. Look, I’m ripping this up.”

As I do, another parade of emotion marches across her expressive face. Unfortunately, she lands on pissed off. Grabbing a few program shreds, she wads them into a ball and hurls it at me.

Flinching back, I stutter. “Wh—whoa.”

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