Page 132 of All Twerk, No Play

Where was my voice?

Tori Amos sang about having something important to say, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Just like my childhood believing my thoughts didn’t matter, overpowered by theirs.

Where were my words? I couldn’t hear them. I’d lost myself in their expectations.

I stared at the podium, silently skimming this speech about my duty. The journalists shifted.

We do this our way.Alex had said.We make our own rules.

I looked down to the front row, where he sat with Connor. My best friend saw my mind churning, and his mouth lifted into an approving smirk. He trusted my instincts.

I lifted my gaze to the journalists, my manicured hands covering the pre-approved remarks. “That outsider’s perspective means that things are going to change around here.”

Behind me, Spencer shifted. Good. Things were about to get uncomfortable.

“You may not believe this,” I smiled provocatively at the press, who perked up at my conspiratorial tone, “but less than a year ago, I was passed over for a promotion at a prestigious law firm because of my name. You might think, ‘But she’s Richard Sinclair’s heir, she’s got the world at her feet!’ And in many ways you’d be right, I’m incredibly privileged. But every name carries its own burdens.”

Though Richard might have winced at his legacy being publicly criticized, another voice echoed in my mind: Cruz.

Leading squats with a teasing grin:Boss up and change your life.

Strumming a borrowed acoustic on a similar stage:To hell with the consequence.

Drumming on my legs on our road trip:Smash the silence with brick of self-control.

I ran my thumb along my wrist under my sleeve, tracing the cobra tattoo.

Not only a symbol of my strength. A reminder of my fuckingvenom.

Lifting my chin, I declared to the journalists, “My first priority as CEO is to focus on equity. I will implement blind, 360-degree performance reviews for all staff, top-to-bottom.”

The journalists shot up, yelling questions. I silently lifted my hand, waiting for them to respect my authority. “Every employee will be evaluated using input from not only their direct supervisor, but also their peers, subordinates and clients. This company’s hierarchy will be determined by merit-based promotions to prevent favoritism.”

I thought of Cruz’s stepdad, his life’s work destroyed by our inflexible policies. “Even before Corporate Social Responsibility became a popular industry term, my mom believed in caring for our tenants and clients.” I glanced over at my dad, who looked unexpectedly plaintive. “When we lost her, we also lost sight of her vision. In our commitment to help the wealthiest expand their empires, we’ve neglected hardworking New Yorkers. So my second priority will be to assemble a task force to review all of our commercial business contracts.”

I turned back to the journalists, remembering the small business owners I’d worked with in Saratoga. “We’ll provide consulting support to our small business clients: the bodegas, fitness studios, coffee shops, and tattoo parlors, putting special emphasis on the mom and pop shops that make this city great.”

The room went wild, flashbulbs blazing. I looked down at Alex, fist clenched in solidarity, and Connor, chin lifted with pride. On the stage, Spencer ran his hand over his face and Margot’s lips had parted in surprise … and maybe admiration.

Dad, though … his eyes glimmered with pride, tinged with fear. His head tilt seemed to ask, ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

I fought back the twisting sensation in my heart at the sacrifice this company required. “As a small business owner myself, I learned to be a fighter—not just for myself, but for my whole community. That’s the spirit I’ll bring as the next CEO of Sinclair Larsson.”

"I'm the Only One," Melissa Etheridge

Cruz

EventhoughI’dpackedmy backpack knowing where I would end up, I was in denial until I found myself on the cracked sidewalk outside Alex and Grace's gray Victorian.

We’d been here last week for a cookout, sitting around a campfire eating s’mores. Victoria joked that she liked her marshmallows charred as black as her soul, shoving a messy one into my mouth with a villainous chuckle. I licked the gooey stickiness off her fingertips until Alex groaned, “Ugh, get a room.”

God, I really didn’t want to be here without her.

I don’t know how long I stood on their sidewalk before Ruby, looking adorable in unicorn footie pajamas with a rainbow horn, peeked out the front door. “Do you want some company?”

Not really, but I didn’t want to be mean to a little kid. She plopped down on the top step. “Alex told me Victoria moved away. He brought home black and white cookies from his business trip, but he was too sad to eat them.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way,” I said, then admitted what I wish I’d had the courage to say before she left. “I’m in love with her.”

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