Page 79 of Finance Bros

I cannot express coherently enough how much Ihatepeople. I got used to being the butt of a joke in high school, but Portland was a welcome reprieve. PSU was a great school full of normal people from normal families without any of this San Francisco classist shit. Even the jocks were only mediocre. But I’m back in the Bay Area now where things like who your family is can matter—how much money you have and what kind of car you drive definitely matters to people like Nathan and Piper. She screams former cheerleader—prom queen.

I get why Bailey can’t stand her. She’s too good looking, and she knows it. She’s also looking at me like she thinks I’m not so hard on the eyes either.

I’ve never cared for cheerleaders, though. I like a sexy nerd. Band girls like Norah who used to play the clarinet. I never had sex in high school, though. Malcolm made sure I was treated like I had multiple contagious diseases. It was great. Didn’t fuck with my self-esteem at all.

So when a woman like Piper looks at me like she appreciateswhat she sees? It pisses me off.Once bitten…“What’s the saying?” I muse. “Imitation is the highest form of flattery?”

She scoffs. “I’d hardly call it imitation.”

“No,” I agree. “You’d have to give good advice to call it that.” I’ve watched all six of her stitches—all on Malcolm’s videos. She uses huge words with no context, acronyms no one outside the finance world would understand, and it’s obvious she’s reading from a script unless she’s talking about her concealer, which, I’ve noticed, isn’t the right color for her skin. Under the elevator lights, it’s almost comically wrong. “Do you not believe in makeup blenders or something?”

Calyx gave me that line yesterday when I showed him what she was up to, and I’m looking forward to telling him about the bitch-slapped look on her face.

“It’s just a little—” I gesture to my own face. “Obvious.”

She huffs. Rolls her eyes. It’s a dismissal. But there’s also a twitch to her lips that has me picturing her in the office bathroom mirror blending and smudging with her fingertips the moment we get off the elevator.

Calyx had no shortage of ideas for how Bailey could neutralize her, some nastier than others. I did have to remind him I have to work with the woman. However, face to face with her, I see her for who she is. She needs attention. The more, the better, and she doesn’t care who she has to step on to get it. She’s the girl in a high school movie who tells her popular boyfriend that someone like me tried to flirt with her and all of a sudden has the entire football team slamming the guy who dared into lockers.

In real life, for me, it looked more like embarrassing pictures of me circulating on Instagram with rumors that I touched people inappropriately or something equally disgusting. In real life, my mom and I got people suspended from school, and in one case expelled. While what Piper’s doing on TikTok doesn’trise to that level, we all grow up and get smarter. It’s still sabotage, and I might want to watch my mouth before she gets her entire team on it.

Nathan takes over while Piper stresses about her contouring. “How’s working with Bailey going?”

“Oh, you know Bailey,” I say, turning my gaze to the floor readout.

He chuckles like Bailey is someone we should all be laughing about, and it scrapes like a metal hook on a chalkboard. I need to get Bailey and Calyx in a room together as soon as possible. We’ve gotta win this—and in a spectacularly humiliating way. It’s true that competition brings out the best in some and the worst in others. I’ve known these people for a little over a month now, and it’s possible some of them could be my colleagues for years. I’m not prepared to make a final decision about anyone yet—other than Bailey. She’s already in my keeper column.

It’s a very small list of names. My mom is on it, and Norah. Calyx, too. Malcolm is there as well, but in invisible ink, only so that I don’t have to acknowledge how weak I am when it comes to him.

Mal and Bailey are sitting in their usual seats in the conference room. This morning, instead of sitting across from them between Nathan and Miguel, I sit next to Mal. He squeezes my knee under the table the second I sit down, and my ass nearly comes off the seat. I shoot him a warning look, but he’s already let go.

It wasn’t sexual—more the equivalent of a football player slapping another’s ass in congratulations. He smiles and says good morning while my dick thickens in my pants, overreacting to him as usual.

“A hundred and eighteen,” Bailey leans forward and tells me in a stage whisper.

“What?” I ask.

“Subscribers. A fucking hundred and eighteen! By eight a.m.!”

“That’s good, right?”

“Better than five,” Mal says.

“Have you had any time to make content for the Patreon yet?” I ask her.

“Oh, totally,” she says. “I’ve got links up, pictures of Bud and Stephanie, and a podcast poll.”

“What’s the poll about?” Mal asks, which is what I was about to say.

“It’s super simple. I put five topics for you guys to talk about in an exclusive video, and the subscribers vote on which topic they want first.”

I take a deep breath, the pressure to perform hitting harder than ever. Talking into a camera is easy enough, I remind myself. And there are plenty of things I can rattle on about for fifteen minutes if I just say what I’m thinking and don’t worry about who’s listening.

“When does the poll close?”

“Five,” Bailey says. “You’ll need to film tonight.”

“Topless?” Malcolm asks.

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