Page 8 of Seven Percent of Ro Devereux
I do hear myself, and—okay. It doesn’t sound great. But it’s just a detail, the sort-of-awkward means to an end that I really, really, really want. And besides, I wrote a smart algorithm. It’ll pair me with someone I’ll like—that’s its whole job. So maybe this could even be fun, maybe we’ll even—
“It’s a no,” Dad says, and the finality in his voice makes my hands start shaking. Panic. “And bringing on Sawyer? She has her own work. She’s—”
“No, no, no,” I say, but he’s already starting the car. “Dad,Sawyer willeat this up. Thisisher work. And look—if I do this, I don’t have to leave Colorado, okay? If we get this funding in February we can really make this thing work, and I’ll be here after I graduate. I’ll live in Denver and I’ll see you all the time and I don’t have to go to California at all.” That muscle jumps in his temple again. He’s not looking at me, but he’s not driving away, either. I think of my mother, cutting out on him to chase the same dream I’m chasing now. Of all these months I’ve spent trying to convince him that I should get to leave, too. My voice goes quiet and pitiful. “I won’t have to leave home. Dad,please.”
Silence falls between us, and for a minute there’s nothing but the rumbly engine humming under our feet. Dad hesitates for so long that I think maybe I’ve actually convinced him. But when he finally cuts the gas and looks over at me, what he says is, “We didn’t get the parking validated.”
I ride the elevator back up to the eleventh floor alone. When the doors slide open into the XLR8 lobby, Mia smiles at me.
“Forget something?”
I hold up the parking ticket, wave it around like an idiot. My hands are still shaking. “Need our parking validated.”
“Oooh, good catch.” Mia circles her big white desk to take it from me. “They charge eighty bucks for lost tickets. Can you believe that? I’ve got the stickers in the back, just one sec.”
When she bounces through the glass door and disappears, I look around the sleek, sun-filled lobby. I want so badly to think of it as mine—a place I go to and belong in. I stare unblinking at the fake monstera, and by the time Mia comes back I’ve made up my mind.
“I also need to sign the contract,” I tell her. My fingers close around the validated parking ticket. “Is Evelyn free right now?”
Mia’s eyes widen a little. “Oh my gosh, totally. Let’s seal this deal! Let me grab her.” She pushes a button on the intercom behind her desk. “Evelyn? Rose is back to sign her contract.” The words are distorted, half washed out by my own heartbeat roaring in my ears. Evelyn gets to the lobby in what feels like point two seconds, a slim stack of papers in her hands.
“Rose.” She smiles as she comes through the door. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Where’s your dad?”
“He’s in the garage,” I tell her. “He just, um. He just—”
“Preferred to wait in the car?”
“Yes,” I say, and she motions me over to the couch.
“We may need his signature.” She spreads the papers across the white table. “Do you think he’d be willing to come back up for a moment?”
“We don’t need it,” I say, but I can’t quite look at her. This feels like simultaneously the most shameful and most exhilarating moment of my entire life. “I’m eighteen.”
Evelyn studies me for just a beat before handing over a pen. “All right, then. Perfect.”
“There’s one more thing,” I say, and she stops shuffling the papers to look at me. I tug my blazer sleeve over the fish-scale-silver edge of my scar. “My partner, Vera Kincaid. I couldn’t have designed the survey without her—she taught me all the science. She needs a percentage of this, too—from both of our halves.”
Evelyn’s eyes don’t leave mine. “What number did she have in mind?”
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to wipe my sweaty palms on my pants without being too conspicuous. “I have to talk to her.”
“Well, we’ll need to negotiate a percentage,” Evelyn says evenly. “Let’s sign these today, and we can draw up a new version if—”
“No.” I sound a whole lot more confident than I feel. “It needs to be here before I sign.”
Evelyn blinks, but if she’s surprised, she hides it well.
“How about this,” she says, pulling another pen from her jumpsuit pocket. “I’ll add a note indicating negotiations to come, and we’ll draw up a new version of the contract if she decides she’d like equity.”
Her handwriting is clean and precise, scrawled across the bottom of the contract:Negotiated equity percentage for Vera Kincaid TK. She initials next to it,EZC, then slides the paper toward me.
“Initial here, then on the flagged lines throughout.”
I nod, duck my head, and sign everywhere I’m supposed to. When I stand up and shake Evelyn’s hand, her skin is smooth and cold.
“This is the right choice, Rose.” She smiles, and I take what feels like my first full breath in minutes. “We’re going to do great things together.”
06
