Page 74 of Five Years
Surely it had to be a dare.
“Well, less of a dare, more of an experiment. I wanted to know if ranch could truly make anything taste worse.”
“And was your experiment successful?”
“I wouldn’t recommend dipping Swedish Fish in ranch, that’s all I’ll say.” The admission should’ve come with a trigger warning. Leah felt nauseous.
There were people who liked ranch, and then there were people who really liked ranch. Ariana was firmly in the latter camp—under the impression you could take any food, add ranch, and make it exponentially better.
“I’ll stick to pizza.” Leah laughed. She met Ariana’s gaze properly for the first time since they’d entered, her lips curving into a tentative smile.
“So . . .” Leah said.
Ariana smiled back, but the space between them felt fragile. She swirled her soda with a straw.
“You haven’t changed,” Ariana said, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful.
“What do you mean?”
“Five years is a long time. Half a decade is enough to change someone’s appearance, their outlook on life, their aura.”
“Aura? Since when did Ariana Harrison talk about auras?” Leah teased, suspicious.
“New York can change a person.” Ariana smirked.
“Go on then. Tell me about my aura.”
Ariana paused mid-bite, watching Leah like she was truly seeing her for the first time in years.
“You’ve always had this energy. I used to put it down to being comfortable in your own skin. You have this way of being unapologetically yourself, regardless of circumstance or company. I found it enviable. It’s not your appearance or how you talk—it’s a calmness. Like you’re not trying to be anyone you’re not. And in today’s world, all I find myself doing is trying to be someone I’m not.”
Leah’s eyes softened. “You don’t know how wrong you are.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I sold my soul to come to New York. And now I’m here, trying to be what everyone else wants me to be.”
“By everyone else, you mean your dad?”
Leah nodded.
“Coming here forced me to look at myself—and what I want from my career, my life. Am I trying to be who I think I should be, or who I actually am? I guess I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Okay.” Ariana hesitated, then leaned forward, expression sincere. “I have an idea...What if I told you the future face of the Douglas Green Advisory Group was a woman called Odette, from a rival firm? Odette is a shark. She’s spent her career acquiring companies, squeezing them for all they’re worth, and moving on to the next. No empathy. She’ll increase your fees, charge clients double for initial consultations, hire any deadbeat advisor willing to bend the rules—and eventually the offices yourent will be vacant. Nothing left but old A4 paper, a trash-can fire, and worthless leftover fittings.”
“Erm . . .who the hell is Odette?”
“Odette is hypothetical. But she exists, under many names.”
“Are you speaking from experience? You paint a vivid picture.”
“No. But how does it make you feel?”
“I don’t like Odette.”
“Of course you don’t. But how does it really make you feel?”
“It’s hard to imagine that ever happening.”
