Page 15 of The Refusal

“How are you doing? You look tired.”

Everything in my body sinks into my sneakers. She’s being kind, but I’m not sure this is the impression I want to leave. I shrug, twitchy in my awkwardness.

“I’ve been in Asia for the last two weeks. Everything’s been crazy.” I glance around again, anything to not meet her eyes.

But she claps her hands and I start, zeroing back in on her. “Asia! How exciting. Crazy good or crazy bad?”

I laugh at this, and in this strange instant of time, sitting there in the half darkness with her, it occurs to me that Jo Williams is a bit of a life force. She could easily be beaten down, but she isn’t. She has an enthusiasm for life; no, that isn’t right; she has an eagerness for life’s obstacles. Yes, that’s more like it. A sort of “bring it” attitude, but not in a macho, I-can-take-any-shit way, more in a determined, “I love fixing problems” kind of way. Whereas I tend to bulldoze my way through everything, she calmly sorts. I run my hands over my face and into my hair, no doubt making it even more disheveled.

“God, so many headaches. You wouldn’t like to work for me, would you?”

She laughs. “I thought Iwasworking for you?”

“Oh yeah. Damn.” I pause, letting the sweetness of it all wash through me. “It was good, Jo. We’re setting up offices all over Asia, and you’re right, it is exciting, but I’m exhausted. I’ve hardly slept.”

She nods, wide green eyes blinking at me. “Your company is doing so well, Janus. It’s never easy; I’m really impressed.”

My chest swells. As if I need more evidence of how nice she is, there it is. Talking to her is like that moment when your code unexpectedly starts working after weeks of effort. She understands the pressures, the self-worth that is bound up in this thing we do, the desire to win.

“I’ve never done anything special, Jo. I just set things up and get going. I like people, and they respond to that. I guess I know how to push.”

People start streaming back into the auditorium for the next session.

“Can we chat over lunch?” I say.

The tightness in my body that has been dogging me all day eases when she nods. “Yes, I’d love that.”

9

Jo

Ihardly engage with any of the talks after the break. Janus is sitting in the row in front of me, and somehow his tired, gloriously rumpled state just makes him better looking. His head nods forward as his shoulders slump and something soft burns through me. He must be under a crazy amount of pressure, and yet he’s here, holding it all together. The guy on stage pulls up another chart of figures, and my eyelids droop as I blink down at my notes.

Should I have told him about my mom? I’m so unused to dealing with men like Janus that I just get flustered, and then what comes out of my mouth is a total crapshoot. But there’s never a right time to tell people about some sad history. I used to watch her wandering around at night, in her white nightie muttering to herself and feel like it was all somehow my fault. Then afterward, trying to deal with that knowledge that a certain set of people have: that loved ones can be ripped away and there’s nothing you can do about it. After she died, my dad picked up all the threads of me and him and somehow wove us both back together. And I wasn’t exactly straight with Janus. I’m calm because it holds me together, like a safety pin in a skirt; otherwise I’d be climbing the walls. I close my eyes.

An hour later, the talks drag to a close. I roll my shoulders as the two guys I was chatting to in the break pause at the end of my row. I fall into step with them as we stream out of the main auditorium, searching for Janus over the crowds of delegates starting to gather around the buffet tables. My stomach grumbles. One of the guys takes my elbow.

“What would you like to eat, Jo?” And something in his smooth tone and false solicitousness makes something shrivel inside me. “Do you want to find somewhere to sit?”

“Actually, I need to talk to Janus Phillips.”

The guy frowns like I am inconveniencing him, and my impression of him morphs from pest to asshole.

“Have they got security problems?”

Alarm bells go off at the slightly salacious tone of his voice. It reminds me all over again why I need to be careful: both with Janus and because my business is starting to hold some of the biggest secrets of the tech industry in its hands.

“No—”

It isn’t a lie, not really. I’ve sorted out their first-line defense problems.

“But as in any top software company they want to be at the leading edge of security developments. As I was saying in my talk, you can’t afford to fall behind. The risks are too high—there are too many smart hackers looking for an opportunity.” A reasonable spur-of-the-moment response, and I quirk my lips at him hoping to dampen the slight sting in my words.

A tap on my shoulder forces me to turn, and Janus is standing there, staring at the good-looking asshole with a frown on his face. His hostility bristles all over us and a little thrill goes through me at his expression.

As the guy turns away to assess the buffet, I lean toward Janus, whispering, “Let’s get out of here. These guys are creeping me out.”

His scowl dissolves, and the way his forehead clears and his eyes brighten makes me want to do that for him over and over again. I turn to the guy next to the asshole and smile, murmuring, “Hope to see you in the second half.”

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