Page 14 of The Hard Launch

She hands me the bags and wiggles her eyebrows at us. I debate if I should introduce Lacey as my coworker to this person I see at least once a week and haven’t learned the name of, but instead I thank her and pretend she wasn’t insinuating anything. A mistake, it turns out.

“You two should eat here next time,” she calls out to us as we leave. “Date night, Mountain Carrot! It’s more romantic than Netflix and chill!”

I make an involuntary strangling sound and feel my face burning. Lacey, holding the door for me, starts laughing and can’t stop for about half a block.

“I’m sorry,” she says, catching her breath.

“Don’t be,” I tell her. “I’d be laughing too.”

“Except you’re humorless,” she says, with fake concern, like it’s a medical diagnosis. “So young to have such a large stick up your—”

“You know, it’s actually a mountain carrot,” I interrupt to tell her, which sets her off again. We’re almost back at the office before I remember we were supposed to be discussing strategy.

One thing Lacey was right about: it’s going to be a lot of work. But the numbers look fantastic.

“If we can pull this off,” I begin, popping a piece of sushi in my mouth before I can finish my sentence. She waits while I chew, and something in her face is hesitant. I think about what I was going to say: that Edmund will be so pumped, that getting funding will be a walk in the park, that we might even add some new investors. All of these things I’ve grown to think were important to me.

“If we can pull this off,” I say, once my mouth is empty, “Lettercat’s going to be so much more than I ever imagined it would be. People will run entire small businesses from our platform.”

She smiles at me, a genuine smile. “Yeah,” she says. “It’s a total game changer.”

And then it’s Monday morning.

The deck is done, the numbers are solid. My talk track is clear and confident, according to Lacey. I ran through it three times last night, twice with founder friends on a Zoom and once with her and Glenn.

“I don’t have a lot of notes,” Glenn told me. “But if I had my camera on, you’d see how proud I am of you, both of you. Jude, I know you’re my boss, but it’s true. This is great stuff.”

Lacey and I stumbled out of the office at eight o’clock Sunday night, and fewer than twelve hours later I’m back there, getting ready for showtime. Jonnie has texted me three times about the pastries and coffee we’re having brought in. Edmund has confirmed he will arrive at eight forty-five.

In the lobby, I take my pause to feel the gratitude and hope like hell I’m not wrong about any of this. But even if I crash and burn today, I’ll do it over something I believe in. That feels nice for a change. Rounding the corner, I expect to turn the lights on, but they’re already humming. I walk into the pods and find no one sitting there. I turn back and see Lacey at the end of the hallway, coming out of the kitchen with a coffee. She pauses in the doorway.

I come closer.

“Hey,” she says. “Good morning.”

“Kind of early for you,” I remark, checking my watch.

“Yeah, well, I forgot I don’t live here.”

“I’d like your expense report more if you did. Fewer Ubers.”

She smiles. “You shaved.”

I nod and run my knuckles across my now-smooth jaw. “Yeah, but I probably should have found an emergency haircut,” I tell her. She looks at the pile of hair on my head and twists her mouth to the side.

“Follow me,” she says, heading over to where the sales team sits. I watch her open all the desk drawers in their pod until she stops and pulls something out. She holds up a tube. I’m so glad it’s not a pair of scissors.

“Product,” she explains, squirting some of it into my palm. “I knew these guys would have some.”

“I don’t want to look like I escaped from American Psycho,” I tell her.

“Just go like this,” she says, lightly pushing the hair off her forehead and back at the sides. I do the same, and after a couple of passes she nods her approval.

“It looks nice,” she tells me. “You’re going to kill it.”

“Last chance for you to join me,” I offer. “Sell the vision, hit ‘em with all those stats in your head. They’ll love you in there.”

“Not on your life,” she laughs. “I’ve done enough for you, Jude Mulholland.”