Page 43 of The Hard Launch

I turn to look at her faster than I mean to.

“What do you mean by that?”

She gives me an infuriating, knowing look. “She’s a smart chick, she can get a job anywhere. It would make things less complicated, Jude.”

“There’s nothing to uncomplicate,” I insist, reclaiming my arm. “She’s a talented product manager. And Lettercat needs her right now.”

“Right. Because it’s always about Lettercat.”

I work late enough that she’s asleep when I get home, and I’m glad about it.

“Speech! Speech!” Trevor yells as I board the wifi-enabled bus Jonnie chartered for the team.

They’re sitting here in front of me, clutching coffees we had ready for them, a little sleepy in their new Project Roar hoodies that arrived just in time. It’s eight in the morning, the scheduled departure time.

I ask the bus driver to please turn down “Lose Yourself,” which Trevor somehow convinced him to play on repeat while everyone stowed their bags and found their seats. I appreciate his efforts, but I don’t know that we need to all be hype just yet.

“I’m not making a speech,” I promise. “I only want to let you all know how much I appreciate you all, and your work. I know asking you to leave your homes and families and pets for a few days is a big deal.”

I’m about to get choked up, but when I pause I see that Ella is seated next to Lacey. I imagine what they might talk about on the ninety minute drive to Santa Cruz, and wonder if there’s a threatening subtext I can add for my sister. I swallow, and continue.

“I don’t think it’s a secret that Lettercat means a lot to me. But you all mean a lot more. That’s all. I’ll be down in a few hours, and I’m really looking forward to what we’re going to accomplish in these next few days.”

The team cheers and claps, and I take the steps down and wave as they drive away, even though the bus windows are tinted and I’m not their dad sending them to camp.

At a beautiful resort in the hills over Santa Cruz, I’m standing in Salon C marveling at how disgusting a development team can make a space in a short amount of time. The room is divided into three sections: a central area with a large screen, whiteboard, and long table that will seat everyone, and smaller breakout spaces on each side of the main meeting spot, with circular tables and smaller whiteboards. A long table just inside the doorway is laid out with snacks, sodas, water, coffee, and tea.

Laptops, cords, and chargers are everywhere. Empty coffee cups, Cheeto bags, lunch leftovers, and crumpled napkins fill all the spaces that the team is not. It smells like what I hope is onions. But the state of the space doesn’t matter: it’s the people themselves, who are clustered in small groups, talking, whiteboarding, some in headphones coding. There’s energy to the room, and I like it.

“There you are,” says Jonnie, who spent the night so she could be onsite early to help the hotel staff set up. “Let me show you your space.”

I follow her out the door and down a very ornately carpeted hallway to a small, windowless conference room. Inside it there’s a standing desk and a round table with a pitcher of lemon water and a tired-looking veggie tray on it.

“I had your bags put in your room. Here’s your key, number’s written inside the folder. I wasn’t sure if you wanted lunch, but I can order you something if you like.”

I thank her and say I’ll be fine, and she dashes off to check on the dress code for the Yoga For Screen Users session she booked for the team’s break tomorrow morning.

I put my helmet in the corner and my backpack on the table.

“So this is where you’re hiding,” Lacey says, stopping on her way down the hall.

“I’m not hiding,” I tell her. “I just got here.” I point to my helmet on the ground like it’s proof of something.

“I wasn’t—it was just a thing to say. I’m glad you made it in one piece.”

“Yeah,” I nod.

“Because of the motorcycle,” she explains, also pointing at my helmet. Awkward all around.

“How’s it going in there?” I ask.

“It’s great. Really great. I was skeptical, but the team’s got this amazing new energy. You’ll see it.”

“Can’t wait,” I say, looking around my sad temporary office as she heads back to the not-hackathon. Everything I want is in that room down the hall.

When I walk through to check on the team, I see that Lacey’s right, but I also see that to most of them I’m a distraction, an interruption.

“So, some background for you, Jude,” Dave begins when he sees me walk up as he’s showing some code.