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Brett casts a warning look at me. “Brett’ll dance,” I say.
Brett puts on his most charming smile for her. What am I doing? Another dick move.
I snap out of it. The four of us have a deal. This is about the business. I down the scotch and take her out to the floor, moving on autopilot, dancing, chatting, spinning Jana around. She’s a force for good in the city, a woman I respect. A dip for the cameras. She screams and laughs. Another spin.
I let Vicky down big-time. It doesn’t mean I have to go on permanent asshole mode with people who need me.
Brett and Maddie Jacabowski spin by. I smile. If Vicky were here, she’d see right through that smile.
Jana and I do our time with the politicians. This is where she shines—the Jacabowski women are total movers.
A councilperson compliments me on the dog PR stunt. I laugh it off.
We discuss the Ten, the project everyone is excited about. “The Ten is transitional,” I tell him. “It’s forward-looking, yes, but I’m taking things much further now that I’m moving into leadership.”
Translation: it’s too late to make the Ten into the cool project it could be.
“Once you take over leadership from the dog?”
“Yeah, once I take over from the dog,” I say smoothly.
“You guys actually did a stock transfer. That’s ballsy.”
“He really is in charge. He and his advocate.” I wink. “We’re doing our best to guide him. Smuckers would be putting fire hydrants all over Manhattan if he had his way.”
Jana laughs. “The dog has more vision than some builders.” I suppress a smile, enjoying her dig at Dartford & Sons, assholes of the building community.
Brett’s there and we’re posing for photographs. Somebody grabs Jana away and I use the opportunity to hit the bar again, but then I see Renaldo, hanging out on the fringes of the place with one of the retired city managers.
They’re elderly guys who are still important for their wealth of knowledge, but they have zero power anymore. I go over, keep my back to the brightly colored dresses and black tuxedoes, so many peacocks peacocking it up.
Renaldo lumbers up from his seat and claps me on the back. “Henry!”
“He was telling me about the Ten,” the man says.
Through my scotch-fuelled haze, I scramble to remember my picture for him—a fish. A whale.
“Jonah,” I say, taking his hand, clapping mine over his.
The three of us take a seat at the edge of the place and talk development. Bonding. We talk about the Ten. I want another scotch, but I go for a club soda to avoid the famous Renaldo side-eye.
Jana Jacabowski waves from across the room—she’s leaving with a friend. I sit back and relax.
“So what’s really going on?” Renaldo asks me as soon as we’re alone.
“I screwed up. I didn’t go with my gut.”
“Tell me,” he says.
It’s been ages since I went to Renaldo with something. He knows about Vicky and Smuckers, of course. I lay it all out. I tell him about humoring her until the competency hearing. I tell him about taking her around the company, and how incredible it’s been. The bright, fun energy she brings. The goodness of working with her. I tell him about the makers space. “You would love it,” I say. “Spending just that time with her without all the bullshit, that was amazing. We were amazing. She’s special.”
I tell him I’m more convinced than ever that she accidentally fell into this thing. Lay out everything about that.
Then I tell him about the joke she made and he winces. “Ouch. A dog face?”
“I didn’t have to let it mess me up. Like I couldn’t be strong for the firm and open-minded about her at the same time? I had to react.”
He smiles into the distance.
