“Sweet pea—” June squatted so they were eye to eye. “Let me give you the money. I know you’re probably going to argue, but please just think about it. I’d really feel good about being able to help you out. Maybe I could be, like, an investor.”
A fact not well-known (because June did her best to hide it) was that Violetta “June” Stewart was the only daughter of extremely wealthy movie producers. Needless to say, she didn’t really need this job. June had a trust fund and lots of high-powered connections. The only reason she’d come on board was because she wanted to help Annika. Annika couldn’t afford to pay her what she was really worth, but June never complained, either out of loyalty or pity. Annika was in no position to turn down either.
Annika shook her head and squeezed her longtime friend’s hand. “That’s really, really sweet of you, Junebug. But … no. Thank you, but no. I can’t take your money.”
June sighed. They’d had this conversation many times before, and she knew not to expect a different outcome. Still, she was June. And that, Annika supposed, meant she had to try.
Giving up, June flopped down to sit cross-legged on the floor. Even while wearing a tight dress and skyscraper heels, she somehow managed to look more graceful than Annika, who was sitting in a chair. “What about your dad, then?”
Annika’s dad was one of the leading anesthesiologists in the country. He was regularly paid to travel to various conferences and give talks because apparently, he knew more about putting people to sleep than anyone else did. Annika didn’t get the specifics—she just knew she never wanted to do what he did.
That fact had almost broken his heart.
Annika still remembered her dad’s face when she’d gone to him eight months earlier to tell him that, in addition to the grant money she’d won, the bank loan had also come through, and that Make Up was going to be an actual business. He’d stared at her for a long moment, scotch in hand, and then said in his deep bass voice, “But what about medical school?”
She’d graduated from UCLA two years earlier, but her dad had never let go of the dream that his only child would come to her senses and decide to follow in the family footsteps after all. Annika was all he had in this world—both his physician parents were dead, and Annika’s mom, who’d been a pediatrician, had passed away shortly after Annika was born. Her dad was desperate for her to continue the family trade. Never mind that the thought of slicing into a cadaver made Annika want to suck down his unconscious-making chemicals just to escape.
Come to think of it, after he’d asked her about medical school, Annika had gotten kind of cocky. She’d raised an eyebrow and said in a very “you wanna throw down?” tone, “Just wait. In three months when my face is plastered across magazines in every newsstand between here and the hospital, you’ll be singing a different tune.” In her defense, things had been on the come-up then. She’d had no idea that fate would kick her in the ass just a few months later.
God, how embarrassing.
Annika nibbled on her lower lip. Far below them, a car honked in the perpetual LA traffic.
“What are you thinking?” June prompted, playing with the Baby Yoda figurine on her desk Annika had given her last Christmas.
“Well—don’t get me wrong.” Annika got up and began pacing, wearing a path from her desk to the window. “I believe in us. We can bring in a profit if we work our asses off. Our cash flow issues would be a thing of the past. But there’s a part of me that’s so worried I’m kidding myself—this tiny, heckling voice that just won’t shut up. I expected the app to be ready for release way before now—no offense, I know you’re working as hard as you can—and that hasn’t happened. What if I’ve lost my fire?”
June’s clear blue eyes stared right back at her. “You haven’t. This is just nerves talking. You can’t let McStick-Up-His-Ass win, Annika.”
Annika walked over to her desk and pulled ZeeZee out again. Her heart was beginning to pound. “It’s not just him. It’s Hudson Craft, too. Do you know how demoralizing it is that some dude with excessively gelled hair and a toothpaste-ad smile can just come in and have everybody buzzing with his cruel, thoughtless app? Meanwhile, Make Up is going to change the way we look at technology and its use in interpersonal spaces, and we don’t even get a one-line mention in that article? Do you know how absolutely, exquisitely infuriating that is?” Annika smacked ZeeZee face-first into the desk. He made a satisfyingly squelchy sound on impact, the force rattling the framed pictures of June, her dad, and the Make Up office that were all lined up neatly next to her laptop.
June thrust a finger at her. “There it is! Stay with that feeling. And don’t forget, Hudson’s a thief.”
Annika couldn’t believe he’d turned out to be such a jerk. When they’d met at a conference in Vegas last summer, they’d laughed at how desperate everyone was to be done with the conference so they could get to the real reason they were there: the blackjack tables. They’d bonded right away because they were both virtually the same age, from LA, and interested in starting a business soon. And later, they’d … well. That wasn’t important.
What was important was that after she returned from Vegas, she’d found herself thinking about him often. She’d even considered reaching
