Meet Me at Midnight

An hour into the conference call with Marcus Hughes and the important execs from his company, and my best friend is still nowhere to be found.

Though, she hasn’t stopped texting me random shit as the minutes have ticked by.

Me: At this rate, I’m not even sure if you’re going to show up at all.

Avery: Chill out, June. I’m walking into Starbs now.

Me: Great. I’m still trying to recover from hearing your dad talk about pussies for the first five agonizing minutes of this meeting you were SUPPOSED TO SHOW UP FOR, and you’re “walking into Starbs now.”

I start to close out of our ongoing text chat, but just before I can head back to my Notes app and, you know, try to do my job and listen to whatever Marcus Hughes is currently saying about the Midnight app his company has developed, another message from my best friend grabs my attention.

Avery: Neil talking about pussies? Sorry, but that doesn’t track. And it’s a little gross, tbh.

Me: The cat filter, AVERY, on your laptop. We couldn’t get it off, and your dad is evidently a time traveler from the fifties or something because he can’t say the word cat without putting pussy in front of it. PUSSYCAT PUSSYCAT PUSSYCAT

Avery: Omg, the filter! I almost forgot about that. Isn’t it great?

I quickly send three rapid texts, each one popping on the screen right after the other.

Me: “Is this your PUSSYcat, Juniper?” -Neil Banks

Me: “Oh man. Now, I’m all wet. A wet PUSSYcat.” -Neil Banks

Me: “I think I just got the PUSSYcat off.” -Neil Banks

Avery: HAHAHA

Me: It’s not funny, dude. We were already connected to the Hughes International people while this was going on. I flashed my tits trying to get it off the screen. I was so panicked!

Avery: Did you record any of it? I wanna see some footage before my mani/pedi at noon.

Me: Are you serious? You’re not even here, and you’re already talking about leaving again? This is our first official day.

Avery: Yeah, so?

Me: Not sure if you realize, but we’re supposed to actually work.

Avery: Oh my God, June. You’re too funny. Like my dad would actually fire us or something. Plus, they shouldn’t have expected us to work a full freaking day after Labor Day weekend. Like, I partied hard, you know? We should’ve at least had Monday off to recover.

Me: Avery, we did have Monday off. It’s Tuesday.

I roll my eyes and start to slide my phone back into my pocket to concentrate on the meeting—okay, on Beau—but when it vibrates again in my hand, I glance at the screen.

Avery: Well, then they definitely should’ve given us today off too. I barely had enough time to fit in my hydration IV this morning.

Me: Hydration IV this morning? Wait… I thought you said you went back to the condo to fix your hair?

Avery: I did. While Carlton was giving me my IV. Anyway, you want a mani/pedi too? I can add you to the schedule. Oh! Maybe you need a massage? You do seem really stressed…

Me: I’m stressed because it’s the first day of our intern job at YOUR DAD’S company, and even though we both left the condo at the same time, you’re still not here because you’re doing hydration IVs and Starbucks and shit.

Avery: You sure you don’t want a Starbucks?

Me: OH MY GOD. NO.

Avery: I’m definitely scheduling you a massage. Be at the office in like 10 min. Love you!

Clearly, I’m not leaving work at noon to go get a freaking massage, but it’s not even worth explaining that to Avery. Instead, I go back to focusing on the meeting and taking notes—and how Beau’s eyes look like dark honey beneath the conference room’s lights.

I scan my bullet point list about all things Midnight as one of Marcus Hughes’s many minions continues to explain logistical details about profile settings and sign-up options.

• Users create a profile and pick a profile name to stay anonymous within the app.

  1. They can search for users to chat with by interests, location, and sexual orientation.

• Once a user decides they want to chat with another user, they’ll obtain a Dream Code that will create a private chat room for both users.

  1. That chat room stays active unless one of the users decides to leave it.

  2. Once a user exits the chat, all records of the chat are deleted.

  3. Users can send pictures, videos, and voice memos in the chat room. They can even choose to do a video call, if they desire.

• The app keeps all users’ information anonymous. Only the profile name is available.

• The app has advanced safety and security that keeps all email addresses and other info associated with a profile private. The app also prevents users from taking screenshots or saving the private chats.

• Official launch date is spring of next year.

They want Banks & McKenzie to spend the next four months using the app personally and coming up with a campaign idea to pitch at the end of the year, and for as much as Beau seems excited about the possibility, Neil isn’t so certain.

“So, you don’t want to give us the contract, but you want us to show you a marketing plan?” Neil questions with a business-worthy smirk. “That’s a big ask, Marcus. Almost feels a little one-sided.”

“Yeah, Marcus,” Chris McKenzie, my other new boss, adds, having arrived about thirty minutes ago with his son Seth, another ad executive at the company, following behind him. “Feels like we’re doing a hell of a lot of legwork without any reward.”

Marcus grins like a guy who’s squeezed a few nuts over the years. Which makes sense, I guess—you don’t build a billion-dollar social media empire without twisting a few testicles. “Yeah, well, if you guys create a marketing plan we love for Midnight, we’ll be moving everything under the Hughes International umbrella over to you as well.”

“How many apps does that include?” Neil questions, but Beau answers before Marcus can.

“Thirty-five and counting.”

Marcus nods, impressed. “That’s correct.”

My pussycat contracts with a purr, captivated too. Gah, I am in so much trouble if I can’t find a way to rein myself in and soon.

Neil nods and taps his chin thoughtfully. “All right, then. I guess your Yale education did a decent job of teaching you risk and reward system management.”

“Yeah, well. Not everyone can spend their formative years chasing tail in the sun of the University of Miami, Neil,” Marcus retorts, his playful take on snobbery hitting above the belt quite nicely. The whole room smiles, despite just about all of us being graduates of U of M. “You’re on board?”

“We’re on board,” Chris McKenzie agrees. “And come January 1st, Banks & McKenzie will have all of Hughes International under our umbrella.”

Marcus chuckles. “Love the confidence, Chris.”

“Oh, it’s not confidence, Marcus. It’s fact.”

The conference call ends shortly after that, and as Neil and Chris open the room up for questions, Avery slides in like a water moccasin—head held high above the water and completely devoid of shame. She’s wearing the nude Louboutins she bought at Saks, carrying her latest Birkin bag, and showcasing a matching cream Chanel tweed jacket and skirt that would make most people want to puke over the price tag.

Neil’s brow furrows as he watches his daughter walk around the boardroom table with a Starbucks cup in her hand, taking a seat damn near at the head of the table while I sink farther into the wall. “Running a little behind?” he questions.

“Feels like I’m right on time, Daddy,” Avery says with a shrug, gently tossing strands of her long, dark hair over her shoulder.

Beau shakes his head silently, meeting my eyes in a conspiratorial moment. I try not to melt on the spot, but it’s hard, given the level of heat building between my legs every time I freaking look at him.

“Please proceed,” my best friend adds with a nonchalant wave of her hand.

Neil shakes his head on a laugh. He knows Avery doesn’t give a fuck, and even if he tried to get her to find one, she’d outsource the job and go for margaritas instead. She is what she is, and for the sake of ease, Neil has chosen to accept it. He moves his attention back to the room. “This campaign is big shit, guys. We want Hughes International as a client, and Midnight is the way we’re going to do it.”

Avery jumps out of her seat, noticing me against the wall for the first time, and comes to stand beside me. “What’d I miss?” she whispers, officially sending my ability to listen to Neil, Chris, Beau, and Chris’s son Seth as they start discussing the particulars into orbit.

What’d she miss? Ha. “Everything.”

She shrugs. “You’re never going to believe who I saw at Starbucks.”

I don’t respond, trying like hell to listen to whatever Chris McKenzie is currently saying, but Avery doesn’t get the message.

“Remember that guy we met at Luna, like, three weeks ago?” she asks, her entire body turned toward me like we’re in the middle of a gabfest and not in the middle of an important work meeting. At this point, it doesn’t matter what I say or do; she wants to tell me this story, and I’m going to hear it. Her father’s company’s success and our jobs be damned. “David. The one with those incredible blue eyes. He bought our table service in VIP, and I ended up back at his place. Remember him?”

I nod. I do, in fact, remember David. But I also remember that Beau was at Luna that night, dancing with some brunette chick with long legs. It was painful.

“Well, he was ordering a caramel macchiato this morning two people in front of me,” Avery comments, her eyes alight with a future hookup. “He still looks good as hell, and he wants us to meet him at Neon tonight.”

I don’t say anything to that, but I already know there is no way in hell I’m going to Neon. I’m not in college anymore. I have a job. A job I’m trying to be good at, mind you, so that I can further my career in marketing and make use of the degree I spent four years earning at the University of Miami.

“I’d like to head the team for this campaign,” Beau declares, yanking my attention away from coming up with a cover story of excuses to get out of Avery’s late-night plans and back to the important work shit going down in front of us. And, you know, back to Beau.

“Actually, I think I should be the one doing that,” Seth McKenzie fires back, a cocky smile on his face. “We both know I always win, Beau.”

It’s a statement so cataclysmic, even Avery pipes down to listen. A little over a year ago, Beau’s longtime girlfriend Bethany left him for Seth, who was his best friend at the time, and they got engaged within two months of her big breakup with Beau. It sounds like a plot from General Hospital, I know, but for Beau, it’s reality.

Internally, I still haven’t figured out how to reconcile how angry I am on Beau’s behalf with the unexpected, hope-building status of his singledom. I practically had my all-black, funeral-inspired outfit picked out for Beau and Bethany’s future wedding, and then boom, the dirty hussy dropped a bomb. I cannot fathom having Beau and fumbling him for Seth. Don’t get me wrong, Seth McKenzie is attractive with his light-brown hair and ocean-blue eyes, but he’s no Beau Banks. No one is.

Beau narrows his astute gaze. “That’s cute, Seth, but you’d be in way over your head on this, and we both know it.”

“In over my head? I don’t think so, man,” Seth responds, his voice rising with irritation. “I just finished the campaign for Clover Athletics, and, not sure if you remember, but I knocked it out of the fucking park.”

The tension is growing by the second, stretching tight between Beau and Seth like a rubber band as they stare each other down, and all I can do is watch, completely riveted and on edge at the same time.

“You didn’t even come close to what my campaign for Dalencia Fashion did,” Beau refutes, his voice deep with sarcasm. “We’re lucky Clover even wants to work with us again after the pathetic numbers you generated.”

Both Avery’s and my heads bounce back and forth like volleyballs being smashed across a net. This spat may be work-related, but the inherent tension is nearly enough to set the whole damn building on fire.

“Pathetic numbers?” Seth nearly shouts, and strands of his silky hair fall toward his eyes. “They doubled their sales!”

“Is this, like, some kind of lovers’ quarrel?” Avery asks, her voice managing to rise above both Seth and Beau. She’s unserious about everything, but the people who really know her know this is her way of trying to defuse a situation. “Or do I need to go find a tape measure so you can compare your dicks?”

“Avery,” Neil chides, though the grin stretching across his handsome face belies his whole intent.

“What?” she insists. “Tell them to put Peter and Paul Pogostick away, and we’ll move on.”

Neil’s face pinches in consideration. “You know, maybe what we need is a little friendly competition. If you’re both so ready to take this on, you both should. Right, Chris?”

Chris crosses his arms below his round, barrel chest. He’s a big guy, a few inches taller than Neil, but not nearly as good-looking. Honestly, if he’d stop doing the weird, slicked-back hair look on his curly gray hair, he’d increase his appeal tenfold. “Getting Hughes International as a client is important. Hell, it’s the most important thing right now. And the more ideas we have, the better.”

“You don’t need more than one idea when you’re confident you have the best one,” Seth challenges, and the tone of his voice does the tango with annoyance.

“What’s the matter?” Beau asks, his mouth kicking up at the corners and settling the tiniest of dimples in his cheek. It’s the size of a pinpoint, really—an insignificant feature to anyone else. But I, on the other hand, spent nearly a month of my life during eighth grade studying the characteristic every chance I got. “Scared no one will hear your voice if it’s not the only one in the room, Seth?”

“No,” Seth counters through a hard jaw. “But you should be, with your track record.”

“Enough,” Chris commands. “I want full pitches with all the bells and whistles from both of you by New Year’s Eve. You’ll run through the pitches with us, and then you’ll present directly to Marcus Hughes, and he’ll decide. Sound good, Neil?”

Neil purses his lips in thought, his eyes briefly flitting over to Beau. As a father, this has to be about the shittiest situation he’s ever created for his son, and knowing Neil, he’s feeling conflicted. But to my surprise, he nods. “Yeah. I think that sounds perfect.”

Avery nudges me with her elbow, but I don’t dare look away. I need to know everything that Beau is feeling and thinking right now, and I need to know the cheat codes for how to fix it.

“So, we’re competing against each other?” Seth asks for confirmation, a sneaky smile flashing across his lips.

“Yeah.” Chris nods. “Friendly competition, of course. Banks & McKenzie is the only thing we truly need to win.”

“Of course,” Beau agrees, his jaw a firm mask over his normal good nature.

Is it just me, or has someone sucked all the air out of the room?

“Oh boy,” Avery mutters toward me. “This sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe I should AirDrop my therapist’s number to Beau when we leave here.”

Chris smiles big, and a giant cloud of anticipation and bad juju fills the air. I war with myself, wondering if watching Beau go through this is going to help my crush or fan the flames.

Either way, I guess we’re about to find out.

Let the games begin.