The Checklist by Addie Woolridge (color ebook reader TXT) 📗

“Ignore her. So the room is set to a fifteen-minute timer with a transition over forty-five seconds so that the shift isn’t too abrupt for guests. My concern is—”

“Wait. The room changes?” Dylan interrupted him, stunned.

“Well, yes. That’s the whole point.” Brandt’s tone implied Dylan was a bit too slow on the uptake.

“I mean, I know. I just didn’t expect we could make all this happen so fast.”

“Do you think Technocore is full of newbies?” Deep asked, incredulous. “Of course we can make it happen fast. If the giant screens didn’t need to be custom made halfway around the world, we could have executed the whole thing in forty-eight hours.” She was using sarcasm to play it cool, but pride was rolling off her.

“My bad.” Dylan held up her hands in a mea culpa. Happiness squeezed her chest. She’d helped come up with something that everyone at Technocore could get behind. For a lot of people, tonight would be the first night in a long time that they could be proud of where they worked. She gestured at Brandt, who was squinting up at the projectors again, and said, “Continue.”

“Yes. Sorry,” Brandt said, shaking his head and pulling his focus away from the projector. “Like I was saying, given the weather, I think a jungle theme is the best place to start the loop.”

“Then let’s start there.”

“I mean, there is the concern that the green may be too jarring—”

“Trust your instincts,” Dylan said, using her best calming voice.

Brandt looked as though he might argue when a man in a coat that matched his silver-gray hair appeared, bearing a tray. “Ladies,” he said, nodding, and then turned to Brandt. “Sir. We are about to open the doors. A glass of bubbly before guests officially arrive?”

“Yes please!” Deep said, snagging a glass with each hand and passing one to Brandt, who was looking more concerned.

“Thank you,” Dylan said, taking a glass.

“Happy to help. My name is Trent. I’m your head server for the evening. Anything you need, just come find me.”

With a slight flourish, Trent made a crisp turn and nodded at two members of the waitstaff, who reached for the giant doors. A jazz trio over in the corner began to play as the tech team in the back brought the sound of thunder down to a low rumble.

“But I could be wrong.” Brandt jumped back in as soon as Trent was out of earshot. His brow crinkled, the confidence he had gained in the last few weeks beginning to vanish as the clock pelted toward showtime.

“You won’t be.” Dylan patted him on the arm. “I can feel it. Tonight is going to work out.”

Brandt nodded, still looking gray around the edges, but pressed a button on his tablet, changing the walls to a dense, moving jungle scene. A big cat began stalking around the room, right as the heavy wooden doors were propped open, admitting the first guests.

“The jungle is fantastic. You were right,” Deep said, nudging Brandt with her elbow and wiggling her eyebrows, drawing a cautious smile out of him. “Now, put that thing away, and let’s have some fun.”

“Cheers,” Dylan said before the three of them took a sip.

Deep twitched her nose at the bubbles, then smiled, looking over Dylan’s shoulder. “Go get ’em, tiger,” she said and looped her arm through Brandt’s, tugging him toward the party without another word. As soon as Dylan turned around, she caught the short, sparkly streak of light headed in her direction and knew what Deep meant.

Stacy was weaving around the big circular tables, working hard to suppress the look of wonder on her face. It almost worked, except for her eyes, which were following a big cat around the room.

Dylan was horror-movie terrified. She’d hoped Stacy would be late so she could find Tim and figure out exactly what he’d meant by “I know a guy” before her friend arrived. Instead, she felt like the miles of fabric in her dress were melting, and soon she would be an emperor wearing some clean underpants and very few explanations.

“You came,” she called to her friend in a bald attempt at beating back nerves.

“Well, yeah. I do what I say I’m going to do.”

Dylan’s smile faltered. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Stacy said, stopping in front of her friend and looking down. “Don’t get me wrong. When I got the call this morning, I was jumping up and down. I’m super happy. But, like, that wasn’t cool.” Dylan couldn’t help feeling like she was missing nearly every edge of a thousand-piece puzzle. Interrupting her friend to admit she didn’t understand what she meant seemed like a surefire way to get forgiveness revoked, so she stayed silent. Stacy crossed her arms. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“The UW called and said there was some sort of glitch that made it look like they hadn’t received my full application when they had. The thing is, I know you didn’t write the letter. I mean, obviously I didn’t tell them that.”

“Glitch?” Dylan said, dropping all pretense of knowledge. “Honestly, I talked to Tim to see if he knew anyone who could make a call. I had nothing to do with . . . oh.” She trailed off, thinking about how long it had taken Tim to make that particular call. The guy wore a headset and kept his feet on his desk; she couldn’t imagine a call taking him more than seven minutes.

“What?” Stacy had forgotten to look angry and leaned in, waiting for Dylan’s explanation.

“I don’t think Tim made a call,” Dylan said, looking sideways around the room before leveling her suspicion. “I think he caused the glitch.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I figured a guy that rich had some pull. But the call took him forever to make, and when I asked about the details, he said not to worry about it. At the time, I thought he just didn’t want me to feel bad about however much money he had to give them.