One by One(15)

“Ani?” Eva says. And Ani nods and presses something on the laptop balanced on her knees. There is a crackle from the speakers. Music begins to blast out, uncomfortably loud. Moving images begin to light up the wall opposite.

I should be watching the film—but I can’t concentrate. The music is too loud. It is making my skull hurt. The images are too bright. They are zipping past too quickly. There is a kind of desperate, hectic intensity. My headache, which had been slowly fading, is back and pulsing in my temples. It feels as if a band is tightening around my forehead.

Figures and graphs flicker across the screen—profit and loss, users’ profiles, expansion rates competitors. I press my fingers to my eye sockets, shutting out the flashing images, but I can’t shut out the thumping music as it segues from one song to another in a frenetic sample of Snoop’s greatest hits.

Eva is talking over the music. She is speaking about social media reach and key influencers. The rest of the group is silent. I can feel Topher’s simmering resentment from the other side of the room, even with my eyes closed.

And then the music cuts out. I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders, like someone has stopped screaming in my ears. I open my eyes. There is a single chart on the projector, overlaying the Snoop logo. It is full of figures. Eva is taking us through each set, explaining what they mean. Percentages, projections, ongoing costs—and then I hear it. The word we have all been dancing around for almost twelve hours.

Buyout.

I feel the band around my scalp squeeze unbearably tight. I am not ready for this.

She is talking about the offer. She is explaining what it could mean in terms of company expansion, employee opportunities—but she is barely halfway down the second table of figures when Topher interrupts.

“No, no, just fucking no, Eva.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He stands up. His face obscures part of the projection so that his profile is beamed black and sharp onto the wall and the figures overlay his face like some sort of grotesque tattoo.

“This is half the story, and you know it. Where would we be if we’d given up our IP to Spotify like they wanted back at the beginning? Nowhere, that’s where. We’d be some other tin-pot little streaming app no one’s heard of and—”

“Topher, this is completely different.” Eva is standing in the shadow, away from the projector beam. Her voice sounds pissed off, but also as if she is trying her best to sound reasonable. “You know it is.”

“Different how? I’m not going to end up like fucking Friendster.”

“If we try for another funding round we’re more likely to end up like Boo.com at this rate,” Eva snaps back. Then she takes a deep breath. I can see that she’s trying to rein in her anger. “Look, Toph, you have some valid points, but I don’t think now is the time or place—”

“Not the time or place?” He is crackling with anger.

I feel sick. I have a violent flashback to my childhood, my father standing over my mother, his voice raised. I squeeze my eyes tighter shut. I feel myself begin to shake.

“You were the one who decided to kick off the week with your little propaganda film—”

“Guys.”

There’s a lurch of cushions to my right, and Rik stands up. I open my eyes. He is picking his way through the cushions and glasses to put himself physically between them.

“I think Eva was just trying—”

“I know exactly what Eva was trying to do,” Topher shouts. I fight the urge to put my hands over my ears. “She’s trying to get her shot in first. Well, fuck that.”

“Topher.” Eva sounds close to tears, though I am not sure if she is. It’s very difficult to know whether her upset is real or a strategic distraction. If she is acting, it is very convincing. “Toph, please. This was supposed to be a celebration—”

“It was supposed to be a fucking ambush—” Topher says.

“No, absolutely not, never.” Her words carry conviction. But she has overreached herself with that statement. Everyone in the room knows that she is lying, and there is a rustle as people shift uncomfortably, refusing to meet one another’s eyes.

“Guys!” Rik says desperately. “Guys, please, this isn’t how we should be starting this week. We need to come out of this with a result everyone’s happy with.”

“Happy?” Topher rounds on him. “Happy? At this rate we’ll be lucky to come out of it with everyone alive.”

And with that he slams down his empty glass onto the coffee table and storms out of the room.





ERIN


Snoop ID: LITTLEMY

Listening to: Loyle Carner / Damselfly

Snoopers: 2

Snoopscribers: 3

I have my headphones in when Topher comes barreling out of the den and snatches a bottle of whiskey from the honesty bar in the lobby. I’m caught unawares, laying the table, tapping my feet to the beat. I wasn’t expecting them to break for another ten minutes, and as I pull the earbuds hastily out, I catch the tail end of his remark.

“—can add this to the bill of that Dutch bitch.”

Holy shit. What has gone down inside the den? For a minute I stand there, looking after Topher’s retreating back, and then the rest of the group comes filing out, their expressions subdued, and I have to start showing them to their places at the table.