The Startup Wife(68)

“No, we don’t mind, Asha,” Craig says, as if he’s just added a lemon to his voice. “In fact, it’s what I want in my CEOs. I want madness, I want ambition, I want fuck-itness. I told you when we first met—were you even listening?—that I want you guys to KILL EVERYONE.” He’s rubbing his palm against his forehead, and then suddenly, his video feed goes dark. “I gotta go,” he says. “I need a gong bath. Let’s just vote.”

“All in favor of merging Obit.ly onto the WAI platform, raise your hand,” Cyrus says. Cyrus, Rupert, and Jules all raise their hands.

“I’m in,” Craig says.

“All against?”

Gaby and I raise our hands.

Cyrus instructs Eve to take note of the vote. “The motion passes four to two.”



* * *



When the meeting ends, Cyrus is out of there in an instant. I figure he’s going to go upstairs, blow off some steam, and then read me the riot act later. I find Destiny and ask her what the hell a gong bath is.

“You’ve never heard of one?” She laughs. “You lie down in a room and someone plays gongs for you so you can relax.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Not a joke. A real thing that people do. To whom do you owe the pleasure of this revelation?”

I tell her about Craig, about Obit.ly and Marco.

“Oh, honey,” she soothes. “I see a bruise forming on the left side of your face. Did you get hit by a swinging dick?”

“Not funny.”

“Look, I agree with you—Marco’s totally insane. But he’s a lot like Cyrus. Single-minded determination. You’d be smart to bring him on board.”

“I’m worried he’ll put something volatile into the code and we won’t know until it’s too late.”

“I don’t think he’ll get past you, will he?”

She’s right. I can take Marco. “Probably not.” I turn to her. “But I have a bad feeling. Anyway, enough about me—you ready to hit the road?”

“Almost. I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

Destiny and Manishala are leaving next week to sell Consentify to school districts around the country. It was Manishala’s idea to get the app approved by school boards and sex education teachers before launching to the wider public.

“Those Bible Belters are going to love me,” she says. “Wait till I tell them I used to be a stripper.”

I can always count on her to cheer me up. “I miss you, girl.”

“With all those enormous egos around? Aren’t you too busy trying to find an air pocket?”



* * *



Jules and I ignore Cyrus’s vanishing act until the third day. On the third day, we start to worry. Should we call the police? What would we say? No, he hasn’t been home. No, he hasn’t replied to any of our calls or messages. No, he hasn’t logged in to his email. He also hasn’t taken any money out of our bank account, but that doesn’t surprise me or Jules because we both know Cyrus can subsist on very little.

I’m surprised he hasn’t been spotted by one of the WAIs, but I’ve kept tabs on the platform and all our socials, and no one has speculated on his absence, even though Jules had to front a video saying that Cyrus was taking a break from the WAICast but would be back soon.



* * *



Jules, Destiny, and I are at the diner. “He’s totally fine,” I announce. “I made him mad, and now he’s licking his wounds.”

Jules is more worried than I am. “I thought he would at least reply to my email.”

“He’s not checking his email,” I tell him. “I’ve got access to the system.”

“Doesn’t he have a Gmail account?”

“I hacked it on day one. Trust me, he’s not checking.”

Destiny suggests we go to a movie.

“Why would we go to a movie?” Jules asks.

“Because that way, for two hours, we can’t check on Cyrus.”

My phone rings. It’s my sister. I don’t answer.

After the movie, which exits my brain immediately, we make our way to a small bar with a blue awning. AGAVERIA, it says on the door. It’s four p.m. and I have a shitload of work to do, but Destiny and I decide to get drunk. It turns out Agaveria is a tequila bar. I don’t think I’ve had tequila more than a few times, but other than the fact that it burns my throat on the way down, I don’t have anything against it. Soon Destiny and I are sprawled on a sofa in the back, and Jules is plying us with water. He calls Gaby, and Gaby turns up in a taxi, and we all pile in and return to the office.

By the time I turn my phone back on, it’s dark. I’ve had three hours in the sleep pod and a vitamin drip courtesy of Rory, and I’m feeling great. There are six missed calls from my sister, so I call her back.

“He’s here,” she says. She exhales loudly and creates a huge static cloud in my ear, which makes me suspect I’m still a little drunk.

Even though I’ve been searching for the whereabouts of only one person over the last three days, I say, “Who?”

“Your errant husband.” She sighs. “Who else would turn up in tears and crawl into Ammoo’s lap like a teacup pig?”