Come As You Are(6)
“We can find another shop.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I made a promise to be done with this dress. If this dress is cursed, I’m not going to bring that kind of bad luck on another bride.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
The wheels turn so quickly in my head, they’re a blur.
But the answer is clear. So clear I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.
I don’t need to sell this dress. I need to sacrifice it.
A wicked grin forms on my face as I stand on Christopher Street in the Village, New Yorkers rushing past me and barking into phones, hailing cabs, and ordering Ubers.
“You want me to go to your costume party?”
“Of course I do,” she says, excitement etched in her eyes.
“I’ll be there.”
When I reach my apartment, I grab my scissors because I have the perfect idea for a costume.
3
Flynn
“Would you like me to start your morning coffee, Flynn?”
“Yes, Kate.” Grinning wickedly at the query from the melodic female voice, I lean back in the leather armchair and stretch my legs on the ottoman in front of me as the nearby coffee machine whirs to life. “Please run the dishwasher too.”
Kate replies, “Of course. I will get that started on the energy-saving mode right away. Just the way you like it.”
I laugh, pointing at the white disc on the chrome coffee table. “I love how you know what I like, Kate.”
“Would you also like me to turn on the heat in the shower?”
Damn, this woman is an absolute genius. I do enjoy a toasty shower. Shaking my head in admiration, I answer her, “Yes, and please turn off the lights when I leave this morning. That’s all I need right now.”
“As you wish.”
Spinning in my chair, I turn to my two colleagues—Carson and Jennica, my right-and left-hand people. Carson’s dark eyes are lit up with excitement. As one of my top executives, he’s been working tirelessly on the final touches for the voice recognition in our smart-home system. “Carson, all I’ve ever wanted since I was a kid is to live inside The Jetsons, and it’s happening at last.”
“I’ll work on launching you into space next. But for now, I’m glad this works so well,” Carson says, gesturing to the showcase for our system, dubbed Haven.
I give Kate, the voice I like to converse with, one final command, telling her to cancel the shower, since I don’t actually plan to shower here in our demo home. But man, am I ever glad the system is firing on all cylinders.
Haven rocks. If I’m popping into a wine shop on the way home, I can check on the dog cam and see if Fido, Fritz, and Mitzi are lounging in their dog beds or eating yet another roll of toilet paper. From the subway, with the press of a button, I can flick on the thermostat to warm the place—I can even start the washing machine. If I want to talk to the lamps or the blinds, I can do that too.
Jennica flips her red hair off her shoulders and chimes in. “How about giving me the hot British voice when you’re showing me all the whizz-bang features? Do I have to listen to Kate? Or can I please have Henry, Tom, or Daniel?”
I hold out my hands in a question. “What is it with British guys?”
Jennica leans forward, her blue eyes bugging out. “Hello? Have you heard them talk? It’s like listening to sexy British butter.” She brings her index finger to the tip of her tongue then touches the air, making a sizzling sound.
Jennica and I have worked together for ten years. I knew her in college, and she was by my side when I had my first company, and now she’s here again with Haven. She’s an unstoppable force and like an older sister to me. A second older sister, since I have one already.
“Butter?” Carson shoots her a quizzical gaze.
“Butter good. Butter yummy,” Jennica says. “And I want Kate to be a hot guy with a sexy British butter voice. Switch her to Daniel for me, please.”
Carson shrugs and tips his goateed chin at me. “We can’t compete.”
“Hey, speak for yourself. I have a deep baritone that’s like sexy American butter.”
Jennica cracks up. “Flynn, you should use that voice to go as a bad boy to the masquerade ball.” She snaps her fingers. “Wait. I have a better idea. Why don’t you go as a bad boy piece of code? Just get a leather jacket, some boots, and write some crap code on a T-shirt. Speaking of, I’m going as a Polaroid.”
I pretend I’m deeply annoyed. “Why’d you tell me? Now I can’t guess what you are when I see you.”
“If you couldn’t tell I’m a Polaroid, then I’d be doing it wrong. Steve is going to be a Snapchat filter,” she adds, mentioning her husband.
“I already have a costume. Plus, I find bad code so morally offensive, I’m not sure I’d choose that. But my costume does rock,” I say, proud of what I picked out.
“Tell us.” Jennica grins.
“I’m going as ID theft,” Carson blurts, and I spin and stare at him.
Dread drops into my stomach. “What did you say?”
Carson nods excitedly. “I have one hundred name tags, and I’m going to slap them all over me with different people’s names.”