The Herd(85)

I paused the movie, then touched her forearm. “But what is it? What’s the In?”

A surge of wind against the windows; she whipped her head toward the hallway.

“Let’s table it,” she said, her voice wafer-thin.

“I want to know. I’m here for you.”

She sniffed. “It’s stupid. In school, I took this Start-Up R&D class Eleanor had taken the semester before—it’s where she came up with the bones of Gleam. The capstone project was to make an entire business plan for a start-up, and…” She looked up, blinked. “I came up with the Herd.”

“What?”

“I hadn’t actually copyrighted it or anything—it was a class assignment. But I was really proud of it. Coworking spaces were just becoming a thing, and I had the idea of making it a social club, too, for all the weird, smart, misfit women like me.” A dark smile. “I think I wanted to manufacture the experience of falling in with someone like Eleanor. Like I had, freshman year. That’s why I called it the In—like, the in-crowd.”

This was too strange—it was swooping around the room too fast for me to catch it. I leaned forward. “And Eleanor saw it?”

“The whole thing. She had a copy. Saw me working on it and volunteered to give me feedback.” She shrugged. “And then everything happened with Gleam. I forgot all about the In; I was working nonstop to get everything for Gleam designed and launched. In fact, I barely touched my art supplies for two years. And—sidebar—she could have, at any point, made me a full-time employee and given me insurance and PTO days and stuff. You, too, Hana. But no, I was a contractor, slaving away for her. Doing so much for Eleanor for pitiful project fees that I couldn’t even take on lucrative work. And unlike you, I have student loans. And now, credit card debt. It never crossed your and Eleanor’s minds to ask if I could swing the expensive dinners and cocktails and trips with you. You have no idea what that’s like.”

Something shot up through me, bile or a burp or years and years of suppressed guilt.

“God, can you imagine?” she went on. “?‘Sorry, I can’t afford the thirty-eight dollar brunch, I’ll stop at a falafel truck and meet you afterward’—humiliating. Being friends with you two is nothing if not keeping up appearances.”

“Mikki, we didn’t know. We should have known. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know.” A long, choking breath. “I should have just…figured it out on my own. But I was happy you two were so successful. I was overjoyed when Gleam blew up.” She streaked her sleeve against her nose again. “I’ll never forget the day she called me in to see her—she was running Gleam out of the Cave, ironically—and cheerfully announced she was going to launch a second company, and I’d be in charge of all the visuals. It was wild: She sat there, smiling, and told me all about the Herd. Basically repeated my whole pitch deck back to me all these years later. I kept waiting for her to acknowledge that, like it was a weird joke, but she never did.”

This couldn’t be. This couldn’t be. I played it in my mind again: Eleanor excitedly telling me about the Herd, making me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone, even whipping out her phone to record me stating my name and giving a verbal NDA.

But no—Mikki wasn’t rewriting history. Deep down I knew it, knew her words were true. Guilt grabbed at me, clawing at my chest.

“So I gathered up all my courage and sent the cease-and-desist letter. Certified mail. I was on pins and needles, waiting for her to acknowledge it, and she just…never did.”

“Why didn’t you just ask her? Call her out in person?”

“I did, finally. Weeks later. And she said…she said if I tried to tell people that, she’d tell people about Jinny.”

She broke down in sobs and I shook my head.

“I pushed her.” The silence bloomed, echoed around her living room.

“You what?”

“I pushed Jinny. Playfully, when we were out by the pool. Eleanor saw what happened and…and pointed out that no one could prove it was an accident, that it was best that no one know. But then it finally came out, years later: If you say I stole the Herd, I’ll tell people you pushed Jinny. A stalemate.”

Shock burst out of me like laughter, like a cough. My hands, in the prayer position, pressed against my mouth.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I tried,” she said. “But every time I mentioned Eleanor’s name, your face lit up like a Christmas tree. You were so enamored of her—you didn’t want to see.”

“Oof,” I said. All this time, I’d been envious of Mikki for seeming so carefree and unencumbered. I’d thought her and Eleanor’s relationship was uncomplicated, pure. Regret widened in me like a yawn.

And then it occurred to me, the unthinkable, the other half of the horrific Eleanor-Mikki equation. She couldn’t…?

As if she’d heard my thoughts: “Anyway, I obviously had my feelings hurt, but I would never hurt Eleanor. I miss her. Despite everything, I loved her so much.”

I felt the wheels turning. “So did Cameron…I assumed he just hated her because she rejected him all those years ago. But did he also know about this? About what she was doing to you?”