CHAPTER 1

My walk from the subway was subdued. The ghost of Rose from the movie Titanic was traipsing a step behind me. An older man wearing a New York Yankees windbreaker was selling snow globes for five dollars with the World Trade Center still part of the skyline. I bought one. We resumed walking. I yawned. I looked over at Rose to see if she had noticed, but she was looking around Midtown with the interest of a tourist on her first trip to New York.

I had stayed up too late last night watching old VCR movies. In an attempt to avoid the news, I had been watching a lot of movies lately. It was my first day back to an office since our headquarters downtown had disintegrated into dust. 

As I walked from the Grand Central 4/5 train stop to our temporary office building on 53st and Lexington, I tried not to look at the numerous “Missing” posters covering every street light and pole. 

When I got to the Citibank Building, I checked in with security and posed for a new badge. Normally I would have had to go down into a dark corner of the basement to get an employee identification photo taken, but there were so many Sun Microtek employees showing up to the new offices that they were making IDs right at the front security desk.

Badge in hand, I took the elevator to the sixth floor and tentatively opened the glass doors to our temporary suite. The borrowed office space smelled of fresh paint and carpet fibers. There was no assigned seating, so I looked for an empty desk. 

People were in small groups talking quietly with each other or in solitary cubes hunched over their laptops. I didn’t know the new office’s floor plan, so I ended up going around in circles before I found an empty desk near some file cabinets. I set out a loose-leaf notebook on the desk. I hadn’t gotten my new laptop yet, my old one having been lost in the fire and dust. 

“This place looks so sterile. It needs some art to liven the walls.” Rose wrinkled her nose in distaste as she looked around the office.

 “It looks like an opportunity to me!” The ghost of Tess from Working Girl had joined us. She was in an expensive grey suit that she had borrowed from her boss in the movie, Katherine Parker. The cut of Tess’s suit was tailored, with giant shoulder pads. She was wearing her own shoes, patent leather pumps that did not quite match the conservative suit. The whole outfit looked like it was from 1986, which didn’t surprise me since “Working Girl” was released in 1988. I remembered the first time I saw the movie, my freshman year of college. I had sympathized with Tess back then and had cheered her on as she risked everything for a better career.

Rose looked skeptically at Tess before taking my arm as she said to me,

“Don’t let others distract you. It’s your first day back.”

I had some time before the 1 pm meeting with MV1’s Chief Technology Officer. He was an expert in digital content, a new and growing field. I had read an interview last year that he had given Wired magazine on the topic. I had never met him before. Although I had been with Sun Microtek for five years as a solutions engineer, I had just recently asked to be switched to media accounts. 

My manager Chris had declined my request to transfer from the financial vertical to media accounts at first. But I had gone over his head and had asked his boss Brett to be reassigned. Brett had agreed to my request and had assigned me to work on the MediaCom account, which was comprised of the MV1(a popular music video channel), NBS (a traditional broadcast TV channel), and the other MediaCom brands such as KidsNetwork, and Comedy Network. I hoped that being a solutions engineer for the MediaCom account would prove more interesting than working on the stock trading portals that I had been assigned to before the Towers had fallen. 

Chris had reluctantly given me the name of the MediaCom account manager, Michael Jennings. I was supposed to meet him at the reception desk here and walk or take a cab to Times Square with him for the 1 pm meeting. It was only 9:30 am, and I had time to kill. I decided to get up and try to find someone I knew or at least a cup of coffee. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” 

I looked up, startled by the polite British accent. Standing over my desk was one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen in person. He was impeccably dressed in a highly tailored, European-cut black suit with a purple tie. He had on stylish short boots. His hair was over his ears but also slicked back, with well-trimmed sideburns. He had pale skin and grey eyes that slanted slightly at the corners, giving him a glamorous, European look. If I had seen him on the street, I would have assumed he was a British rock star.

“No, I don’t think so.” I stammered. 

“What a hunk!” Tess whistled.

“I’m Michael Jennings.” 

“Stephanie Willis.” 

“Are you the new engineer on the MV1 account? “ 

I nodded.

“Great. I was hoping we’d be able to sync up before the meeting.” 

Michael imparted this in a low-key manner, but there was something about the intense focus in his eyes that let me know this account was important to him. I didn’t share his enthusiasm. The only meaningful aspect of this account to me was that it wasn’t downtown amidst the ruins. 

“Would you like to grab some coffee and go over the agenda for the meeting?” 

Michael was standing very close to me. I looked up at him and saw that he had an almost imperceptible black shadow under each eye, shadows that looked like he might have covered them up with makeup. This made him somehow more human to me. I smiled.

“Sure.”

Instead of grabbing coffee at the deli downstairs, I was surprised when Michael walked us to the bar across the street. 

“We’ll have more room to go over our notes there.” 

The bar was empty and dark. Michael led us to a booth in the back. 

“Your expression reminds me of how I felt when I first boarded the Titanic.” 

Rose squeezed my hand, quoting one of her lines from the movie. 

I gave Rose a tight smile to let her know I was fine.

An older Russian waiter with a buzz-cut and thick eyebrows brought us menus. He gave us a look of weary patience as he stood at the side of the booth, waiting to take our order. I paused to see what Michael was going to do. I didn’t want to be preoccupied with eating if he was deeply focused on work. 

“I’ll have a Bloody Mary, double vodka.” 

Michael turned to me to see if I also wanted a drink. It was 9:30. 

“Coffee, please, cream and sugar.” 

“Would you like something to eat?” Michael looked at me politely, gesturing to the menu with his eyes.

“OK. One drink, but I’m buying.” Tess gave Michael a grin as she quoted her line from Working Girl. Rose gave Tess a withering look. Michael motioned to the waiter, who was standing over our booth, his pencil poised.

“She’ll have two scrambled eggs, bacon and wheat toast.”

I was relieved that the decision had been made for me. 

When the waiter left the table, Michael turned to me, his tone professional. 

“Here are some ground rules of how I’d like to conduct the meeting. I’ll broker all communication with the CTO. If he has a question, please look to me before you answer. I may want to check with our lead engineers at corporate before we give him an official response.” 

Michael took a big gulp of his drink, which the waiter had silently set before him a moment earlier. I put some cream in my coffee and took a sip. It was lukewarm.

“The goal is to become a trusted advisor to the CTO,” he added.

“What’s a CTO?” Rose asked this as she watched Michael with curiosity. 

“It’s a technical executive, usually one who sets technical strategy for a company,” said Tess, answering the question for me. Rose looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but she just nodded.

Michael took another gulp of his Bloody Mary. The phrase “trusted advisor” was such a cliché that when Michael used the term, I thought he was joking. Yet his look was dead serious. 

“I’ll take your lead, Michael.” 

The Russian waiter approached the table, a sour expression on his thick-jawed face, and set my food down. I took a bite of toast and wiped my mouth with the paper napkin that my silverware had been rolled up in. Michael reached again for his Bloody Mary, and I noticed his hands were shaking. Was he nervous about the meeting? 

I tried to remember what it felt like to care about the outcome of a meeting. Everyone at work would be pleased if we established executive relationships at MV1, but I couldn’t find any part of me that cared. 

I looked down at my breakfast. The toast was sitting in my stomach undigested. I pushed the plate away.

“I was never much of a breakfast person. Our cook made too many cream sauces for the eggs. Those look dry and overcooked.” Rose said this as she pointed to my plate with her gloved hand. I just nodded, not replying. 

 Michael pointed to my abandoned breakfast. “Not as hungry as you thought?” He downed the last of his drink and gave me a mischievous smile. He then motioned to the waiter who was leaning against the faded Formica bar and reading a Russian newspaper. 

“Two more of these.” He pointed to his empty glass. I started to say no to the drink, but Michael put his index finger to his lip. “It will help. Trust me.” 

CHAPTER 2

The Bloody Mary had helped. As we walked towards the MV1 offices, I felt almost normal. I had never had a drink in the morning on a workday in my life. 

I would have been willing to walk the 15 or so blocks to the MV1 offices, but Michael had hailed a taxi instead. It was 12:30 when the Taxi let us out in front of the MV1 building. Times Square was less crowded than I had ever seen it at this time of day. There was a subdued air amidst the flashing lights of the billboards and marquees. The tourist shops were mostly closed, and the few people walking on the street were professionally dressed and walking with purpose. The taxis were not honking at one another, and this gave the street a surreal quiet.  

As we entered the lobby of the MV1 building, we were stopped by a security guard with wavy grey hair and a thick mustache. He was around 50 years old and looked tired. The guard guided us to a makeshift metal detector that had been hastily installed. He pointed to it and motioned for us to put our bags and keys through the machine. 

“What is this thing?” Rose looked with a puzzled expression at the X-ray machine.

“They have these at airports, but I’ve never seen one in an office building,” Tess told her, as she too stared at the metal detector with curiosity.

I stood frozen, looking at the guard’s blue uniform and badge. Michael watched me from the other end of the checkpoint as I stood there trapped by the blue police uniform. I looked beyond him in terror.

“Ma’am?” 

The guard politely urged me to move through the line. I closed my eyes, trying to push away the images that were filling my mind.

Police in blue uniforms running from the dust cloud.

Police pulling bodies into ambulances. 

Police telling us to get out of the way. 

I could smell the acrid smell of the burning dust. I coughed as if smoke were choking me. I’m not sure how long I stood there, but at some point, I felt a cool, firm hand grasp my elbow. I opened my eyes. Michael was standing next to me, coaxing me to the arch of the metal detector.

“Thank you, sir, for your patience,” Michael said as he nodded to the security guard. He let go of my arm and whispered to me, “You can do this.” He then gave me an almost imperceptible push towards the archway. I took a tentative step and a deep breath and went through. Michael followed. The guard nodded to Michael with a look of weary understanding.

Rose looked at the metal detector, her eyes haunted, as she whispered,

 “I felt like I was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull me back, no one who cared... or even noticed...”

“I care.”

Tess said this as she pushed Rose through the archway.

We walked to the elevators.

“Are you ready to go upstairs?” 

Michael’s look of concern made me feel self-conscious.

“Yes, of course. Thanks.” 

The CTO’s office was on the 67th floor. Tess gave Michael an approving look as she watched him whisper the elevator pitch that he was going to recite to Dennis when we were introduced. He was tapping his foot, and there were tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip, even though the elevator was air-conditioned. I wanted to feel sympathy for him, but I was just relieved that he didn’t ask me any more questions. 

When we got out of the elevator, Michael pulled out a container of Tic-Tacs from his pants pocket and popped a few in his mouth. He grabbed my hand and put some into my palm, and I put them in my mouth and followed him to the receptionist’s desk, Rose and Tess close behind me. 

“We’re here to see Dennis Hickman.” 

Michael gave the young receptionist a warm smile. She was dressed in a garish mini dress with large daisies and an oversized collar and was wearing too much blue eyeshadow. As Michael held the receptionist’s gaze, she shifted in her seat and fiddled with her curly red hair, her face flushing. Michael pulled out a business card from a silver engraved case in his jacket pocket. He let his hand linger over the receptionist’s hand as he handed her his card. She giggled nervously and then quickly caught herself, pulling her hand away. “I’ll let Mr. Hickman know you’re here,” she said in an overly professional tone.

Tess rolled her eyes. The receptionist rose from her desk and went to an executive office suite behind her receptionist station. As she walked to the suite, she straightened her skirt and turned around to see if Michael was watching. A few moments later, the receptionist returned and smiled warmly at Michael.

“Mr. Hickman will see you now.”

She led us to a conference room that was attached to Mr. Hickman’s office suite. The conference room had pictures of various MV1 VJs as well as photos of the MV1 Music Awards through the 1980s and 90s. There was a sizeable ceiling-to-floor window in the back of the room that overlooked Times Square. 

Michael approached Dennis, shaking his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Michael, and this is my engineer, Stephanie.” 

Dennis motioned us to take a seat. He was in his late forties, with greying reddish hair. He wore khakis and a navy polo shirt with “MediaCom” embroidered over its left-hand chest pocket. I shook Dennis’s hand and then sat down next to Michael. Rose and Tess sat at the other end of the conference table. 

I tried to pay attention as Michael talked about how our software company could make things easier for Dennis, but the double-shot Bloody Mary and the stress of getting through the metal detector had taken their toll. 

Tess was looking at a bookshelf that ran along one wall. It contained a selection of business and technology books. I noticed that one of the books, Managing Media in a Digital Revolution, was written by Dennis.

“I read a lot of things. You never know where a big idea is gonna come from,” she said as I stifled a yawn.

Rose was looking around the paneled conference room. 

“This room reminds me of the library on the Titanic.”

“This place is nothing like a ship. This room is an opportunity in the making. If you impress Mr. Hickman, you can write your own ticket!” Tess looked at Rose with annoyance and then turned to me, her eyes brimming with excitement.

I ignored Tess, putting all my attention into keeping my eyes open and not looking like I was nodding out. I glanced at Michael. He was still giving a sales pitch to Dennis.

“Our response rate is best in class. At Sun Microtek, we excel at strategic partnerships.” 

Dennis looked bored. He interrupted Michael. 

“We’re having trouble scaling our web properties and want to add live video events. Have you solved that problem for anyone?” 

“I don’t know off-hand, but I’ll talk with my colleagues and get back to you with an answer.” 

Michael nervously scribbled in his notebook as he said this. He looked like he was concentrating on every word he was writing. He was about to continue speaking when Dennis held up his hand and turned to me. 

“What do you think, Stephanie?” 

I was surprised that Dennis remembered my name. Executives usually ignored engineers. I looked over to Michael, who was equally y astonished that Dennis was addressing me. 

I wasn’t sure what to do. Michael had given me clear orders not to speak in the meeting without his guidance. Account managers owned the relationships with any executives in an account. But to turn to Michael for guidance when asked a direct question would make me look like an idiot. 

“Go for it! This is your chance!” Tess pointed to Dennis. 

I decided to answer and deal with the repercussions after the meeting. The worst that could happen would be a lecture and hand slap, and frankly, I didn’t care. If Michael didn’t want to work with me, they could assign me to a different account. One account was as good as the next for me at this point, as long as it was an account that wasn’t downtown.

“I think that scaling is a matter of caching as much content as possible along with having burstable bandwidth and standby connected hardware. You should look at video compression as well.” 

I spoke with confidence. I hoped my voice didn’t sound too cocky. Dennis was a CTO and an expert in digitization. I’m sure he knew more than his question suggested. Michael glanced at Dennis nervously. There was a pause. 

Dennis turned to me, his eyes lingering on my chest. His nod and knowing smile reminded me of the expressions my professors had always given when I answered a question correctly. He probably knew the answer to his question and was just seeing what Michael and I would say. Dennis spoke directly to me, ignoring Michael.

“Sounds good Stephanie, I’ll tell my VP of Media Operations, Rodney Grover, to gather a team to meet with you. We need to solve this problem before the Movie Awards in June and the Music Awards in late August. We plan to have live streaming content for both shows.” 

Dennis reached out and shook my hand, his eyes holding mine. “Rodney will be in touch.” He then turned around and left the conference room. 

“Score!” Tess shouted this as she reached over to give me a high five. Rose grabbed Tess’s arm, shaking her head. She put her gloved finger to her lips as she whispered to Tess, “Behave yourself.”

In the elevator, Michael and I were silent. Michael looked like he was deep in thought. I was wide awake now. When we got outside the building, Michael turned to me and shook my hand, holding my gaze.

 “Excellent job Stephanie, you really moved the ball forward in establishing traction in the account. Would you like to go for a drink to celebrate?” 

It was 2 pm, and I didn’t have any other appointments that afternoon. The thought of going back to the temporary offices depressed me. 

“Sure,” I said quietly, letting him hold my gaze.