“I’m sure it’s all very interesting, Charlie, but you know who our target audience is.”
“The same hundred people who go to all these events. That’s why it’s perfect, a hack-a-thon is something people haven’t been to a thousand of already this year.”
“Right, because those people also don’t know what a hack-a-thon is. And don’t forget, this is supposed to be about print literacy, too.”
“Feeling left out, are we?”
I fought against the urge to roll my eyes, and succeeded. Barely.
“Fine, my other idea was a spelling bee. How’s that for literacy?”
The laugh escaped my chest before I could even think to hold it in. “A spelling bee?” I asked, bewildered. “And who’s doing the spelling?”
“The kids, of course. They look so cute up on stage.”
“And the money?”
“Right, well.” Hedidkick back in his chair then, crossing his arms over his chest with a crooked smile. “I thought the event attendees could bet on who would win. How many letters in the winning word. That kind of thing. Could be funny.”
My face fell. “You’re talking aboutsports betting,” I said.
“People love sports betting.”
“On achildren’s spelling bee.”
“Sure,” he said. His eyes glittered, and I wondered if he was teasing me, or if he really did think this awful idea had potential.
“No, Charlie,” I said, crossing my own arms. “They’re children, not…horses. We’re not having our philanthropistsbeton a spelling bee. Please take one second to think about how that would look to New York Lit.”
The front legs of his chair dropped back to earth with a thump, his expression darkening suddenly: brows drawing together, the corners of his lips curving into a disagreeable frown. Like this, he looked very like his brother; for some reason, the realization made me uncomfortable.
“Fine. If you care so much what people think of you, you can have it your way,” he said. “We’ll have a gala. There will be champagne. A silent auction with trips to St. Barths and Tahiti and diamond earrings and first editions. A string quartet. Where shall we have it? The event hall at the New York Public Library seems fitting–”
My heart skipped a beat as he cut himself off, swallowing the rest of his sentence. He grimaced, like it tasted foul.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean…” he said, looking away. “I just meant for the literacy tie-in.”
“Of course,” I said. My face was hot, my pulse fast in my wrists as I squeezed my crossed arms a little tighter around each other, but…
Charlie had said he wouldn’t mention our night together, and I’d believed him.
He wasn’t a liar.
“Actually, I think that you’re right. The event space at the library is… fitting.” His eyes snapped to mine. “And we already have all the contacts: you could ask Ryan the name of his wedding planner. I’m sorry that a gala isn’t exciting to your startup friends, but my agency has organized events like this before, and I’m sure even yours has, too.” I lifted my chin a fraction. “The simpler we keep this, the sooner we’ll be done with our planning.”
“Right,” he said, “so. A gala. The– The New York Public Library. A… silent auction.”
“Great idea, Charlie.” I smiled sweetly.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Great idea.”
“We have a half hour or so before we have to leave, if you want to go over the guest list,” I said, checking the delicate gold bracelet watch I wore.
“Hot date tonight?” he replied instantly, his eyes on his laptop. He didn’t even have to think about it; it must have simply been second nature to be irritating.
“No,” I said, “that’s when the janitor will kick us out.”
“Oh,” he said. “Right.” He nodded, still staring at his screen. His finger tapped the trackpad.
