dinner for the valley's top visionaries. Cerrano was there, and had brought an accessory of his own, so that Steven would feel comfortable.
She's not really an accessory, Cerrano had whispered to Steven. She's Silvia, my sister-in-law. But she works, right?
That's weird, Steven said.
People know me, so no investors will be calling me tomorrow. They know I'm a good number two, not a number one. They'll call me when a new startup needs a face with contacts. That's what I'm good at. But ideas? I don't have the ideas. Not like you do.
I don't have an idea, Steven protested.
Oh, but you do. I've heard that you do. People can tell. They're curious who will find out what your idea is first.
There's no idea, Steven repeated.
Ah, say what you want, Cerrano said. How is your date?
Date?
Accessory, date, escort, whatever you prefer.
Oh, Steven said. She's okay.
Okay, right. Cerrano shook his head. Just be nice to her, okay.
Don't you think accessory is a terrible word for them? Steven asked. It's completely demeaning. It reduces them to --
To what? Tits that hang on your arm? Cerrano waved him off. They gave themselves the name. You think of a better one, you let me know.
Steven's plus one, Talisha, was in the ladies' room with Cerrano's sister-in-law when the lights dimmed and the host walked to the podium. A room full of guests went quiet. In the dark, the sound of silverware clinking on plates as the attendees sawed at their filets and prime rib.
Talisha returned and took a seat, softly resting her hand on the back of Steven's neck as she did so.
He leaned over and said, Is Talisha your real name?
She smiled patiently at him. Of course.
I've never heard it before. Are you sure it's not a --
A what? Her face was pink was amusement.
Never mind, he said.
A stripper name? she asked.
I wasn't going to say that, he had said, embarrassed.
It's nothing like that. It's my grandmother's maiden name.
Oh, he said.
And then he had been distracted by her. The dim room, all eyes on the host, afforded him the opportunity to stare just a little. She was small and exotic-looking, though he couldn't quite tell if she was of Asian descent or Latin. Talisha didn't sound like a name of either culture, he thought. Maybe she's lying, he thought. Why wouldn't she lie to me? he thought.
He wondered if her fee for the evening included sex.
He looked at Cerrano, who looked back at him and mouthed, Fucking hot, man.
Steven looked uncertain. Cerrano was right. He thought of asking Cerrano about the sex arrangement, but couldn't bring himself to do so. And it worried him that Talisha might expect it.
Her fee for the night was eleven thousand dollars.
What if she made a pass at him when they left the party?
What would he do?
He wondered if other men who paid for their dates worried about such things. No, he decided. Men who paid probably wanted their money's worth.
He had a sudden vision of Lyn and the fat man standing in front of the window of a very expensive hotel room. Well, the fat man was standing, and Lyn was on her knees.
Steven had never --
Talisha chose that moment to rest her hand lightly on Steven's right knee.
Steven, in a fit of nervousness, threw up on the table.
• • •
But Cerrano had been right.
Steven had sent Talisha home with his apologies, and had promised to double her fee. He was humiliated. Only a few people had actually noticed -- in the dark, some heard him, but not many saw who actually vomited during the host's introductory remarks.
The next morning, Steven and his business partner were invited to pitch ideas to three different venture firms.
By week's end, they had received initial funding of twenty million dollars.
Steven was on his way.
And the rest of his ride, through 2013 and 2014, were punctuated with moments of naivete and wishful thinking. Steven looked ridiculous in tuxedoes. He was out of place at rooftop parties. He
She's not really an accessory, Cerrano had whispered to Steven. She's Silvia, my sister-in-law. But she works, right?
That's weird, Steven said.
People know me, so no investors will be calling me tomorrow. They know I'm a good number two, not a number one. They'll call me when a new startup needs a face with contacts. That's what I'm good at. But ideas? I don't have the ideas. Not like you do.
I don't have an idea, Steven protested.
Oh, but you do. I've heard that you do. People can tell. They're curious who will find out what your idea is first.
There's no idea, Steven repeated.
Ah, say what you want, Cerrano said. How is your date?
Date?
Accessory, date, escort, whatever you prefer.
Oh, Steven said. She's okay.
Okay, right. Cerrano shook his head. Just be nice to her, okay.
Don't you think accessory is a terrible word for them? Steven asked. It's completely demeaning. It reduces them to --
To what? Tits that hang on your arm? Cerrano waved him off. They gave themselves the name. You think of a better one, you let me know.
Steven's plus one, Talisha, was in the ladies' room with Cerrano's sister-in-law when the lights dimmed and the host walked to the podium. A room full of guests went quiet. In the dark, the sound of silverware clinking on plates as the attendees sawed at their filets and prime rib.
Talisha returned and took a seat, softly resting her hand on the back of Steven's neck as she did so.
He leaned over and said, Is Talisha your real name?
She smiled patiently at him. Of course.
I've never heard it before. Are you sure it's not a --
A what? Her face was pink was amusement.
Never mind, he said.
A stripper name? she asked.
I wasn't going to say that, he had said, embarrassed.
It's nothing like that. It's my grandmother's maiden name.
Oh, he said.
And then he had been distracted by her. The dim room, all eyes on the host, afforded him the opportunity to stare just a little. She was small and exotic-looking, though he couldn't quite tell if she was of Asian descent or Latin. Talisha didn't sound like a name of either culture, he thought. Maybe she's lying, he thought. Why wouldn't she lie to me? he thought.
He wondered if her fee for the evening included sex.
He looked at Cerrano, who looked back at him and mouthed, Fucking hot, man.
Steven looked uncertain. Cerrano was right. He thought of asking Cerrano about the sex arrangement, but couldn't bring himself to do so. And it worried him that Talisha might expect it.
Her fee for the night was eleven thousand dollars.
What if she made a pass at him when they left the party?
What would he do?
He wondered if other men who paid for their dates worried about such things. No, he decided. Men who paid probably wanted their money's worth.
He had a sudden vision of Lyn and the fat man standing in front of the window of a very expensive hotel room. Well, the fat man was standing, and Lyn was on her knees.
Steven had never --
Talisha chose that moment to rest her hand lightly on Steven's right knee.
Steven, in a fit of nervousness, threw up on the table.
• • •
But Cerrano had been right.
Steven had sent Talisha home with his apologies, and had promised to double her fee. He was humiliated. Only a few people had actually noticed -- in the dark, some heard him, but not many saw who actually vomited during the host's introductory remarks.
The next morning, Steven and his business partner were invited to pitch ideas to three different venture firms.
By week's end, they had received initial funding of twenty million dollars.
Steven was on his way.
And the rest of his ride, through 2013 and 2014, were punctuated with moments of naivete and wishful thinking. Steven looked ridiculous in tuxedoes. He was out of place at rooftop parties. He
Similar Books
