Jennie

The makeup artist reapplied my lipstick with tiny bird-like brushstrokes.

There were ten of us set up in the lab at AHA instead of the high-security Flawless environment. The educational lab across the hall was swarming with a junior high field trip. Ninth graders were poring over microscopes and the water samples they'd collected from around their homes and neighborhoods.

Byul's photographers, stylists, lighting technicians, and hair and makeup artists had commandeered the other lab and turned the room into what looked like a high-end fashion shoot.

Except the "fashion" was a lab coat.

I'd kept my connection to the building loose, saying only that the DIY lab movement and hands-on science educational initiatives were causes I was proud to support.

But Byul was smart and more than a little sneaky.

Her interview style was rapid-fire with several easy questions back to back lulling the interviewee into a relaxed complacency. And then she'd strike.

"Why do you own two laboratory facilities?" she said after I told her my favorite place for late night sushi in South Beach.

"Dammit, Byul," I said, trying not to move my lips. "Not everything is up for public consumption."

"Off the record then. Call me curious."

The makeup artist finished his touch-up and bustled off to peer over the photographer and shoot director's shoulders while they reviewed images from the first hour.

I had a newfound respect for supermodels and how incredibly boring their job was. Hold still. Move a fraction of an inch this way. Now the other way. Look attractive and interesting. I wished I were across the hall looking for lead and microorganisms.

My phone vibrated in the pocket of my coat, and I glanced at the screen. Bobby. I ignored the call and leaned against the work table.

"I like science, okay? I don't get to play in the Flawless lab. So I come here."

"You own the company that owns this building. That's quite an investment for a hobby," Byul prodded.

"I can afford it," I quipped.

"Hmm," she hummed noncommittally. "Do you work on new products here before you bring them to Flawless?"

"Of course not. Across the hall is our educational lab. It's mainly for getting kids—especially girls—excited about STEM. We do field trips, science clubs, that kind of thing. And with our equipment, they can run more complex and interesting experiments than what most high school labs are capable of."

On cue, a chorus of cheers erupted across the hall.

"That usually means someone found a parasite or something gross," I told Byul.

"What about this space?" she asked, undeterred.

"Off the record," I repeated. "This particular space is a DIY lab. Scientists or those with scientific interests can sign up to use the space and share communal equipment. We're linked to similar cohorts around the country so each lab can be working on its own data sets and sharing them."

"This feels like a passion project," she insisted, not put off by my flippancy. "You're happier here than you are in your office."

Why did people feel the need to keep pointing that out?

Of course being hands-on in a lab surrounded by other nerds was more exciting than my ass going numb in a meeting about other people's work. But I was a CEO. I steered the ship, not stoked the engines. I maintained the vision.

"I enjoy dabbling," I said carefully. Off the record or not, this was a piece of my life that I kept quiet. "But I'm not the focus here."

"Said the woman on hour two of her photo shoot," she reminded me.

"What I mean," I said dryly. "Is the focus here is on education and process. Not who owns what and what her hair looks like today. I opened these doors so kids who want to learn and so fellow nerds who don't have access to their own state-of-the-art lab space can have a place to experiment and grow."

"Okay. Fine. Tell me something I can use on the record about DIY labs," she said.

"Big things are coming out of DIY labs every day. They don't need grants and funding and can specialize in areas that private companies and Big Pharma aren't interested in. DIY labs are the future of disease eradication because they can take the business out of science. They can develop a cheap malaria vaccine or study antibiotic resistance because there's no large corporation behind them making decisions based on profits and losses."

"So what's this DIY lab working on?" she pressed.

"Ms. Kim, we're ready for you," the assistant director called from the gray backdrop they'd erected.

"That's need to know," I told her, starting for the front of the room. "And it's pretty freaking cool."

"Tease."

My phone signaled again in my pocket. Bobby again.

"I just need a second," I told the assistant and ducked out into the hallway. "Bobby, what's up? I'm in the middle of something."

"Hey, listen. Is that offer for some cash still good?"

We hadn't spoken since the gala. More specifically, since his hissy fit at the gala. And I hadn't actually offered him cash then. But that was just like Bobby.

I thought about Lisa, her family, about Alison and Chu and Chaeyoung and Nayeon. I shoved my hand through my hair and remembered. I was a badass.

"Actually, Bobby. I'm busy, and there was no offer. There won't be an offer. It's time for you to figure your own shit out."

"Whoa, someone gets herself an edgy haircut and suddenly thinks she's above it all. Real dick move, Jen."

My brother was so used to getting what he wanted, he wasn't even capable of asking nicely. It was sad, disgusting.

"You would know," I said, keeping my voice low. "You don't think of me as a sister. You think of me as a blank check. You don't even know what family is supposed to be."

"Let's be real. None of us do. Not our fault. Listen, I'm in trouble, Jen. The festival fell through, and there's not enough money for refunds. Lawyers are involved."

I closed my eyes. Took a breath. My adult brother was not my responsibility. I couldn't fix him. My money, my help couldn't make him a better brother, a better son, and a better person. The only chance he had was suffering the consequences of his actions.

"It's your mess to clean up."

He sputtered into my ear. "You don't get it. This is serious shit. They're talking fraud charges."

My heart clenched in my chest.

I could probably make this go away. I could save him. But it would cost me. And not just money. And in the end, it would cost Bobby even more.

"I can't help you, Bobby. But you can handle this."

The silence was deafening. In it, I heard the cracks that had always existed in our relationship splinter wide open.

"So you're picking your money over your only brother?" His laugh was mirthless. "That's heartless, even for you. You've got enough to spare."

"What's mine is not yours. You haven't earned anything except trouble. Take your lumps. Get through it. And come out a better person."

"God. What is your problem?" he snapped, all casual joviality vanished. "You're my fucking sister. I need help. I need cash. I need lawyers. I need you to wire me the fucking money. A couple hundred thousand. I need you to take care of this!" He sounded desperate yet still so sure that the help was coming.

"Not this time, Bobby. Not anymore. I'm done with the bailouts. Call me when you want an actual relationship."

I wanted to hang up on him, to cut him off mid-tirade. But I also needed to hear him. Hear the names, the threats. Really hear it this time. Because as of this moment, I didn't have room for my brother in my life. Not as anything more than a casual acquaintance across the dinner table once or twice a year. He was toxic, and I was too busy to be disrespected.

He hung up on a bitter "Fuck you!"

I leaned against the wall, hands falling to my sides. All alone in the middle of two worlds. Ninth graders gleefully sketched out superbugs on whiteboards to my left. To my right, a dozen people were waiting to take pictures of me.

I felt a strange anxiety creeping its way through my system. My reputation was repairing itself. The IPO seemed to be back on track. Everything I'd worked for was coming to fruition. To top it off, I'd finally stood up to one of the most disrespectful people in my life.

And yet I felt that niggling of doubt. Something was off. Wrong.

Had I made a mistake? Another misstep?

I wished Lisa were here. Her trademark bluntness would snap me out of this funk. No one felt sorry for an empire-building CEO who was about to add more zeros to her portfolio.

I peered into the educational lab again. It was a picture of chaotic energy. Interest.

But it felt like there was more than just a wall and window standing between me and that vibe. Because my two greatest assets right now were my brand and my bank account. Not my brain. Not my ideas. Not my leadership. Not my contributions to fucking science. Not my ability to maneuver around a lab and wade through data.

There was no one to blame but me.

But this was necessary. This was the cost of business, of progress, of growth. Sometimes you had to take a step back from what you loved so you could do what needed to be done.

My phone rang again. It was my mother. I sent the call straight to voicemail. There were only so many confrontations I could handle in a morning.

"Ms. Kim, we're ready for you," the assistant called from the doorway.

They were going to have to redo the lipstick since I'd eaten half of it off.

--

Jennie, it's your mother. I was in an appointment with a tarot reader and had a message from Bobby. The poor thing's gotten himself into a bit of trouble. I need you to reach out to him and make arrangements with your legal team. Your father is being ridiculously stubborn and pretending like he's not going to pay. So of course, you'll need to cover the cost until he sees the error in his ways. Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into that man. He acts like family doesn't deserve—Hang on. Bobby is calling me back.

Jennie! How could you turn your back on your brother like that? I'm appalled. He needs our help. I don't know what's gotten into you, but it isn't attractive. You cut off all your beautiful hair, start dating a questionable person, and suddenly decide that you're too busy to help your family? Call your brother and fix this. Immediately. You know he'd be there for you in a heartbeat if you ever needed anything. I'm just sick over this. You need to fix this.