21. RAND
Eve placed her palms down on his desk, fingers splayed and pointing out. She looked like a rubber band about to break.
“What,” she said, “do you think I mean?”
She said the word “think” like it was the foulest cuss word east of the Mississipp’. Rand shrugged.
“I can’t deal with this,” Rand said, “I’m programming. You’re supposed to be handling the business end of things. So handle them. Go. Do whatever a CFO does.”
Eve all but split his desk in twain with the judo chop that followed. It was a good thing it was Rooibos, or he would’ve been worried. He ran his hand along what he hoped wasn’t a hairline fracture.
“What’d you do that for?”
“Are you listening to me, Rand?”
“Yes! I am! Eve!”
“There is no business side of things! None! Gone! Finito!”
That made Ran
