Read The Underwriting for Free Online Page B

Taylor.”
    She moved to shut the drawer, but he held it open. “Gingko, vitamin B, biotin, milk thistle.” He lifted one of the bottles. “What is milk thistle for?”
    â€œIt helps with hangovers.” Tara grabbed the bottle and shut the drawer before he found the Celexa. She wasn’t ashamed of being on the antidepressant—she’d been on it since she was fourteen—but she didn’t need Todd Kent to know and get the wrong idea.
    â€œReally? See? I knew you were going to come in handy on this deal.”
    â€œGlad I’m already adding value,” she said. “Now, can you explain what’s going on?”
    â€œI’d be delighted. Have a seat,” he said, forgetting he had taken her chair. She turned her hips to face him and propped back against the desk.
    â€œSo Josh Hart e-mailed me this morning”—he started the story with the familiarity of having told it many times already—“and told me he wants to take Hook public. He wants a 14-billion-dollar valuation and a 1.8-billion-dollar raise. Doesn’t want to do a bake-off, and insisted on a small team with no douchebags.”
    â€œAnd he picked you?”
    â€œYep,” he said proudly, missing her sarcasm. “And I, in turn, picked you.”
    Her cheeks flushed: it
was
because of Todd that she was on the deal. “Why?” she blurted. “I mean, I’m thrilled—you know this is huge for me—but I’ve never done one of these deals solo, and Lillian thinks—”
    â€œScrew Lillian. You’re smart and unintimidating and you know how to deal with nerds. And it’s not like your piece is rocket science anyway.”
    She paused, not sure which part of his analysis of the situation was most insulting.
    â€œPlus it’ll be fun to work together,” he said. “Like a little Stanford reunion. Did you know Nick Winthrop?”
    â€œStudent body president Nick Winthrop?” she asked. Nick had been three years ahead of her at Stanford and had once shown up at Pi Phi drunk, with a bunch of flowers he’d plucked from the sorority’s rose garden, to serenade Tara with a song he’d written, asking her to be his date for a Sigma Nu formal. She’d declined.
    â€œYeah, super dweeb. We cut him day one of rush.”
    â€œYeah, I remember him.” She didn’t mention how.
    â€œHe’s Hook’s CFO.” Todd laughed at the thought. “The last time I saw him he was trying to get SAE on alcohol probation because we planned a kegger the same night as his a cappella concert and no one was there to listen to his cover of ‘Brown Eyed Girl.’”
    â€œI hope he doesn’t still hold a grudge,” Tara said.
    â€œNah.” Todd brushed it off. “Who holds on to things from college?”
    She studied him for a moment to make sure he wasn’t implying anything. Todd was right. There was no need to hang on to the fact that they’d slept together in college. She’d slept with lots of guys since then. Well, seven. Eight if you counted that one time with . . . Whatever. Sleeping with Todd didn’t mean anything, and it wouldn’t happen again, and it had nothing to do with why Todd had picked her to be on the deal.
    â€œAnyway,” he said, finally moving to stand, “we fly Friday morning to meet with Josh, Nick and Phil Dalton, their big VC.”
    â€œWho else is on our team?”
    â€œYou, me, Beau Buckley and Neha Patel.”
    â€œBeau Buckley?” She’d worked with Beau last summer on a recruiting event—he was great company, but worthless when it came to actual work. “Did you need a party buddy?”
    â€œIt was Harvey Tate’s idea.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. Neha’s got enough horsepower for both of them.”
    He turned to leave and Tara pulled her legs out of the way, standing to let him pass. Their