The sun is barely up when I gather the new bartenders at the stations. They're eager but nervous, glancing apprehensively at the rows of high-end liquor bottles. I feel their energy buzzing, anxiety and challenge. I smile, wanting to put them at ease and be less harsh than other managers. "Alright, team. Today, we're improving speed and efficiency. The goal is to be quick, but not sloppy. We're serving the elite, but that doesn't mean we need to be uptight about it. Let's have fun with this. Take your mistakes as learning opportunities...and work smart, not hard."

I bend to unlock the gate and roll it up, so the posts are accessible. The 10 stations are sparkly clean and ready for use. I lead them all inside, rolling up my sleeves to convey that I'm in the same worker mindset as them. Something Mr. Thompson never did...he was allergic to labor. "Watch closely," I say, grabbing a shaker in one hand and a bottle in the other. I uncap the shaker. My movements are fluid, almost like a dance. I conjure a cocktail within 5 seconds. Transferring the alcohol with ease. Then I slow it down to 15 second speed. "This is the expected rate...but 5 seconds is the goal for the end of the year. The more you do it, the more natural it becomes. Try it out." I command as a friend, not as a superior.

One by one, they copy my motions. Some are better than most. Others fumble with uncapping the shaker as flashy as I did. Their nerves are high, but practice makes everyone great.

I decrease the tempo to meet their level. "Don't rush, just move with confidence. We have an hour to perfect it, think of it as a time extension."

The relief my compromise offers makes my day. My wide smile has them mirroring my mood. Reverse psychology goes a long way. We spend 5 minutes before everyone is on the same page. Next method is layering drinks while keeping colors separated. They watch closely, their eyes widening as I create a perfect rainbow in the glass in seconds, juggling potions of a magician.

I give a tutorial in another tall glass. Pouring grenadine first. "Layering is about density—heavier liquids sink. So, apply each orderly to their pressure." Next, I add strawberry syrup, orange juice, pineapple juice, green apple liqueur, blue Curaçao, and soda water. "Pour gradually, so it floats instead of mixing." I line the counters with tall glasses of ice cubes so they can give it a go. "Go for it, take your time." I've been so absorbed with training that I didn't notice Jace until now. His arms folded while he leans against the archway. The fondness in his green eyes is limitless. I charmed him already; the day has barely begun. "I'll be right back." I excuse myself to be commended by him, I stride over with my chin high.

"You were born for this."

"You should be down at my feet smooching them." I retort poshly. I'm shocked when he actually kneels to kiss my gold bottom heels.

"You actually did it??!" I snort.

"I'm not embarrassed to be your fool."

"My team will think I'm insane."

"Or...they'll think you slayed the tech king."

"Hmm...I like the sound of that." I leer.

Jace ends his kneeling. "No...but seriously, your manager method is very new age. Well balanced, informal yet authoritative."

"Well...I know how people want to be treated. The subordinate angle discourages positive morale. Which is good business."

"You're beginning to sound like me."

"When are you going to sound like me?"

He clears his throat. "Flamethrowers in stage, Jace, you have to be careful!" The hands on the hips animatedly mock me. I roll my eyes at his high-pitched voice.

"I don't sound like that, and it was dangerous!"

"The suit is resistant. I was fine." I scowl, before I can speak he imitates me again. "That was still dangerous, you have to be careful!" I facepalm and sigh. "I accept your defeat." He brags, kissing me. "An automatic gate should be installed for the bars, so you won't sprain any muscles."

I shrug. "I've been doing manual for this long without issues."

"Yet..." He bickers. "I don't want you hurt, Mrs. Harrison. In sickness and in health, remember?"

I mumble, debating. He's being a little overprotective. "I'll consider it." I peer back at my team; most are done, and others are in need of assistance. There are many sloppy rainbow glasses. "I have to get back."

"I'll see you later, party at the beach house."

"I'll let my fam know."

The workday is trial and error, as I expected, but we make it through. I hop on to grant breaks to the ones who nearly have panic attacks. The amount of customers are unbelievable. I should have prepped them for this. After closing shop at 7pm, I get my live stream out the way. I do so in an SUV full of 50 guards. Jace is busy reading paperwork, I shouldn't interrupt him. He notes me turning off my screen. "What is it?"

"I don't want to bother you."

"You won't...plus Velma will call in T-Minus 3 seconds, if you're a millisecond late."

"Oh...yeah." I recall her unhinged micromanaging. The countdown clock hits 3.2.1. "Hey hartstoppers! I'm so glad to be back! I want to hear from you on what topics can replace the old ones. I'm all ears, so drop ideas, chat!"

Comments zip in:

Talk about your favorite book! 📚

Do a Q&A about your childhood!

Behind-the-scenes of HartShop? 📸

Show us your skincare routine, queen!

Share your favorite outfits!

Others chime in on recent events:

What's going on with the island?

Can y'all go back to Alodia? Or not?

How's the restoring going???

As usual, the rumors drama spawns:

Heard you're starring in a movie!!

Is your side piece hotter than Jace? 👀

Why is Jace giving Strygent to you, bitch!!

Cheating with the president fucking hoe!!!

Why you and Jess have a fall out? 💔

Stop hiding that you're pregnant 🙄

I ignore them all. "Wow, you guys really come through! We can do a rally for the suggestions, so it's fair. Honestly, I don't know which one to choose! I'll have the link for the selection up tomorrow. And as always, if you need support or someone to talk to, don't forget to sign up for BetterHelp. If that's out of your financial reach, remember there's the National Hotline at 1-800-656-4673. Make your voice heard and take care of yourselves. Peace out." I throw up the two finger hand sign.

JACE

I slyly hide the documents in the pocket of my jacket. A color block styled fuzzy materiel reminding me of a latte with its cream, brown, and deep chocolate tones. As soon as we arrive to the beach house, Madi changes to match me. A fluffy winter dress with high boots. It's cream. Her accessories match the darker patterns of my outfit. Her parents, Lil, Jess, are air flown in. I'm not as scared for them since I've got good news. 

The president granted me worldwide airstrike. It's a necessary tool. I didn't like how close the plane got. That won't happen again. Especially with my new plan I'm working on. Our clique is gathered in the arcade, having a blast on the vintage machines. The neon light their eyes like aliens. The room is dim. Lil and Jess are locked in a fierce showdown on Street Fighter II. Their competitive cries clash with the chiptune music. They slam on the joysticks and buttons. Madi's mom challenges her husband to Pac-Man 2 player.

"GAMER NERDS!" Madi shouts, alerting them to our arrival.

Lucy exclaims happily, scurrying over to hug me and Madi. Paul, Lil, and Jess attack us with hugs too. I'm flattered by their affection. This is a huge milestone for our friendship.

"You two look well! Are things looking up?" Her dad pats me on the back.

"More than looking up. Do you want to tell them, or should I?" Madi asks me.

"Let's say it together."

"Huh?"

"I'm lost..."

"Tell what?"

"Is it good news?"

I love their puzzled replies. We leave them in suspense for a few seconds, soaking up the attention. Lily boos us "drama queens, get on with it!"

"The wedding venue is still standing!!" The yells of victory triumph my spirit. The place was just important to them as us. It bonded everyone. I give in to the raise the roof dance, which starts a chain reaction. Our fam starts a dance line. We sip wine and party in the game room.

At the break of dawn, Madi and I head to the tech laboratory for the new design for our phone. My wife puts on her thinking cap, raising an eyebrow. "A triangle? That's... unusual. Why stick with the classic rectangle?"

The architect renders mockups on a massive screen, explaining as he goes. Each generation reshapes the appearance, some are triangular, some are less pointed. "Hmm...it's believed that square and rectangular phones strain on the hands over time. The sharp corners and flat edges lead to all sorts of issues—misalignment, carpal tunnel, repetitive injuries. A triangular shape would distribute the pressure evenly, reducing complications over time."

"Really??" Madi is flabbergasted. "I just thought it'd look a better."

"That's where the challenge lies, but there's more to it than just the health benefits. The aerodynamic design of a triangle also reduces drag, making it easier to hold and use for longer periods. It's not just about looking better—it's about feeling better." The designer states wisely.

"Oh well, that's a plus!" She rejoices. The final render is silky silver, not as pointed, yet still triangular. Ergonomic and evolutionary. It's perfect.

Afterwards, Madi and Lil tag team the country club. I borrow my bunny's office to make calls. The place is polished—just like Madi's management style, her former boss was a slob. I dial NASA, my fingers drumming against the oak desk as I wait. The call connects, and soon, I'm speaking to Johnson Cowell. "Jace," he greets. "I got your request, but I'm going to have to deny the calibrated attack responses. It's out of our jurisdiction to approve something of that nature."

I exhale slowly, keeping my voice measured. "This is to benefit us both, next time your satellites could stay down. You're open for blackouts with this breach."

There's a brief pause on the line, the kind that makes my skin crawl with distrust. Johnson clears his throat. "I understand the sensitivity, but I can't sign off on it. NASA's role is not military, Jace. We're scientists, not soldiers."

I grit my teeth, leaning back in the chair. "So, what is your strategy for another hack?"

"Our focus is elsewhere, on space exploration, not tactical warfare. I'm not entirely convinced that our equipment was hacked."

Is he serious? I lose my patience but keep calm. "Then why didn't the distress signal activate when my island was targeted?"

"A possible malfunction."

"And the anonymous tip? The call?"

"That could have been misinterpreted on you in."

Unbelievable! I'm not going into a word battle with him. My faith in NASA is dwindling...but I'm too locked in to jeopardize our contract. Personal beef has to be sneaky in the business world to preserve connections. I have a strategy for this. "Possibly...errors are only human nature. I'll dive into the call. We can dismiss this case and revert back to business as usual."

"I agree, thank you for putting this to rest."

"You're welcome...until next time."

"Farewell."

I wrap up the call. There's a conspiracy afoot. First, he offered to locate the transmission, now he's against helping. Now I'm misinterpreting the phone call??? No...something's up. The refusal doesn't sit right with me. Who brushes off a cyberattack??

I dial Alonso, needing answers. He picks up quickly. "Yes, sir?"

"I need a tail on Johnson Cowell."

"Cowell? Why?"

"The satellite breach. I've got a bad feeling. Cowell might be involved—or at least knows more than he's letting on."

"Hmm...I would say he's too public to be affiliated with crime, but most hide in plain sight. I'll get right on it."

"Oh...I thought you'd assign one of your guys."

"No, I won't go unreachable until 6 months. A 3-year bend."

"You'll be missed."

"I'm your best man, after all." He puts himself on a pedestal.

"Affirmative." I banter in military code to shield my flirting. "I'll let you get to it. Over and out." I grin.

"Over and out."

Madi and I are home by 8:30. She goes for a bath while I go to the garage. It's arranged as a tinkering lab. See-through cabinets filled with circuit boards, processors and electronic components. A workbench takes up the center, scattered with soldering tools, 3D-printed prototypes, inventions in progress. Shelves lined with high-tech gadgets, cables, and microchips. Walls feature multiple screens displaying code and live diagnostics. I pair my office screens, coding the smart wheel to lock if a driver's blood alcohol content exceeds 0.5. This code will manage wheel locking mechanism based the driver's grip strength, sensor tampering, and driver sobriety.

PYTHON SYNTAX:

Dawn leaks into the garage. I lost track of time. Madi visits me, wrapped in a plaid blanket. Her strawberry blonde hair is tousled. She looks so cozy in fuzzy slippers. "What are you doing out here?"

"A locking steering wheel for drunk drivers."

"Wow, that's a good one!" Her eyes light up. "You're such a hot nerd." I chuckle, feeling red. "No way?? Are you blushing???" She inhales all the air from the room.

"So...the design is fingerprint activated." I sweep over my bashfulness.

"No way, blush king, don't change the subject! You've been called hot loads of times. I don't get it..."

"Never by my wife." I flirt.

She smirks, teasing me hard. "Hot nerd."

My face is a furnace, flu symptoms without the sickness. I'm unable to look directly at her, my eyes dart to the wheel. I've never been this way before...I'm turning into her. "You're turning into me." She yanks the exact words from my mind. Madi lay a hand on my arm. "You're hot...I mean literally." She chuckles.

"I'll lose track of what I'm doing soon." Which is accurate, my brain hasn't turned to mush yet.

"You won't look at me, this is so cute!"

I nonchalantly gaze at her, acting cool. "There, I did it."

"Tomato cheeks!" She derides.

"For the first time...21 v 1. Let's keep score."

She scoffs. "Sure, blush king."

"Je t'aime, Mme Harrison." I get her with my French accent. Her angel lips part, her navy eyes dilate. I know her heart is racing from her chest motion.

"Will you use this for another project?"

"Now, who's changing the subject?"

"Me...so allow it, I'm your queen." I bow to her. "But seriously. Maybe the Stryger F15 could be reinstated? If the wheel can identify drunk hands, can't it identify unapproved activity? Like when someone skips the state? Or when a pirate tries taking ownership?"

"Holy shit!!" I gawk at Madison, unable to find words. Okay...she dismantled my brain!!! How is she this good at on-the-spot creation??? I'm outshone by her!

"Look out! I'm coming for your job." Her Superman pose is the perfect measure of her brilliance. The throw blanket drapes from her shoulders as hiscape does.