Annika walked over to her desk and pulled ZeeZee out again. Her heart was beginning to pound. “It’s not just him. It’s Hudson Craft, too. Do you know how demoralizing it is that some dude with excessively gelled hair and a toothpaste-ad smile can just come in and have everybody buzzing with his cruel, thoughtless app? Meanwhile, Make Up is going to change the way we look at technology and its use in interpersonal spaces, and we don’t even get a one-line mention in that article? Do you know how absolutely, exquisitely infuriating that is?” Annika smacked ZeeZee face-first into the desk. He made a satisfyingly squelchy sound on impact, the force rattling the framed pictures of June, her dad, and the Make Up office that were all lined up neatly next to her laptop.

June thrust a finger at her. “There it is! Stay with that feeling. And don’t forget, Hudson’s a thief.”

Annika couldn’t believe he’d turned out to be such a jerk. When they’d met at a conference in Vegas last summer, they’d laughed at how desperate everyone was to be done with the conference so they could get to the real reason they were there: the blackjack tables. They’d bonded right away because they were both virtually the same age, from LA, and interested in starting a business soon. And later, they’d … well. That wasn’t important.

What was important was that after she returned from Vegas, she’d found herself thinking about him often. She’d even considered reaching out to him. Until, that is, he began popping up in tech magazines and articles more and more frequently, talking about his new app, Break Up. That was when she realized he’d stolen her idea—or at least a kernel of it. “He didn’t steal my whole idea. All the lawyers I called were very specific about that. He was probably influenced by it, which isn’t a crime.”

“Okay, so he was influenced by it. It’s still totally shitty that a nasty app like his is getting all this attention.”

Annika studied her best friend’s flushed cheeks, her bright eyes. She felt her own temper rise another notch. “You know what? You’re right. Local businesswoman agrees—he is a total ass, just like Mr. McMannerless. They’re both douchebags who think they can just push us around. Well, they can’t. We’re not going to run off crying. We’re here to fight.”

“Yeah!” June said, pumping a Baby Yoda–wielding fist above her head.

“We can totally do this.” Back in her chair, Annika spun around in a purposeful circle.

“Yeah, we can. How can I help? No task is too small.”