BLIND: A Mastermind Novel

by Lydia Michaels

  When he rang the bell Mrs. Garnet opened the door and let him in. He found Hunter and Elliot playing Nintendo on the floor of his friend’s room. The moment they saw him they knew, but there was nothing anyone could do to ease his pain and humiliation.

  The remainder of his senior year passed much the same as his earlier education, but now with a sting of regret and additional humiliation as word spread. Every day, he’d gone to school with one motivation. Her. He’d fabricated some twisted fantasy in his mind over the years and now he actually called himself stupid.

  Scarlet Farrow wasn’t the sweet girl he’d assumed. She was a viper, no better than the rest of the jocks and popular kids. From that day on, she knew who he was.

  She no longer interfered when Bobby or the other bullies shoved him around. Rather, she stood idly by as the bullies taunted him. Sometimes she even laughed. He didn’t know which was worse, the few times he depended on her rescue, or the times she’d witnessed his shame and never spoke up in his defense. By graduation, his tender affection for her had transformed into raw hatred.

  Asher looked around his office, trying to take stock in the success he’d accumulated. It had taken years for him to get over that night. Whoever Scarlet was, she was nothing like the girl he’d imagined, a fabricated fantasy of softness surrounding a gentle heart.

  There was no sweetness to her. He wasn’t buying her sob story in the paper. She was just another one of those beautiful people in the world used to always getting what they wanted and complaining when things didn’t go their way.

  That’s what that letter in the paper was all about; some spoiled girl who’d missed the mark and somehow wound up single and couldn’t accept she might belong alone. The utter nerve and self-importance it must take, to make those complaints and publish them as though the rest of the world needed to know what an injustice it was that Scarlet Farrow felt unloved. It went beyond pretentious.

  The size of the ego she must have to think the world cared. Jet was right, he probably could get her, but what was the point when deep down she’d always be the girl who humiliated him and found his presence repulsive? Beneath all the money and success, he’d always be a geek to her.

  He finally responded to Jet. “Yeah. I can’t do that. Not for her. It’s taken a long time, but I’ve actually proven I’m better than her and her opinions are meaningless. There’s no point in proving myself to someone who can’t see beneath the surface.”

  Sighing, Jet stood. “Okay, man. But if you ever want to go out, maybe try to meet a nice girl who likes you for you, let me know. I’ll go with you. We could double.”

  The entire idea made him nauseous and too aware of all his resonating insecurities. “Thanks, Jet.”

  He’d spent a few more hours nosing through Scarlet’s GeekPeek profile and then shut it down for good. Nothing positive could come from this reignited infatuation. Her actions of the past still stung and while he wanted to hate her, it was a waste of time. She was mean, and if she was lonely, that was probably what she deserved.

  End of story.

  ****

  But he couldn’t leave it alone. Obsessing over Scarlet Farrow was an all too familiar pastime his mind welcomed, no matter how much his common sense warned him not to think about her.

  The next morning Asher entered the Think Tank and dropped a grocery bag full of crap on the coffee table modeled after the original Pac Man grid. Everyone stopped and turned. Elliot was the first to approach the pile and pick up a frayed copy of some romance novel.

  “What is all this?”

  “This,” Asher explained, “Is every girlie thing I could find in my sister’s old room.”

  “Why’d you bring it here?” Jet asked, picking up a purple bra with his pinky through the strap and raising an eyebrow.

  “Because I want to know how women think. This is the stuff they think about.”

  Hunter frowned, his dark fingers pulling open a little pink compact. “What is this?”

  Asher leaned over. “Not sure, but it was in her vanity.”

  “Diaphragm,” Jet announced.

  Hunter dropped the compact and gagged. “Ew, man! Don’t bring this stuff in here!”

  Elliot sorted through the pile. “Magazines, makeup, underwear… Ash, are you trying to tell us something?”

  “I’ve made a decision—”

  “To become a woman?” Jet asked.

  “No. I’ve decided I’m going to get a woman.”

  They stared back at him, all wearing expressions of surprise. Like everyone else, they were aware Asher hoped for a partner in life, but as time went on he’d come to terms with being single and never made any attempt to meet women. One-night stands were a paltry excuse for love and when he did connect with women, they always seemed to love his money a bit more than the man behind it.

  Jet nodded and smirked ruefully. “That’s what I’m talking about! You’re going after lonely Red Riding Hood, aren’t you?”

  “Scarlet?” Elliot asked, skepticism in his voice. “Ash, what if she remembers you? You’re gonna get hurt. I think that’s a bad idea.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, he leveled with them. “I was up all night thinking about this. At first, I was just going to write the whole thing off, but the longer I thought about it the more it got under my skin. There’s a reason that article was brought to my attention. If not for Devon, I never would have glanced twice at the women’s opinion column. Women never cared about me until I had money, so why should I care about them? I’m convinced Scarlet wrote the article and I plan to find out for sure. Once I confirm it’s her, I’m going to make her want me more than she’s ever wanted anyone.”

  “Why?” Elliot asked.

  Asher shrugged, still unsure when exactly his motive became a returned obsession, and not yet willing to voice it.

  Hunter gave a sympathetic expression. “Man, you’re putting a lot of eggs in one basket. Why don’t you try meeting someone new at a bar or something?”

  “Because the only bar we ever go to is the one at ComiCon. Besides, I don’t know the first thing about talking to girls.”

  “Then how are you going to talk to Scarlet?” Elliot asked. “You’ll end up getting hurt again.”

  “This time will be different. I know what kind of person she is. I’m not some stupid kid anymore who lets his hormones control his brain.” Especially not after sitting up all night replaying memories from his banished childhood, recalling all the instances he’d been trustingly made the gullible fool. It would all be worth it if he could somehow manage to erase any memories she might still have of the bumbling nerd he was. “It’ll be an adventure.”

  Hunter shook his head. “Adventure. Excitement. A Jedi craves not these things.”

  Elliot laughed, giving Hunter a high five. “Nice Empire ref.” Turning back to Asher, he asked, “And what if she’s just not interested? Don’t let bitterness pull you to the Dark Side.”

  Hunter chuckled, and in a high-pitched voice cried, “Anakin, you’re breaking my heart.”

  “Will you two knock it off? We can all work together. We’re some of the sharpest minds on the grid. Jet’s slept with plenty of women. Hunter’s had a couple girlfriends and Elliot, you’re not a virgin anymore. I read this book this morning and the main character was a complete jerk to the leading female.”

  Asher snatched the book out of Jet’s hands. “Listen to this. ‘He pressed her to her knees and told her to open wide. Fear chased up her spine, her eyes measuring his strength, but part of her desired his rough touch more than her next breath. She’d give him anything, so long as he never stopped being the authority she’d come to need.’”

  “Holy shit! Let me see that!” Hunter grabbed the book and started thumbing through the worn pages.

  “This is what girls want. They want the asshole, not the nice guy. They want the Bobby Westermans of the world.”

  “That’s not what her article said,” Elliot pointed out.

  Asher had prac
tically memorized the entire column. “She didn’t ask for a nice guy, she asked for a responsible, independent man. I’m all of that. I just need to work out the sexy part.”

  “Your mom still buys your underwear!”

  “No, she doesn’t. Only on holidays because she knows what kind I like.”

  Jet shook his head. “First step is cutting the cord, Ash. No woman likes a momma’s boy.”

  “I know that. I’m going to have to completely redefine myself if I want this to work. I’m an inventor. I can do this.”

  “One bag of crap from your sister’s bedroom isn’t going to tell you what women want,” Elliot said. “And wait until she finds out you stole all her stuff.”

  “It’s a start,” Asher argued. “Take the guy in the book, for instance. He didn’t buy her flowers or write her poems or any of that nonsense we think girls like. He was stern and confident and she fell for him. Hard. I need to learn how to be what women want and, like Scarlet’s letter said, they want real men.” They all stared at him. “What?”

  “Uh…” Elliot pointed at the guy on the cover of Cosmo. “This is a real man, Ash. None of us look like that except for Jet, but even he isn’t that good looking.”

  “So?” He dug through the pile and pulled out a DVD. “See this? It’s that exercise video that’s always on infomercials. It says in thirty days you can go from this to this.” He showed them the back picture of a man with a sagging belly turned six-pack. “To this.”

  “You have to use your inhaler when we run through the airport!”

  “That’s only during the spring. I can do this! I know I can.” He’d bid farewell to scrawny long ago. His body wasn’t anything spectacular, but he was fit in an unremarkable way. With the right motivation he could toughen up and tone.

  “I have faith in you,” Jet said.

  “Thanks.” He brushed his palms down his vintage E.T. silkscreen sweatshirt. “Here’s my plan. I’m going to read up on all things female and then I’m going to contact her.”

  “How you gonna do that?” Hunter asked.

  “She has an account on GeekPeek. I’ll open up a ghost account and private message her. Once I confirm it’s her, I’ll work my magic.”

  “You don’t have magic.”

  “I’ll find some. I’ll be the modern day Wart, heir to Uther Pendragon’s throne and shock the hell out of everyone.”

  Jet’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

  “The scrawny kid from The Sword in the Stone. He became King Arthur,” Elliot supplied.

  “What if she asks your name?” Hunter wondered, still paging through the romance novel.

  “I’ll make one up. Something cool. Something that screams sexual prowess.”

  “What about that French guy all the women used to be up in arms over. My mom was obsessed with him,” Elliot said.

  “I’ll be better than him, because I’ll be real. I need a name that’s solid, strong, and alludes to power.”

  “Fabio?”

  “Gray?”

  “No and no. Something original. I’ve never taken interest in reinventing the wheel. Like everything else I create, it’ll be innovative, and better than all the rest. I’m going to be the man of her fantasies.”

  “I don’t know,” Elliot muttered, skepticism clear on his face.

  “Stick with the sword in the stone thing,” Jet said. “Girls dig a guy with a big dagger.”

  “Real mature.” Elliot rolled his eyes.

  Jet shoved him. “Oh, lighten up, Elliot. Maybe if you got your blade wet once in a while you’d remember how to laugh.”

  Asher chuckled, but Elliot’s expression remained unimpressed. “I’m merely suggesting a name with a bit more class. There’s no dignity in a name like Mr. Sword.” Glancing to Asher, he tapped his chin. “I dub thee, Mr. Stone.”

  Hunter looked up from the novel. “Mr. Stone’s a pretty cool name.”

  Ash grinned, liking the sound of that. “I have the means to totally redefine myself into everything everyone said I could never be. I’ll find a good nutritionist and get a personal trainer. It’ll be great. We could all benefit from this.”

  “Sounds like a lot of work,” Elliot mumbled, his sole contribution complete. “I like my style.”

  “You have no style, Elliot. You’ve been wearing ties since you were seven. It’s time to let the Alex P. Keaton thing go. I mean, why should Jet be the only face behind everything we’ve created? We’re major entrepreneurs. It’s about time we started looking and acting the part. No more making fools of ourselves.”

  “Who you calling a fool?” Hunter snapped. “I’m a bad motherfucker.”

  Jet shook his head. “Man, don’t try to talk like Samuel L. You can’t pull it off.”

  “Sorry.”

  Elliot removed his glasses and rubbed his face. “I don’t like this idea. I like who we are. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks? How many other people can say they have an exact replica of KITT from Knight Rider sitting in their garage, complete with a functioning artificially intelligent electronic computer module that’s more effective than Siri? That’s cool, Asher. All this other crap…it’s not us.”

  “What we have is a 1982 Pontiac Trans Am that’s only a turn-on to nerds like us. Girls aren’t into that stuff.”

  Elliot stood. “Whatever. I’m not changing. And I’m keeping my ties.”

  Ash looked at Hunter and Jet. “How about you guys?”

  “I’m down,” Jet said.

  Hunter voice was unenthusiastic. “I’ll feel it out, but only if you remember that all this was created by being exactly who we are. I’m not gonna regret that, Ash. We’re thirty years old. Who cares if we’re nerds? If this is something you need to do, fine, but don’t do it for some girl who thinks you’re not good enough just the way you are.”

  ****

  The following day Asher’s house was flooded with boxes of items he’d ordered from the Internet. He had everything expedited and was quickly realizing he might not have thought his plan through.

  That morning he’d tried to do the exercise DVD and had nearly broken his ankle. Dexterity and rhythm were immediately added to the list of goals. He decided he was more of a people person after all and took a trip to the local gym, a place he’d never visited in his life.

  It was like walking into high school all over again, but if he was going to do this, the excuses stopped now. Every person there had a body bigger and harder than his. He nearly made it back to the exit when some large monstrosity of a man approached and asked if he needed help.

  Swallowing back his trepidation, he said, “I’d like to speak to your best trainer.”

  The man studied him, from his Clark Kent glasses to his Chucks, and nodded. “Right this way.”

  The trainer he met, Steve, turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Asher didn’t go into much detail, but slipped him a business card with his home address scribbled on the back and asked him to meet him at seven later that night. There was no way Ash was returning to that gym. He’d create his own.

  He’d spent the day reading romance novels. It was amazing how different women’s fiction was from the sci-fi novels he’d grown up on. More than a few times the words made him blush—and other things. Did girls really like hearing words like that? It was a complete contradiction to everything he’d always assumed. It was also the most erotic experience of his life.

  Romance novels described some crazy situations. The bestsellers had girls getting their hair pulled, butts spanked, necks bit, and hands bound. It seemed every taboo was on women’s most wanted list. The more he read, the more he found his body reacting to the source material.

  Princess Leia was always one of his favorite images when it came to masturbation, but this stuff blew those schoolboy fantasies out of the water. Once he imagined wielding that sort of authority over Scarlet, he was done. His inner caveman was born and banging on the walls to give this sort of kink a try.

  The problem was, he wasn’t exactly su
re how to execute his plan. He wanted to contact her soon, but if she saw him now he’d likely fail. He needed to go about this in a surreptitious manner. One novel he’d read, Master of Mystique, spoke to him more than any other.

  The main character was a scarred warrior that captured the heart of a blind female. If Scarlet couldn’t see him, it would be a lot easier to seduce her mind—not to mention he’d have a bit of a defense against those enchanting eyes of hers.

  The one thing he’d learned from reading so many romances in one sitting was that women could be patient—or conditioned to be patient, like in those kinky BDSM books. He idly thought about his sister’s reading material, curling his lip at the distasteful image and forcing it away as his plan took shape.

  Later that night, the bell rang. Steve, the trainer from the gym, stood outside his door. “Mr. Roan.”

  “Call me Ash. Come in.”

  The giant followed him to the den. He wasn’t much taller than Asher, but outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds of lean muscle. Once they settled in, he looked the man in the eye and said, “I’d like to offer you a job.”

  “I have a job.”

  “How much do you make? I’ll double it and pay for any benefits you need.”

  Steve frowned. “What sort of job?”

  “I want you to change me. I want a body women will notice, a body I can be proud of. I’m doing a little experiment and I’ll be hiring a team of people to help me in my transformation. I’m prepared to offer you a place to stay in exchange for your training over the next while.”

  “How long?”

  Asher wasn’t sure. “How long would it take to make me look more like you?”

  Steve’s brows shot up. “I’ve been athletic all my life. I think you’d see a change in a matter of weeks with the right regimen and diet, but for big changes…maybe three months.”

  He nodded. “Three months then.”

  “And what happens after that? I can’t just leave my job at the gym—”

  “Steve, look at me. If you had to make one assumption about the man I am, it would probably be that I’m intelligent. I know we just met, but I assure you this is an offer you won’t want to turn down. Are you familiar with GeekPeek?”