I still don’t know why Ryland would do it, though. This is what sticks in my craw as I stand behind the curtain separating those of us preparing for demonstrations from the hundreds of spectators filling the seats. Why would he go behind my back this way? What did I ever do to him? And he sat there, just as surprised and offended as anybody, when we found out Weissman had stolen our design.
No. My design.
Ryland, my best friend. My buddy. It has to be him. Only he knew enough about the design to take it to someone else. He maneuvered Sam’s hiring in the company. She was the perfect decoy, wasn’t she? They could blame it all on her.
Which reminds me.
I peer through the opening in the curtains, scanning the room for any sign of Weissman. He’ll be out there, naturally, since his corporation is performing a demo. He’ll want to witness his triumph over his biggest competitor in person. Not just the success of his drone, but the destruction of mine.
He might be in for quite a surprise.
Ryland approaches, grinning from ear to ear.
I stare at him. Still not wanting to believe how wrong I’ve been. His smile is so real, so full of pride I could actually believe he’s my friend. I’ve seen that grin so many times. Before a game, before an important presentation, when he stood as my best man. If it weren’t for Sam, I wouldn’t have the slightest clue of what might be behind that grin. Those friendly eyes.
“Ready for this?” he asks, his voice full of excitement.
Is it excitement at the thought of seeing me fail? It has to be. Does he secretly hate me that much? It might not even be personal, really. Maybe he’s just collecting a hefty payday from Weissman, of a bigger share of Weissman’s company, once mine has been destroyed. Who knows? I want so much to ask him about the tapes. I want to ask what I did to leave him so vulnerable to bribery, if that’s what this is all about, but I don’t. I turn away from him. I actually can’t look at him.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I murmur, looking out over the audience again.
“You’re nervous?”
“Yeah.” I don’t turn to face him. He might be able to read me if I look him in the eye. Let him think I’m having a bad case of nerves and leave it at that.
“Don’t worry. Your drone will kill it.” He slaps my back.
My first instinct is to turn around and sock him in the jaw. But I don’t. Soon, he will be nothing to me. What is important is my company. My eyes catch movement.
There he is. The smug son of a bitch, moving toward his seat in the front row. Very good, Vince, very good. All the better to watch me destroy you.
I wish Sam were here. Damn it, why was I so quick to judge her? I pushed her away out of hurt and rage. Even though I called her a whore—something I still haven’t forgiven myself for—she reached out to me and clued me in on the trick she played on Ryland. She didn’t have to do that. She could’ve left me to my own devices. She could’ve hung me out to dry.
“Looks like we’re up before Arcane,” Ryland whispers, standing close to me.
I force myself not to move away. I turn to look at him, my face composed. He is going to get such a shock. “Good, because I don’t feel like waiting for them to get through their presentation before I get through ours.” And it’ll look better for me to present first, too. They’ll be the ones who look like thieves—which is what they are.
“Wait. What?” It’s a sharp question, surprised. Dismayed, even.
“Yeah, I’m running the demonstration, myself.”
He frowns suspiciously. “But I’ve been rehearsing it for days.”
“I’m sure you have, but nobody knows more about my drone than I do. It’s my baby and has been from the beginning. I’m presenting.” I glance at him from the corner of my eye, almost daring him to defy me on this. I wouldn’t want to tip my hand too early, but he’s pushing me to the breaking point.
He sees this, too, knows me well enough to know when I’ve had just about enough. He nods. “All right. Go for it. Good luck.”
I wish I believed he really wants me to do well. It’s a soul-destroying feeling when the person you loved like brother for as far back as you can remember—turns out to be your enemy.
The host of the presentation is stepping out onto the stage now, to the applause of the audience. They’re ready to be wowed—well, I have a feeling they’ll get what they came for.
“First up today is Guardian Technologies, presenting their design for a long-range drone.”
More applause.
The knot in my stomach is as tight as it’s ever been. Maybe tighter.
I carry the drone out to the stage, smiling. Nobody has touched it today except for me. I won’t take any chances. This is it. Everything we’ve worked toward, everything we’ve dreamed of. The entire future of my company and everyone who works in it.
Yeah. No pressure.
I place the drone on the table and get an image of Sam in my head. She should be here with me. If this presentation goes successfully, it’s because of her. Not me. She saved us. I owe her big time.
I scan the room, searching the crowd. They’re an eager, captive audience. And the most eager member isn’t Weissman, either.
It’s his daughter.
There she is, up top, standing with her back to the wall. Directly across from where I’m standing now. Arms folded, eyes boring holes into me. When I look into them, she lifts her chin in that defiant way of hers. Daring me to make a scene, to call her out. To even give an indication that I know her.
I wish I could tell her I believe her, but not until I see what Arcane does. But I believe her when she says she didn’t want to hurt me. I believe she didn’t use me the way I accused her of doing.
There’s only one way to find out if she’s telling the truth about the rest of it.
My smile widens. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.”
Lincoln
“So, thanks to this breakthrough technology, our Excalibur GTX3 will be able to travel up to twenty times further than current models of even the highest-priced devices.” I use the controls to raise the height at which the prototype hovers over the room. “It is also able to maintain altitude with up to ten pounds attached, without affecting the distance it can travel.”
I scan the front row, pointedly meeting Weissman’s gaze before looking to the person seated beside him. “Would you do me the honor of assisting me in this demonstration?”
The woman smiles, smoothing down her pencil skirt before standing. I wave her over to me, still with the controls in my hand, and point to the gallon of milk on the floor. I’ve been flying the drone for over ten minutes now with fifteen minutes being the longest a presentation can run. The prototype seems to be doing just fine. You did it, Sam. You did it. I don’t dare raise my eyes up in her direction, but I hope she feels the pride I do.
“Could you please confirm that this carton is full and not empty?” I ask, flashing her my most winning smile.
She bends, lifting the carton, and nods. “It’s full of milk,” she confirms with a laugh.
A general rumble of laughter spreads over the room.
“Now, would you be so kind as to hook it onto the bottom of the Excalibur GTX3?” While she’s doing this, I turn to the audience. “A gallon weighs approximately eight-point-three-five pounds. Short of our ten-pound limit, but you get the idea.”
More good-natured laughter.
Now, for the real challenge. I thank the volunteer and raise the drone again, this time flying it out over the crowd.
They react with squeals, shouts and laughter as they cover their heads, hoping not to get caught in a milk shower should the drone fail.
It doesn’t fail.
My fifteen minutes are nearly up, and it’s with a sense of joy and pride that I conclude it with, “The Excalibur GTX3 will revolutionize the way online retailers deliver products to the homes of their faithful customers. Same-day delivery no longer has to be nothing more than a pipe dream for man
y. It can now be a reality for a greater number of retailers and customers than ever before. Thank you so much for attending Guardian Technologies’ presentation. I’ll be available for questions after the other presentations are complete.”
The crowd responds with resounding applause which rings in my ears long after I’ve brought the drone backstage with me. Only now, can I breathe a sigh of relief, my legs are suddenly as weak as they were when I ran a marathon. I might as well have run it, come to think of it. This entire process has been just about as grueling.
Where’s Ryland? I look around, finally finding him lurking deep in the shadows. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look as distressed as he does. What did he expect? He has to know that Sam’s work was successful. The work which did not carry the alteration.
A smile quickly takes the place of distress. “You did it, buddy,” he rejoices, clapping a hand over my shoulder. “You did it.”
“We did it,” I correct him. Though, I don’t mean him. I mean Sam and me. The drone would’ve crashed and burned if it hadn’t been for her tireless efforts. “But we’re not out of the woods yet. We still have to see how Arcane does.”
“We came first,” he reminds me.
And he’s right, for once. We went first. They’ll remember us, no matter how Arcane’s demonstration goes.
And it’s up next.
After a few minutes go by, I don’t even know where Ryland is as Weissman’s employee gets started. He’s probably lurking somewhere, watching from another angle, unwilling or unable to be too close to me when it’s all on the line like this. A shame, because I would like to watch his reaction should the drone fail.
I look out over the crowd and it’s obvious they’re scratching their heads, wondering why they feel like they’ve seen this before. Not that Weissman was stupid enough to lift the verbiage of our presentation or anything, but the technology is literally the same. “That’s right,” I whisper, watching with a smirk. “You’ve seen this before. They’re thieves. Unoriginal hacks.”
The digital clock mounted to the floor at the edge of the stage reads eight minutes. The drone is still in-flight. Doubt wraps itself around my heart. Is it going to succeed, after all? Did Ryland clue into the way Sam lied to him? Did she lie, or was that all a story to throw me off-track?
Have I been unfairly accusing my best friend ever since last night?
Nine minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Jesus Christ. Sam lied.
I look towards the back where she was standing and she’s no longer there. I stare at Weissman’s drone in a daze. I was so sure of Sam. My heart feels as if it is being chewed up.
Suddenly, a voice fills the auditorium. A voice I’ve dreamed about. I twist my head in the direction of it.
Sam is standing at the edge of the stage holding a mike. “That’s all great,” she says. “Now, let’s see how this drone does when it is not flying, but has to hover for more than ten minutes.”
Weissman’s team starts looking at each other in consternation.
The crowd starts murmuring.
“Go on, show us how your drone will perform if it is forced to hover and not fly.”
Someone in the audience speaks up, “Yes, let’s see that function work.”
Weissman’s team has no choice but to comply. They let their drone hover.
At nine-and-fifteen, I hear it. A spark. And I’m not the only one, as several of the people close to where the drone currently hovers start looking nervous. A few cover their heads with their arms. Nobody is laughing, as they were when I dangled a gallon of milk over their heads.
A spark becomes a small flame, which becomes a bigger flame. Panic begins to spread as people jump from their seats, climbing over each other and running for the doors as the drone plummets in a cloud of smoke and fire. Panicked screams fill the room faster than the smoke.
“What is this?” Weissman bellows, jumping up in outrage.
I know what it is. It’s just desserts.
Lincoln
Where the hell did she go? It never even crosses my mind that she could be one of the spectators who ran from the room in a panic when the drone burst into flames? She’s seen enough drones crash and burn to fear that. Besides, she would’ve wanted to stay and watch the chaos and her father’s absolutely epic meltdown.
I look around the lobby, the crowd looks as if they’re still in shock after what just happened. An employee of the convention center ran in and used the extinguisher on the drone, which was nothing but a melted lump of plastic and metal by the time the fire went out.
I couldn’t have planned it better myself, honestly. Even in my wildest dreams, they wouldn’t have crashed and burned so spectacularly.
No pun intended.
“What about his drone? Can his drone pass the hover test?” Weissman screams.
My drone passes the hover test easily and I can’t help but grin as I continue to scan the lobby for any sign of Samantha. I need to apologize for being the biggest blockhead the world has ever known. I would give her just about anything right now, but it wouldn’t be enough.
It’s not Sam that my gaze finds. It’s Ryland.
Followed by Weissman.
They don’t think anybody’s watching as they duck through a door labeled “Employees Only.”
But I am. I follow them, darting through the crowd, and hurry quickly down a corridor. They don’t go too far, only towards the boiler room of the building. I press myself to the wall, watching them through the machinery.
“What the hell was that all about?” Weissman roars, hands rising up as if he wants to strike Ryland. “Do you know what a fool you just made of me in there? You’re the one who gave me the plans. You’re the one who assured me this would go off without a hitch. Were you trying to make a fool of me all along?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what happened any more than you do!” Ryland says, sounding more dismayed than I’ve ever heard him in all our years of supposed friendship. “Samantha was the one who provided the data, she’s the one who gave me the dimensions for the tweak in the body of the drone. I only gave you what she gave me! It should’ve worked, damn it! I was with her before the holiday, we tested it ourselves. It worked in the lab! It worked for him!”
I know that he means me.
“Then she lied to you, didn’t she?” Weissman snarls. “Or she’s just smarter than you, and she screwed something up deliberately. I told you it wouldn’t work, bringing her in. You should’ve done this on your own, the way I wanted you to from the beginning.”
Which makes it sound as though Ryland was a partner in all of this, instead of an accomplice. God damn him. Even up until now, part of me didn’t want to believe he was capable of such a thing. I wanted to believe that he’d been tricked, that he had no choice, that there were extenuating circumstances which would mean he wasn’t exactly guilty. Will I ever learn to stop seeing only what I want to see?
“All that money! All that work! All of it, down the drain, Along with my reputation, all the contracts we were going to land because of this! Millions of dollars. We’ll never get a single investor to back us once word gets out of what just happened in there, you witless wonder. You failed. You’re nothing but a stupid, ungrateful, failure!”
I leave the room with Weissman’s words ringing in my ears. I don’t want to hear anymore, nor do I need to. He’s told me everything I needed to hear.
“Mr. Cage! Mr. Cage!”
I barely have time to take another breath upon stepping back into the lobby before I’m bombarded by excited attendees.
But none of them are Sam, and she’s the only person I want to see.
Samantha
GUARDIAN SUES ARCANE FOR PATENT INFRINGEMENT
The headline makes my head buzz with excitement. He’s really doing it, just like I’d hoped he would. He’s suing my lying, cheating jerk of a father for all he’s worth, which admittedly, isn’t much after his epic failure at the conference.
If words were weapo
ns, he would’ve beaten me beyond recognition when I confronted him the day after the ill-fated demonstration. As it is, my pride still stings a little, even though I’ve stopped caring about his opinion of me. But nobody, no matter how hard-hearted, can escape a verbal beating like that without a psyche wound or two.
“You.” The word was a curse, delivered with all of my father’s not-inconsiderable ire, when I stepped into his office. Disgust was written all over his face, the corner of his upper lip lifted in a snarl.
“Me,” I replied with a slight shrug.
“How could a little nobody like you manage to double-cross me like that? You chose that bastard over me, your own father, didn’t you?”
I swallowed my rising rage. How could my own father speak to me that way? How could he hate me so much? What did I ever do to make him care so little about me, my life, my feelings? “Why do you hate me so much, Dad? What have I ever done to you?”
“You want to know the truth. I hate you because you look like her.”
I stare at him in astonishment. All these years and he has never once spoken to me about my mother. “What did she do to you?”
“She left me.” His tone is cold and hard. “The airhead didn’t know which side of her bread was buttered. And you are exactly the same.”
“Maybe I’m not as stupid as you thought,” I whispered, willing my voice not to shake. “Or, perhaps you’re even more witless than I am. I mean, it wasn’t difficult for me to get the upper hand once I knew the score.”
“And you would ruin me that way? Your own flesh and blood? You would allow my business to crumble, all because you felt the need to prove something?”
I shook my head slowly, even sorrowfully. He would never get it. Everything was about him, always. The ultimate narcissist. “What makes you think I wanted to prove anything to you? What makes you think anything I do has anything to do with you anymore? I wanted to do the right thing, to see the right person win out. Lincoln deserved to win. It was his idea, something he worked hard on. I would’ve done anything to make sure the bad guy didn’t profit from something he had no hand in.”
Too hot to handle: A curvy girl romance Page 27
