Almost Elinor: A Jet City Novel

by Gina Robinson

  "I don't want to play games," I said.

  "Mmmmm," Ashley had said. "It doesn't matter whether you want to or not. If you're in the dating scene, you're playing. And if you want to win, and find your match and partner, you'd better play to win. Others will have no scruples about using whatever means necessary."

  I growled.

  Ashley laughed. "Your hands are tied by this PR stunt of yours. I get that. But it would be good for your cause, actually, if you showed some of the zillions of other women who are interested in you a little reciprocal attention."

  I'd growled again and we left it at that.

  I'd been looking forward to this date with Blair all through the long hours and hellish week at work. I would have preferred to plan the date myself. Sheri's team had put together a nice, bland, generic night out. The kind that lacked imagination. I would have planned something just for Blair.

  Although I'd been putting in nightmarishly long hours at work, this was just a skirmish in preparation for the big battle ahead. Randy was on my ass constantly, reminding me of the importance of this project's success. Dozens of huge client accounts at risk and on the line.

  Late Friday afternoon, Randy brought another software engineer onto the program, Tish. My heart plummeted into my stomach. Ah, crap.

  Tish and I had a history. In a way. Not much of one, but enough to cause me problems and make things awkward. She was one of my recent matches that Ashley had set me up with.

  In the early phases of the matchmaking process, Ashley discourages matches from becoming exclusive. Everyone in that phase, until they find someone they click with, is going out on multiple dates with multiple people.

  Tish was one of the women I'd had a few dates with right before I met Blair and this whole thing blew up. And I'd told Ashley to cancel any further matches for the time being. Which meant anything that was in the works with Tish.

  Tish was fun. Young—just a few years out of college. Blond. Pretty. And smart.

  Another rule for the early stage of matchmaking that Ashley, and most matchmakers, had was that matches don't sleep with each other until they decide to go exclusive. So, no, I hadn't slept with Tish. But that didn't mean I'd been a monk, either.

  There was absolutely nothing wrong with Tish that time wouldn't cure. She was a little immature for me. That was all. Our timing was off. Maybe if we'd met in a few years…

  I'd confided my concerns to Ashley in one of our date postmortems. Ashley had asked that I give Tish another shot, to be absolutely certain.

  According to Ashley, Tish was extremely interested in me and eager to continue. She gushed about me and thought we were exceptionally compatible.

  I'd relented. What harm would spending one more date with her do? So Ashley had assured Tish I'd ask her out again. And then, bam! Blair.

  Randy was losing his edge. It had taken him two whole days to find this new weapon to use against me and bring Tish on board.

  I was sitting in my office, buried in code, when Randy tapped on my office door.

  "Austin?" He stepped inside without an invitation, waving someone behind him forward. "I'd like to introduce you to a new member of the team, Tish. Tish, Austin."

  That was the moment my stomach became the receptacle of my heart. She smiled, but beneath her smile was an air of hurt and betrayal. Tension.

  I got out of my chair and went to greet her, taking her hand in mine for a hearty shake. "Tish! Nice to see you. How are you? Welcome to the team."

  Tish looked taken aback by my friendliness. She relaxed a little and returned my handshake. "Good to see you, Austin."

  There was an edge to her tone. An unsettling mixture of uncertainty, surprise, and hope.

  "Wait!" Randy said, his surprise a complete sham. "You two know each other?"

  "The software community is a tight-knit place," I said, staring him down, letting him know I knew what he was up to.

  He'd been in the industry longer than I had.

  We talked about the project. Randy instructed me to bring Tish up to speed because, "You two will be working intimately together on this project. Two peas in a pod." He crossed his fingers to illustrate his point.

  So that was how he was going to play it. I wondered if Tish was as innocent a pawn in his game as she put on. As soon as Randy closed the door and left, I cleared the air.

  "This is awkward," I said.

  "Only a little." She had an engaging smile. "But we're both adults." She shrugged. "And professionals. We had fun on a few dates. No big deal. We have a lot in common. We've already broken the ice with each other. If we ignore the other stuff, that should make working together easier than starting from scratch, right?"

  I'd genuinely smiled at her. If Blair hadn't come along when she did, maybe…

  I played it cool all afternoon, being friendly, but not too friendly, as we worked together. It might have been my imagination, but Tish found any excuse to get a little too close to me without ever blatantly crossing the line. When she thought I wasn't looking, she looked at me with desire and lust. And determination. Which was scary as hell.

  If Randy could use Tish to get me on a sexual harassment charge, I was sure he would. I had to proceed carefully.

  Damn, I wondered whether all this stress was worth it.

  That afternoon, Tish took off to run some errands for the project. She came back a few minutes later, looking panicked. "I have a flat. I'm stranded."

  I was behind schedule, but what could I do? Look like a douche and refuse to help? Call her one of those roadside assistants?

  "Do you have a spare?" I said.

  She nodded. "One of those small ones. But it will get me to a tire store."

  "Let me take a look." I grabbed my coat.

  She did, indeed, have a flat. I had a compressor in my car. I tried putting air in her tire, but it was a terminal case. She definitely had a puncture. You could hear the hiss of escaping air as soon as I turned the compressor on.

  I rolled up my sleeves and changed the tire.

  "My hero!" She clasped her hands in front of her dramatically and batted her eyelashes at me playfully. "I'm eternally grateful."

  I laughed. "Eternally?"

  "Eternally." She pulled her phone out. "One quick selfie?" She smiled hopefully at me. "For my timeline. To show there really are some heroes still around. And a good hero can turn around a crappy day."

  I shook my head at her and laughed. "You want me to make a muscle and do a superhero pose, too?"

  She laughed and leaned in close to me. "That won't be necessary. Just smile."

  She snapped the picture, looked at it, nodded, and posted it to her timeline before driving off.

  I had planned to knock off early, or at least on time, to get ready for my night out. After changing the tire, I needed a change of clothes and a shower. But as things with software often went, one bug led to another. The hours flew by. Before I knew it, it was nearly five thirty.

  As I was packing up to leave, Randy strolled into my office with the air of a stalking big cat, wearing a grim, yet almost gleeful, expression. "Where are you going? I just ran a simulation. There's a problem with the code you uploaded."

  "What problem?" I said, taken off guard. "I checked and rechecked it before I uploaded it. Any minor tweaks can wait until tomorrow. Are you sure it's my code?"

  Without speaking, he grabbed my computer, pulled up my program, and showed me. "See?"

  I swore beneath my breath. What the hell had happened?

  "I'm not making this shit up," Randy said, taking a seat on my desk, hands casually in his lap as if he had all the patience in the world. "Look. The execs are on my ass about this. Any setbacks and they'll come down hard on us. If anyone gets wind your code slowed us up, we're all screwed. It won't look good for you or me."

  I clenched my fist and bit my tongue, seething at his accusation. The sense of déjà vu was strong.

  "I can cover for you overnight. Keep this to myself. But this needs to be f
ixed by morning or all of our asses are in the sling."

  How generous of him.

  "Fix it before you leave," Randy said in his manager tone, as if he had all the compassion for me in the world.

  I got the definite impression he was enjoying himself. I knew how his mind worked. Power at all costs. Get it any way he can.

  Managers didn't get honor and glory when projects ran smoothly to completion. Maybe a small pat on the back. Nothing more. No, the real glory came from fixing a problem. Getting a program back on track after it had been derailed. If no problem existed, create one yourself.

  That was what I guessed he'd done here. Manufactured something to bring me down. It was a win-win for him. Either he took me out, and, having caused the problem, fixed it and acted like savior. Or I sweated it out and fixed it and he took the credit.

  "If these bastards we're trying to stop decide to stop fucking around and strike, we're in deep shit." Randy's eyes glittered with triumph as he tried to gauge my disappointment. He crossed one hand over the other, trying to appear relaxed. He gave his excitement away by the white knuckles of the one hand holding the wrist of the other.

  On a scale of one to furious, I was at explosive. A dangerous place to be. Easy to lose control. But there was a time to act and confront. And a time to acquiesce and act stealthily.

  Randy was itching for a fight. I'd be damned if I'd give him one.

  I nodded and pulled my laptop from my bag.

  The triumph rolling off him stank with ego. "I'll let security know you'll be here late, possibly all night," he said in a mock-sympathetic tone meant to get a rise out of me.

  I nodded again, trying not to let him see the tic in my jaw.

  He wasn't content with his victory. He wanted me to fight back so he could completely humiliate me and exercise more power over me.

  He continued sitting casually on my desk, voice hard and hungry. "We can't afford these screw-ups, MacDougall." The threat was implicit in his tone.

  "Understood."

  This was no screw-up. This was sabotage. We both knew it. It reeked of the incident between us early in our careers. Randy was sly enough not to leave his fingerprints on anything. Someday he was going to slip up. And I was going to catch him at it. And expose the hell out of him.

  In that instant, I glanced up at him. I realized he was so bitter that he'd be happy to take a fall with me, if it meant my total destruction and humiliation.

  And why not? He was unassailable. The fall would be momentary. Duke would cover for him and bail him out. Like he always did.

  Randy didn't realize that I'd gotten stronger in the years since we'd come out of college. Smarter. I had a few connections, too.

  Right now, though, it was better not to provoke the beast.

  Randy thumped my desk. "I'll tell Tish to stay to help." He glanced at his watch. "Look at the time. I'm heading out. Big Friday night plans. I'd stay to help if I thought I could be useful here. But this is your baby. Call me if you need me." He pointed his finger at me, thumb up. "I'll buy you a beer when this is over."

  Like hell.

  I logged back into my computer. Whatever was going on, whatever he had done, had just undone at least eight hours' worth of work, maybe more.

  This had all been calculated. Which explained Randy's confidence that I would be here through the night.

  Fuck, Randy. He could stuff it up his ass. I wasn't giving up on my date. I texted Blair and explained.

  She texted that she'd meet me at the restaurant. Excellent. That gave me some much-needed time. If I left right from work, I could make it to dinner in half an hour. That gave me an hour to get a handle on what was going on.

  Dozens of programmers worked on the code. Any one of them could have changed something that interfered with mine. But if Randy was sure mine was the problem, I was running with that.

  The first thing I did was compare the active code to my backup on the server. Had Randy, or his henchman, been smart enough to corrupt the backup?

  * * *

  Blair

  I was a nervous wreck getting ready for my night out. And eager as a schoolgirl. The interview we'd done with Sheri had left me encouraged. And fluttery. Austin liked me for me. Wasn't that the theme of a pop song—he likes me for me?

  Anyway, I was eager to see him. And then I got his text. Disconcerting? Maybe. But it didn't stop me from arriving at the restaurant early and ordering a drink while I waited.

  * * *

  Austin

  Tish was an impediment, not a help. I wasn't convinced she wasn't Randy's spy. I didn't want her seeing what I was trying. I sent her to her cubicle to perform some mundane tasks to keep her occupied and out of my hair.

  The source code and the backup code checksums matched. The two versions of the code were identical. Randy had been smart enough. Eliminating the backup on the server as viable had taken valuable time. Time I didn't have.

  I'd hoped I wouldn't have to resort to getting out my secret second backup and checking it. Yeah, I'd learned the value of dual redundancy and secrecy. Loading the code from my second backup onto the server and checking it against what was there involved a slightly more complicated and, worse, lengthy process.

  I was deep into the process, looking for Randy's fingerprints, watching for traps, unaware of how much time had passed, when Tish showed up in my office with two bags of carryout from a local Thai place I loved. The food smelled great, like curry and crispy garlic chicken, which, Tish knew from one of our dates, was my favorite. My stomach rumbled. Damn traitor.

  "Hungry yet? She held the bags up and rattled them enticingly. "Debugging always gives me an appetite."

  As loud as my stomach rumble was, she had to have heard it. I looked up at her from my coding. "Comfort eating?"

  Tish flashed me a flirty smile. "I prefer to think of it as brain food."

  "I appreciate the thought, but you didn't have to—"

  She shook her head, still smiling playfully. "I didn't. Sorry. Don't get the wrong idea! I'm still eternally grateful, and would be happy to show you my gratitude by bringing you dinner. But this spread is on the company. Randy told me to pick something up if it got to be dinnertime."

  She set the bags on my desk, looking pleased with herself, and as if she expected me to be pleased too.

  It might have been my imagination, but I thought she'd touched up her makeup and put on more perfume. The scent of it wafted to me over the spice of curry.

  Before I could respond, she opened the bags and began setting the food out, cooing about how much she loved Thai takeout. Mirroring. If I liked it, she liked it.

  "Tish," I said, glancing at my watch. It was just past six. "Shit. I have to get going. I'm sorry. I can't eat here. I have dinner plans." I felt almost sorry firing that last salvo. I wasn't a douche who threw other women in her face. Which was why I didn't mention with whom. "I'm not letting Randy screw with them."

  Tish frowned. "You're going to bail on me?" She sounded stunned and hurt. But she looked calculating, as if weighing the odds she could convince me not to go.

  I shook my head. "Not bail. Duck out for a couple of hours." I stated it as fact. I didn't want her thinking she could talk me out of it.

  If my second backup was good, I could get things up and working within a few hours at most. It would be no problem to go on my date and pop back after to clean things up.

  "Look. This is my code," I said. "There's no reason both of us have to be stuck here. Go home. Get out and enjoy your Friday night. I'll handle this."

  She studied me, clearly trying to plot ahead to her next move. She hesitated, looking conflicted. Finally, she leaned forward and whispered, "Look. You know what Randy's like." She studied me to see if I understood what she was trying to convey with the look she was giving me. She was clearly warning me as well.

  Her precaution would have seemed melodramatic under other circumstances. But the walls had ears around here.

  I snorted and nodded. "All
too well."

  "I can't afford to cross him." She bit her lip, prettily, looking young and vulnerable. "He'll make me pay."

  She may have well have said he'd make us pay. That was what she meant.

  I silently swore to myself. Tish wasn't exaggerating. If she failed him, he'd find some way to get back at her—a bad score in a performance review, punitive hours, mundane, menial assignments, rumors about her poor performance…

  "I understand. Do what you want. I won't force you one way or the other. Just know he'll never find out from me," I said. "I don't throw my team under the bus. I'll cover for you. Cross my heart." I winked at her. "But I'm going to dinner."

  She tried not to laugh. "Then consider this an appetizer. I heard your stomach. If you don't feed it something, it's going to turn on you and eat itself." She handed me a Thai veggie roll. "You need sustenance if you're going to figure this out and take a few hours off."

  I stared at the veggie roll. "And you think veggies and air are going to do it?"

  She grinned. "I'll leave you the garlic chicken, too." She rolled her eyes. "Men and their meat."

  She bit her lip again and nodded as if she'd made a decision. "All right. If you aren't going to be here, there's no reason for me to be. I'll cut out too. If you need me, call me back in?"

  I nodded. "Absolutely." By which I meant, no way.

  I shoved the takeout back at her.

  She leaned toward me, trying to get a look at the code on my screen. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

  Did I trust her? Hell no.

  "I've got this," I said. "Get out of here."

  If I worked quickly, I could get the check done and the reload started before I went to dinner.

  "Sure," Tish said, frowning and obviously curious. She hesitated. When I didn't elaborate, she gave up. "Let me know if you need me." She grabbed a plastic fork and a carton of pad Thai and left.