by Lark Lane
“Aunt Nor?” Stacey appeared at the sliding glass door.
“Hey, it’s Chang’s favorite new buser.” Lisa gave me an oh, no look, like she hoped Stacey hadn’t heard that last part about the big brother complex. “She works like a fiend, Nor. Everybody wants her in their section.”
“Work is hard,” Stacey said with fake grumpiness. “But I like the tips.”
She shuffled out to the deck in her sleep gear: an oversized Waves tank top and men’s boxer shorts. She looked so cute—and so grown up. There was a picture frame in her hands, and she sat down with the picture side hugged to her chest.
“I’ll get you some coffee.” Lisa got up and headed for the house.
“Bring out the pot,” I called after her.
I suddenly felt awkward sitting there with Stacey. She started the conversation we’d both avoided since yesterday.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Stanford.”
“I hope you believe I’m thrilled for you,” I said. “But I won’t deny it hurt that you kept your application a secret. I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, well.”
Yeah, well. She must have picked that up from Brad. It was a Brad/J.D. thing. Shit. I did not want to think about J.D.
“Do you remember the big fire we had in the driveway when Lisa moved in?” Stacey said. “You were so weird that night, throwing all kinds of random shit into the flames.”
“My purge fire,” I said. “I decided to clean out my life.”
“You scared me,” she said. “You were laughing and crying like a maniac. I thought you were cracking up.”
“Oh, honey.”
“She was cracking up.” Lisa came back out with the coffee pot and a cup for Stacey. “That was one crazy night.”
“When you went in the house to look for more stuff to burn, I pulled this out of the fire.” Stacey turned around the picture frame. It was a new frame containing my acceptance letter from Stanford. The upper right corner was singed, but it was otherwise intact.
“Oh, Stacey.” Tears welled up in my eyes. I had to make myself breathe.
“I knew how proud you were of this letter. I heard your mom bragging about it to Grandma once. I saved it from the fire because—I don't know. It seemed wrong. I thought you’d be sorry you burned it up.”
“I did regret it.” My words came out in a whisper. My stomach was churning, a stew of emotion. “You’ve had it all this time.”
“I was going to give it to you the next day, but I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“You’d changed.”
“That was the point.”
“You said you never wanted to think about the past again. You wanted a fresh start with no reminders. So I waited for the right time, but it never came.”
Stacey handed me the frame. The letter’s opening caught my eye: I take great pleasure in offering you admission to Stanford University’s Class of….
Oh, god. It hurt.
“You did change, Aunt Nor. You gave up your old life and started a new one. I applied to Stanford just to see if I could get in. I never dreamed I’d actually be able to go. I wanted you to be proud of me.”
“I am, Stace. Not because you got into Stanford—though that’s wonderful. I’m proud of you because you’re a fantastic human being.”
“Why did you give it back?” Lisa said. “Why now?”
“I thought it might remind you who you are,” Stacey said to me. “You gave up too much, Aunt Nor, just to take care of me. I didn’t understand that until yesterday when I saw the look on your face. You were stunned about Stanford—and not in a good way. Like we were little kids and some stupid adult made you share your favorite toy.”
A rueful snort escaped me. She was spot on, but still. “Stacey, don’t you dare feel guilty about going to Stanford.”
“I don’t,” she said. “I earned it. I won’t throw it away. I’ll save my money all summer and use the BlueMagick scholarship and try to get transferred to the Chang’s in Palo Alto.” Her eyes got big, and she looked at Lisa. “If there is one in Palo Alto. Okay. So I haven’t thought it through yet. Maybe I’ll only have this one year, but it’s there for the taking and I’m taking it. You’ve taught me that, Aunt Nor, by example.”
“By opposite example,” I said.
“Yeah, well…” She turned red.
“This is wonderful, Stacey. I mean it.” I ran my fingers over the frame. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s not enough. Not even close,” she said. “I always dreamed of paying you back for everything you did. Now I realize it’s impossible. I can never pay you the years back.”
“Are you sure you’re only eighteen?” Lisa said.
“I can never pay back the time,” Stacey went on, “but I can stop taking your time. I don’t want a car for my birthday, Aunt Nor. And I don’t want you to take out any more loans to support me. I have a job. I’m eighteen. I have a wonderful aunt who loves me. I’m all set.”
“And you’re going to Stanford,” I said.
“And I’m going to fucking Stanford!” She stood up raised her fists in the air in a victorious V. “And you should be fucking J.D. Reider.”
“Stacey!” Lisa and I said at the same time.
“You know what I mean,” Stacey said. “You should be fucking somebody. Anyway, I’m eighteen. From now on, I refuse to be the reason you don’t live your life. And now I’m going back to sleep.” At the door she paused and looked back at Lisa sheepishly. “Can I get a ride to work later?”
Chapter 18
BlueMagick World Headquarters, Folsom, California
“Thanks for letting me know, Mr. Yi. Please call my direct line if there’s any change…I’ll have an answer late next week…Monday then.”
I ended the call with our head of procurements in China and buzzed Brad, but his EA answered. “Bradley Morgan’s office.”
“This is J.D. Is he not in yet today?” I was surprised Brad didn’t answer. When he wasn’t in his office, he usually had calls forwarded to his cell.
“Mr. Morgan is on vacation, sir.” Ms. Barkley was old school. We could never get her to use our first names. She sounded embarrassed to be telling me something I should know. “He’ll be back in three weeks.”
“Thanks, Ms. Barkley.”
I’d forgotten about the Barton orientation. I called Brad’s cell.
“So the sleeper awakens,” he answered. “Nice to see you’re in the office today.”
“‘The sleeper awakens’ is from Dune,” I said, “not Dragonriders of Pern.”
“Yeah, well,” he said. “Where were you yesterday? Brooding?”
“I told you I’m not broody. I’m stoic.” Actually, he was right. I was in a gloom about Nora. But mostly I was angry with myself. I didn’t want to see anybody yesterday, and I didn’t want anybody to see me. I stayed home all day and watched stupid romantic comedies on cable that only pissed me off.
“Sure. Sure,” Brad said. “What’s up? I could lose the signal any minute in these hills.”
“I had a call from Mr. Yi in Byanobo. They’re limiting lanthanum deliveries by another twenty percent beginning with the next shipment.”
“Bastards.”
“Yi’s sure there’s no shortage. They’re stockpiling.
“That’s going to drive the prices sky high.”
“Prices are already sky high,” I said. “Luckily we have stockpiles of our own, enough for the first demo models. If we can lock down a new source, I’d love to tell Byanobo to go to hell.”
“Working on it. If they take us down in the tunnels today, I’ll try and pinch some samples,” Brad said.
“Excellent.”
“I wish I’d brought Proto 1. It’s tricked out with a neat autoreport code I’ve been messing around with. I didn’t have time to install it in the 2. This would be a great test scenario.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “Nicole was going to retrofit Proto 1 with the uplink cod
es and give it to you for a backup.”
“I guess she didn’t get around to it,” Brad said. “I don’t have it.”
“It’s not important,” I said. “We need to move fast. Get readings today if you spot the opportunity. I’ll get to work on my end. We’re going to need a senator or two in our pocket after all. A staffer at Mining & Geology would be nice too.”
Static obscured Brad answer, then the signal picked up again. “Hey, I think I see your lady love’s car.”
“What?”
“I’m driving through Foresthill. There’s an older red Altima parked in front of Stone’s Brew Coffee Shop.”
I pulled up Foresthill on my desktop monitor. “That’s not a town. That’s a whistle stop.” It was a typical tiny foothill village, probably a boomtown during the gold rush, now with a population of a few thousand glad to have a zip code. “There’s no Stone’s Brew on Google Earth.”
“Maybe it’s new. I’m stopping for an iced mocha. It’s going to be hot today.
“Tell me about it. This morning I drove the Range Rover in for the air conditioning. No more biking for me until the fall.”
“That’s her car,” Brad said. “I can see her inside.”
“Okay. Talk to you later, buddy.”
I was jealous. Within minutes, he’d be talking to Nora.
Stacey had said Nora’s car had no air conditioning. What would she think if she came home to a new car in her driveway, a gift from a mysterious benefactor? I’d take a lesson from Brad on how to give people things without them knowing about it.
I meant what I told Nora. Nobody needs too much. I knew that from my own experience. But everybody needs enough, and I knew that from experience too. After my asshole dad left, Mom and I had a rough time of it until I sold the app. One of the unbreakable vows at BlueMagick was that everyone, down to the lowest paid intern, had to make a living wage and benefits. Otherwise, what was the point?
From the window I looked down on the campus. For the first time in BlueMagick’s history, I had a bad feeling for the future. All these years, I’d been kidding myself. I wasn’t the king of all I surveyed. A king never has to break his promises, and I was about to break a different unbreakable vow, one I’d made to myself.
For ten years I’d kept the company out of the corruption of D.C. and Olympia and Sacramento. I hated politics. But turning your back on a thing doesn’t dissolve its power over you. It was the way of the world. If you were in the game—and BlueMagick was a multinational now, definitely in the tech game—either you owned a politician or two or two hundred or you ended up playing by other people’s rules.
If there were rare earth elements under the Barton dig, they would be extracted. And if BlueMagick didn’t write the bill to allow the extraction, MolyMo would. It wasn’t a matter of who had the better plan for California. It was who had the most powerful legislator.
Two arms slipped around my waist, and someone’s warm breath caressed the back of my neck. “Hello, handsome. While the Brad’s away, can the mice play?”
“Nicole. What are you doing?” I removed her arms from me and stepped away from her embrace. “I thought you hated me.”
She was dressed as usual in her lab coat, tight jeans, and high heels. The lace at the top of her low-cut shirt barely covered her bra. Her hair was up, secured by two No. 2 pencils that taunted me to pull them out.
“I could never hate you, J.D. I love you.”
“I doubt that.” I walked away from the window. She followed me, and when I sat down at my desk I got the impression she was going to try to sit on my lap. I rolled the chair so my stomach hit the desk’s edge before she could land. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.
She ended up in an awkward position on the desk. “Haven’t I shown you how much I love you?”
“That wasn’t love, Nic. That was scratching an itch. For both of us.” The map of Foresthill was still up on my computer screen, and I remembered something Brad said. “Why didn’t you give Brad the Proto 1?”
“What?” Her face went blank. “I…I guess programming didn’t finish with it. I’ll talk to them about it.”
“Which them? What do they know about Barton?”
“Barton? Um. Nothing. It’s nobody. Just a low-level guy in programming. He doesn’t know what it’s for.”
“I don’t want any more people than necessary in the loop on this.” I was relieved to change the subject. “But I’m glad to see you and Brad working together.”
“All for you, J.D. Everything I do is for you.”
“Nicole, stop. Please.” Nope. The subject didn’t change.
“I thought I could keep it friends with benefits, J.D., but—”
“Fuck buddies, Nicole. We were never friends.”
“That’s so crass.”
“What we did was crass.”
“Not for me, J.D. Every time we’re together, I leave another part of me with you.”
Ack. She ran her finger down the side of my face. A week ago, it would have sent a lovely wave of anticipation over my body. Today it only gave me a creepy chill of dread.
She leaned so close a stray lock of her hair brushed against my forehead. “I’ll let you call me Nora if that’s what you need.”
“Get. Out.” My voice barely registered above a whisper, but by Nicole’s shocked expression the thunder in my mind must have shown on my face. “Go back to your lab, Nicole.”
“Dammit, J.D.” She swung around off the desk and stormed out. “You’ll be sorry.”
I buried my head in my hands and waited. As soon as the door closed, I called HR. “Hi, Jeri. Please come up to my office, and bring Nicole Ransom’s employee file.”
As I hung up, my computer beeped and a pop-up window appeared in the corner that said incoming… and under that a hot link that said lick me.
I was pretty sure that was a typo. I clicked the link.
The pop-up expanded to cover the whole screen and showed four fields. The first had a static number in it. The second had a number which steadily increased. The remaining two fields were empty. The second field stopped increasing, and the third field started showing numbers. It had to be Brad’s “neat” utility. He must have the first prototype with him after all.
“Good job, dude,” I said to the screen. “But you better fix that typo before you distribute this to staff.”
There was a crisp rap-rap, and the door opened. “J.D.?”
“Hey, Jeri. Thanks for coming up. Would you mind closing the door?”
She sat down next to the desk and laid a manila file folder on the desk that said Nicole Ransom. “How can I help you, J.D.?”
“We need to discuss a separation package for Ms. Ransom.”
“Should I get legal in here?” One eyebrow shot up on Jeri’s perfectly and conservatively made-up, no-nonsense face. Great. Apparently my arrangement with Nicole wasn’t exactly a company secret.
“Not unless you think it’s necessary,” I said. “I want the severance package overly generous and the reference letter glowing. Let’s see if she takes it before we lawyer up.”
Brad’s transmission stopped. The fourth field was empty and the third showed trace amounts, but my heart raced when I saw the first two. Lanthanum and neodymium, and both in significant quantities.
“Wait a minute.” Nicole had made a big deal about the scanner being with the programmer. Bigger than warranted. What if she was lying? If Brad didn’t have Proto 1 with him, where were these numbers coming from? “Excuse me one second, Jeri, while I make a call.”
Brad’s cell went to voicemail. He was out of signal range.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
The suspicion forming in my brain made me sick to my stomach. I looked at the data again, excited by the results, but with a building sense of violation. If I was right, MolyMo had not only tried to piggyback on BlueMagick’s work, they’d succeeded—and by planting a spy in my inner circle.
I punched an autodial butt
on on my desk phone and pulled up Nicole’s file on my workstation. A Special Forces-like, extremely competent-sounding voice came on the line. “Security.”
“Mr. Piper, would you meet me at the Implementation Lab on the fourth floor? We have a Code 86 on employee number 8 dash 042412.”
I heard him enter the number into his system. It meant she was hired in BlueMagick’s eighth year of operations on April 24th, the twelfth person put on the payroll that day. At least the eight wasn’t a much lower number. The betrayal would have felt worse.
“Nicole Ransom,” Piper said. “I’m on my way. Her password renders inoperative in seven minutes.”
“See you there,” I said. “Jeri, care to be a witness?”
As we got in the elevator, I realized I’d already convicted Nicole in my mind. The next few minutes would prove me right or wrong.
She was in her corner office sitting on the edge of her desk, chatting pleasantly with Piper. The dude was a cool operator; she had no idea he was there for her. When she saw me coming with the head of human resources by my side, she may have begun to suspect something.
“What’s up, J.D.?” Nicole frowned at Jeri.
“I’m going to meet Brad, and I came by to pick up Proto 1,” I said. “Would you have the programmer bring it in?”
“Um…” She really did look like a deer caught in the headlights. A cliché, but it fit. The color drained from her face, and her eyes glazed a bit, like she couldn’t believe this was happening.
“The programmer doesn’t have the scanner. Does he, Nicole?” I said.
“Your badge, ma’am.” Piper held out his hand, the consummate professional. “And your tablet and cell phone, and I’ll escort you out.”
Robotically, Nicole handed over her ID and her iPad, but she balked at the phone. “Not this.”
“Your cell phone is BlueMagick issue, Ms. Ransom,” Jeri said. “It’s in your contract. Dismissal for cause, you turn over the phone upon separation.”
