Ava's Prize

by Cari Lynn Webb

  Surely the fact that she enjoyed teaching CPR and had discovered she liked both country music and indie rock counted for something. Roland would no doubt chide her to seek out more entertainment. If she graduated from a physician’s assistant school and transitioned to another career path, then she’d have the opportunity to find fun.

  There wasn’t enough money to provide for her mom and get her graduate degree.

  Even more, there was nothing appealing about putting herself first and being as selfish as her own father. Her family came first. Always. If that meant fun waited on the back burner, so be it.

  She’d be grateful for what she had and not mourn a life that wasn’t meant for her.

  That would be enough. She’d make sure of it.

  Ava hurried across the street, leaving the park and her private wishes behind, among the trees and birds.

  CHAPTER THREE

  KYLE CHECKED HIS recent call log and his emails for the tenth time in the past twenty minutes. Not that he could’ve missed a call. He’d woken up before sunrise, clutching his cell phone, and he hadn’t put it down even to eat lunch earlier. Yesterday, he’d called and messaged a dozen former developers and business associates about judging his contest. No one had replied. No one.

  He couldn’t judge the contest he’d created. The contest he planned to use to keep from defaulting on his own contract.

  Canceling wasn’t an option. The press releases had gone out. Hits on the webpage had multiplied into the thousands overnight. More headlines and sound bites had hit the TV and radio news spots all morning. Kyle couldn’t turn back. He needed to keep his reputation intact and run a viable contest, not some hoax that the public would conclude was no more than a publicity stunt. The press liked to speculate about his next PR blitz as if his Medi-Spy creation had only been for attention. Yesterday’s newspaper had claimed a reality TV show was his latest pursuit.

  He paced through his second-floor suite, ignoring the theater room and the arcade room, instead seeking refuge in the design lab. He shouldn’t have invited Ben and his family over. He shouldn’t have translated Ben’s car game into a contest. He should’ve left the photo shoot last weekend and returned to his lab. But it was too late for what he should’ve done.

  Right now, he shouldn’t be dropping into the industrial office chair and pressing the button to print more contest flyers as if he’d suddenly decided to hone his marketing skills. He should be scanning his brain for an idea. He only needed one.

  What was wrong with him?

  The groan of the printer spitting out copies matched the groan of panic rolling through him. He shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, closed his eyes and drew in a breath that lifted his entire rib cage and made his stomach bloat. His older sister had taught him how to breathe, claiming he needed to learn to breathe with more mindfulness. More intention.

  He counted to five. Nothing quieted those jitters skipping around inside him.

  Another five-count and still nothing within him unwound. Only his to-do list flashed across his eyelids. At the top: create an invention.

  His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Kyle exhaled and lost any intention of quieting his mind.

  He clicked the answer button on his notepad propped beside the computer. His little sister’s face with her clear lab goggles propped on her head like a new-age headband filled the screen. Kyle dropped the stack of flyers onto the work table in the center of the design lab, set a 3-D printed piggy bank on the stack and walked with the notepad into his so-called inspiration area.

  “Still moping around, all alone in your steroid-infused man cave?” Callie adjusted the oversize goggles on her head.

  “It’s my home.” And his offices. He skipped his gaze over the large room filled with both vintage and contemporary arcade games. Darkness and silence leaked from the connecting theater room, yet not the good kind of dark for movie watching or that quiet anticipation before the final fight scene. He’d transformed the entire second floor of the building into the ideal work and living space. He blamed the sandwich he’d eaten for lunch on his sudden indigestion.

  Kyle frowned at the computer screen. Although it was wasted on his little sister. Her focus had already returned to her microscope. He asked, “Did you want something? I have company coming over soon.”

  That captured her attention. She blinked once at the screen, slow and methodical, like an owl. Only, owls held their silence; his sister had no such filter. “You don’t have people over to your place. Except for the rooftop, but that doesn’t count since you don’t live up there. People are never invited inside your home.”

  No thanks to Callie. In her clear-cut manner, Callie had asked how he’d know if people came to visit him or his ultimate man cave? Friends might like his man cave more than him. He’d chosen to do what he’d always done: keep to himself. Except today, he’d stepped out of his comfort zone. Hopefully, he hadn’t lost his mind at the photo shoot. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”

  “You can’t get distracted now.” Callie’s eyebrows pinched together, and she shuffled papers around on her desk. “You only have forty-one days before you need to hand in your second idea.”

  His sister had a memory like a vault. One time, in a passing phone conversation, he’d mentioned the terms of his contract. She hadn’t forgotten one detail. “It’s under control.”

  Callie leaned closer to the computer screen as if to study him like a petri dish under one of her microscopes. “You aren’t still pining for the past, are you? The days when you were unknown, unremarkable and an amateur.”

  That was the life she’d told him no longer existed. The one she’d told him he’d never get back. He dropped into one of the oversize leather chairs and set the notepad on the flat, wide arm of the chair. “I can have friends.”

  Confusion thinned her gaze and her mouth. Of course, Callie had skipped her senior year in high school to enroll in college and then fast-tracked her way into graduate school to become a medical scientist. She would earn both her MD and PhD titles behind her name in the next year, as long as Kyle kept his contract with Tech Realized, Inc. and paid her tuition.

  “How many times do I need to remind you that if you hadn’t sold out, you’d still be wasting away in Mom and Dad’s basement, a wannabe inventor, living off Dad’s meager retirement?” She grimaced as if her test results proved inconclusive.

  Now he lived in a man cave on steroids and was poised to lose everything. Was that somehow better? “This isn’t about high school reunions and old times.”

  “That’s a relief.” Callie sighed. “You and I aren’t team players. We can’t conquer the world with apologies and regrets.”

  Kyle wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to conquer the world. He’d wanted to design something that could keep people from suffering. People like his grandfather. Callie, he knew, had other plans for her life. Plans that depended on his continued funding. And those depended on his next big idea. “I’ll make the tuition payment soon.”

  She looked at him as if she’d never doubted that would happen. As it always happened on the third Thursday of every month. “I wanted to tell you that I’ve been invited to continue my medical research at Oxford once I receive my doctorate degrees.”

  “But that’s in England.” And nowhere near San Francisco or her family.

  “It’s one of the premiere research facilities in the world.” Excitement widened her brown eyes.

  How could she be thrilled about living in another country, so far away from her family? How could he not be happy for her opportunity to continue her life’s work? “Have you told Mom and Dad?”

  “They’re ecstatic. At least from what I could tell.” Callie tapped a pencil against her bottom lip as if she struggled to work out the exact sequence of a DNA genome strand. “They were walking on the beach. Mom found a giant sea shell with only a small chip. Ma
ybe they were cheering about that.” She paused, grabbed a notepad and scribbled across the paper.

  Kyle waited. His sister spoke in logical order. But her thoughts always came out in scattered spurts like air in a waterline. He’d always assumed her genius brain never quieted. If she didn’t pause to record her thoughts every so often, she might miss the next big medical breakthrough.

  Finally, Callie blinked into the screen. “No, I’m sure Mom wished me safe travels and Dad wanted hotel recommendations in the area. Or maybe that was the couple with them. I think they’re planning a trip up the Gulf Coast. Doesn’t matter. Oxford wants me.”

  Kyle wanted to wish his sister well. Share her excitement. But only sadness circled through him.

  Four years ago, their grandfather had died unexpectedly, and their family had splintered without the glue that had been Papa Quinn. Kyle had inherited his grandpa’s vintage 1965 Mustang. Along with the last of his grandfather’s wisdom on a handwritten note left inside the Mustang’s glove box: “When you take a wrong turn, Kyle, a guiding hand and full heart will lead you home where you belong.”

  Kyle’s family had taken several wrong turns after Papa Quinn’s passing, and the distance between his family had only widened further. Then Kyle had signed his contract with Tech Realized, Inc. Honoring his grandfather’s memory had filled his bank account. The money he’d always intended to help guide his family back together.

  Now he funded dual degrees that would only take his sister farther from home. Worry mixed with the sadness. She was a scientist, not an experienced world traveler. How was he supposed to protect her from a continent away? He should protect her. She’d always been there for him in grade school. More than once, she’d stepped in to deflect the bullies’ attention off him and on to her with her oversize books and even thicker bottle-size glasses.

  The buzzer from the street entrance hummed through the suite. Kyle tucked his concern away, certain he’d come up with something to entice his little sister home. Something like her own research lab, custom built to her specifications. “That’s my company.”

  Callie had already returned to her notepad and had pulled her microscope into view. “Don’t be like Iris and get distracted, Kyle. Send them away and get back to what really matters. You can’t lose focus of what’s really important.”

  With that, Callie clicked off. No “I love you.” No “talk to you soon.” No “I hope you visit me in England.” Only an order to work and a caution not to be like their oldest sister, Iris. Kyle’s problem was he struggled to focus on what was important: a new idea.

  He checked his emails on the way to the entrance. Still no response from his potential judges. Not even a terse thank-you, or any thank-you at all. He’d take his sister’s advice. Offer a quick tour and then send the trio waiting outside on their way. They’d understand he had to work. If they didn’t, what would it matter? They weren’t friends, and this was a onetime offer.

  He pressed the button to unlock the main entrance door that led into the lobby and spoke through the intercom, telling them to come up to the second floor.

  Kyle opened the door to the suite and welcomed his guests inside. He would’ve explained his plans to work that afternoon if Ben hadn’t disrupted the silence with a drawn-out whoa.

  Kyle shut the door and turned around to find the young boy bouncing from one foot to the other, his gaze darting around the suite. Ben never moved from his father’s side, as if he waited for a referee to blow a start whistle to let the games begin.

  “You work here?” Ava stood with her arms crossed and one eyebrow arched. Clearly, she wasn’t as impressed by his personal arcade space (aka inspiration area) as Ben.

  “I live here, too.” Kyle grinned at the disbelief Ava failed to hide. His grin widened at her resistance to smile. Suddenly, all he wanted was to make Ava smile. Suddenly, that became important. That became his focus, even as he told himself to concentrate on something else.

  “Cool.” Ben failed to hide his awe.

  Dan rubbed his chin and nodded. “Can’t see anything I’d add.”

  “How about books or candles? Maybe some colorful throw pillows or picture frames to break up all the gray and black,” Ava suggested.

  Ava, with her red hair sweeping past her shoulders and green eyes, brought color into the monochrome room. The room was quiet and subdued without the arcade turned on, the screens lit up and the sounds of the game over music playing. All the room wanted was someone to press Play. Kyle didn’t know what he wanted. But he liked welcoming Ava into his home. “It wasn’t designed to be a meditation room.”

  “Clearly,” Ava said. Her gaze jumped around the room, taking everything in. Even better, she never retreated toward the door.

  “This should appeal to you, Ava.” Dan shoved her shoulder. “You love that pub with the ’80s arcade games and pool tables south of the city.”

  Busted. Ava avoided Kyle’s gaze. He longed to laugh. She didn’t want to like his place. Too bad he didn’t want to like having her there. He’d planned to send them away quickly and without much fanfare. Now he hesitated, and that irritated him.

  He’d always have to question whether a woman genuinely liked him—the guy with the deadly nut allergy, who preferred arcade games and comic books and his family. The one who tended to believe if the money went away, so might the woman.

  The news reports about him wanting to find love on a reality TV show were completely false. Yet there was something about Ava that tugged at places deep inside him. Places he’d learned to ignore years ago. Places he buried under his flush bank accounts, confident money would fill any void.

  He admitted Ava was attractive like he acknowledged a flaw in one of his 3-D designs. He’d fix an error in his design with several keystrokes on the computer. The only way to fix Ava was to ignore his interest in her. Ignore that tightness inside his chest. File her into the same category as every other attractive woman he’d met: unavailable, off-limits and a disruption to his life.

  “Aunty, you always want to play Skee-Ball.” Ben pointed across the room. “Here we don’t have to wait in line.”

  “Or wipe down the machines before we use them.” Dan looked at Kyle. “I’m not kidding. She carries those antibacterial wipes with her everywhere we go.”

  Ava threw up her hands. “Just trying to keep everyone from getting sick.”

  Dan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her. “We appreciate it, even if you act more like an overly cautious grandmother sometimes.”

  Ben giggled and followed Kyle farther into the room, cutting between the pool and foosball tables.

  “You have basketball shoot and off-road driving games.” Ben touched the Ping-Pong table and stared at the far wall. “And four pinball machines.”

  Kyle had always wanted a pinball machine in the basement of his parents’ house. In the gaps between his invention design sessions, he’d make lists of every game that would’ve improved the basement dwelling. Every game that might’ve enticed the kids from school to come over and play with him. Each one of those games waited inside Kyle’s inspiration suite now. Kyle had stopped waiting for friends to come over in middle school. Now he’d assumed the more fun and games that had surrounded him, the more ideas he’d have.

  For now, inspiration hadn’t arrived, no matter how many arcade games he jammed into the room. Not even Skee-Ball, his favorite childhood game, inspired him. “There’s a ninety-two-inch flat-screen TV with surround sound and gaming consoles right through that door.”

  “Like a real theater room.” Ben dragged his hand across the air-hockey table and edged closer to the twin Skee-Ball games.

  Surprised Ben wasn’t racing into the theater room for the video games, Kyle looked at the subdued Skee-Ball lanes. “I never replenished the prize tickets in Skee-Ball, but they work.”

  The blank chalkboard wall—the one he’d always
meant to be like a graffiti wall to write inspirational sayings or draw pictures on—caught his gaze. The box of colored chalk had yet to be opened, and he’d bought it a year ago to celebrate the completion of the remodeling. His sister’s earlier claim about him being alone drifted through him. He chose independence and self-reliance. The blank wall mocked him. “The highest score gets full bragging rights and their name listed on the wall of champions.”

  Ben hopped as if anticipation bounced through every limb, forcing him to move. He tugged on his dad’s arm. A plea widened his eyes.

  “Ask Kyle if you can play.” Dan dipped his chin toward Kyle. “This is his office.”

  Kyle grinned at Dan’s hesitation over the word office before meeting Ava’s gaze. “I refer to it as the inspiration room inside the think tank. There’s also a design lab with 3-D printers and more professional equipment. Everything required to make this place look like a real business.”

  One corner of Ava’s mouth twitched as if daring Kyle to try harder. He’d never turned down a dare in his life.

  Dan stepped back and raised his hands. “Definitely not judging.”

  “He’s just jealous.” Ava wrapped her arm around Dan’s waist, easy and comfortable.

  Dan hugged Ava. “I won’t deny I’m jealous.”

  Jealous. Kyle watched Ava and Dan’s casual interactions. In that moment, he understood jealousy on a very different level. But relationships complicated life. Relationships required effort and focus and time—everything he needed to put into developing an idea. And everything he required for his contest to be a success. He acknowledged that twinge of envy that tinted his eyesight green and filed Ava in the if-only-he-was-a-good-team-player-and-this-was-another-time category.

  Both Dan and Ben shared twin looks of excitement.

  Ben rubbed his hands together. “So, can we really play?”

  “We don’t want to take up too much of Kyle’s time.” Ava touched Ben’s shoulder. “I’m sure Kyle has plans for the afternoon.”