Some Like It Geek: A Really Big Set of Romances

by Box Set

  “I have a personal friendship with the creator of Celestia,” said Aaron. “She hasn’t mentioned anything about ZumZum to me.” He thought for a moment, then continued. “I think it’s something she would’ve mentioned. So I’m guessing they haven’t approached her with this proposal yet?”

  “They haven’t,” said Gwen, shaking her head. “That document is supposed to be internal research only. I’m not supposed to have it.”

  Aaron nodded and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

  “Do they have the tech talent to pull off a project like this?”

  Gwen nodded, her grin growing wider. “Yes, but not enough capital, which is why I was looking at them for acquiring. They’ve got great people. If we take them on, we’ll want to keep ‘em, they’re their biggest asset.”

  “Alright, well, let’s keep an eye on things. I don’t need to know who your source inside ZumZum is, but I assume whoever leaked you that document is happy to keep you advised of developments?”

  “I think so,” Gwen said with a wink. “I’ll let you know if anything happens that we need to get ahead of.”

  Basically, she was going to die. She had a temperature and the chills. Her throat was raw and her head was pounding. Every muscle ached. Even her toes ached.

  Even her eyelashes ached.

  She was miserable, and there was no one to take care of her. Rupert was staring at her like she was a snot monster, her mom lived hours away, and Aiko wouldn’t answer her phone.

  “Answer!” Katie groaned at her cell phone just as Aiko picked up.

  “Okay, um, I just did. Jeez.”

  “I’ve called you like three times Aik.”

  “Well I’m sorry, princess, but I was working, what’s your damage?”

  “I’m so sick,” Katie moaned. “And I need to know if you can catch like, a sex plague or something…like…”

  “A sex plague?”

  “I was at Lux and…” Katie curled up on her bed in the fetal position and cradled the phone. “I think god is punishing me,” she whispered. “I’ve got the sex plague.”

  “Oh my god, Martinez, you do not,” said Aiko sternly. “You’ve got a standard cold or flu or something. Incubation for such things takes longer than twelve hours, no way you would be sick today from something you caught last night.”

  “Wait….” said Katie. “How do you know about last night?”

  “You just told me,” said Aiko.

  “No I didn’t. I said I was at Lux, and I was. The other day. With you. That’s what you should’ve assumed I was talking about.” Katie sat bolt upright on the bed. “So tell me how you know about last night!”

  “First,” said Aiko. “Chillax. Second, yes, you were at Lux a few days ago, that’s probably where you got the cold. Not because of any sex plague, but because since you are a game-addicted shut-in who never subjects her immune system to anything harsher than a hang-nail, I’m not surprised you got sick. And that’s only because the real world has germs, not because god is punishing you.”

  “Yeah but how–” Katie coughed into the phone. “How do you know about last night? I thought that place was discreet.”

  “Dude.” Aiko sighed. “It is. But…look it’s not important right now. You need to get some rest. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Fine. But only because I’m too sick to care.” Katie coughed again and then moaned when her head began pounding anew. “Aik…I’m dying.”

  “Do you have NyQuil or anything?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll bring some chicken soup over later. Just take the medicine for now, and try to get some sleep.”

  Katie agreed, let Aiko go, and collapsed on the bed. The pounding continued.

  Grabbing the bottle of NyQuil, she opened it and began pouring herself a dose just as Rupert raced across the bed and knocked both the bottle and the dose cup right out of her hands. Thick red liquid seeped into the area rug as Rupert meowed and pawed at the mess.

  “No! Rupe, that’s not a treat!” Katie shooed the cat away and threw a roll of paper towels onto the puddle.

  More pounding. Bending over had not helped the pounding.

  There was no way she’d be able to sleep without some relief. Locking Rupert in the bathroom to keep him from the puddle, Katie threw on ratty sweatpants, a mismatched pair of socks, her slippers, and a winter coat and set out of her apartment to the bodega one block north. They had NyQuil, and Funyuns, and tea, and she was going to need all three if she had any hope of surviving this plague. Probably some chocolate too.

  The bodega cat meowed at her when she stumbled in, probably because she smelled like another cat, and snot, and sex plague. She’d neglected to grab a basket, so Katie shuffled down the aisles and used the front of her sweatshirt as a hammock, loading up chips, green tea, candy bars and Cup-O-Noodles. She was halfway to the cash register when she heard the cat hiss and turned, ready to hiss back.

  Surprisingly, the fat gray tabby was not hissing at her, but rather a man in a trench coat lurking at the end of the aisle. He wore a baseball hat and carried a camera, and he was futilely trying to avoid the cat while it hissed and spit at him.

  Katie shrugged. Bodega cats meant business. If trench coat dude needed a lesson, she had no doubt the gray tabby would provide it. She shuffled the rest of the way to the register and tried to muster a sickly greeting for Mr. Alvarez behind the counter.

  “Bottle of NyQuil,” she croaked.

  “Oh Katie!” The old man exclaimed as his smile faded. “You look terrible!”

  Mr. Alvarez grabbed the medicine from a shelf behind him and placed it on the counter. Picking up a pair of tongs, he reached into a small countertop display case, pulled out two pastries, and placed them in a white paper bag.

  “Here,” he said, ringing up her purchase. “On the house. Fresh this morning from my Maria. Papaya quesito niña, just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Thank you.” Katie smiled gratefully as she ran her debit card through the machine. She jerked her head towards the guy in the back, still fighting with the cat. “What’s going on there?” she asked. “Weirdo or street artist?”

  “Why not both?” Mr. Alvarez rolled his eyes.

  Chuckling, Katie took the bag of groceries from Mr. Alavarez and waved as she headed to the door. Just as she was stepping onto the sidewalk, the cat hissed again, much louder this time, and then yowled.

  “Hey!” Katie turned back into the store. “What the hell is your problem dude? Leave the cat alone!”

  A flash went off in her face and Katie cussed as another coughing attack overtook her.

  Had that motherfucker just taken her photo? That motherfucker had just taken her photo!

  “Get out before I call the cops!” Mr. Alvarez yelled. “Your street art is stupid! No one cares about your shitty photos!” Mr. Alavarez’s speech shifted from English to rapid Spanish and fist-shaking. Katie ducked out of the way as the trench-coated photographer pushed past her into the street, flipped her off and then raced around the block.

  “What the hell?” Katie said, meeting Mr. Alvarez’s outraged glare. He had the phone raised to his ear and one index finger up in the air as if he’d been frozen mid-dial.

  “Go home Katie,” he said. “Feel better. Sorry about the pendejo.”

  “Not your fault Mr. Alavarez.” Katie waved as she headed back out the door. “Thanks for the quesitos.”

  Ten minutes later she was back in her apartment. She’d let Rupert out after she’d cleaned up the mess on the rug. Then she made a cup of tea, ate one entire quesito, chased it with a healthy dose of medicine, and passed out cold.

  It was early evening when the pounding started again. But this time it wasn’t her head, it was her front door.

  “Aiko,” she muttered sleepily. Finally! She really could use some chicken soup about now.

  Katie tripped over Rupert on the way to the door then checked the peephole.

  What. The ever loving. Fuck.
r />   It wasn’t Aiko at the door.

  It was Steven.

  As in “pathetic thieving ass ex-boyfriend who dumped her while she was in the hospital and then stole her company” Steven.

  Katie slapped off the safety-chain, threw the deadbolt and reached for the knob while Rupert arched his back and hissed.

  “Well, this oughta be good.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Hello Katie.” Steven Mayer grinned and held up his palms as if he was expecting to ward off an attack. But then he smiled and tilted his head, knit his eyebrows together and widened his arms a little.

  Was the asshole hoping for a hug? He’d always been the master of mixed signals.

  Katie physically recoiled into her doorway and Steven took that as an invitation inside, pushing past her into the small foyer of her apartment as Rupert hissed again and skittered sideways to watch them from under a chair.

  “You look…” he cleared his throat. “You look great.”

  “Cut the shit,” Katie snapped. “I look like death warmed over because I’m sick as hell.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear–”

  “You’ve got three seconds to explain why you’re here before I yak all over you and then let Rupert cut you to shreds.”

  “Rupert?”

  “The cat, dumbass. Now spill it.”

  Steven’s smile slid right off his face, and any trace of the sweet boy she’d first met in college disappeared completely. In their time together he’d changed, let competition twist his ambitions and turn him into a jealous and petty prick. She watched him through narrowed eyes as Steven waltzed into her small living room and spun, nodding and pursing his lips while he scrutinized her living space.

  “Cute,” he said. “Guess selling out to me wasn’t all bad.”

  “I didn’t sell out to you,” Katie spat. “You forced me out while I was in the hospital.”

  “If that’s your take.” Steven waved a hand. “Fair enough.”

  Katie pinched the bridge of her nose as Rupert made low throaty threatening sounds from his safe space beneath her chair. She knew exactly how he felt.

  “The point, Steven. Find it. Immediately.”

  Reaching behind him Steven pulled a folded tabloid from his back pocket, opened it flat and slapped it down on Katie’s coffee table.

  “Saw this and thought of you,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Naturally. Since that is you.”

  Katie gaped at the photograph on the front page of the paper, then picked it up, her eyes scanning over the salacious headline.

  Kinky VR Billionaire gets REAL with Mystery Hottie

  “What the hell?”

  Quickly, she skimmed over the article. It was bad.

  Eldridge Innovations CEO Aaron Eldridge was spotted at NYC’s notorious Lux sex club last night, and the curvy dark haired sex-pot on his arm was definitely not Supermodel girlfriend Carly Carpenter. Carpenter claims there’s no truth to the rumors that Aaron is cheating, but friends close to the blonde beauty say that Eldridge is a sex addict who’s long tried to get Carly involved in his virtual reality perversions.

  “If Aaron can’t get what he craves from Carly,” said one friend close to the supermodel, “he’s definitely the type that will go find it somewhere else. And he’s rich, there’s a lot of women that are willing to debase themselves for a meal ticket like that.”

  It was enough, she couldn’t bring herself to finish the article. It was disgusting. The Aaron described in the article bore no resemblance to the tender man she’d been getting to know. The man who’d inspired her mind, set her body on fire and then held her in his arms as she slept.

  Katie looked up and saw Steven rock back on his heels, his smile smug and satisfied. He pointed to the tabloid, tracing his finger over the grainy photo.

  “How could I forget my Katie constellation?” he said softly, his finger drawing a path between the dark beauty marks that were visible in the photo of Katie’s bare back. “I knew that was you the minute I saw the photo.”

  Katie’s stomach roiled and she forced herself to swallow. Forced herself to stand tall and look Steven straight in the eye.

  “You’re ridiculous,” she said. “I want you to leave.”

  “You’re denying that’s you?” he said, raising an eyebrow. He took the tabloid from her hands, then moved to her small sofa and sat down, crossing an ankle over his knee, making himself comfortable.

  “Don’t make me call the police, Steven,” she warned, and Rupert echoed her tone with a gravely yowl. It was nice to have backup. She made a mental note to give him some tuna treats later.

  “Katie, Katie, Katie,” he said, clucking his tongue. “I’m impressed. You never had much ambition when we were together. But I can see you’ve learned a thing or two.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “HyperLyfe. I’ve been watching the dailies like everyone else. I always wondered what you were up to after you left Galaxus.”

  “Didn’t leave,” she muttered bitterly. “Forced out.”

  Steven dismissed her correction with a wave of his hand. “Whatever. Point is, I kind of figured you’d just go to work as a lackey with some other developer. Get married, get fat, pop out some brats. The usual.”

  Katie folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. No way was she going to let any of his barbs land. He was an ass, but she knew him. Steven was up to something, and he thought he could rattle her by tearing her down. He’d always underestimated her.

  “Anyway,” he said, throwing his arms up on the back of her sofa. “The minute I saw Celestia, I knew it was yours. There’s certain elements in your work that are recognizable. A certain quaintness, a monotony that’s your signature.”

  “Twenty million HyperLyfe subscribers don’t find it quaint, or monotonous,” she said, staring him down. “Celestia is the most popular destination in HL.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I hear.” Steven bared his teeth in a nasty grin. “Wonder how that happened?”

  “Huh?” Katie stared at him.

  Steven raised one eyebrow, then the other. His smile grew as he tilted his head and simply stared at her. After a moment, Katie understood his meaning.

  “You piece of shit,” she said. “Get out.”

  He held up his hands. “I’m just saying Katie, if I put two and two together, other people will as well. Celestia is HyperLyfe’s most popular destination in world,” he waved the tabloid in the air, “and its creator is the CEO’s favorite fuck toy. Not a big leap to make, to imagine that a deal was struck, a little mutual back massaging. Or massaging of other things–”

  Her cheeks grew hot. He had her flustered, was trying to get in her head, to trick her into saying something stupid, something incriminating. Her head was pounding, limbs aching, and this jackass was sitting on her sofa like he owned the place trying to make her feel worse than she already did. Trying to suggest that she and Aaron…that Celestia was only popular because Aaron and she were…

  Oh, fuck this shit.

  “One thing,” she said, her tone deadly. “Has nothing to do with the other.”

  “So it is true. You’re fucking Eldridge.”

  Goddammit.

  Steven’s smile was so cocky, so self-satisfied, and leering that she felt her hands fist at her sides, and a rush of heat rage up inside of her.

  “Get the fuck out–” Before she could finish the sentence her lungs rebelled and she was overcome with a fierce fit of coughing.

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop coughing long enough to inhale air, and dammit now she was doing that choking cough thing that sounded like Rupert trying to expel a hairball.

  She could see Steven out of the corner of her eye, shaking his head and knitting his brows together in feigned concern.

  No way was she gonna let him see her like this.

  Katie stumbled into the bathroom and slammed the door, turned on the water faucet in the sink full force, and hacked up
a lung into her toilet.

  A few minutes later she came out, half-hoping he’d left on his own. No such luck. The asshole was standing in her kitchen, a glass of water in his hand.

  He held it up and gave her a questioning look.

  “You’re offering me water?” she said, incredulous. “In my own home?”

  “So distrusting.” Steven clucked his tongue. “So bitter.” He set the glass on the counter and narrowed his eyes, sliding his gaze slowly up her body. “It’s not a good look on you Katie.”

  “That’s it.” She picked her cell phone up off the counter and dialed.

  “Oh come on.” Steven crossed to her, moving like he intended to take her phone away. “I’m just being honest–”

  The was a loud pounding on Katie’s front door, and Aiko shouted from the other side.

  “Soup delivery! Chicken soup for all that ails ya! Won’t cure the herp, but it goes down smooth. Soup! Hot Soup!”

  Katie hung up the phone, ran to the door, and threw it open before Aiko could disturb the whole floor of the building.

  “Hey,” said Aiko with a grin. She held up a bag and shoved it at Katie. “Chicken soup.”

  “Yeah I gathered.”

  “Got some General Tso’s and half a dozen egg rolls in there too. Those are for me, but if you promise to keep your germs to yourself, I might share.” Aiko glanced at Steven, then back at Katie, and made a face.

  Katie groaned but before she could explain or god forbid, introduce the asshole, Steven brushed past them and headed out the open door. Katie shoved the bag of food back in Aiko’s arms and chased him halfway to the elevators.

  “Steven!” She yelled. “Don’t ever come back here or bother me again. I’m serious.”

  “No problem, psycho,” Steven tossed the comment over his shoulder as he kept walking.

  “What the fuck? That’s Steven?” Aiko followed Katie into the hall, pulled something out of her pocket, and held it up. “Hey motherfucker!” She yelled, shrugging when Katie threw her a questioning glance. “It’s okay,” Aiko whispered, “I got your back.”