She brought him coffee. She was dressed, her hair tied back. She kept her distance, moved her hand on the bed so he couldn’t take it.
“I’ve told Jay you have a proposal for him. He’s ready to listen. Hit the shower, get dressed. Come and meet him again. He’s cooking breakfast. When we’re done you can pitch him.”
“I. Yeah.” He needed more than coffee, a shower and shave. He needed a power cord for his laptop. He needed Dillon. He’d been wearing the same clothes since Friday, when he’d been wearing any. He still wasn’t sure if his foot would go in a shoe. And he needed words to explain to one of the world’s most famous venture capitalists that he was a wildcard entrepreneur who had the smarts to change the face of personal identity management.
Wasn’t going to happen.
She kissed his shoulder and moved away. “You’ll be fine.” That’s what she’d say to all the aspiring entrepreneurs she took to bed.
He showered, considered his suit or the white business shirt with jeans, and knew that wasn’t right, aside from the fact it was so crushed it looked like he’d slept in it. His black t-shirt had green print across the back, a cartoon drawing of the evolution of man from ape to android. There was no way not to look like a bum, so he might as well commit to it.
He padded into the kitchen barefoot, about as ready for ritual humiliation as he was for Jacinta to be in Jay’s arms. They were in the kitchen. The bastard had one hand on her back and was feeding her yoghurt or some crap off a spoon. She hadn’t said he was gay. She didn’t use that word but he’d assumed, and he’d still been jealous. Now he wanted to jam that implement down Jay’s throat until the dude stopped kicking.
Fuck.
He needed to shake that off. Get hold of himself. Shit. He had one shot at this. She was a one fucking night stand who’d gone cold on him for no good reason and Jay was his future.
He cleared his throat and Jay’s eyes came up. “Good morning. There’s bacon and eggs, if you’d like? Tomato? Mushrooms, and hash browns?”
He sat on one of Jacinta’s aeronautical kitchen stools, the cost of which would likely fund two months of testing work Ipseity needed. “Thanks.” He couldn’t even manage to sound gracious about food, and he was hungry.
“They’re hoping to lift the lockdown soon. They have the bomber surrounded. It’s a stand-off, but they want him alive if possible. It’s an awful business.” Jay put a plate in front of him, chunky toast on the side and a fresh cup of coffee. Jacinta moved to stand with her back against the cupboard that hid the fridge.
“How is your foot?” Jay again.
Cinta wouldn’t look at him. She studied her fingernails as if she’d never seen the miracle of them before. Mace took a bite of the toast. Crunchy and doughy from some arty bakery.
“I made the bread, do you like it?”
Jay baked.
They couldn’t lift the siege quick enough.
“Mace, Jay baked the bread, and he asked about your foot. Did you hear we’re still in lockdown?” she said.
Fuck. Wake the fuck up and pay attention. “Bread’s great. Foot’s great.” Imbecile. Fuuuck.
He shovelled scrambled egg and bacon, and slurped coffee, while Jay turned his back and cleaned up. The only way this could be more awkward was if Jay was Malcolm and he’d been caught out doing the walk of shame by his boss’ boss’ bosses. Fuuck.
“Cin tells me you work in Wentworth’s IT group.”
Shit, she’d done nothing to sell him up. “Yeah. Day job.” She still wouldn’t look at him. She’d slipped away without waking him and kissed him on the fucking shoulder as if she couldn’t stand to touch him.
“You wrote a program for assessing shareholder vote preferences based on prior deal activity and portfolio spend.”
Any halfwit coder could’ve done that. She might as well have stuck him in a boat and shoved him down the river. Well fuck her.
“Yeah, though what I wanted to do was create a new algorithm that would’ve given a long term indicator of investment propensity, but the company didn’t see its value.” And fuck and fuck and fuck. Now he sounded like an arrogant shit.
He had to clench every muscle not to fling thousands of dollars worth of stools across the room when she put her hand on his back. “Take it easy, Mace. Tell Jay what you told me.”
At least she didn’t say, in the bath.
“You obviously know who I am, Mace. I fund speculative IT businesses. I make a lot of money doing it. I don’t have to bake my own bread.” Jay came around the counter. “Cin asked me to hear you out so here I am, but if you don’t want to do this, if it’s not right for you, I understand.”
God. Fuck. The man was worth billions, he’d cooked Mace breakfast, and was offering him a chance hundreds of dudes would give their left nut for and he was stuck in a funk because he’d thought last night meant something and Jacinta might’ve wanted more than what they’d started with. More than the day and two nights.
He was a fucking idiot.
He stood and took his plate around to the sink. “I’m the developer. It’s my idea, but my partner Dillon is the business head.” When he turned back Jay had settled on the lounge with Jacinta. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to talk to you. If you’ll bear with me, I’ll do my best to explain what we’ve got. What we plan to do.”
“I can’t ask for better.”
He took the enormous winged chair and looked down at his bare feet. He felt more naked without his laptop. Jay was casually dressed in jeans and a shirt. He had boat shoes on. He probably owned a boat. He could probably afford to raise the Titanic.
“Start with your professional background.”
He looked up. Dillon had economics and marketing qualifications. He had two degrees and the kind of work experience that easily demonstrated his credential. He was a mad git, but he had professional stripes. Mace was entirely self-taught. No degree, no history of approved study, no faculty to grant him a certificate for his wall, just hours and hours of experimentation, development, and his own study. There were two schools of thought about self-taught programmers. He hoped Jay wasn’t affiliated with the school that thought they sucked arse.
He felt more comfortable when he moved on to talk about the program. From dream to inception to plan and prototype. He forgot where he was, forgot Jay was a rich fuck who baked bread and made Jacinta comfortable. He forgot her. He talked. He let it flow out, in detail, descriptive and explicit. He was logical, persuasive. He was comprehensive and authoritative. He was his best self when he lost all sense of time and place and was so heavily in the zone he was indestructible.
“You’re talking about predictive modelling. There are a number of—”
“Not just predictive.”
Jay sat forward. “If I understand you correctly, you’re saying—”
“That’s just the beginning.
Jay stood. “You’ve built this already?” He turned to Jacinta. “Can I borrow a pad and pencil?”
She unfolded from the lounge and went to get them.
“I’ve got a working prototype but we need to test it. I want to build it out so it stands up now and is robust enough not to be challenged.”
“And you have a business model?”
He nodded. They did, but that’s where he genuinely turned into a blue screen of death. Jacinta came back. Jay scribbled a few notes.
“Tell me about funding requirements.”
“I, ah.” Shit. Nothing he’d yet said, from his own lack of formal qualifications to the disruptive nature of the modelling, had wiped the look of concentration off Jay’s face. Talking about the product, the interface was easy. Mace lived it, he breathed it; if you analysed his blood, it’d have basic algorithms in it, but competitive pressure, the legal, jurisdictional ramifications, privacy issues, the ramp up, the scale, the burn rate, these were all Dillon’s dropdown.
“Call him.” Jay looked up. “Your partner, get him on the phone.”
Mace stood. “Okay.”
He patted his back pocket, but his phone was lying dead in the bottom of his duffel.
“Catch.”
Jay tossed him his phone. “Put him on speaker.”
He had to think. Dillon’s details were pre-programmed into every device he owned. What a time to go blank. Jay was watching him. He dialled on speaker. It rang out. Dillon wouldn’t know the number, he might not pick up. He dialled again.
“Who is the fuckwit waking me this early on Sunday morning?”
He winced. “Dillon, it’s me.”
The call disconnected.
“If would be good if you could get him to take the call,” said Jay with some amusement. He reached across to Jacinta and petted her arm.
Mace dialled. When the call connected he said, “Don’t hang up on me.”
“So is she a shit lay?”
Oh fuck. He should’ve started this call in the other room. “Dillon, shut the...shut up. Listen to me.”
“Does Dillon work for you too, Cin?” said Jay.
She laughed. “No.” She rolled her eyes then fixed them on Mace. “Just as well.”
“Dillon,” he hissed. “Jacinta lives next door to Jay Summers-Denby.”
“Good one. What are you on?”
“I need you to listen to me.”
“I’m listening. She must’ve been a good lay because you’re not talking about it. What?”
Mace closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at Jacinta. “Jay Summers-Denby.” He should’ve taken this off speakerphone.
“You’re in some chick’s house next door to where Summers-Denby lives. Fucking hell. Have you got the business plan with you? Go shove it under the man’s door. God, no you can’t because your laptop is juiceless. Bonehead. I’ll drive over there.”
“Dillon.”
“I’m up. I’m getting dressed. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“We’re in the lockdown zone still.”
“Fuck.”
“He’s here now.”
“What do you mean here?”
“In the room. You’re on speaker phone.”
“Holy fu—What?”
Jay stood, spoke up, “Hello Dillon. This is Jay. Mace has just pitched me your software.”
“He what? Like, right. He’s a virtual mute.”
“He did a very adequate job, but I have questions about the business plan.”
Dillon laughed. “This is good, Mace. So good. Who is that guy? He’s great. Even sounds like the man. Okay, you got me good. You should—”
“Dillon.” Mace snapped.
“Get laid more often—”
“Dillon!”
“Brings out your creative side.”
“Fuck, Dillon. This is real. Can you pull it together and answer Jay’s questions.” There was a long silence and Mace was incapable of meeting anyone’s eyes. “Dillon?”
“Yeah. Fuck. This is real?”
Jay stood. He motioned for Mace to give him the phone. He spoke to Dillon while Mace tried not to throw up over Jacinta’s rug. His face was hot. He’d screwed them a dozen different fucked up ways, but Jay was still holding the phone and Dillon was in full-on hyper-drive mode. Mace could hear him cracking off answers, quick, to the point, unambiguous. He sat back down and took a more even breath and Jay took the pad and phone to the breakfast counter and wrote notes while Dillon talked.
“You told him about us.” Jacinta used her deceptively soft and gentle voice.
He looked across at her. “I told him I’d gone home with a woman from work and we got stuck in the lockdown zone. He doesn’t know who you are.”
“Just that I live next door to Jay.”
“Yeah.” He looked at his feet.
“If that’s really all you said, I don’t mind. I’m okay about it.”
He looked across at her. She was smiling. Given what just went down that was something to be grateful for.
“I couldn’t help you. You had to do that for yourself. If I’d helped you, Jay wouldn’t have taken it seriously. He’d have thought I was lust drugged, or guilty.”
That made sense. He might’ve thought of that, but he was so burned up about Jay having his hands all over her.
“He’s taking it very seriously, Mace.”
Dillon was taking about competitive positioning and pre-emptive strategies. Jay occasionally scribbled a note. Mace knew Jay would’ve shut Dillon down five minutes into his spiel, two minutes if he hadn’t liked what he was hearing.
“That was a mess. It’s only because of you, we got this far.”
“It was a mess. But it was funny.”
“No one was chuckling.”
“Only on the inside.”
Behind them Jay let out a roar of laughter and the hands clamped around Mace’s throat loosened their hold.
Jacinta stood and came to his side. “You are a genius.” She perched on the arm of the chair, one leg hooked underneath her, the other resting on the floor. She was barefoot too, wearing another light, simple cotton dress.
“I code.”
“I like that about you.”
“I’m your basic socially inept geek.”
“I like that too.”
“You think I’m hot. Good in bed.”
“I do.”
“Right. We know where we stand then.” She’d gotten what she’d aimed for.
“Do we? I don’t know what you think.”
He let himself look at her. She had to know. He’d worn his feelings for her on the outside of his skin all weekend. He reached for her hand and she didn’t pull it away, but colour stole up her neck, into her cheeks.
“You’ve given me a problem, Mace.”
He let her hand go. “I’m sorry about crashing your weekend. As soon as I can I’ll be out of your face. You and Jay can—”
“You are jealous.”
He looked back towards Jay, still engrossed. Dillon was talking at warp speed. Yeah he was jealous, tense and pissed off, when he should’ve been beyond jacked with excitement.
“Jay is my friend. He’s protective of me because he was the one who picked me up when I let a relationship get out of control.” She sighed. “He’s gay.”
He brought his eyes back to hers. He couldn’t stop the obscene grin that near split his lip.
“An hour ago I wanted you gone.”
“And now?”
“Now, I—”
“Mace.” Jay stood in front of them. He held his hand out. Mace stood and took it without risking a breath. “I like what you’ve got. If it’s as good as you say it is. If the business plan holds up under examination, we have a deal.”
He heard the words, but he had Dillon’s ears on and they sounded like a prank. This was Jay Summers-Denby talking about funding his dream.
“You need to develop your pitch skills, but your work is impressive, truly impressive.”
“Thank you.”
Jay waved a hand. “Don’t thank me yet. I’ve given Dillon a list of what I need to take this forward. You’ll work with one of my people. There are a dozen or more failure points before you see any money. Don’t disappoint me, Mace.”
Jay wasn’t the only venture capitalist in town. But he was the best connected. And he was the one making the offer. “You won’t be disappointed.”
“If that’s the case, we stand to make serious money together.” Jay held his arm out to Jacinta and she took it and walked into his hug. “I’ll leave you two to finish your weekend.” He kissed the top of her head and left the room.
When the apartment door shut Mace moved. He backed Jacinta up around the low coffee table till her knees hit the lounge.
She put her hands up to stop him. “You did it.”
“And now? Finish your sentence.”
She rested them on his chest. “You celebrate.”
“That’s what you were going to say?”
“No.” She was breathing quickly, her eyes were skipping over his face.
“Am I scaring you?”
; “No.”
“What do you want?”
She’d caught his clotted tongue, like he’d caught Dillon’s suspicious ears. But he could see it in her face and then she confirmed it by making a fist of his shirt.
He hauled her into his arms, kissed her hard, smashing them together so it knocked the air out of her. His head was full of the aftermath of jealousy that’d near disabled him and his heart was full of relief.
Her hands were under his shirt so he got rid of it. Got rid of her dress and then it was all about her skin and where he could put his nose and mouth, how quickly he could drink her in. The only decision he had to make was what surface to use: the lounge, the chair, the counter. She made it for him, going to her knees to undo his jeans. He got shot of them with his underwear and joined her on the floor.
The rug was soft but she was softer, yielding to his madness to have her. And it was madness. He could not get close enough, get hold of enough of her. She whimpered and writhed and he checked himself, only to have her bite his neck to correct him. She’d bruise him like he was bruising her. They knocked into the coffee table and something bounced and smashed on the floor behind them. They knocked into each other and absorbed the blows as body kisses, as frantic caresses.
She’d opened to him before he remembered he couldn’t be inside her.
“Shit, Cinta.” But she was already so hot, gloved around him.
She clamped her thighs on his hips. “I don’t care. I trust you.”
He grunted and held still. He’d pull out, in a moment, before it was too late.
She was tugging him closer. “I have an implant and I’m clean.”
“Oh fuck.” He could stay. He moved, drove in deeper, and she crossed her ankles behind him and he could really move, hands at her hips, locking her to him.
She arched up, her face tucked into his neck. “Genius.”
He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. She was teasing him; he’d tease her till she couldn’t think straight. He rocked his hips, flexed into her, kissed her till he needed the breath to make it last; make it take all day, all night, make a place outside the world and all its manic cares; create their own existence of endless pleasure and ease.
Insecure Page 9
