Lost in Geeklandia

by E. J. Russell

  Daniel winced. “It’s funny because Charlie’s real name is Charlice. Char-L-I-C-E. Get it? So when the guys heard the story, they started calling her Nit. And then the two of us—”

  She punched him on his biceps. “That’s Doctor Nit to you.”

  Finally. He turned to her, grin splitting his face. But she didn’t wear an answering grin. Instead, her lips trembled until she pressed them together in a flat line, no hint of the old warlike sparkle in her haunted eyes.

  What the hell?

  “Move. Please.” Charlie’s voice was low and urgent.

  The pit in his belly yawned wider, threatening to swallow him whole. He lumbered to his feet. “Charlie? Wait. Remember what happened next? I—”

  She brushed past him and hurried into the hallway, head down and arms wrapped across her stomach.

  What the fuck have I done?

  Toshiko regarded him with hard onyx eyes, somehow seeming taller than he was, even though she was still seated and probably only came up to his armpit if she stood on her tiptoes and jumped. If Charlie’s distress hadn’t already entombed him in ice, that look would have done the trick.

  “Meeting you fell far short of adequate.” She slid from the booth and followed in Charlie’s wake.

  “You asshole.” Philip surged to his feet, his face contorted with righteous pissed-offedness. “That story wasn’t remotely funny.”

  The buzz of uneasy conversation from nearby diners penetrated Daniel’s guilt-induced daze. “It wasn’t…I didn’t mean…” His chest was hollow, echoing with his sorry-ass attempt at an excuse. “Guess you had to be there.”

  Chapter Seven

  Geekronym: API

  Translation: Application programming interface

  Definition: A specification, often including libraries, routines, protocols, or other tools, that governs how one software application can interact with another.

  Charlie hurried into the mercifully empty restroom. Ducking into a stall, she locked the door, her heart skipping like a faulty hard drive, her skin hot with shame. Tonight was supposed to be practice, just practice, and it had been going so well. All of the lessons Gideon had drilled into her were working with Philip. As long as she kept the conversation away from the personal and within her geek wheelhouse, she didn’t feel self-conscious. She was even having fun.

  Then Daniel had shown up before she was prepared, stared at her chest, and fulfilled Gideon’s prediction—he got stupid. Stupid and mean and no different than he’d been back when they were teenagers.

  She could never manage a Stage One relationship with him, let alone Stage Two. Not in thirty days, not in thirty years. Shanna would win the horrible bet, and Charlie would lose her chance to work for AGS. Everything she’d worked for, everything she’d sacrificed to make herself their perfect employee would be for nothing.

  The restroom door creaked open.

  “Charlie? Are you well?” Toshiko’s voice, careful and calm as usual, kicked Charlie’s shame up a notch. Why can’t I be more like her?

  “I’m fine, Tosh. Just give me a few minutes and we can leave.”

  Toshiko was silent for a full thirty seconds, signaling her retreat into what Gideon called her processing mode. “Why?”

  Charlie choked on a strangled laugh. “I think that’s fairly obvious.”

  Another thirty seconds of silence. “You believe Daniel’s actions denote a negative response.”

  “I sure wouldn’t call it positive.” Charlie unlocked the door and stepped to the sink, meeting Toshiko’s calm gaze in the mirror.

  “Your interpretation is faulty. Lab animals frequently display similar behavior.” Toshiko clasped her hands loosely in front of her as if she’d never heard of anxiety. “When the males are unable to attract an available female with their mating display, they resort to aggression.”

  Charlie dried her hands, crumpling the paper towel in her hands and imagining it was a sensitive part of Daniel’s anatomy. “Isn’t the aggression supposed to be directed at the other males?”

  “It depends on the species.”

  “So you think Daniel perceived Philip as a mating threat?”

  Toshiko tilted her head toward her shoulder in her version of a shrug. “You rejected his advances and his request for a low-risk, casual encounter at your first meeting. What choice did he have?”

  “He could have chosen to be less of a jerk,” Charlie muttered, leaning one hip against the counter.

  “Males are binary. Yes or no. Mate or might. Fight or flee. They don’t handle degrees appropriately, and it’s unreasonable for you to expect it. You should know that better than anyone. You modeled the behavior.”

  “I know.” Charlie sighed. “But this is so…so typical of him. He used to provoke me the same way when we were kids, back when his mother was my day care provider.”

  “Did you retreat under his attack?”

  “Are you kidding? Never. He would have been insufferable.”

  “Then why retreat now?”

  “I…” Good point. Maybe she should boot up the child she’d been back then, before her confidence got stripped away. Before she learned to fear the contempt of others. “You think I should counterstrike?”

  “Of course. I doubt he’s proud of himself. Parlay his guilt into the outcome you prefer.”

  Hope poked a tiny hole in her blanket of mortification. “So I should get him to take me out on a date to apologize?”

  “Insist on it.”

  “Okay. That makes sense. I guess.” Her stomach still juddered like a monitor with the wrong refresh rate, but at least she had a plan. She checked herself in the mirror and figured she was as presentable as she’d ever be. “I’m going in, coach. Wish me luck.”

  “Luck is irrelevant. Biology is irrefutable. You have nothing to fear.”

  …

  Philip crowded in, toe to toe, and poked Daniel’s chest with a stiff finger. “Jesus, Dan. You fucking wrecked her. I thought you told me Daniel the Destroyer was on hiatus.”

  “I should check on her.” Daniel tried to sidestep Philip, but got blocked by a sharp elbow to the ribs.

  “No way. You think she’ll want to talk to you? You stay here. I’ll go.

  Philip stormed across the bar and hooked a right down the hallway that led to the restrooms.

  Daniel planted himself at the table before any of the waitstaff decided to kick him out. Christ. He’d acted like a fucking toddler. Fighting with Philip over Charlie as if she were the only truck in the sandbox. He’d officially gone beyond obsession and landed smack in the middle of batshit crazy.

  This was Charlie Forrester, for God’s sake. If she’d been interested in renewing their friendship, she’d have said so. She didn’t play games. She’d never learned how. But she told you to get lost. Twice. Maybe it’s time to take the fricking hint. He let his head thunk against the high wooden back of the booth.

  Philip returned and plonked two Widmer IPAs on the table. Daniel reached for a bottle, but Philip knocked his hand away. “Hands off. Those are both for me. I’ll need ‘em if I have to watch Charlie walk out of here because of you.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Probably. Toshiko is with her, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” Philip carded his hands through his hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Daniel dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know.”

  “Why didn’t you stop when we asked you to?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you —”

  “Enough, Phil.” He slapped his hands on the table. “I’m a shit. I know it.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  He stared at the empty hall doorway, where the only person who’d never lied to him had vanished.

  “I don’t know
.”

  …

  Charlie peeked out of the restroom alcove. Daniel still sat in the booth across from Philip. Every time Philip jabbed a finger toward him, Daniel either shook his head or nodded without looking up.

  Promising.

  Charlie tugged on her shirt hem, a habit she’d picked up from years of watching Jean-Luc Picard get up from his captain’s chair, and realized in this shirt, an injudicious yank could land her an indecency charge. What the heck. She tugged it again. Might as well go in armed for the zombie apocalypse.

  Philip leaped up when she reached the table. “Charlie. Thank God. Look. I’m sorry. If I’d had any idea this idiot would go off on you that way, I’d never have let him sit down at the table.”

  “It’s okay.” Charlie patted Philip on the arm and he smiled at her, eyes glazing over like a gamer who’d just scored a free 3-D video upgrade. Oops. Wrong target. Dang it, this stuff was really hard to aim. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”

  Her nerves still roiled under the surface of her brave talk. Had her voice wavered a bit?

  Daniel scrambled to his feet. “Charlie. Listen. I didn’t mean to call you Nit. I mean, I never thought of you as Nit. I mean…Christ. I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”

  A lock of hair at his forehead stood up at an odd angle from where he’d clutched his head. For some reason, that made her feel stronger. As if the playing field had leveled a bit.

  “Pretty much. Yeah.”

  He swallowed, lips compressed and lines bracketing his mouth. “I am so sorry.”

  As an extra confidence booster, she channeled just a teensy bit of Bertha. “Prove it.”

  “What? How?”

  “The other day, you said you’d like to get together. You know, for old times’ sake.” She shook her head and her newly trimmed curls tickled her shoulders. “I won’t do it for old times.” Those times sucked, thanks largely to you. Feeling as if she were venturing where no geek had gone before, she touched the back of his wrist. “But for new times? I could do that.”

  “New times. Yeah. New is good.” He held perfectly still under her fingers, his eyes glassy.

  “So, dinner?”

  He blinked. “Dinner. Excellent. Now?”

  Charlie laughed. She couldn’t help it. He looked ready to leap up and charge off to snatch a plate from a passing server’s tray.

  “No. Tonight we’re here with our friends. Please. Sit.” Charlie shooed him onto the bench seat, her fingers still tingling from touching his hand. She sat down next to him and wiped her damp palms on her jeans. “We’ll…we’ll finish our drinks. Philip and I will continue our conversation. You can stay if you promise not to act like a Neanderthal, and Toshiko can observe and tell me later whether you were faking it.”

  He cast a wary glance at Toshiko, who stood, posture perfect, next to the table. “She can do that?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Toshiko nodded and slid into the booth next to Philip, although Philip didn’t so much as glance her way. He had the oddest look on his face. Charlie made a mental note to ask Gideon later about the scattershot effect of boob-stupidity, because this was ridiculous.

  “Okay.” Daniel scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Good. This is good. Tomorrow then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Charlie remembered Gideon’s advice. Don’t relinquish the power. “No. Name the place. I’ll meet you.”

  “Allowing me to have a little say in this, are you?” Daniel’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and Charlie took a sip of her wine to ease the dryness in her mouth.

  Think tough girl. You can do this. “Only a little. You’re the one with the ground to make up, remember.”

  “Okay. Cafe Niccolo. I’ll carry a red rose so you’ll recognize me.”

  “You think I’ll have trouble with that?”

  He smiled. More eye crinkles and a dimple, for heaven’s sake. “You might. I intend to be a new man.”

  Chapter Eight

  Geekronym: SEO

  Translation: Search engine optimization

  Definition: Strategies and techniques for increasing the visibility and relevance of a web page to internet search engines, with the goal of generating productive site traffic from organic (unpaid) search results.

  Thank God for file management hell. Daniel’s HTW clean-up duties took zero brainpower. He only had to look busy, so every time Nelson wandered past his cubicle, Daniel minimized his web browser, scowled at his monitor, and poked his keyboard with stiff fingers. His impression of a sulky teenager had the desired effect—Nelson always departed with a smug smile and a spring in his step, leaving Daniel to get back to the most crucial issue on his plate—convincing Charlie he wasn’t a total douche.

  In between compiling some of the most dismal readership statistics in the history of the World Wide Web, he planned his strategy.

  Dinner alone wouldn’t cut it, not after his epic screwup. Wait. A rose. He’d told her he’d have a rose. He surfed a dozen florist websites until he found one with the color he wanted. Not plain old red, but the same russet as Charlie’s hair.

  But just one rose? No way. Make it two. No twelve. Hell, two dozen. Any woman would like that, right? Trisha damn well had. But maybe she’d only pretended, the way she had about everything else.

  Of course, he’d learned what she expected from the stuff she’d given him. She’d always gone high-end. Leather portfolios. Gold fountain pens. Dom Pérignon. Wonder if she put it on an Argonne expense account.

  None of that shit had impressed him anyway. The mementos he still had from his childhood with Charlie meant more to him than all of it combined.

  He paused, frowning at the florist’s website. If those trinkets meant more to him than expensive but impersonal gifts, maybe Charlie felt the same. Or would she?

  Damn it, as much as he new about Charlie the kid, he clearly knew jack shit about Charlie the adult, and if he made the wrong choice again, he might not get another chance with her.

  Better cover all the bases. So what if his budget would be strained to the limit for the next month? She was worth it. He clicked the place order button. Expensive and impersonal. Check.

  As for the cheap but sentimental? He had that one nailed.

  …

  “Charles, step away from the hardware.” Gideon glared at her from the doorway of her bedroom, fists on his hips. “You’re due at the restaurant in ten minutes.”

  Charlie checked her personal email for the fourteenth time. Shanna’s daily taunting message, counting down the days of the bet, hadn’t popped up in her inbox. Her fingers froze on the keyboard, panic pooling in her belly. Radio silence. That couldn’t be good, could it?

  “What if Shanna changed her mind? What if she already placed someone? She said she’d give me thirty days, but what if—”

  Gideon held up one hand, palm out. “Stop. The ball’s in your court now. She won’t do anything until you return the serve.”

  She shot him an eyebrow-raised glance. “Sports analogies, G? Really?”

  He clutched his hair and grimaced. “Gad, I’ve been infected by my latest client. Everything’s an analogy—golf this, baseball that. Tennis, football, hockey. No wonder I can’t connect with the man. Those aren’t the kind of ball sports I’m familiar with.”

  Charlie checked her inbox one last time. “Hockey uses pucks, not balls.”

  “It’s a ball equivalent, darling. Same thing.” He shooed her out of her chair. “Now, let me look at you.”

  As Charlie stood under his critical gaze, the full impact of the upcoming evening hit her. Dinner. Her and Daniel. Just the two of them. It was one thing to face him with backup—Gideon, Lindsay, even Toshiko. But solo? What was she thinking?

  You’re thinking you want to spend time alone with him.

  Lord, she was an idiot. />
  “I don’t know if I can do this, G.” Charlie wished the late afternoon sunlight wasn’t quite so unforgiving. Tonight’s camisole was even skimpier than yesterday’s tank top. With all the bare flesh of her upper chest and arms exposed, she felt as conspicuous as a bioluminescent fungus.

  “You managed fine yesterday.”

  “Only because I unleashed a little Bertha.”

  “So do it again.”

  Charlie stared at him. “At dinner? I couldn’t. The likelihood of an unfortunate food-flinging event is too great.”

  “You’re overthinking this. You’re not asking him to pledge his undying love. Just remain on speaking terms for the next month.”

  “I know.” She plucked at the hem of the micro-shirt. “But it’s all so…so artificial.”

  “Nonsense. Like I tell my clients, a beautiful web design doesn’t compensate for lack of content, but content alone can’t attract customers to your site. You, my darling, are chock full of content. Your presentation layer needs a little adjusting, that’s all.” He snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot. The overshirt.”

  Reprieve. “There’s an overshirt?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Of course there’s an overshirt. That blue with the black pants screams bruise. Not the effect we’re going for.” Gideon ducked into Lindsay’s room and returned with a wisp of chiffon.

  She held the object between a finger and thumb. “Really? Why even bother? I might as well show up naked.” She slipped it over her head.

  He squinted at her with one eye, as if he were considering naked as a valid option. “No. Too distracting. You need him to pay enough attention to engage in the next scrimmage.” He stood back and studied her, his hands clasped under his chin. “Fabulous. What I wouldn’t give to see his face when he gets his first look at you.”

  “Looking wasn’t the problem. It was talking that got us both into trouble. I’m not sure I can manage a conversation without another freakazoid episode.” The odds were even whether the freak would be her or Daniel. “And it’s so stupid. I mean, we used to talk all the time. Just not…you know…date stuff.”