by Ellen Mint
“To my knowledge, nothing,” Ava responded. “Which is why I’m growing concerned.”
“I have a google search saved. If he’s in the news, I’ll see it,” I answered back, not really concerned about our brother. He had his brand of charm to get him out of whatever sticky situation his bleeding heart got him into. I suspected that my siblings stole all the charisma in the womb leaving with me with nothing but a supernatural ability to shove my foot clear down my throat.
“So.” Ava snapped her red-stained lips at me. Was that what I was missing? Makeup? Did I even own lipstick? Yes, one lip gloss from Halloween. Unicorn purple probably wouldn’t attract anyone except for the Kool-aid man.
“I’m an idiot,” I moaned, trying to cut her off.
“There’s legal documentation to prove that’s not true.”
“Yes, I am. I tried to, I mean I didn’t really try. I just suggested that. Thought it would be good to eat, and then…”
“Trin,” Ava interrupted, “you’re doing it again.”
Blowing air so my lips puffed up, I spat out fast, “I asked a guy out. But I didn’t mean to!”
“Well, that’s good. And…”
“What and? You know ‘what and.’ I thought it might…” Why would you think it’d be different? Oh, hello hot marine type guy who’s also super smart and trying to cure cancer. Surely you’d be into weird nerdy girls that flirt by standing in the same room and laughing!
“Maybe it’s in your delivery? Have you tried—”
“Look, Ava.” I raised my hand as if that could shield my face from her scrutiny. She’d tried to give me that teen drama makeover five times in my life, without any success. No amount of taking down my hair, or wearing a dress would chase away my inability to talk to human beings. Nolan wouldn’t be any different from the others, and I was stupid to try.
I didn’t even mean it like a date date. Just a couple of friends, colleagues really, getting together to talk about dragons and eat vindaloo.
And that’s probably why no one wants to date me. Damn it.
“Trini, you know what your problem is?”
“My idea of dirty talk is the square root of negative numbers?” I said to try and get a rise out of her. But my twin knew me too well.
Ava leaned back in her fancy leather chair to say, “You’re too much in your head.”
“Where else am I supposed to be? My spleen?” I shook off the ludicrous thought and leaned for the off button. “Ava, I’ve…”
“Doctor Martinez.”
And thus my day crashed into the event horizon of a black hole. Dr. Andersonn strode into my office as if he owned it. Don’t tell me my boss gave it to him.
“Ye-es?” I stumbled, trying to confidently rise from my chair. In doing so, the slits in my lab coat for my jeans’ pockets snagged on the armrest. I rose to my feet, then slammed back down fast.
Shiro took it all with a slow, perfectly-sculpted eyebrow raise. “I wished to apologize.”
“You do?” My attempts to free myself from the chair froze and I stared up at the man no doubt circling for my job. This was a political power move. Had to be.
“I am afraid I read as brusque upon first meeting, but that was not my attention.”
“Oh, that, it’s…” You just made me look like a fool in front of my boss when he’s practically salivating at the possibility of a new post-doc. “It’s fine.”
He took that news with a polite bob of his head. “My interests are quite piqued by your research into polynomial time. If you would be so kind as to elaborate upon it?”
“What? Right here?” It wasn’t like I had piles of notebooks crammed with theories on an algorithm to crack the non-deterministic polynomial conundrum. None that were easily accessible in my office or the lab, anyway.
For most people, it was a joke I’d even try, but Shiro stared through me the way a starving dog would a bone. “Well, I guess if you’re curious, I could explain the basics of what I’ve tried so far.” Which had gone exactly where everyone thought it would—nowheresville. “But it’d take some time.”
His face lit up, but the smile strained on his lips as if he wasn’t quite certain why it happened. “Why don’t we reconvene then, for dinner? I believe there is a raw fish bar in the area.”
My jaw struck the filthy desk. The Blue Lagoon was the darkest, fanciest restaurant in this cheap college town. People only went there to impress either clients, future fiancees, or… “Is this, are you asking me on a date?” I squeaked.
“Yes, a date. At the fish restaurant. How does tonight at seven in the evening work?”
“It’s…” Sweat slicked down my palms, so I worried them back and forth over my old denim jeans. A date? A minute ago I got shot down and here was another opportunity strolling along. From a man with piercing black eyes. A man whose face could have set the golden ratio, and probably had a body. I wasn’t certain as I hadn’t made it past his cheekbones. He asked me out?
Why?
“Okay,” I squeaked and, dumbstruck, extended my hand. Shiro stared in confusion only a moment before picking up my fingers and giving a strong, single shake.
“Until then,” he called vanishing from my office. Before he slipped out the door, he added, “And do not be tardy.”
That sounded more like a threat than a man excited for an evening with me. Or that could be my never-far anxiety trying to spin everything to a super apocalypse yet again. It’s not a date, he wants information. He intends to steal your job. He wants to make you look like a fool. He’s only interested in…
“Eeee!”
The familiar but foreign squeal caused my sloe eyes to roll to the screen. Ava bore a grin clear across her face. “Damn,” she teased, “I don’t know what you were complaining about. That man is fine.”
“It’s not a real…he’s only. I think he’s trying to play politics,” I muttered, my chin slumping to my chest.
“Maybe,” my sister said with a shrug, “or maybe he wants to see more than your polynomials. Either way, you should dress to kill.”
I hadn’t even considered it. A date meant makeup, heels, a skirt of some sort. What was best? Something black? The only black dress I owned I last pulled out for a funeral. In fact, it’d only been worn to funerals, because no one ever invited me to fancy restaurants.
“I’ve got to go, Trini,” my sister called. She kissed her fingertips, not smearing a micron of her expensive lipstick, and gave a little wave to the camera. “Boardrooms to bust up and all that.”
“Bye.” I sighed, happy to slide forward and shut off the call.
“Hey, you are an amazing woman and any man is lucky to have a chance with you,” Ava said fast before black filled the monitor. I stared at my darker reflection sporting cheeks turned tomato red.
Right. Lucky. She only said that because we were identical twins. In reality… I stared at my fingernails, the ends chipped and chewed from a pile of nervous habits I refused to break. Maybe if I painted them. A girlish pink. Or no, scarlet red. That’d certainly get his attention, and—
A great whine erupted from my work computer and a massive series of error bars flashed across the screen. Why would anyone want to date me when I couldn’t even handle a simple oncological algorithm? All thoughts of the date fled from my mind as I dove headfirst into Nolan’s project.
Okay, one lingered, wondering what Shiro Andersonn’s lips would taste like.
CHAPTER THREE
EVERYTHING WAS GREAT.
A March chill slithered around my ankles and set off the freshly shaved goosebumps clear up to my naked calves. The red dress I’d found hiding in my closet did nothing to help stop it. And the wind seemed to find a perverse joy in whistling through my hoop earrings while I stood outside the Blue Lagoon.
I broke out the makeup bag caked in dust and bronzer powder. Can’t accuse me of not trying when there’s an attempt at contouring. I even did something called a cut crease which involved me stabbing a mascara wand into my
eye three times.
The boning on my dress’ bodice kept trying to impale me through a rib if I sat down. Lucky thing that I hadn’t been required to yet. Wonderful really for me to arrive ten minutes early only to discover there was no sign of Shiro or a record of him booking a table.
While the host was kind enough to offer to let me wait inside, I didn’t want to be a bother. And besides, if I caught Shiro before we went in, it would help avoid the awkward misunderstanding about a reservation. They probably didn’t have those in Sweden, or Japan, or wherever he was from.
Not sure why I didn’t ask that before agreeing to a date.
A masculine voice echoed from behind and hope rose, but it was quickly answered by a feminine one. Turning on my heel I watched a man with a reassuring hand wrapped around his date’s waist. She laughed with a near-on bray at whatever he said and brushed her hand across his chest.
Goosebumps rose along the back of my neck and I realized he stared not at the woman touching him, but me. I froze, panic swirling up my legs from the couple catching a pathetic wretch lurking outside a restaurant. Would they chase me off? Call the cops mistaking me for a panhandler? Demand that I explain myself as if anyone could explain standing in near-freezing temperatures dressed in a slinky dress in the dark of night.
The man pointed a judgmental finger at me. “Are you heading in…?”
“Oh.” The first taste of heat licked up my cheeks and I scurried for the door. “No, I’m waiting for someone. Please, go on ahead,” I said while tugging on the handle for them. The woman strode in without a second’s thought but the man’s gaze lingered so long I whipped mine down to my toes.
Pink and red swirl polish fluttered on my toenails while I waited for the two to walk inside. I could try calling Dr. Andersonn, see if he was delayed in traffic or got lost in this new town. But first I’d have to contact my PI, which would require explaining why I needed the new post-Doc’s number in the first place. Why didn’t I ask him when he asked me out?
He did ask me out, right?
Another couple appeared and, without a second’s thought, I tugged open the door for them. They gave me polite nods while my memory tried to playback Shiro’s request. Was it not even a date? Maybe a mere suggestion that we could both visit the same restaurant at the same time and, should that happen, exchange ideas?
Did people do that? Talk about how it could be fun to run into each other at the same table one night?
This is why you don’t talk to people. Live in the lab, microwave instant mac & cheese for dinner, and only talk to the neighbor’s cat when lonely. You know, be pathetic.
I opened the door for the third time, and the man in the equation slipped me a dollar for my service. I stared at the fluttering currency pinched between my thumb and forefinger. A light breeze would rip it free for how I barely hung onto the small souvenir that I was stood up. Because I’m incapable of doing anything normal, I acted as a doorman for the restaurant instead.
What was I doing?
I should leave. Yank off this dress, bury it in the back of my closet, and hide away in my pajamas. Wash all the makeup off while I scrolled through the posts in an engineering board I moderate. They can always count on me to be there because Diligence07 doesn’t have a life.
But what if he still showed?
My stomach roiled in a pang of confounding guilt leaving me picturing Shiro arriving just as I left. How the flowers he’d been stuck in line purchasing would wilt. Maybe he’d even try running down the block to find me, but it’d be too late.
I lifted out my phone to see it was already 7:30. Might as well give him another fifteen minutes more, just in case.
With a smile, I dashed to the door and opened it for the next couple. No chance he’d show, I knew that in my heart, but I had to do being stood-up right. My skin prickled from the cold, but my heart didn’t feel a thing.
I slipped my ID back into my purse as the door unlocked. No one glanced twice at the woman in a full dress walking into the lab, because it was eight at night and everyone else had lives. Standing in the freezing cold, being reminded how positively worthless I was to the world, I felt a single overwhelming urge to return to work.
Which somehow sounded even sadder.
But I wanted to check on the secondary server and it seemed a better use of my time than heading home to wallow. I was perfectly capable of hating myself and working at the same time. After slipping the lab coat on over my dress, I grabbed two cloth booties out of the box. All the better to protect the equipment from static shock, my dear.
“Damn it!” I stretched the flimsy fabric across my shoe only to have the heel puncture straight through. Raising it, I stared through the hole in the glorified blue hairnet. That wasn’t going to work.
Didn’t Sami keep a pair of slippers in the full lab for emergencies? Shoving the ripped up booties into my pockets, I walked down the hallway. The blackened rooms leering from both sides of the long walk caused my steps to quicken. While the overhead fluorescents always hummed a harsh yellow glow, the empty labs glared like unblinking eyes forever watching.
Trying to shake off the chill still climbing up my satiny spine, I passed my ID before the scanner and tugged open the door. At the exact moment I walked in, my brain realized that the lights were already on.
And I wasn’t alone.
Grunting rose from behind the massive machines resting on the island counter. “Hello?” I called, dooming myself in an instant should it be an eldritch horror rising from its slumber.
Dark hair whipped up and, as the man turned, my face sank. “Dr. Andersonn?” stumbled from my lips. Not an accusation, not a threat, not even a hint of anger. No, it was like a child recognizing a farm animal on the whiteboard. That’s the Doctor Andersonn. It says ‘Want to go on a date?’
“What are you doing here?” he asked me. The slicked-back hair of before stood at wild ends, nearly raised clear up at the roots. His shirt looked disheveled and his eyes darted about the room as if it was full of people needing his attention. But no, there was only me, the woman he met and abandoned in one day. Probably a record.
And he was glaring at me. Through me. Straight down into my core as if he wanted to rip my entire neural system out in one yank.
“I, I was at the sushi place,” I mumbled. “And you weren’t.”
He tipped his wild hair as if that was a foregone conclusion.
“Did you get held up here?” I asked. Maybe that was it. He took on a task and no one was around to help him. Next thing he knew, the time flew by.
“You…” Shiro clucked his tongue and glared at the floor behind the counter. Whipping his head back to me, a queasy smile rose. “Perhaps you can help me, Dr. Martinez.”
“Regarding?” I raised my head, trying to meet him eye to eye but it felt like staring into the sun. My gaze kept sliding to the right or left for fear of burning out.
“Your research. Where is it located?”
“My research? Well, it’s…” Fuck, he was here to steal my job. And there you go, Trini, just about to hand it all over to him without a second’s though. Not like pleading my case with our boss would help. “If you’re supposed to have access, I’m certain Dr. Varnass would have given it to you himself.”
Shiro’s head jerked lightning fast, the chin jabbing at me like an accusing finger. “He has no knowledge of such things. Where do you keep it?”
What? Varnass damn well better know or else who’s writing all those grants to fund it? And paying me to do it? Shiro somehow rose even taller, his frame straining as he raised his hands.
You’re alone, no one knows you’re here, and he seems hellbent on delving into the oncological database. Just give it to him!
“Okay, I keep most of the backup logs here…” I said, twisting around him to reach the old removable hard drive. His tight arms and girded fists relaxed, letting a breath slip into my lungs. But as I pushed past him to reach the storage room, I stumbled upon a computer massacre.
>
Machines lay gutted on the floor, their chips cracked and trampled by hasty feet. Wires dangled helplessly off of the counters like veins ripped from a bleeding corpse. One single computer clung to life, the power cord straining out of the wall. It flashed in pain, the screen glitching to show the last debugging check, until it shivered once more and died.
“What in the hell hap—”
A fist clamped around my neck and sent me scrambling back on my heels. I clawed at the fingers digging into my flesh, but it felt like scratching copper tubing. “Wha…ah!” escaped my lips before he squeezed so tight my trachea collapsed.
Sparks shot across my vision as my head bashed into the wall. Eyes blacker than ink glared into mine. “Where is it?”
The hand squeezing the life from me relaxed enough I could breathe. Sucking in air, I spat out fast, “I told you. It’s all in there.”
What was happening? Would he kill me for the research? Was I going to die just so someone else could publish first? Would anyone even care?
Five fleshy leeches enveloped my throat, squeezing and grinding it. My mouth gawped for air, trying to get anything in, but I had no recourse against the vice seal. “Then you’ve served your purpose,” Shiro said.
Fuck!
My foot lashed up without any input from my fading brain. It swung straight for the middle of his crotch and kicked with everything it had.
“Aahh!” I screamed, dooming my final breath of oxygen, from my toes crumpled in agony. Pain throbbed up my foot as if I’d broken something, but it didn’t matter. I’d be dead soon and the dead didn’t feel pain. Right?
Fog crept in around me, my ears buzzing with an unending ringing. I knew this sensation from reading about it in books. Oxygen deprivation. Lightheaded, dizzy, slightly nauseous. Funny, they didn’t mention the chill. My skin grew numb, as if I sat on an ice block. For once in my life, I didn’t struggle to look someone in the eye. But all I saw staring back in those pitch black depths was my dying reflection.
