No Money Down

by Julie Moffett

  Basia sat on the side of the bed, fastening her sandals. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m awake, dang it. I can’t just fall asleep like some people. Guess I’ll crash later. What are we doing awake at this godforsaken hour?”

  “Sunrise yoga.”

  “On the other hand, maybe I’ll give sleep another shot.”

  She yanked back the covers. “Nice try. Now that I know you can’t fall back asleep, better to get up. It’s healthier than lying around all day.”

  “I thought that was what vacations are for.”

  “True, but you’re on a working vacation. Lots of fresh air, sunshine and exercise.”

  “And sleep?”

  “We’ll go to bed early tonight.”

  I grumbled but got out of bed anyway.

  Once I had dressed, Basia led me to the back of the hotel where participants put their yoga mats on a wooden deck facing the ocean. It did look kind of pretty with the sun rising above the water and the warm breeze blowing. Everyone, except me, looked amazingly awake, chipper and flexible.

  The instructor put us through an hour of stretches, down dogs and chaturangas. Most of the time I felt like a human pretzel and had a hard time reaching the inner peace at my core. It could have been because instead of focusing on honoring my body, I kept thinking about Quake and how blue Elvis’s eyes looked. But when it came time for the final relaxation and meditation, I fell asleep.

  Basia woke me up when it was over. Surprisingly, I felt quite rested. Maybe there was something to this yoga stuff after all.

  We rolled up our mats and Basia decided to head back to the room for a shower. I told her I’d join her there shortly. I felt like a walk along the beach and some time alone to clear my mind.

  I strolled up and down, enjoying the quiet of the morning and the mostly empty beach. I was nearly back to the hotel when I saw a familiar figure sitting on a bench, facing the ocean.

  I walked over to the bench and sat down. “How are your fingers?”

  The guy from the bar held up his bandaged hand. “Only two are broken.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “No, no. You saved my computer. I appreciate it. Besides, my fingers will heal.”

  “I guess so. And, I suppose if we looked at the bright side of things, it could have been three times worse.”

  “True.” He fell silent for a moment. “Lexi, can I ask you a question?”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you a glass-half-full kind of girl?”

  I shrugged. “Actually, I believe the glass is neither half-empty nor half-full.”

  “How is that?”

  “Because it’s all about the glass. It’s twice as big as it should be.”

  He thought about that and nodded. “Good answer. Logical. Scientific.” He shifted on the bench to face me. “Can you meet me tonight at the bar?”

  “Whoa.” I held up a hand. “No, I can’t. I’m busy.”

  “Please. It’s important. Life or death important.”

  “Look, if you want my honest opinion, I think your computer is okay. Any decent tech head should be able to fix it. Every computer freezes once in a while.”

  “This isn’t about my computer. I really need to talk to someone.”

  “I am so not that person. I suck at listening and I’m even worse at offering advice. I know exactly diddly-squat about how to solve people’s problems. I can’t even solve my own. Someone else, anyone else, would be way better.”

  “I don’t have anyone else.”

  “Find someone else. Please, I beg you.”

  I started to walk away when he started to cry the same way he had in the bar. Big, honking sobs. After a minute, he fumbled in his pocket for a tissue with his good hand and blew his nose.

  Sighing, I came back and sat down. “You don’t play fair.”

  “I’m not playing.”

  “Can we talk now?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not ready. Meet me in the Hilton bar at six o’clock tonight.”

  “And if I don’t show?”

  He smiled through his tears. “You will.”

  He got up and walked away. I watched him go, his footsteps marking the sand. Holy weird guys, could my vacation get any crazier?

  I returned to the hotel room and told Basia what had happened, including the incident with the computer the night before and my agreeing to meet him again tonight.

  “Are you nuts?” Basia stalked about the room, combing out her wet hair. “He could be some kind of psychopath.”

  “Possibly. But I didn’t get that vibe.”

  “You don’t get any vibe about people. You are people-clueless. Couldn’t you meet some regular guys?”

  “I can’t meet any guys. Well, not in that way. Look, he said it was important. Life and death.”

  “Yeah, death. Probably yours.”

  “I won’t leave the bar with him.”

  Basia set the comb down. “Lexi, you are a good person. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I won’t leave the bar. I mean it. You can come and watch if you want. If there’s trouble, you can get help. What am I supposed to do? He cried like a baby, for God’s sake. I broke two of his fingers. How could I say no?”

  She blew out a breath. “Okay. We do it together then. But first, you owe me.”

  “What?”

  “If I’m to be your backup, you’re going to have to humor me.”

  “By doing what?”

  “Shopping.”

  “Oh, no.” I took a step back. “In fact, let me rephrase that. Oh, hell, no.”

  “You need a new bathing suit.”

  “I like the one I have.”

  “That is not a bathing suit. It’s a suit of armor. Come on, Lexi. Live a little.”

  “I am living. More than I’ve ever lived before. Can’t I just be covered up while I’m doing it?”

  “Don’t fight it. You know I’ll win. Let’s just go.”

  Two hours and a lot of swearing later, I walked out of a beach shop with a baby blue two-piece suit. Basia refused to call it a bikini because the bottoms went up to my belly button, but I thought it showed way too much skin. Either way, no question I’d be getting plenty of sun.

  Basia wanted to go to the beach, but I needed some sleep, so we split up. She woke me up about four-thirty and we had an early dinner at a cute little café on the beach. We lingered on the patio drinking wine until it was time to meet Broken-Finger Guy. I’m not much of a drinker, so even after one glass, I felt a little tipsy walking over to the hotel.

  Basia gave me some last-minute advice. “Remember, if he makes any move toward you, throw something at him.”

  “We’ll be in a bar. I’ll scream. Besides, he’s smaller than I am and has two broken fingers. I could probably take him.”

  “Lexi.”

  “Okay. I’ll throw something at him. Honestly, I think you’re all worked up about nothing. He’s a bit strange, but harmless. You’ll see.”

  I walked in alone. The bar hopped with people tonight and someone had adjusted the air-conditioner to full blast because the gooseflesh on my bare arms rose in protest. Broken-Finger Guy was already sitting at the bar. For a warm summer evening, he had dressed oddly, in a long overcoat. I didn’t really care as I was no fashionista myself, but it just seemed strange, even to me.

  The same bartender as yesterday nodded as I slid onto the stool. A glass of red wine already sat on the counter, nestled on a napkin.

  “I ordered for you.” The broken-fingered guy took a gulp of his drink. “Hope you like wine.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should thank him or be offended he’d ordered without asking me what I liked or even if I drank. How the hell was I s
upposed to know what the social norm was?

  I decided to be neutral. “It’s okay.”

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Basia come in and sit at a table with a direct view to the bar. She frowned at me, probably because she didn’t want me to give her away, but Broken-Finger Guy hadn’t even looked up from his drink. He stirred the lime with a swizzle stick and waited until the bartender was busy with a guy at the other end of the bar before speaking.

  “Lexi, I need to tell you I’m kind of a loner in life.”

  At least I could relate to that. “Okay.”

  “People sort of shunned me in school and college. I was even an outcast among my colleagues when I got my PhD.”

  “You have a PhD?”

  “Yes, but obviously not in computer science. The point I’m trying to make is that after a lifetime of pursuing an intellectual passion, I’ve found myself alone.”

  “You’re not asking me out on a date, are you?”

  He looked up in surprise. “What? You? No. Oh, my God, no. Is that what you thought?”

  Jeez, he didn’t have to be so emphatic. “Ah, not really. Just checking.”

  “Yes, well back to the topic at hand. Given the state of today’s economy, funding for scientific research has significantly dried up. Sometimes unorthodox methods are required to fund one’s passion, especially if said methods are meant to benefit all of humanity.”

  That was when I noticed the black leather pouch sitting on the bar in front of him. His bandaged hand rested on top of it as if keeping it in place. He tapped on it in a nervous rhythm.

  “What kind of research are we talking about?”

  His eyes lit up. “Medicine. Imagine it, Lexi. I may be alone, but after my death, my legacy to the world could benefit billions.”

  I decided I might need a drink of the wine after all. I picked up the glass and took a sip. “You’re not a surgeon, are you? Because if I just smashed the hands of a world class surgeon, that’s going to really ruin my day.”

  He laughed. “No, I’m not a medical doctor. I’m a scientist. I’m working on RFID technology. Have you heard of it?”

  “Sure. Radio frequency identification. Technology that uses radio waves to transfer data.”

  “Well, I’m working to make it applicable to fight disease.”

  “Aren’t there chips already available for human implantation? I’ve heard they are microscopic now.” A couple of months ago I’d come across an interesting article about a scientist who’d implanted himself with an RFID chip. With one wave of a scanner, you could read his entire medical history.

  “That’s true. The chips are so tiny they can be inserted with a needle these days. But those RFID chips contain only data, readable from a scanner. I’m talking about taking the technology a step further. A chip that can actually diagnose a disease as it’s forming in your body. Possibly even treat it.”

  I hadn’t expected it, but I was actually enjoying the conversation. I took another sip of the wine, running my finger across the rim and listening to it hum. “Cool, but pretty ambitious. You think RFID technology is at that stage yet?”

  “Beyond it, actually. It’s safe and manipulative.” He lowered his voice. “In fact, I’ve already created something special.”

  “Well, good for you. So, what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that there are too many close-minded suits in the scientific community. People who won’t give a person with good ideas a chance. It means that sometimes scientists have to look for unorthodox ways to fund their research.”

  I nodded. “Funding for most scientific projects is especially tight these days.”

  “Then you agree that sometimes a person has to take an extraordinary step to create something that will be to the benefit of all?”

  “Theoretically. It would depend on the step.”

  “Yes. Yes, it would.” He stood and, to my surprise, gripped my upper arms, squeezing me painfully. “I knew you’d understand, Lexi. There comes a time in life when a man has to take a stand for the benefit of mankind, no matter what the consequences.”

  He squeezed harder now, pinching me, shaking me. “I want you to think about it. Truly. Think about what I’m saying.”

  “Hey, let go. You’re hurting me.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Basia rise from her seat, a heavy water glass gripped in her hand.

  At last he let go of me. I slid off the barstool and swayed unevenly on my feet.

  He looked very apologetic. “Lexi, I’m so sorry. Really. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Sometimes my passion can get the best of me. Thank you. Thank you so much for listening and understanding. I knew you were the right person. I had a special feeling about you. Just remember you hold my life in your hands.”

  Before I could even fathom what I should say to that, he turned and exited the bar. Basia came running over, glass still in hand.

  “Lexi, are you okay? Why was he shaking you?”

  I blew out a breath. “I don’t know. He turned kind of psycho at the end there, freaking out about his research. It’s okay. Guess he’s just very passionate about his work.”

  “What work?”

  “He’s a scientist.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I was here.” She held up the water glass. “I think he saw I was ready to use it. I would have brought him down.”

  “Yeah, all five-three, one hundred and ten pounds of you. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  The bartender waved at me. “Hey, miss, you okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Don’t forget your purse.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t bring a purse.”

  He held up the black leather pouch the broken-fingered guy had left behind.

  I sighed. “Oh, jeez. He forgot it.”

  The bartender tossed it at me and I caught it. “By the way, tell your friend thanks for the generous tip.”

  “He’s not my friend. Not exactly.”

  “Whatever.”

  Basia tugged my hand. “You’re not going to see that creep again, are you?”

  “Just to give this back to him, I guess. I think I’ve done my Good Samaritan bit. He’s one strange dude. I don’t even know his name.”

  “Maybe we can find his name in here.” Basia snatched the pouch out of my hands and unzipped it.

  “Hey, don’t do that.”

  “I’m just looking for his name so we can give it back.” She stopped in her tracks, staring inside. “Oh, my God.”

  Alarmed, I leaned over her shoulder and peered into the pouch. I had about a nanosecond to let it register before the world went black and I fell to the floor.

  Chapter Four

  “Lexi, are you okay? Wake up.”

  The voice sounded as if it were coming from a long tunnel. I blinked a couple of times before a face swam into view.

  “Elvis?” I tried to sit up, but everything spun around me.

  He helped me lie back down. “Stay down. You’re safe here.”

  “Lexi?” I recognized Basia’s voice.

  “Where…am…I?” I could see Elvis’s face clearer now. Jeez, his eyes were so blue.

  “You’re in my suite.”

  “What…happened?”

  Basia swore. “That creep drugged your wine.”

  I concentrated on focusing my vision and saw her pacing back and forth. “Drugged? But I only had…two sips.”

  “Apparently that’s all it took. What is wrong with society today?”

  A cool hand rested on my brow. His eyes were blue…like the sea on a sunny day. Yes, that was what I’d been thinking.

  Elvis studied
my face. “Lexi, I want to make certain you’re okay and that your higher functions are in order. Do you know what day it is?”

  “A vacation day?”

  “Good enough. Can you finish my thought? For every action, there is an equal and opposite…”

  “…malfunction.”

  He laughed. “She’s fine.”

  I struggled to sit up and Elvis helped, letting me lean back against him. “Jeez, you’re saying he drugged my wine?”

  Basia stopped pacing. Xavier sat on the other couch, drinking a Mountain Dew and watching her.

  “Well, that has to be why you passed out, right?”

  “I guess.” I looked over my shoulder at Elvis. “How did I get here?”

  “Xavier and I were walking through the bar when we saw you faint. We carried you up here.”

  “You carried me?”

  Elvis’s cheeks reddened. “Not by myself. It took the three of us.”

  Basia resumed her pacing. “For a skinny girl, you’re damn heavy.”

  “Hey, I’m tall. That must be it.” I shivered and rubbed my bare arms. They were sore where Broken-Finger Guy had grabbed and shook me.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Strangely, yes.”

  He held up a hand to his brother. “Xavier, grab my sweater from the dresser, would you?”

  Xavier disappeared into the room, coming back with a navy blue cardigan sweater.

  “You brought a sweater to the beach?” Basia asked. “A cardigan?”

  Elvis shrugged. “It gets windy in the evening.”

  “No sweatshirt?”

  “I like sweaters.”

  Elvis helped me slip it on and I hugged my arms to my sides, trying to clear my mind.

  “Okay, guys. Something just isn’t adding up for me here. He drugs my wine and then takes off? That doesn’t make sense, does it? If he drugged me for a nefarious purpose, why did he take off instead of trying to take me somewhere?”

  “He probably saw me coming with the water glass and ran in fear. Good thing I had you in my sights.” Basia plopped down on the couch next to Xavier and he smiled.

  Elvis frowned. “Maybe he planned to come back.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to remember the chain of events. Broken-Finger Guy had risen from the barstool before Basia had moved. No way he’d seen her, not that it would have caused him to run screaming in fear. In fact, we’d been pretty engrossed in our conversation before he’d abruptly grabbed my arm, thanked me for being a good listener and left. Weird, but not necessarily the actions of a would-be rapist or kidnapper. He didn’t try to drag me anywhere, and he’d have to have noticed how little I drank. So, how did it all fit together?