"You can talk to me, Aiden," she said, performing her usual mind-reading act when it came to me. "No matter what. I hope you know that."
"She said she loved me," I blurted.
Surprise flashed in my mom's eyes. The hands she had calmly folded on her desk jerked back as if from an electric shock.
"It surprised me, too," I said. "Anyway, she won't see me any more, so..." I started for the door.
"Aiden." My mom raised a hand. "I shouldn't be surprised. I know the power you have over women...females. It's just that she's a grown woman, a professional."
"I know," I said. "And I'm just a dumb teenager who happens to have girl-attracting scent."
She smiled. "Let's not feel too sorry for yourself. It will get better, I promise. This is just going to take some adjustment, learning new skills."
"Yeah." I started toward the door again. "Is Melanie around?"
"I think so. I heard music coming from her room." Mom paused. "You don't have to go back to CellEvolve tonight. I imagine you wouldn't mind spending a night in your own bed for once."
"That would be cool, if you think it's safe."
"I'm going to trust your judgment – and your sister's."
I couldn't imagine why she would trust my or Melanie's judgment, but it was a nice thing to say, I thought.
Down the hall, I heard faint strains of music issuing from behind Melanie's closed door. Probably wearing headphones. I knocked on the door.
"It's open."
Melanie was shutting down her computer as I entered, but not before I glimpsed an image of me as her screensaver. Crap. But I pasted on a smile. She tugged off her headphones and made the screen go blank.
"How did it go with your therapist-love?" she asked. "Did she slap your face or swoon in your arms?"
I sighed. You could always count on the Melanie charm.
"Let's just say she won't be counseling me any more," I said.
"What a shame. You were making such great progress with her."
I bit my tongue. I guessed my sister was entitled to some bitterness.
"Don't look so sad," she said. "I'm sure you could find a dozen more women who'd be happy to service you. How much was CellEvolve offering them for their services, by the way?"
I shook my head. I used to believe I was good with banter, witty repartee, whatever you wanted to call it, but Melanie's mockery defeated me – just as Aleesha's woeful recriminations had. I couldn't see any way of winning in an emotional contest with a woman or girl. I was learning that if you took the bait – either took the arguments seriously or tried joking about them – you were swiftly dragged down into places you didn't want to be.
"You're not going to admit they are offering them money?" Melanie asked, her voice rising in irritation.
"No," I grumbled. "They are."
"How much?"
"For Alice, a college fund for her kids. Aleesha got a twenty-five thousand dollar bonus."
"So why don't you ask Dr. Blumenthal for me? That way, I can get a piece of the action."
I stared at her. "Not funny, Melanie."
"I wasn't joking."
"I know this is weird, but there are limits."
"You think that's weirder than your own mom studying your giz?"
"I'm going to get some lunch." I backed out through the door. "Before I permanently lose my appetite."
"Are you sticking around tonight or heading back to your laboratory love shack?"
"I thought I'd stay."
"Cool." She replaced her headphones. "I'll see you around, then."
DR. BLUMENTHAL called me into his office a week later. My mom was there, too. They looked tense, but more in an excited than a grim way. My first guess was that they'd been talking over my "intimate trysts" at CellEvolve and after two weeks had finally decided to stick pitchforks into it and call it "done."
"We called you in," said Dr. Blumenthal, "because we had an interesting result with one of your samples – a result quite divergent from the others."
He motioned me to sit in the chair next to my mom, which I did.
"What kind of result?" I asked.
Dr. Blumenthal nodded to my mom, who turned to face me.
"A hypersexual result with our lab rats," she said. "Both with crystallized and liquefied forms of one particular, um, sample taken on Thursday, six days ago."
"Thursday?"
I tried to recall if I'd been bitten by a radioactive spider or exposed to gamma rays, but nothing unusual came to mind.
"Did you do anything different in obtaining that sample, Aiden?" Dr. Blumenthal asked with his unflappable smile. "Please think back carefully on that day."
"Okay, but I don't think..." But then I did remember something different. "Oh."
"Oh what, Aiden?" my mom asked.
"Ah, I guess one thing was different. That day, I just thought I could give a sample in another way. I was with Aleesha...Dr. Bloom...and I was just, ah, finishing, and had the cup..."
"Maybe it would be best if we spoke about this alone," said Dr. Blumenthal. "This can't be comfortable discussing in front of your mother."
"I think I get the idea," said my mom. Her droll overtones didn't mask an underlying excitement as she leaned toward me. "Your sample wasn't pure, was it? It was polluted by Dr. Bloom's fluids, wasn't it?"
"I wouldn't say polluted."
Dr. Blumenthal sat forward, leaning across his desk, his eyes shining. His smile had stretched into a grin.
"Jesus God," he said. "It's a mixture of male and female chemistry! I can't believe it could be that simple."
"I've never heard of anyone combining them before," said my mom. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."
"It does seem counterintuitive." Dr. Blumenthal leaned back, stroking his chin. "One would think feminine hormones would attenuate, not amplify, the effects obtained from hypersexual semen."
"Considering that MES typically involves reduced testosterone and elevated estrogen levels," said my mom.
Dr. Blumenthal chuckled. "Who'd have thought? We are beneficiaries of serendipity – of your son and Aleesha's carelessness. But then how many inventions and breakthroughs have come about by accident?
"Does that mean you don't need me anymore?" I asked.
"Quite the opposite." Dr. Blumenthal's broad grin refused to shrink. "We'll need your 'joy stick' in full operation mode for manufacturing purposes."
"What Alan means to say," my mom grated, "is that we'll require more base material for testing and analysis and ultimately to synthesize enough for manufacturing purposes."
"Of course. That's exactly what I meant to say." Dr. Blumenthal directed a tolerant smile to her. "CellEvolve is prepared to devote a preponderance of its lab resources to this task. Meanwhile, our patent attorneys will be meeting with you and your staff to examine the data and prepare a provisional application. We're going to be very busy here for the next several months."
My thoughts were racing – perhaps too fast for commonsense to keep up – because it was starting to sound like my "junk" was about to change our world and that just couldn't be right.
"I would like to make one special request of you, Aiden," said Dr. Blumenthal. "Namely, that you keep word of our possible breakthrough entirely to yourself. If news of this were leaked, that could draw some unhealthy interest from our competitors. Perhaps your mom has told you of one corporate spy that nearly stole Melatin from us at the penultimate moment."
"No," I said, glancing at my mom, "but I understand what you're saying. I promise I won't talk to anyone about it."
"I'd appreciate that. And naturally, in light of these developments, and our desire for more of your time, we would be happy to renegotiate your agreement to a substantially higher compensation level. Your mom and I were discussing that before you arrived."
"Oh," I said, glancing at my mom, whose neutral smile revealed none of the excitement I knew she must be feeling. "That's cool."
"I think it's only fair," said Dr
. Blumenthal, "considering your, well, 'contribution'. We will discuss those new terms in the days to come. In the meantime, I'm sure it goes without saying that you should attempt to simulate the conditions of the sample in question as accurately and as often as possible, with both your 'assistants'."
"Uh, okay."
"How do you feel about bringing in more assistants? You had originally asked for three. I'm happy to add to your current two."
"I don't know." I shot a nervous glance at my mom, whose expression had grown forcibly neutral.
"Well, keep it in mind." Dr. Blumenthal rose and extended his hand. "And keep up the good work."
Chapter 14
I HAD THE SURREAL experience of buying a new car, followed by the even more fantastical experience of returning to high school and a semblance of normal life.
Three days before school started, Dr. Blumenthal slipped me a company debit card as a "special thanks" for my "beyond the call of duty" services. I suspected Dr. Blumenthal spoke tongue-in-cheek on a regular basis, especially when it came to me, but the important thing was that the card had fifty thousand dollars on it to spend as I pleased.
The income we'd made so far had been deposited out of my reach in my mom's account, and while I could've asked her to buy me a car, I didn't want to feel any more selfish and decadent than I already felt by ransacking our savings. More importantly, I didn't want her looking over my shoulder as I made my selection. She was very conservative when it came to cars – all about gas mileage and safety – and I wasn't feeling all that conservative. I was thinking more along the lines of one of Ragnar's sports cars, and with that in mind, I called him for advice. He said he'd do me one better, and take me shopping himself.
My mom tried to look disapproving when I told her about Ragnar, but I didn't miss the girlish flush of excitement in her cheeks when I mentioned his imminent arrival. I thought I'd become rather adept at spotting the signs of excitement and/or arousal in women. Mom cautioned me about revealing CellEvolve's possible breakthrough, reminding me about Dr. Blumenthal's warning.
So that Saturday, two days before the advent of high school, Ragnar rolled up to our curb, and we joined the swarms of other weekend car shoppers.
"I never did thank you for calling Dr. Blumenthal with your, uh, suggestion," I said as we drove toward Sacramento. "I doubt I ever would've had the guts to do that myself."
"I kinda thought you might need a nudge," Ragnar laughed. "How did that work out?"
"A couple of women agreed, so I guess, pretty well."
"Only two women?"
I gave a self-conscious shrug. "Dr. Blumenthal offered to get more, but there are enough problems with two. One of them is already kind of jealous."
"You spend too much time with one girl, and she'll get bonded to you. That's pretty much inevitable."
"She's really smart and a good person. I wouldn't mind being bonded with her – with just one girl."
"I've tried it." Ragnar shot me a sympathetic smile. "That's a tough ho' to row or whatever the expression is."
I laughed. "I doubt that's it. But yeah, it would be hard right now. Especially since I'm supposed to, you know, produce more 'specimens'."
"I hope you're renegotiating that puny sum of money you and your mom settled for. I did tell your Dr. Blumenthal that I thought he was basically being a cheapskate."
"Yeah, we are going to renegotiate, but not because of that..." D'oh! I felt like slapping myself on the forehead. I was beginning to realize I lacked a talent for keeping secrets.
"Because of what, then? Dude, we're Brothers of the Hyper. You can always tell me what's up."
"I kind of swore that I wouldn't say anything." But more than anyone, I wanted to tell Ragnar about recent developments. I searched for a sop to my conscience. "Would you be willing to promise not to tell anyone?"
"Aiden, what you say to me stays with me. It's not as if I ever talk about hyper stuff with my teammates or friends anyway. I've learned it's best to keep that shit to myself. So sure, I promise."
"We might have a cure," I blurted.
Ragnar jerked his head to face me. Since we were on Highway 80 in the fast lane, I wished he would face forward.
"No way," he said. "Holy fuck. Are you serious?"
"Well, not a cure, really, but a treatment that could restore men to normal function."
"How? What did they discover?"
"Ragnar, I don't want to get into the details. But basically, it was something they stumbled on by accident."
"Okay." He raised a catcher's mitt hand in dismissal. "If that's true, that's huge. Beyond huge. It changes everything!"
"I know. It's crazy to even think about."
"How sure are they about this?"
"All I know is that it worked on some rats."
"That doesn't sound all that certain."
"Dr. Blumenthal was awfully excited, and he doesn't seem like someone who would be without good reason."
"Yeah, well, maybe he sampled some of the stuff himself. Or a friend of his did."
"That seems kind of risky."
Ragnar shrugged. "Maybe if you can only get it up a couple of times a year, the risk might seem worth it."
"Yeah, maybe."
We entered West Sacramento.
"On a more mundane note, what are you looking for in a car?" he asked. "That would narrow down our search."
"I'm not sure. I don't know much about cars. I guess something somewhat sporty, handles well, gets at least okay mileage. Nothing too fancy – I don't want to drive a Mercedes to high school – just something, you know, cool." I shrugged. "I'd rather not spend all or even most of that fifty thousand."
"In all honesty, what's the point of someone your age driving a Lamborghini or a Mercedes? That's just some punk rich kid, which isn't you. If you want a cool car that handles well, looks good, and won't freak out your schoolmates, then I know the perfect car for you. Also, I know the dealer's owner, so I guarantee we can get you a bottom-barrel price."
We pulled off the highway onto Arden Way and into the parking lot of Mello BMW.
"His name's Paul Mello," Ragnar laughed. "He thought the combination with BMW was funny."
As we entered the dealership building, people seemed to have one of two reactions: jaw-dropping or pretending to be casual. One guy came jogging up to him, a worshipful grin plastered on his face.
"Mr. Norquist! It's great to see you again!"
He pumped Ragnar's hand while the other salespeople looked on with longing and dazed eyes.
"Hey, Joe. Is Paul around?"
"Sure is. I'll get him for you."
"Appreciate it."
Soon a tall, slim, middle-aged dude with a great tan and a white-toothed grin strode out.
"Didn't we already give you two BMWs, Ragnar?" he said as they shook hands. "Are you back for more?"
"Yup." He nodded to me. "For my young friend here."
"Ah." I had to hand it to the guy. His broad smile hardly contracted as he turned his gaze on the undoubtedly mysterious puzzle that was me. "I thought he might be your younger brother."
"Ha, a brother in spirit anyway. Unfortunately, I only have biological sisters."
The owner offered his hand to me. "Paul Mello."
"Aiden Stevens."
"Very please to meet you, Mr. Stevens. What can I get for you, today?"
"A BMW 3 sedan at cost sounds about right," said Ragnar. "And by the way, I gave you a 100K advertising gig for those 'free' BMWs."
"Oh, right." Paul Mello scratched his head. "I forgot about that. I must be getting senile." He laughed.
"Any particular color?" Ragnar asked me.
"Blue?"
"We have a gorgeous teal blue on the lot," said the dealer owner.
"Price?"
"Dealer cost is around thirty-one grand. I'll give it to your friend for twenty-five. But I want you to do a ten second radio spot."
"Done," said Ragnar.
The next hour was like on
e of those dreams about flying, except I was awake. We drove out of the city, leaving Ragnar's Jaguar in the dealer lot, cruising up and down and around the hills and country roads. Ragnar didn't want me to drive home until I had a good feel for the car, and at first it seemed touchy – too fast to accelerate, and too quick to brake – but about thirty miles out something seemed to click. The car began to feel more like an ally, even an extension of me.
"Now, Grasshopper," Ragnar chuckled. "You are ready."
"Thank you," I said. "This car is freaking unbelievable! It's like riding on a big cat instead of a dog on tranquilizers – my mom's Prius."
"I wouldn't steer you wrong, would I?" Ragnar grinned at me.
As we drove back to his friend's dealership, I couldn't stop smiling. I felt as if I were flying on a fluffy cumulous cloud or perhaps an anti-gravity device.
"How are things on the home front?" Ragnar asked me.
"Okay, I guess. Maybe because I haven't been around all that much."
"That might help. I'm sure you've noticed that it isn’t easy for females to be around us for long periods." Ragnar pushed back his thick blond hair and fixed me with a speculative half-smile. "Aiden, I'm going to ask you something, and I won't blame you for being a tad freaked out. It's about your mom."
My hands clenched on the steering wheel. "You're into her, aren't you?"
"You're perceptive."
I was afraid to speak. Ragnar had just finagled many thousands off my dream car, and had made time to chauffeur me around in Sacramento, but nothing could make me want to see him and my mother together.
"Are you pissed?" he asked.
"I wouldn't say that...exactly. But you're, like, only seven years older than me. And you're this world-famous womanizer."
"But aside from that, I'm a helluva catch, right?"
I let out a tight laugh.
"Look, Aiden, I'll say this to you right now. I won't make a move of any kind on your mom if you don't approve."
I glanced at him in disbelief. "You're seriously asking for my approval?"
"Dude, I know this may sound strange, but it's like Paul said. I actually do kind of think of you as my younger brother. I always wanted a brother."
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