Love at the Electric

by Hughes, Jenn

  Sam leaned against his car and waited impatiently, every passing second speeding up the beat of his fingertips as they rapped against the hood. Finally, Preston Lavery rode into the Origin parking lot on a unicycle he called a KyMono. Not the traditional Japanese garment. The name was a reference to the contraption’s supposed ability to amplify miniscule amounts of kinetic energy. Sam snorted at the sight of it—a moron perched atop an electromagnetic wheel.

  “A little cold to be riding that now, don’t you think?” Sam asked as Preston came to a stop in front of him.

  “I have kick-ass mitochondria, Sam. I don’t feel cold the way normal humans like you do,” he answered, dismounting from the KyMono with the grace of a drunken bear.

  The machine swayed and then crashed to the ground. For a couple of minutes, Preston worked on keeping the thing upright. But when it fell over for a fourth time, he left it on the ground and scratched his head. “We’re in the final stages of adding a kickstand,” he mumbled.

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Right. Genius-level development there. Anyway, I’d prefer not to spend any more time breathing the air in your general vicinity, so let’s get down to why I asked you to meet me here.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  A buzzing sound drew Sam’s attention to the sky above. To a tiny black drone hovering twenty feet about their heads. “Is that necessary?”

  Preston threw him a confused look. “Well, yeah . . . Where’s yours?”

  “I don’t have a drone recording this conversation, but keep yours running because I don’t give a shit who hears it. I asked you to meet me because I want you to leave Lillian Walker alone. Don’t screw up her career. She worked hard and won for you. That has to mean something.”

  Preston snorted. “It means nothing to me. She’s with you, so she’s no better than you. Word’s already out. No legal firm or tech company on the Eastern Seaboard will hire Lillian now. I made it clear they’d regret it.”

  The smug look on Preston’s face urged Sam to plant his fist in it. Settle the score once and for all by breaking his former friend’s sharp little snout . . .

  But he couldn’t. Someone else mattered more. And so Sam finally uttered the words he’d sworn he’d never say to his old frenemy.

  “I’m sorry, Preston.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said to you at MIT. I went too far and used our friendship and all the things you told me about you and your dad to hurt you. I know you stole Thrones of the Guild Planets to impress him, and I was wrong for calling you out about it. It was just a stupid game.”

  The only sound Sam heard was the wind in his ear. Time slowed down, and he took in the moment. For so many years he’d refused to admit it. Let his hate fuel a relentless drive to succeed. But power and wealth and notoriety weren’t what mattered. Lillian mattered. And he was ready to let go of the past to be with her.

  Preston’s eyes widened. He started to speak, but his mouth snapped shut. Finally, he whispered, “Are you dying?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Like the only way I could possibly act like an adult is if I’m dying.”

  “Well, are you?”

  Sam groaned. “No. I’m not dying. I’m living. Lillian said something that really got to me. She said I built Origin as a weapon, and she’s right. I’ve spent so much time and money building a weapon to use against you. I’ve changed the landscape of an entire town, not to mention my own life, just to exact some kind of stupid revenge on you. I don’t want Origin to be a weapon. I want it to be a beacon. A light making the world a better place.”

  He reached inside his jacket and dug around in his coat pocket, then pulled out the scrap of paper. Sam handed it to Preston, who unfolded it and sneered. “What the hell is this?”

  “Those are my passwords for all my social media accounts. LifeLink’s the top one. Have a blast, Preston.”

  With that, Sam Owens walked away from Preston Lavery and the past. And the last thing he heard from his old friend as he walked across the Origin parking lot brought a smile to his face.

  “Damn it, Sam. It’s no fun if it doesn’t piss you off!”

  But halfway to the main doors, someone else called after him. A rat. A tall, skinny ginger rat.

  “Hey, Sam! Wait!”

  Sam kept walking, ignoring the call for Rik’s sake. He’d reached his limit for magnanimity, and he wasn’t interested in listening to tales of Rik’s personal stupidity when he already had plenty of his own. But footsteps jogged up behind him, and a slap on the back made Sam stumble. He stopped and jerked his head around, hoping the glare on his face might melt Rik’s off.

  It didn’t. Teflon Bryant grinned at him, oblivious to Sam’s radioactive stare. “What in the hell is Preston doing here? Thought a knife fight might be going down.”

  “Check your social media accounts later on today. You’ll find out.”

  Rik’s puzzled expression didn’t last long. “Okay. Well, I’m glad I bumped into you. I wanted to tell you the good news, and apologize for everything that’s happened.”

  Sam had a good comment prepared, something along the lines of saying he didn’t give a shit about Rik’s good news. But the shock of an apology deadened his momentum. Against his mood and better judgment, Sam folded his arms, and gave a quick glance at his watch.

  “I’m not very interested in listening to your good news, but I am curious about the apology. You have thirty seconds.”

  “Yikes. Okay, I work well under pressure, so here goes. I should have kept my mouth shut to Lillian about you. I should have let things happen instead of telling her about your off-season and how you’d make a terrible boyfriend. Definitely should not have mentioned any of it to Preston . . . ”

  Sam looked at his watch again. “Seventeen, sixteen . . . ”

  Rik tugged at his collar and coughed. “You get the picture. I didn’t want to see her get hurt again. Probably guilt for getting involved with Lillian at BU fifteen years ago when I knew I loved Emily. I’m an asshole sometimes. Most of the time. Makes me a good attorney but a shitty friend. I’m sorry.”

  As much as Sam hated to admit it, the Arctic freeze of a mood he’d carried with him all morning thawed at little, allowing a puddle of forgiveness to form. He scratched at the knit cap on his head, let out a heavy sigh mixed with a low growl, and then smacked Rik on the arm.

  “You talked longer than thirty seconds.”

  Rik smiled. “Remember what I said about attorneys being incapable of succinctness? I probably made ten bucks dragging those thirty seconds out to a minute.”

  “You really are an asshole.” Sam finally smiled and gave the guy a break. “So why the sudden case of remorse?”

  “Ah, that’s the good news. In case you missed us at the party, Emily and I are back together. Crazy make-up sex, by the way. It was a negotiation, but we found our middle ground, and we’re going to work from there—all thanks to Lillian’s sage advice. I owe her. And you. That’s why I was relieved to see you two stealing the show at the Christmas party. Seems like everything worked out after all, so I thought I should go ahead and start patching things up. Now we can all move on from this whole self-inflicted mess.”

  The wind blew Rik’s red hair. He brushed it away and then pushed his glasses up on his nose, drawing attention to the happy glint in his eyes. Envy swept over Sam. An inner coldness returned and reminded him of the empty, hollow feeling in his chest nothing seemed to fill.

  “Things didn’t work out with Lillian the way I hoped.” Rik started to speak, but Sam shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

  Rik gave a lopsided frown, but then nodded. “Are we good, though?”

  “Yeah. Jesus, it’s cold this morning. Let’s go in, no sense in standing out here.”

  They walked to the e
ntrance at the front of the building. Sam pressed his finger against the scanner at the main door, and waited until it unlocked. Cedric greeted him with his customarily cheery, “Good morning, Sam.”

  I need to delete that line of code. Nothing good about mornings anymore.

  Sam walked with Rik through the quiet lobby, the building a ghost town before seven in the morning, and over to the elevators where they waited for their lift to the upper floors. Neither of them said a word. But when the elevator doors opened, Sam tried to make small talk on the ride up. Only one subject came to mind.

  “Hey, did you know Lillian left Mythos?”

  “Seriously?” Rik asked. When Sam nodded, Rik’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head. “Whoa. She must have left for you.”

  “I don’t know. Lillian didn’t give me the specifics, only said it was the right thing to do. Probably never hear the real story now.”

  The elevator slowed and stopped, and when the doors glided open they had arrived on the floor of the legal department. Rik stepped off, spinning on his heel and giving Sam a quick smile. “See you later, Sam.”

  “Yeah. Later.”

  The doors started to close, but Rik stuck his hand between them at the last second. “Wait,” he said as the doors whooshed open. “Things will work out with Lillian.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it at the moment.”

  “Maybe not, but don’t give up. Lillian’s one of those all-or-nothing types, and she’s no risk-taker. That’s why her caseload is heavily favored toward the win side. Whatever she’s said in the heat of the moment isn’t necessarily her final answer. She’ll weigh things, and once she makes up her mind, she’ll give you everything she’s got. Give her time.”

  “Thanks, Rik.”

  Rik stepped back, the doors closed, and Sam was left alone on his way to the top. He hoped Rik was right. He especially hoped Preston Lavery did the predictable thing and already had his sneaky little fingers inside Sam’s LifeLink account. All Preston had to do was plaster across the planet every embarrassing photo Sam’s mom had posted on LifeLink. Then Lillian would see how far Sam was willing to go for her.

  He’d ruin his own life. Ruin his reputation. Ruin the image he’d cultivated. He’d do whatever it took to show Lillian that Origin officially meant nothing next to her. But Sam couldn’t help wondering how long Lillian might take to make up her mind. Hours, days, months even . . .

  He exhaled. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, but he had to wait. He wouldn’t win the heroine’s heart by storming the gates this time.

  I need a side quest. A distraction. Something to keep myself occupied until Lillian decides it’s time to level up.

  Chapter 33

  Attacking Love from the Rear

  No calls.

  No texts.

  No contact.

  Nothing. A big fucking bunch of nothing . . .

  The nothingness ate at Sam. Through the windows of his office, he stared at the thick gray blanket of snow clouds covering the city. So high up and about as low as I can get.

  At least Preston had come through for him. Sam’s young, pale, bespectacled face was everywhere. Late-night talk shows had jabbed him. Reporters and journalists from all over the country had flooded Origin with interview requests. Everyone was talking about not-so-perfect Sam Owens. And it turned out the world liked him better that way.

  Not that it mattered, because good publicity and rising stock prices didn’t garner him an ounce of contact with Lillian. The looming day, filled with back-to-back meetings, didn’t take his mind off things. He wanted to hear from her, if only to know she was okay. Maybe get a little shred of hope from hearing the sound of her voice. But so far, all she’d handed him was an earful of silence.

  He swiveled around in his chair, then woke up his computer and decided to spend his free fifteen minutes responding to at least a few of the thousand emails he’d been avoiding.

  Delete.

  Delete.

  Junk.

  Delete . . . Wait a minute.

  “Development is moving forward with drone implementation in PMK’s logistics software systems—are they joking?” Sam rubbed his forehead and pressed the button for his assistant’s line. “Tyler, call Georgia Ross in the logistics department and ask her, literally in these words, what in the holy hell she’s doing giving the go-ahead on drones for that new contract. Then transfer the call to me so I can repeat that verbatim.”

  Sam slammed down the receiver. His currently shitty attitude at least served some purpose at work. The thought of reaming employees for overeager decisions usually turned his stomach, but now he looked forward to it. Line ’em up, chop off their heads.

  He let out a few deep breaths and rolled his head around. His neck popped and cracked. Stress had left him so tense his muscles felt permanently taut. Nothing alleviated the anxiety, not even the memory of Lillian’s naked body pressed up—

  His office door clicked. Sam watched the handle turn slowly. Too slowly. He didn’t want visitors. He sure as hell didn’t want someone dragging out an interruption. The handle stopped, and the door opened a millimeter at a time. Sam didn’t give the intruder a chance to announce themselves.

  “Stop right where you are. Turn around and walk away. And close the door behind you when you go,” Sam growled.

  It swung open with a whoosh. In the doorway stood Ravi, wearing the same jeans and Got any cheese? T-shirt Sam had seen him in the day before.

  “Nope,” he said, stepping inside and slamming the door behind him.

  “Whatever it is, I’m not in the mood, and the answer is no,” Sam said, spinning around and focusing on the view again.

  “I wanted to let you know that later this week I have a meeting to prepare a business proposal. A real one, not like the time I wrote ‘I want to make games’ on a napkin and slid it under the door. My attorney’s helping me come up with it.”

  Sam laughed. “Rik’s helping you come up with a business proposal? Thought you hated the guy.”

  “Hate is a strong word. I prefer to say I strongly disagree with his existence. But, no, Rik isn’t my attorney. He’s yours. Lillian is my attorney.”

  The grin vanished from Sam’s face, and he spun back around. “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope. I hired her. She’s going to help me with all the legal stuff the fancy accountant you hired threw at me. So, buuuurrrrnnnnnn . . . ” He walked over to the desk and commandeered Sam’s keyboard and monitor. “Okay, but seriously, here’s some of the pre-meeting info she emailed over this morning. What the frack, you’ve got a million unread emails in here. And you say I’m lazy.”

  “You are lazy.”

  “Yeah, lazy like a fox.”

  Ravi turned the monitor back around. Sam stared, first at the screen and then at Ravi. “I . . . You can’t . . . Why would you hire Lillian? Preston will—”

  “It’s unofficial. Super-secret, spy-type stuff. Okay, not really. This gaming division will be an entirely separate entity and nowhere near up and running within the next two years, so as long as Lillian’s legal expertise stays under wraps until then, it’ll be fine. No competing, no disclosing. I’m not even going to call her my attorney.”

  “What do you plan on calling her?”

  “Lieutenant commander, maybe. Haven’t decided yet. It all happened kind of fast. I snatched her up as soon as I heard about her telling off Preston. I would have bought tickets to that fight. I heard she told him she couldn’t work for someone who stole ideas and then—wait, this is epic—she told him to stick some birds up his—”

  “She said that to him?”

  “Oh, yeah. Like I said—epic. Lillian’s kinda awesome. So what did you frack up this time?”

  Ravi asked as though it were a given, like it wasn’t a question but a st
atement. Unfortunately, in that instance, he was on point.

  “Much as I’d like to say it was something simple and easily fixed, I think it comes down to trust. Lillian doesn’t trust me. For a variety of semi-legitimate reasons.”

  “Did you give her a reason not to trust you?”

  “I walked into her life with a buffet of reasons, but I’d managed to get rid of most of them. I’m starting to think it just doesn’t matter.” Sam lowered his head to his desk, resting his forehead against the cool surface and staring down at the floor.

  Chomp.

  Sam sat up straight. Ravi had a cookie in his hand. As he chewed up the massive piece he’d bitten off, he mumbled, “Remember the last level on Gates of Gold End?”

  Conversational whiplash. One of the kid’s specialties. “Yeah, vaguely. Seems like there’s a ton of soldiers at the city gates and somehow you have to get through them.”

  “No. You don’t get through them.” Ravi swallowed hard and wiped a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth. “They wanted you to think that’s your only option, fighting the battalions to get through the gate. The trick was to climb the wall on the opposite side of the city and attack from the rear. Get it?”

  Sam folded his arms across his chest. “My first thought is this is a metaphor for something. My second thought is your advice sounds like you’re telling me to attack her rear.”

  “Hey, what you two do in private is your business. But, you’re right. It is a metaphor. Stop trying to go through Lillian’s walls. Go over them from the opposite side. I’ll let you figure out if that advice applies to this situation because I’m not totally sure. And honestly I’m only thinking about replaying Gates of Gold End.”