Vested Interest Page 2

  She kicks my foot. “Hey, you just worry about that code and impressing everyone with your genius so you can sell it for a gazillion dollars — I’ll make sure you look like a priceless work of art. Hair, makeup, everything.”

  I sit up and look at her in mock disapproval, but I can’t help laughing at her enthusiasm. “Zoey Thomas, you are way too excited about this. Just remember that I’m not a dress-up doll, okay?”

  She puts a hand on her hip. “Well, you aren’t a blow-up doll, either, but I guarantee they’ve seen more action than you have this past year. So, you’re getting the works, babe. Just submit to the tweezers and the hair curlers, and we’ll get along fine.”

  2

  Jude

  “Our limo is scheduled for five o’clock.” I give a quick glance around the conference table at my four friends and business partners. “Everyone try to be down in the lobby promptly this time, please. That means you, Trigg.”

  “Hey, I was only late last time because Gunner parked his damn go-cart behind my car at work again.”

  Gunner whips his head toward Trigg. “It’s not a go-cart. And you were late because you were busy making protein smoothies.”

  Trigg snorts. “Which you drank three of, thank you very much.”

  “Guys.” These two, every time. I shoot them both a look then turn to my right. “Daniel, did you put the finishing touches on your keynote speech?”

  I make a note about a client presentation scheduled for next week as I wait for Daniel to answer. I notice a rough spot in front of me on the teak and mahogany conference room table. I’ll have to get maintenance to strip this puppy down and give it another coat of stain. I give Daniel a moment to respond, but when the silence continues, I look up from my notes to see him staring at the ultra-modern paintings lining the walls of our conference room.

  I know he isn’t admiring the artwork — I know I don’t, I go for the realist art, not this interpretationist abstract shit. But a second later, I can tell he’s not actually looking at anything, because his lips are slowly moving, and his fingers are twitching, tracing imaginary figures on our expansive, polished table. He’s in his own world, completely tuned out from the mundane aspects of our work. I swear the man codes in his sleep.

  I reach over the table to my far right and pound my fist in front of him. “Daniel. Back to earth, man.”

  He blinks about half a dozen times in quick succession then raises a finger in the air, silently asking for a quick moment. He scribbles down something in what looks like cryptic Greek then finally looks up at me.

  “Is your keynote speech ready for the Gala tomorrow?” I ask.

  “Yes. Trigg proofed it for me yesterday.” He turns his attention across the table. “Thank you for editing it. You caught a few redundancies, and there—”

  Trigg scoffs at Daniel, but there’s a friendly grin on his face. He turns to me. “The speech is only supposed to be twenty minutes long; I had to do a lot of cutting.”

  I shoot a knowing look at Daniel. He’s brilliant at explaining complex topics, but once he gets going, he doesn’t have an off button. There’s only so much critique of esoteric programming language one can take in a single seating.

  “I probably didn’t need to explain the entire history of JavaScript with a practical dissertation on how it is becoming increasingly convoluted. I might have gone a bit overboard.” Daniel says, smoothing his designer tie.

  Trigg holds up his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “A bit.”

  I go back to rubbing at the spot on the mahogany table. “Tell me you at least got something in there about our latest investments and the current projects we’re sponsoring.”

  “But of course. It’s all in there, Jude.” Daniel swivels toward me and leans back in his custom Herman Miller chair. “I give a proper nod to the app developers and the prototype recognition software, as well.”

  “Good.” With a flick of the wrist, I cross another item off my list. “Gunner, status on our dates? Were Callie and Cora available?”

  The big beast of a guy, my bulldozer when we were serving together in the Marines, leans forward, forearms on the table, his wide chest and shoulders stressing the seams of his tailored suit. “You bet, boss. They’re looking forward to attending and are fine with our standard arrangement.”

  “Good.” Another flick of the wrist, and off goes the second to last item. “The press goes nuts when we show up with only two women between the five of us.”

  Trigg grins. “They eat that up. Nothing like a little speculation to get people talking. What do the advertising execs keep telling us? Sex sells? We can ride the rumors in the tabloids and society pages and get a little extra attention on Pentabyte.”

  I nod in agreement. “Yes, the young tech crowd loves it, and it keeps us looking fresh and progressive.”

  Gunner spreads his thick arms. “What’re you talking about? I’m fresh and progressive.”

  Daniel coughs, masking a laugh. “Yes, you’re most certainly the life of the party, Gunner.”

  “You’re also the youngest of us,” I remind him. “Zen master Trigg over there is pushing a hundred and ten, at least.”

  I shift a few inches to the right as a large wad of paper sails past my head.

  “Hey, I’m younger than the rest assholes,” Trigg protests. “And you’ve got me beat, old man.”

  Gunner can’t resist poking his roommate. “Soon, you’ll have grey hair to match those grey eyes.”

  “Fuck you, Blondie,” Trigg says, crumpling another sheet of paper and launching it at Gunner.

  I clear my throat. “The point is, we’re not college kids anymore. And we’re not running one of those hipster coding co-ops. You know how that labels us at an event like the Selsford Gala?”

  My twin, Jax, steps forward from his spot at the far end of the room, speaking up for the first time since our meeting began. “It labels us as investors,” he says. “The rich, out-of-touch guys in expensive suits and luxury offices.”

  He insists on standing during meetings, leaning against the wall, quietly watching and saying very little. It’s the sort of thing that would normally drive me mad, but I expect nothing less of Jax. I grew used to his nonconformity long ago, and besides, he’s always been much better at expressing what I’m thinking than I am.

  “What’s the matter with expensive suits?” Daniel asks.

  “I don’t have a luxury office,” Gunner counters.

  Trigg tilts his head in disbelief. “You have a video game with an actual motorcycle attached to it in there.”

  Gunner grunts. “So now you’re saying Chucky Cheese’s is a luxury restaurant?”

  “The members of the Selsford Institute know we’re talented innovators,” Jax continues, ignoring the guys and trying to keep the conversation on the right track, “but to the fresh faces — the new invitees, the ones we want to bring onboard — we have to prove we’re still in sync with the young crowd. And let’s face it, we’re not attending the Gala to showcase our own abilities, anyway.”

  Daniel sits forward. “Right, we’re there to recruit the best and the brightest.”

  Jax snaps then points a finger at Daniel. “Exactly. So, we need to do whatever keeps Pentabyte at the forefront of their minds as a hip, avant-garde company.”

  “Speaking of recruiting and bright minds — Jax, has she confirmed her reservation?” I ask.

  All of us look at him, eager to hear the news. He nods calmly. “She RSVP’d immediately.”

  A visible wave of relief runs through the room, and everyone smiles.

  “Excellent.” I cross out the last item and close the leather portfolio, our meeting agenda complete.

  “Is that everything?” Trigg asks. “I’d like to get a run in before dark.”

  I raise a hand. “Almost. Listen, we need to be on the ball at the Gala.” I pause and look at my four business partners one at a time, making sure my words are coming through loud and clear. “Particularly on the timel
ine surrounding dinner. I want her at our table so we can talk business, and we need to make a good impression.”

  Everyone nods. “Understood, chief,” Trigg says.

  “Daniel, I want you to take the lead on this. She’ll probably be the most receptive if you’re the first one to approach her at the event since you’ve spoken to her a few times before.”

  Daniel straightens his tie and runs a hand through his dark hair. “I am utterly charming,” he says with mock swagger.

  “Hey, I’m charming, too,” Gunner says. “I could convince her to come sit with us.”

  “What are you gonna do?” Trigg smirks. “Ride a four-wheeler into the banquet hall and impress her with your camo gear?”

  Gunner shakes his head and clucks his tongue. “Some women don’t mind getting a little dirty, especially with me. I do have the big guns, you know.” He flexes an arm and pats his muscles.

  “Anyway,” I say pointedly, “I want everyone on their game tomorrow night, because BHC reps will be there, and we all know they’re going to be the number one competition.”

  Jax rolls his shoulders, looking every inch ready for an actual fight. “We know how they operate, and we don’t want to give them a chance to get their dirty claws into her.”

  3

  Daniel

  I finger the knot on my silk tie, making sure it’s still straight and tight, and crane my head to keep sight of the gorgeous woman in a form-fitting, burgundy evening dress. She glides through the spacious conference hall, dismissing herself from a group of men with a tight smile. She’s nervous.

  She’s one of a small handful of dark horses in the race tonight — promising individuals who haven’t yet made it into the spotlight. It’s easy to pick out the ones who’ve never been to a function of this caliber. Their heads move quickly, trying to take it all in at once, from the fine tuxedoes and elegant evening gowns to the expansive grandeur of the most impressive meeting space in the city. They’re also trying not to stare at the CEO’s, famous tech gurus, and gifted programmers they’ve only read. Over at the appetizer buffet, their hands keep retracting from the rich spread, not sure how heavily to laden their plates with oysters and caviar. They’re young, unused to the polite tones and subtle conversation of high society. To put it bluntly, they stick out like a Hershey’s bar on a gourmet desert menu.

  Though I can tell she feels out of place, Emma’s doing pretty well blending in. Perhaps it’s having worked with doctors the past couple years since she’s graduated college. She knows how to talk to men who presume superior intelligence and breeding. Or maybe it’s just that dress. I’m no stranger to how much more confident a well-tailored suit makes a man. As stunning as she looks, it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s giving her a boost of confidence.

  I’ve seen Emma Collins at various university events and tech conferences throughout the years, and time keeps improving her. The first time she landed on my radar was at the Chicago Institute’s annual Tech Fair. She had that look a lot of second-year college students have — underfed and overstressed. Despite her too-thin frame and the worry lines etched into her face, she still looked lovely. But it was her brilliant presentation that really caught my attention. She was shy and unsure of herself on stage, but it was clear her mind was a wondrous thing, and her ideas were inspiring. Even then, she was testing and pushing at the furthest bounds of what modern technology is capable of. I heartily joined the crowd in giving her a standing ovation when she finished.

  Now, several years later, she’s really come into her own — both in her beauty, with her now full-figured curves, and in her self-assuredness, because these days she’s rocking a poised confidence. The only resemblance this beautiful woman’s demeanor has to the timid underclassman she was when I first saw her is the thing she keeps doing with her lips. A little bit of a bite, a little lick to wet them. It’s a classic nervous habit, but she’s hiding it quite well.

  Since the moment she arrived, I’ve wanted to glue myself to her side, but I’ve held back. I didn’t want to approach her first thing when she came through the door. Better to let her check her coat and do a little mingling first. I hope to be monopolizing her time soon enough. And that time is drawing close.

  The BHC reps are lingering nearby, watching her like a hawk, and I’ve been watching them just as carefully. Like me, they’re biding their time, waiting for the right moment to approach her. They look like wolves ready to pounce.

  For myself, I’m hoping to look more casual. Something more along the lines of: Just passing by here, nothing to see — oh! Aren’t you Emma Collins? Fancy meeting you here. No idea you were coming — it’s not like my business partner stuffed an invitation into the mail slot at your apartment building or anything.

  The BHC guys, including their slick recruiter, Marcus Davidson, are beginning to stir as though they’re ready to make their move, so that means it’s time for me to beat them to the punch. I decide my options for a casual elbow rubbing are not going to come in time, so I take a more direct route.

  I walk to the small gathering of young people clustered at the edge of the room — college students mostly, by the look of them — who are talking in polite but excited tones and ask, “Emma Collins? I see you finally receive an invitation. Long overdue, I’d say.”

  All conversation ceases, and everyone’s eyes are on me. I know they recognize me. Jude might be the CEO, but I’m the face of Pentabyte, and my picture has been scattered over every technology and industry magazine and website worth mentioning.

  Emma cocks her head, and a hint of recognition lights her features — but she squints just a hint, and I can tell she’s struggling to connect with a deeper recognition than just seeing me on the cover of a magazine. She wags a finger at me, trying to place it. “I know you.”

  A pimply, spectacle-wearing guy who looks younger than my custom-made Italian tux goes slack jawed, and he guffaws. “That’s Daniel Kent. Chief Technology Officer at Pentabyte. How do you not recognize him?”

  “That’s not what she meant.” I barely glance at the kid before returning my attention to Emma. “Most recently, we spoke briefly after your presentation at the Innovation Panel, the one at Virginia Tech?”

  The most delicious little smile perks onto her lips. “Ah, yes. And the Braemar Convention before that.”

  I reach a hand out, palm up, and she slips her fingers into mine like a true lady. “I try to keep my eye on the most promising of candidates.”

  Lifting her hand, I place my lips on her fingertips, just grazing them for a second, not really giving her a kiss — that would be a bit much, as Trigg would say — then I release her hand, but not before the prettiest hue of pink comes to her cheekbones. I also catch the soft, fragrant rose scent of her hand lotion — one of my favorite scents on a beautiful woman.

  I take two steps to the side, casually pulling her away from the group of gawking students. “I’m here with my company, doing just that — meeting the rising stars in the industry. And I assume that’s why you’re here as well? To do some networking of your own?”

  She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth for just a moment before abruptly stopping the motion. “I hope so.” She takes a breath, pauses, then speaks candidly. “To be honest, I was pretty surprised to receive an invitation. I didn’t know they were still sending them out. I thought the voting process ended weeks ago.”

  I smile as casually as I can. “Well, perhaps the committee realized they’d left off someone of importance and corrected the error of their ways.”

  She glances at me for just a split second, but I can’t tell if she suspects I had anything to do with her invitation or not. “I was half expecting it to be a practical joke and that security would turn me away at the door.” She rubs at her bottom lip with her thumb for a brief moment, then she gives her own hand the quickest of glances and jerks her fingers down as though just realizing she’s doing it. “I mean, wow, the security — I didn’t know it was so tight. They’re everywhere.”


  I laugh, and I can tell the warm richness in my voice relaxes her a bit. “You’d be surprised how many people try to sneak in here. At least a dozen desperate programmers and software engineers try to get in or pass themselves off as invited guests every single year. Some have, indeed, even gone so far as to make fake invitations.”

  Emma smiles, looking out over the milling crowd. “I can see why. I knew it would be an impressive gathering, but I hadn’t realized just how many industry leaders would be here. This is absolutely insane.”

  “It is a one-of-a-kind event, that’s true. There’s a lot of business being done under the tables and in the quiet corners of the room, for sure. But it can get a bit noisy and crowded with all these big heads trying to fit in the same space. Personally, I like to escape up to the roof for a while before the dinner presentations begin.”

  “Oh?” She takes a step backward to avoid being plowed over by a large group herding past us. “It is pretty crowded.”

  I know the answer but ask anyway. “Have you been up there yet, to the roof?”

  “No,” she says, looking a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t even know there was a rooftop thing.”

  “Shall we go?” I hold out my arm, and Emma hesitates for only a moment before she wraps her fingers around my bicep, accepting my lead.

  I give a quick side glance to assess the status of the BHC guys who’ve been hovering nearby. Davidson is walking toward us, making his move to interrupt us, but I turn Emma away from them and begin to stroll with her to the other side of the conference room, toward the exit and the elevators beyond. Her grip on my arm tightens, a hint that my undivided attention is giving her an anchor at an event where she feels out of her depth. I can imagine how intimidating a gathering like this must be.

  “Speaking of your last presentation at the Innovation Panel, I would love to take a look at how far along you’ve come with your coding. Pentabyte is always looking to acquire new software.”