Elixir (33 page)

With his boot heels he guides the motorcycle into a space and turns it off. She hops down with ease, no longer needing his assistance. They hang their helmets, then he frees the bag of clothing from the rear and slings it over his right shoulder. Now that his face is exposed he’s spotted. Ten reporters storm over to him with microphones extended, three policemen jumping in front to block them. The reporters shout his name as they’re restrained.

Holding Natasha’s hand, he strides toward the back entrance trying not to let the commotion distract him. A security guard in a yellow windbreaker lifts his walkie-talkie from his belt and barks a few commands into it. He refastens the device and waves at Sean. “Mr. Malone,” he says, clearing a metal gate out of the way, making a path for him and his girlfriend.

“Hey,” Sean says with a grin. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. The changing room they reserved for you two will be the second on your left.”

“Got it. Thanks again.” He leads Natasha up some stairs, then into the three-story event hall. It’s loud, a cross section of voices buzzing on the other side of a tall curtain, a few hundred people behind it at least. They continue down the dim hallway to their door.

About a half hour later Sean is backstage wearing the suit Natasha packed for him, a blue two-button lacking the boxy cut of the old
Jeopardy!
ones, a tailored, modern fit to it. She’s to his right in the outfit she brought for herself, a light-yellow sleeveless dress ending just above her knee. She’s alluring and tasteful in it at the same time. They’re alone behind the curtain, long shadows sweeping across it and over their faces. He guesses more than twice as many people are out there now, the rumble of the voices louder and more intense.

He rocks back and forth in his new loafers, a nervous energy to him. He seems excited but also a tad anxious. Eyeing the floor, he recognizes the tile layout, that glossy beige design with small gray squares he recalls from other areas on campus. He realizes the pattern will be a part of him forever, always reminding him of four major events in his life. His freshman orientation when he first got to this place. The paper-signing session the day he dropped out. The trip he took back here with the professor a few months ago for the chemicals. And above all, this moment right now.

Curious to see what’s going on, he nudges some curtain fabric to the side. He glances at the scene, an army of news-camera operators up front, a throng of spectators behind filling every seat on all three levels. Peering through the glare of the hot lights, he makes out Marco and Mary in the front row. The professor and Aliza a few behind. Patrick and his wife a couple chairs over. Kyle on the second-floor balcony chatting with Fabrizio. He tries to only focus on those eight faces among the sea of others.

A fiftyish man in a charcoal suit climbs a small flight of stairs to the stage and situates himself at a podium, the observers hushing in his presence. The CDC director and five others from his organization file behind and huddle around. “Welcome,” the man in the charcoal suit says into the microphone, a couple cameras popping. “I’m Phillip Yardley, president of the Southern California Technology Institute.” He moves his gaze across the audience. “Today is a historic day. It will stand as the day the world found out about the most significant scientific discovery of our generation. One of the university’s own has partnered with the United States Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to produce and distribute a drug that will change human lives forever. Today the CDC’s head, Fred Bask, will be announcing the rollout plan for this breakthrough treatment, which will be led by him and the medication’s inventor himself. But before we get into the strategy, we at the institute will be awarding the creator with an honorary degree. Doctor of Science. Our highest distinction in the field. Something he deserves more than anyone on this very planet.” Clapping, he says with enthusiasm, “Ladies and gentlemen, without any further delay. The mind responsible for this revolutionary achievement. Sean Malone.”

The school president turns to the curtain behind him, Sean peeking out through a small split in the material, every camera flashing, whole crowd waiting in anticipation. He looks at Natasha, healthy, radiant, beautiful. He grins. She smiles back. “Here goes,” he says taking a deep breath. She leans over, bites his shoulder, then makes the noise of a lion, or a tiger, or something like that.

Ted Galdi published
Elixir
, his debut book, at the age of twenty-nine. He’s a graduate of Duke University and lives in Los Angeles. He has been featured by ABC and FOX television, iHeartRadio,
Examiner
, and many other media outlets.

To contact Ted, learn more about him, or sign up for his mailing list to receive updates about his new releases and special events before anyone else, visit his official website at
www.tedgaldi.com
.

Author photograph by Scott Witter

Cover art by Carey Conley