Eye Candy (2 page)

Chapter 2

Floyd Stops Pecking the Air Long Enough to Predict the Future

“I’m ready.” Danny stood in front of the sofa, his arms out. He’d chosen jeans, a white T-shirt, a black leather jacket, and matching black shoes. “How do I look?”

Floyd sat on the big sofa. He wore only shorts and a bathrobe. His fingers tapped the air as he typed on the virtual keyboard projected before his eyes by his contact lens computers. Presently Floyd had the contact lens optics set to a bright green. Floyd ceased typing and looked Danny up and down. “You look dashing.”

“I bought this stuff this afternoon. Should I wear a suit instead?”

“Is this business or pleasure?”

“Well, it’s a date, so it’s pleasure.”

“Then a suit would not be appropriate. It’s a date, so you want to appear casual but stylish, as though you spent extra time preparing yourself specifically for her, but not so much time that you come off as obsessive and insecure. You’re wearing nice jeans with a hip, youthful flair, combined with nice shoes and a shirt and a timeless black leather jacket, all of which are age appropriate but still sexy. You look great. And you’re a great guy. If she doesn’t like you and doesn’t want to date you, it’s her loss. Don’t you agree, Howard?”

Floyd’s robot, HRD-0001, stood in the kitchen, stirring a bowl of brownie mix. Howard’s exterior sparkled pewter silver. Howard resembled an expensive supercar.

“Yes, sir,” Howard replied, “I quite agree.”

“Thanks, Howard,” said Danny. “Thanks, Floyd.” Danny sat on the big sectional. “By the way, this is the last month of your rental contract.”

Floyd paused for a moment. “Wow, it’s been another year already?”

“So do you and Howard want to continue living here? Month to month?”

“I do,” said Floyd. “What do you think, Howard? Shall we stick around?”

“I am pleased by this residence,” said Howard.

“Howard is pleased by this residence,” said Floyd. “And he’s correct. This place is great. Big house, big pool, big TV. . . .” Floyd gestured toward the room, the pool outside, and the gargantuan TV on the wall. “And you’ve been a great landlord, Danny.”

“You’ve been a great tenant. Both of you.” Danny smiled at Howard. Howard’s head swiveled, so that his eyes were more squarely aimed in Danny’s direction, and Danny would’ve sworn Howard was smiling back at him.

“And you’re cool with the weed?” Floyd pointed at the array of items arranged on the coffee table: baggies; grinder; lighters; ashtray; and a pipe made out of an empty glass honey jar shaped like a bear, with ice cubes and water in the base of it, perched on a coaster. “I know I keep asking you that, but a lot of times people say they’re cool with it but deep down they’re not cool with it. Or they think they’re cool with it, so they say they are, but over time they come to realize they’re not cool with it. But because they previously said that they were, they’re now afraid to speak their mind. It’s been legal for twenty-five years so you’d think it wouldn’t be a big deal. But I can keep all this stuff in my room if you like.”

“No, it’s fine. This is your house, too. If you feel comfortable out here and want to write out here, then that’s what I want you to do. How’s the screenplay coming?”

“It’s coming along nicely,” said Floyd. “The director has asked for a table reading in a couple weeks, so I’m trying to make sure it’s as good as it can be before then. And he loved the idea of me playing the male lead. He said I had a sexy yet sophisticated aesthetic.”

“That’s fantastic. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, man. So who’s the lucky lady that’s going to be swept off her feet tonight?”

“I don’t know. I only know her screen name: Eye Candy Ph.D.D.”

“Sexy
and
smart. What’s she look like?”

“She’s blonde. Tall. Green eyes. She looks pretty, but how much can you tell from a picture one inch tall?”

“You guys talk on the phone yet?”

“No, we wanted to wait until we meet in-person, face to face.”

“How old is she?”

“I’m not sure exactly.”

“Where does she live?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What does she do for a living?”

“I don’t know that, either. Some sort of doctor, I guess.”

“Damn, you’ve got balls. I would never do that.”

“I guess that’s why it’s called a blind date. We decided to wait and get to know each other in person. Besides, it’s just dinner.”

“You going to Chateaux Pizza, like I suggested?”

“Yeah, we agreed to keep it casual. Plus, it’s the best pizza in town, right?”

“I believe so.”

“I’m meeting her there. If the date doesn’t go well, and one of us wants to end it, we’ll use the blind-date-ending code words.”

“What are the blind-date-ending code words?” Floyd asked.

“ ‘I’m really tired.’ ”

“Subtle.”

“Exactly. And don’t worry, even if she turns out to be completely insane, I will at least bring home a pizza for you and me to enjoy this weekend.”

“Thanks, man,” said Floyd. “Go get her. I’ve got a good feeling about this. And, who knows–you two may fall madly in love and live happily ever after. Right, Howard?”

“Such an event would be most fortuitous,” said Howard.

Danny was almost certain Howard’s smile had widened still further.

Chapter 3

Impossibility Squared

Danny sat behind the wheel of his white convertible, staring at the gaudy faux-Mediterranean façade of Chateaux Pizza. Clumps of plastic grapes and ropes of green plastic vines and strings of white lights adorned the patio and windows and doors. Tinny Italian music played from a small speaker above the door. The reputation of the establishment spoken of so highly by Floyd seemed contradictory to its appearance.

Across the street, a garish silver statuary adorned the corner, marking the beginning of the infamous Hollywood Walk of Fame. Mosaic tiled stars lined the sidewalk along Hollywood Boulevard. Here and there, tourists tapped a particular star with his or her toe, and the hologram was activated, bringing forth a life-like image of the actor, singer or performer they wished to see. Up and down the boulevard, holographic figures sang and danced and reenacted scenes from popular cinematic moments.

Counting on Floyd’s recommendation, Danny went inside Chateaux Pizza.

He found a booth and sat. Myriad wine bottles lined the topmost edges of the booth partitions, as well as the window sills, serving as authentic Italian ornamentation. Judging by the layer of dust on the necks of the bottles, they’d been there some time.

“Good evening, sir!”

A silver robot wearing a bowtie stood beside the table. A white napkin hung draped over the robot’s forearm, and a tray rested upon its hand.

“I am your humble servant, Roberto. Something from the bar until the rest of your party arrives? We have a lovely house wine, an oak barrel cabernet from the Napa Valley, aged three years. The copious rainfall in 2044 yielded a healthy crop of grapes. The wine won First Place at the International Wine Expo in Paris just last month, and was chosen Number One in
Grapes of Wrath Magazine
for its–”

“That’s fine, thank you, I’ll try it,” said Danny.

“A glass or a bottle, sir? A single glass is priced at thirteen-fifty, whereas the bottle is forty-nine dollars, a savings of five dollars over the purchase of four individual glasses–”

“A bottle will be fine.”

“Excellent choice, sir. I shall return momentarily.”

Roberto turned and marched to the bar. In the small kitchen area, another robot twirled a great circle of pizza dough high in the air. A tall white chef’s hat adorned its silver head, and its mechanical voice sang a song in deep, baritone Italian.

Roberto returned with the bottle of wine. He wielded a corkscrew and deftly opened the bottle, and offered the cork to Danny.

Danny took it, smelled it, and nodded.

“Very good, sir,” said Roberto. He poured a small amount of wine into Danny’s glass.

Danny tasted it. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. That is fantastic.” He drained his glass in a gulp.

“Indeed, sir. It has great legs with a smooth, smoky, dry finish, accompanied by notes of vanilla, mesquite, and cherry.” Roberto again poured, this time filling Danny’s glass. He placed the bottle on the table. “May I recommend, sir, trying our roasted garlic bruschetta on papillon baguette? Gus made it himself this afternoon. It enhances the flavor of the wine. I’ll bring you an order right away, on the house.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Danny. “Who’s Gus?”

“Gus is the chef, sir.” Roberto motioned to the robot wearing the tall white hat, now slinging slices of mozzarella cheese onto the sauced pizza dough with the skill of a Vegas blackjack dealer.

“Thank you, Roberto.”

“My pleasure, sir. Something from the jukebox while you wait?” Roberto motioned to a shiny and gleaming jukebox near the door. Bands of red and green neon glowed in the restaurant’s low light. “Something romantic, perhaps?”

“That would be fine, Roberto.”

Roberto marched to the jukebox, and with a silver finger tapped the keys in rapid succession. A mechanical arm moved inside the jukebox, selected a record and placed it on the turntable. Sounds of a needle scratching against vinyl emanated, and a crooning male voice sang about hungering for his love’s touch.

In the kitchen, Gus abandoned his Italian ditty and joined the melody in perfect time. While he sang, he delicately placed sliced vegetables atop the pizza, turned, and slid it into an old brick pizza oven.

“Are those real records?” Danny asked.

“Absolutely, sir,” replied Roberto. “Gus found the jukebox at an estate sale one hundred twenty-seven days ago. He is a collector of vintage Americana, on behalf of our employer, Guiseppe.”

“And where is Guiseppe?”

“Guiseppe is in his office, sir, watching television.”

“He owns this place?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And he trusts you two to run it?”

“He does indeed, sir.”

“And you guys make the food and run the whole show?”

“Correct again, sir,” said Roberto.

“Did you guys decorate as well?”

“No, sir, the decorations were the work of the former Mrs. Guiseppe, who is now Mrs.–”

“Order up!” shouted Gus.

Roberto retrieved a platter and brought it to Danny’s table. Danny picked up one of the wedges of toast topped with garlic and tomatoes and herbs. He took a bite.

“This is amazing!”

“Try it with the wine, sir,” said Roberto. “Take your time, in order to allow the flavors to comingle. Inhale through your mouth and exhale through your nose. This will transport the molecules of the food and wine into your olfactory sensors, allowing a complete tasting experience.”

Danny took a sip of wine and let it mix with the food in his mouth, then inhaled through his mouth and exhaled through his nose, as Roberto had suggested. The flavors of the garlic bread, the tomatoes, the herbs, and the dry, smoky spice of the wine seemed to explode in his mouth.

“It’s delicious!” said Danny.

“Indeed, sir. It pleases me that you are pleased.”

“You said this is on the house?”

“I did indeed, sir. According to my calculations, humans enjoy such gestures of generosity. It makes them feel special. Gus and I want you to enjoy your experience with us here at Chateaux Pizza. I shall return.” Roberto made a succinct bow and marched away.

Danny was devouring his third piece of bruschetta along with his second glass of wine when the door opened. He looked up reflexively and forgot entirely about the bruschetta on papillon baguette in one hand and the award-winning Napa Valley cabernet in the other.

It was her.

She’d only enclosed a small thumbnail photo of herself in her email, the same as that which had appeared on the Internet dating site. It was like trying to compress the beauty and splendor of the Mona Lisa into an image the size of a postage stamp. And though she bore only a cursory resemblance to the tiny electronic image she’d emailed him, it was most assuredly her.

Tall, with long blonde hair.

Tight jeans, with black high heels that matched her black leather jacket.

The daylight through the window made her green eyes sparkle.

She approached his booth. “RoboStud Two-Zero-Four-Seven?”

Danny held the bruschetta in one hand, his wine glass in the other, with his mouth open, staring at her.

“Is your SoulMates-dot-com screen name RoboStud Two-Zero-Four-Seven?”

Danny rapidly nodded his head. “Yes, yes, it is.” He slid out of the booth and stood to greet her. “Eye Candy P-H-D-D?”

“It’s actually Eye Candy P-H-Double-D. It was my friend Susannah’s idea.”

“Wow.”