Love Bytes (7 page)

Rogers shrugged. “Never mind. Point is, I’m waiting until closer to the deadline. That way, they have no chance of coming back. They’re smart. They might be able to pull an all-nighter and still have something for the competition.”

“What about your friend?”

“Fuck him. He refused to let me buy in, so he can go right down with her.”

Joe turned his face up to the sun, watching a hawk glide above the trees in the distance. “You’re pretty ruthless. Glad I’m not your friend.”

Rogers scuffed his shoe against the blacktop of the parking lot. “Whatever. It’s better not to mix friends with business anyway.” He glanced at his watch. “Is that it? Tell your bosses that I’m waiting for the last minute so they have no chance to rebuild it.”

“You’ve already told them.” Joe patted his shirt pocket. “I’m not your message boy.” Whistling, he walked back into the building.

****

While what seemed like the fiftieth anti-whatever program ran on the server, trying to track down the malignant code, Francis bent over his iPad, dragging his finger across the screen to get the angle just right. The second before he lifted his finger, Violet poked him on the shoulder, causing him to lose aim. The bird projectile went flying over the top of the scaffolding. The pigs grunted and giggled in mockery.

He closed his eyes and sat back in his chair, the springs squeaking in protest. "Do you know,” he enunciated each word, “how difficult that level is? How much time I’ve been working on it? I had it all set up to go.” He opened his eyes.

Violet propped her bottom against the edge of his desk. "Do tell, Francis, how difficult?"

"I've been working on it for the past ten minutes.” He stared at her, amazed as always by what he saw. She looked delicious.

She raised her eyebrows and smirked at him. "Then you must not be very good at it. Because doesn’t take
me
ten minutes to set up a level."

He straightened in his chair, bringing himself closer to her. A whiff of green apple scent made his mouth water.

"I'm better at a lot of other things.” He smoothed his hand over her leg.

Violet flicked her gaze away, a tiny smile playing around her lips as she rolled the fragrant candy around in her mouth.

 For a moment, he wondered if she thought about him, away from the office. What did she do during those long weekends, out of his sight? Did she have someone else? Or did she spend the time like he did, missing her so much that he counted the hours when he could be back at work?

“We’re not talking about that right now.” She giggled and pushed his hand off her leg. “Get away, you.”

Francis reached out and tugged at the hem of her T-shirt. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

“Stop it.” She brushed his hand away and turned toward the iPad on his desk. “Show me what you did. Maybe I can help you.”

Resisting the urge to give her behind a quick rub, like a genie lamp that would grant him one wish, he opened the game to the failed level and let her walk him through it. Her concentration was total, focusing on calculating the angle of bird–launching until the pigs’ structure toppled, much to the glee of the attack birds. She pointed at the screen.

“You have to use the smaller birds to break down the barriers in the front before you use the big birds to knock everything else down. Simple.”

“How much time did you spend on this?”

She blinked twice before she responded. “It was easy.”

Francis pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. The blinking was a sure indication she wasn’t telling the truth. “I smell a YouTube tutorial.”

She kept her face blank and didn’t meet his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Get your iPad,” he said. “I’ll challenge you.”

She shook her head. “You have to coach me. You’re way ahead of me.”

He snorted. “You’re full of it.”

Violet widened her eyes in outrage. “I am not! You take that back!”

“How about a bet?”

“A bet? This isn’t fantasy football. I can beat you.”

“Let’s do it then,” he said. “Feeling intimidated?”

“Hell no. It’s simple geometry.”

He smiled as his pulse raced. Setup was complete. “As long as I choose the prize.”

Violet held up one hand, palm up. “I trust you. Choose.”

“You have dinner with me Valentine’s Day.”

She narrowed her eyes, the momentary look of surprise replaced by the stubborn, challenging look he knew well. It was the look she had when confronted by a difficult problem that she was determined to solve.

“Francis…”  Her tone was warning.

“You trust me, right?”

“I guess, but…”  She rubbed her forehead, brushed her hair back.

“Are you afraid?” He knew that would push her over. Violet never turned down a challenge.

“Afraid? Not at all.”

“Then let’s go.”

****

After an hour, Violet stretched. “Show me your score.”

Francis pushed his iPad over to her and she frowned.

“Well?”

“You won.” With a moue of annoyance, she slid his tablet back to him.

Francis laughed. “Don’t be a poor loser. It doesn’t become you. You took the bet.”

Straightening her shoulders, she turned to face him. “You’re right. I agreed to the bet and I lost. Nevertheless, no flowers, no chocolates. This is just friends, right?”

“It’s always been just friends.” He gave her one of his slow, sly grins. “It’s whatever you like. But you can’t get out of it.”

“All right.” She flung her arms out in a gesture of surrender. “You got me.”

“I hope so,” he said.

****

The day before Valentine’s Day was hushed and quiet around the office. Everyone was laboring to meet the Friday deadline. Violet hunched over her laptop and her iPhone, fingers flying over the keys at a furious pace. Though she had sequestered herself in the farthest corner of the sitting area, Francis strolled in and sat next to her.

He leaned over and peered at her screen. “What’s this?” He squinted. “Background checks are not a good use of company Wi-Fi.”

Violet elbowed him. “As controlling partner, I override that. I’m doing a favor for Moira.”

He read aloud. “Dishonorable discharge…snipers…anger issues.” He leaned back. “Moira seems to be perennially acquainted with dangerous people.”

“She likes it like that.”

“You have very interesting friends, Violet.” He took out his phone and ran his finger over the screen. “You’re not going to stand me up tomorrow, are you?”

Violet glanced at him, and then went back to her screen. “What a silly question. I keep my promises.”

“May I make a request?”

“You may. That’s not to say I’ll honor it.”

“Wear a skirt.”

She stopped her texting and typing and looked up at him. “A skirt?”

“Yes, a skirt. Are you familiar with those?”

“Are we going someplace fancy?”

“I can’t say, but it’s good to be prepared.”

Violet went back to gathering the information for Moira, grinning. “All right, Francis. I’ll wear a skirt. For you.”

Chapter Eleven

Violet clicked a few keys, stared at the result on the screen, then tapped on a few more keys. A smile spread across her face.

She picked up the telephone on her desk.

“Francis.” Violet spoke into the telephone as she tapped on the keys, her gaze never leaving the screen. “Come now, would you? There’s something you need to see.”

Less than two minutes later he was in her office, closing and locking the door behind him.

“What going on?” He pulled her laptop so that he could see it.

Violet pulled it back and glared at him. She pointed at the screen. “I think we got it. Every test I’ve run says we’re clear. We’ll pull the software off the hard drives, get them uploaded back to the server…” She clapped her hands in glee. “We did it.”

He shifted the laptop back towards him, tapped on a couple of keys, nodded. “I believe you might be right. Heh. You did it.” He bumped shoulders with her. “Excellent work, Vee.”

“
We
did it. Fantastic accomplishment, Francis.” She sat back in her chair. “Let’s take a moment to bask in our collective glory, shall we?”

****

 “Rogers, good news.”

He turned from his monitors to see Francis standing in the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Whatever was plaguing the system is now gone. You, Pete and Alyssa can upload what you’ve done back to the server and put it together for submission. How’s that looking so far?”

Rogers nodded. “It looks good. We’re mostly done, except for the extra finishing touches.” Which was true for the other programmers, but not for him. He had done next to nothing on his portion of the code. Why bother?

“Then put the finishing touches on and upload it. Vee and I can take a look at it later on.”

“She’s in today?” He hadn’t seen mini-Mussolini all day. Usually she made it a point to visit their offices to say hello and chat with Alyssa. “I haven’t seen her.”

“She’s here.” Francis checked his watch. “You can leave when you’re done.”

“Sounds good.”

“Thanks, Rogers. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Rogers nodded. “Happy to help.”

His friend lingered in the doorway as if he were considering saying something else but then drummed his fingers on the doorframe. “Ring me if they’re any problems. I’m hoping there won’t be.”

“Will do.” Rogers wished he would leave.

“All right. Later.”

Chapter Twelve

The one thing she hoped was that the skirt and blouse she suffered wearing all day was appropriate for wherever they were going. She’d snuck in the back way and hid in the office all day so that no one would see her. The good part of it was that she was able to put the final changes on the submission packet and clean out her email inbox. Francis had said nothing about either her hiding out in the office all day or her clothing, but she could feel his eyes on her every time she crossed the room.

“Are we going?” She went to retrieve her coat. As she shrugged into it, she was somewhat annoyed to note that he was still behind his desk, head bent over his iPhone. “Francis? What time are the reservations?”

“There are no reservations,” he said. “I never said we were going out for dinner.” He got up and helped her out of her coat. “I would never subject you to something that I know would make you uncomfortable, Violet.” He flashed her grin as he hung up her coat. “You, in a restaurant on Valentine’s Day? Never.”

“So…we’re not having dinner?”

“Of course we’re having dinner.” He took her arm and guided her out of the office. “Take a walk with me.”

****

Rogers’ hand shook as he typed the master password. When this whole thing began, he thought he would throw a program on the system and slow them down enough to miss the deadline. Everything changed when the Edu-Gaming competition chopped two weeks off the end of the preparation period and the subsequent phone call from Avarix. His fingers stumbled and he had to re-enter the password.

He’d never passed on the word that they were to upload the software to the server. All he had to do is upload a dummy file and reactivate the program to delete it. Simple and easy and NorthStar would be done. He moved the mouse to the MathMage folder on Pete’s computer. Three clicks of the mouse later, Pete’s software files, and his portion of the program that he was supposed to de-glitch were unreadable. He moved to Alyssa’s computer and did the same.

When he was done, he shut down his computer and went downstairs. Lingering and thinking about what he’d done to his friend and the company in general was something that he didn’t want to think about. Instead, he focused on his new job and the huge bonus that awaited him.

****

The small storage had been a catchall for empty computer boxes, recycling, and the miscellaneous items that people wanted to get out of their offices “just for a minute.” As a result, it had metamorphosed into a space crammed with so much stuff that no one dared to try to clean it out and scuttled by it as if it were a mad relative locked in a back room. But someone had taken care of that.

The random junk was gone and the tiny room held a small round table draped with a dark red tablecloth, two chairs, and two covered plates. Francis lit the two candles that sat in the middle of the table and turned off the overhead light, turning the room into a romantic setting for two.

She stood in the doorway and tried to take it all in. “My goodness, Francis. Did you do this?” Realization hit her. That’s why he was in and out of their office all day while she was trapped, hiding out.

He guided her to one of the chairs. “Not by myself.” He poured her a glass of wine, the burgundy liquid swirling into the glass, glowing in the soft candlelight. “I had some help.” He sat.

“It’s nice,” she said. That was the understatement of the year. The small changes turned the room into something spectacular.

Francis gestured at her covered plate and then poured himself a glass of wine. “Go ahead and eat before it gets cold.”

Violet reached for the linen napkin, shook it out, and placed it in her lap, still in awe that Francis would go through this many changes for her. When she lifted the cover from her plate, she gasped and sat back in her seat.

“You don’t like it?” His voice sounded anxious. “I thought—”

“It’s the same dinner I had with you at the convention.” She raised her eyes to his, noting his watchful expression.

“I remembered how much you enjoyed it.” He took the metal cover from her numb fingers and set it aside. “Eat. I doubt you’ve had a decent meal in the past week, judging by what you’ve been having for lunch.”

“I eat when I get home,” she said automatically, picking up her knife and fork.

“Liar,” he said, taking the cover from his own plate. “How many frozen dinners have you been through this week?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Proves my point.”

Too overwhelmed to eat, she picked up her fork and played with her mashed potatoes. A lump had formed in her throat and she was afraid that even if she did eat, she wouldn’t be able to swallow. He did all this for her?