Chapter 30
Thirty
Ava
My phone dings with a notification bright and early. When I click the message, I smile, realizing it’s from Otto_Bot, and open it up.
Hey. I’m sending over the files for you to look them over. Let me know if you have any questions.
My fingers fly over the digital keyboard.
Will do. Thanks.
The little thinking bubbles pop up after he reads my reply and I watch them, curious what else he’s going to say.
We’ve been doing this for a few weeks now, and though I don’t have a face to match the person, I can still somehow imagine his fingers dancing across the letters.
Otto has become as much a part of my life as Dagen and Wylan have, but there’s something different about him.
He’s confident behind the keys, confident in his words, but right now, there’s a nervousness in those little bubbles.
He’s usually much quicker to reply. They start and then stop and then start again, as if he’s either erasing his words or thinking about what to type next.
Saturday is the Tech Gala, he finally comes back with and I frown.
It is, I reply.
The little bubbles pop up again.
You finished your work for Dagen this week already.
It’s not a question. It’s more a statement, as if he already knows I have.
I’m not surprised either though it should weird me out.
Otto often makes comments about things he shouldn’t really know about, like asking how my specific coffee drink tasted after I ordered it from the coffee shop outside of work or commenting on Elsie’s grades.
I did, I answer despite him already knowing.
Bubbles again. I’m invested so much I’m just standing in the kitchen staring at my phone. When I realize I’m just hovering, I move over to the counter to lean against it.
So you’re not busy right now.
My frown deepens. No, I’m not, I answer and wait for his reply.
I’m sending a car for you.
That answer comes so quickly, I think he must have had them ready on the keyboard and hit send right after my response.
Okay? Where am I going? What should I wear?
If this is business, I need to dress appropriately. Right now, I’m just in jeans and a t-shirt. Hardly suitable for a business meeting.
It’s a surprise, pops up, followed by, What you’re wearing is fine.
I glance up at the camera in the corner of the room with a raised brow.
I know Otto checks in every now and then.
The reminder of the last time he’d. . . watched flickers through my mind and I blush, but I don’t say anything.
Instead, I give a mock salute to the camera and go freshen up while I wait for the car.
I should argue, but despite never having met Otto_Bot in real life, I trust him.
My conversations with him have been only through the phone and computer, but he’s never steered me wrong.
Besides, I know his history. Otto_Bot is famous for many things, but targeting innocent women isn’t one of them.
Cyber mercenary or not, he’s here to help me, not hurt me.
Dagen wouldn’t have hired him otherwise.
Okay. How long? I ask a few minutes later.
Car is outside, is the reply.
I blink in surprise and glance up at the camera in the corner of my kitchen.
It’s not necessarily there to spy on me, but I know Otto_Bot is there watching for my reaction.
Sighing, I glance at the time. Elsie won’t be out of school for another six hours.
I have plenty of time. I wave to the camera and tuck my phone in my back pocket.
I grab my purse and jacket before stepping outside.
John stands beside a black Mercedes, his arms crossed as he leans against it.
“Morning, Ava,” he says with a smile before opening the back door.
“You on babysitting duty today, John?” I tease with a grin. “I hope you’re getting paid extra.”
“Fox pays me well,” he reassures me. “But I do get a nice bonus for this.”
“As you should,” I answer, sliding into the backseat. I wait until he’s in the driver’s seat before I ask, “So where are we going?”
“I’ve been instructed to keep it a surprise,” he answers. “But I think you’ll like it.”
Well, alright then.
I settle back against the seat and busy myself with looking out the window. When my phone chimes, I pull it out and read the text.
Not much longer now, Boba_Juliette.
I smile at the use of my rarely used handle.
I haven’t used it since I was a teenager, back when I was a major Star Wars fan.
It felt silly at some point, and I’d changed it to sound more professional, but I can’t lie and say I don’t still love it.
I don’t respond, but excitement starts to grow.
Where are we going? Where is he taking me?
Instead of asking him, I just wait for John to pull over and hop out.
When he opens the back door, I tilt my head.
“The arcade?” I ask, confused.
He shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’ll walk you to the front door.”
“You’re not coming inside?”
“No need. You won’t be alone inside,” he answers. “At least, that’s what I’m told.”
I look around for Dagen’s car or for Wylan leaning against the building, but I don’t find them. John leads me to the door and opens it for me. Once I step inside, he closes the door and takes up post outside of it.
At this time of day, there’s no one in the arcade.
Kids are in school right now, but there isn’t even a worker at the ticket counter.
The games chime and ding as they go through their processes, all the lights flickering.
The joy I’d felt as a kid in one of these places hits me again, and I can’t stop from smiling.
“Hello?” I call over the music of the games. The sound of Mario coins reaches my ears, like someone is winning a game, and I peer around the large building, but still don’t see anyone. It’s not like I can see behind all the tall games though. There could very well be someone in here with me.
My phone beeps again and I check the message.
Come further inside, Boba_Juliette.
My heart skips a beat. Come deeper inside. Is he. . . is he here?
I take a few steps forward, looking around, but I still don’t see anyone. Of course, I can’t see the entire place and I especially can’t see every game.
Find Pacman, another message beeps through.
Immediately, I begin to search for the Pacman game, checking every console. When I reach the back row, I’m disappointed to find the row empty, but I still search and find the game console.
“Okay. Now what?” I ask out loud. There are cameras all over this place. I have no doubt he’s watching me.
I reach out and touch the joystick. The card reader that takes a card swipe blinks purple and says “credit accepted.” On the screen, the words, “two player,” flickers. Oh. So, he’s playing remotely.
My heart sinks. It was silly to assume he’d be here. Up to this point, our relationship has been purely online. Otto_Bot’s success relies on him being anonymous and hidden. He wouldn’t reveal himself now. It’s too dangerous.
I blow out a puff of air. “Alright,” I say, stepping closer. “Prepare to get schooled, Otto_Bot.”
“Don’t be so certain,” a deep voice behind me says.
I whirl, my heart jumping into my throat, and slam back against the machine.
“Easy,” he says, his arms going out as if to steady me, but I flinch away.
“Who the hell are you?” I demand, my eyes wide.
I’ve never seen this man before in my life, but there’s something.
. . almost familiar about him. He’s tall, taller than I am, and relatively lean.
His hair is chaotically messy, but not unkempt, as if it were a style choice.
Dressed in dark jeans and a Pink Floyd t-shirt, he hardly looks threatening, but anyone who can’t see the danger in his eyes would be foolish.
When he grins at me and the light catches on his gold-rimmed glasses, it only ups the danger.
Despite that, he’s ridiculously pretty. Like, soft grey eyes and long dirty blonde lashes pretty.
The man has cheekbones that could cut glass.
“Don’t be so jumpy, Boba_Juliette,” he laughs. “You’re safe here.”
My eyes widen. “What. . . You’re. . .”
He shrugs and gestures to the Pacman console. “So, how about this schooling you mentioned?”
I just stare at him, so he shoots me another lopsided grin and grabs the other joystick, his shoulder bumping against mine.
I turn back and take the other joystick, mostly because I don’t know what else to do.
What do you say to someone you’ve only ever talked to online and developed a sort of relationship with?
“Do I. . .” I begin, and trail off. But then the game starts and so I have to focus on that.
It’s been a long time since I’ve played Pacman, but I still do okay.
It’s not a difficult game, so I just gobble all the things I can.
The words, “Level Complete,” flash across the screen and I manage to find my words.
“What do I call you now?” I ask, my voice raspy.
“Otto_Bot seems rude now that I can see your face.”
The next level starts, and we focus on that for a few minutes.
We complete that level, and he lets go of the joystick to turn to me.
I face him completely and suddenly realize just how close we are.
This man knows absolutely everything about me, but I realize I don’t even know his real name.
I don’t know anything about him except that he’s a cyber mercenary.
He reaches up and presses his hand against my jaw. His hand is warm, and I find myself leaning against his palm, my eyes on his.
“I’ve imagined touching you for so long,” he murmurs, his eyes dipping to my lips. “I shouldn’t have shown up here. It’s dangerous for someone like me. I’m on the CIA’s and FBI’s wanted lists like ten times.”
“Why did you?” I ask. The next level starts, but neither one of us is looking at the screen. The ghosts head for our Pacmans and the little death sound plays as they take us both out.