18. Clint
Iliked waking up next to Aubrey. Probably more than I should. Last night was incredible sex, but I also had fun with her. Then feeling her warm body pressed against mine when morning rushed in…
She didn’t want more from a relationship, and I couldn’t agree more. After taking our time to stretch and yawn and cuddle a little more this morning, I’d given her a goodbye hug and headed back to my own house. The last thing I needed was to get involved with someone.
Like my wife.
I couldn’t keep falling back on the fact that Aubrey and I were married. That was a business transaction, and one I was grateful she was willing to be part of.
My phone rang, and Regina’s name showed on the screen, as if I’d summoned a demon with my thoughts.
No reason to let her ruin my day. “Hey,” I answered. “I’m packing up the truck now, and I’ll be up in a few hours.” Like we talked about. I wouldn’t be passive aggressive or give her any openings to pick a fight.
“Is now a good time to talk?” Regina asked.
Fuck. “If you’re going to tell me what’s going on, then yes.”
“I’m moving to San Francisco.”
I started to laugh, but cut off the reaction, as the words played in my head again. Did she just say… “Excuse me? Say again?”
“I’ve been offered an assistant art director position with the San Francisco Ballet.” Her cool tone didn’t hide the underlying excitement.
She was… I’d heard. I understood. But I didn’t want to. This wasn’t about me, as much as it called to my past. “You’re not taking Dee with you.”
“I thought about it.” Her huff was bitter amusement. “In a way I hoped this health scare would be a reason for me to do so. But you have her covered. She’ll stay with you.”
“What about school? Custody? All of it?”
“Isn’t this what you want?”
My anger was overriding my disbelief. I may have problems with Regina, but she was still Dee’s mother, and Dee still looked up to and adored her. And all of that was with me ignoring that if the conversation was reversed… When the conversation had been reversed… “Have you told her?”
“No. Let her stay with me the rest of the week, please.” Her tone was firm rather than pleading. “Come pick her up on Sunday and we’ll tell her then.”
I had so many issues with this. “How are you going to explain to Dee why I haven’t brought the rest of her stuff?”
“I’ll tell her you were busy.”
Anger bled toward fury. “You absolutely will fucking not. I’ll drive up there today and we’ll tell her today.”
“Clint.” Regina let out a heavy sigh. “You win. Why are you fighting me on any of it? We can talk about holiday custody when you come up to get her.”
I hadn’t won though. Sure, I had more custody. I could spend more time with my daughter. But I didn’t want it under these circumstances.
Fuck.
I hung up with Regina and immediately sent Dee a text.
Me: Your mom asked me to wait to bring up your stuff, so the two of you could spend more time together.
It was tempting to go behind Regina’s back and tell Dee now, but I wouldn’t do that unless I could be there with her.
I hated keeping this kind of secret.
The specifics about the job had me furious too. I’d auditioned for San Francisco years ago, when I was in the kind of shape that let me dance professionally, and before Dee was born. I’d nailed the audition, and everything in my interactions with the company said the job would be mine.
The way Regina hit it off with the at-the-time assistant art director should have only helped my chances.
That was the first of many auditions that didn’t end the way they should have. Regina denied being at fault to this day, and it was possible I had already peaked, but I was certain she’d said something to the guy in San Francisco—and everywhere else—to keep me from getting the job.
Was it a coincidence that the person in question was now the director in San Francisco?
If I was pettier, I would have asked Regina how long they’d been fucking, and if her current love knew.
Dee’s reply to my text came through.
Dee: K. Mom is taking me shopping. Alpine coaster. Lagoon tomorrow.
At least Regina was spending time with her.
Me: Keep an eye on your blood pressure.
Dee: K. Love u.
Me: I love you too.
Ticking through a list of what I had to do to make this work would keep me from falling into blind rage. I had to enroll her in school here, and talk to her friends’ parents about making sure she had a place to go after school while I was working.
The fridge would need to be stocked, but not until closer to her being here.
The planning didn’t take as long as I hoped, and I was fuming again. About Regina leaving her daughter behind, and where she was heading to do so.
Someone knocked on the front door, and I was still in a haze of anger as I answered.
Brodie was on my front porch, and he studied me. “You all right?”
“What?” I wasn’t in the mood for company.
He didn’t so much as flinch as he handed me a package. “For Dee. For her dancing.”
Fuck. Another thing to consider. Dee’s dance classes were over an hour away. I was happy to do it for her, but my schedule was falling apart. I shoved aside the gray cloud in my mind. “Thanks. What do I need to know about how it works?”
“Do you have a few minutes and I’ll show you?”
I stepped aside. “Yeah. Come on in.”
Brodie unpacked everything, setting three shirts on the coffee table, then a small box with pictures of metal disks next to that.
I grabbed one of the shirts, to examine it. It was Dee-sized and lightweight.
“It’s meant to be form-fitting, but not so tight that it’s uncomfortable,” Brodie said. “It needs to make as much contact with the skin as possible. As she grows, let me know and I’ll have more…” he frowned. “More made.”
I wasn’t the only one having an off morning. Interesting. Or maybe he’d realized he was committing to staying in touch. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah.” The strength was back in Brodie’s voice. “I was fired this morning, but I still have contacts and I’m still a shareholder.”
“Jesus. I’m sorry.” And in a twisted way, grateful for someone else’s problems to distract me from my own.
“Thanks. I don’t think I am though.”
His reply didn’t make sense.
“What?” I asked.
“Maddox already gave me the third degree this morning. Not in the mood.” His voice was abruptly short.
Brodie pulled a metal disc from the box. It was shiny and smooth on one side and had a small indentation on the other, like a snap. “This attaches to the shirt, and presses against the inside of her arm here.” He indicated a spot on the upper inside of his elbow. “It can go on the neck or ankle too, but here it’s least intrusive.” He snapped the disc to the inside of the sleeve of one of the tops.
“They’re stainless steel, so wipe them down with alcohol if they get dirty. They’re easy to replace if you lose all of them.”
I wanted to ask about his job, but I’d exhausted myself before he got here, and Brodie obviously wasn’t in the mood to talk. “Does it rely on the pulse or a major artery?” I asked instead. “The disk, I mean.”
“No. The entire shirt monitors what’s going on. That’s why full contact is important.”
“Then why…?”
Brodie let out a sigh-growl. “Because someone in marketing decided those were the places people expected connectors to be, and someone else decided to put them there. You could really attach them anywhere. I always thought the upper back of the shoulder made the most sense.”
“If these are for Dee, we can move hers, can’t we? Aubrey can help.” I was grateful for the chance to be solving some sort of problem.
Brodie shrugged. “Sure.” He showed me how to pair the device with my phone and Dee’s, and how to monitor it. There had to be a phone nearby to pick up what the shirt was seeing, otherwise her vitals would sync next time she was near her phone. Keeping it on her was best, but it would pick up signals within fifty feet.
“So she can’t really dance in this.” I was disappointed, but this was still far better than relying on her telling someone she didn’t feel well, or forcing her to wear a bulkier system.
Brodie shook his head. “It depends on what kind of dancing she’s doing, but this isn’t going to work with something like a ballet leotard, no.”
I’d still take it. “I really appreciate this. Thank you. What about washing the shirts?”
“They’re made for soldiers and athletes, so we had to make them easy to take care of. Cold water wash, and low heat dry.”
The reality of what I was looking at was sinking in. This was the idea Brodie had in high school, but refined. Functional. Real rather than in his head. “This is incredible tech. When you tried to explain it to me when we were teenagers…”
“I told you it would work.” He smirked.
“You were right.”
Brodie stacked everything up and slid the stack across the coffee table to me. “Tell me about this synthetic spider silk you made?”
What else was I going to do? Rage around town? This would be a nice distraction. I nodded to the seat behind him and sank into the couch across from him.
With some people, I might worry about them stealing an idea like this, especially with the resources Brodie had. I had some issues with him, but none of our history together made me think he was trying to take this from me.
Speaking of his resources though… Apparently I couldn’t let this drop. “Really? You were fired from your own company? And you’re fine?”
“Yes. No.” Brodie sighed. “I’m more bothered by the fact that I’m not bothered, than I am actually bothered.”
I had to replay the words several times in my mind to make sense of them. “Do you know why you’re not bummed?” When he told me about this back in the day, he’d been so excited. So certain it would be something big.
And looking at the clothes on the table, he’d built something huge.
“I wanted to make and sell my idea,” Brodie said. “I wanted to make it better, and grow it into other ideas. That was all I ever wanted. I became the face for the company instead, and I didn’t want that.”
“That sounds to me like the perfect place to be.” I should’ve kept that thought to myself.
“For you, sure. You’ve always been an attention whore.”
I glanced at his face, and saw a hint of amusement.
Teasing. I could do that. “Sure, I prefer to get paid when the world is staring at me, but I’ll do it for free.”
Brodie frowned and twisted his mouth. I could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Does that make you an attention slut instead?”
“I guess it does.” I chuckled. I could also see that while the public eye was perfect for me, it wasn’t ever going to be Brodie’s thing. “So you’re okay.”
“I’m processing. I’ll be fine, I really will.” He sounded sincere. “Synthetic spider silk?”
He’d never been a good liar or had any knack for hiding things, so I had to believe him. “The thing about the formula is… you already know how it works. You’ve seen it,” I said.
Brodie furrowed his brow. “There has to be more to it.”
“That’s how it’s made. The problem is, it’s not useful unless it can be made into a fine enough thread, and the chemicals are picky about how they’re catalyzed. They have to be mixed at the right time, used within a certain amount of time, and sent through a delivery system that keeps the result fine, but doesn’t get clogged.”
“What if I solved those problems?”
If anyone could, it was Brodie.
I was still worried about Dee. About how Regina’s leaving would impact her. And I was still furious at Regina for even thinking about doing this, let alone going through with it.
The distraction with Brodie was nice for now, though.