Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
That evening, Kate answered her cell phone as she carefully navigated Alameda’s surface streets.
Driving wasn’t her strong suit, so she considered ignoring it, but thought it might be her brother, asking where his truck was.
Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, she reasoned—he did store the thing at her parents’ house, after all, and she wasn’t taking the bus to this particular destination.
“Hello?” she said, after hitting the hands-free.
“You’re going where?” Prue yelped.
Kate gripped the steering wheel tighter as Prue’s voice shrieked through the car speakers.
“It’s a work thing,” Kate hedged.
She’d texted Prue that she was going to be late, and when Prue had asked the reason…. Well, obviously Kate should have lied. Too late now.
“And I’ll be by right after, I swear. This shouldn’t take long at all.” Kate paused. “Actually, I’ll be by right after I hit Costco.”
She needed to pick up some Ho Ho’s, she realized. And some bottled water, and some energy bars. If the guys weren’t getting lunch or breaks, she wanted to make sure that they were at least getting some kind of food.
God, you’re such a den mother.
“Tell me you’re not going to hang out with that skeevy, nasty little incel.”
“Didn’t I just say it was for work?” Kate sighed, seeing the dilapidated Victorian in a seedier part of Alameda.
“Listen, I’m here, and I don’t want to leave my brother’s truck in this neighborhood for too long after dark.
He’ll kill me if I get it stolen. Let me just cut a deal with Tad, and then I’ll be right over.
” She bit her lip. “I really, really need to talk to you.”
“I’m at Biome,” Prue grumped. Then she paused. “You okay? You sound more stressed than usual.”
Kate thought of Slim, and the guys slaving away in the basement. They hadn’t left for the day. They’d just kept on working.
Thomas couldn’t possibly know about that.
He’d seemed so warm, such a down-to-earth guy for someone so rich and lofty.
He had a nice smile, too, and he joked with her and listened to her, even when she’d insulted his company right to his face.
A guy that mellow couldn’t be oppressing workers’ rights in his own basement.
Could he?
Of course he could. Do you not know anything about corporate bastards?
“I’m still figuring stuff out,” Kate said as she squeezed the truck into a parking space on the street between a hooptie tri-colored Ford sedan and a pimped out low-rider, “but I’ll tell you what I know. I’ll be at your apartment as soon as I can.”
“Just one question: does the asshole still live with his mama?”
“See you at Biome, Prue.” Kate clicked off, then walked up the broken concrete path to the front door. It was September, and the air had a bite to it. She pulled her jacket closer.
Tad "Tadpole" Grimes was one of the best computer guys she'd ever met. Considering her pool of friends, not to mention her dating experience when she went to Berkeley, that was saying something. Prue had often joked Kate attracted more nerds than a Comic Con, which Kate took as a compliment.
Kate and Tad had been lab partners in high school.
For whatever reason, she’d taken pity on him, agreeing to go to Winter Formal.
Since then, he’d kept the flame of unrequited crushdom burning undiminished.
She'd seen him occasionally around the East Bay, and she’d let him friend her on social media, but she’d also made it quite clear that there was nothing between them.
She wasn’t sure if he’d actually absorbed any of those signals, however, so most of the time she simply did her best to avoid him.
Still, when it came to programming, there was no one better. Right now, she needed the best in a hurry.
She knocked on the door, and Tad's mother Meredith answered. "Oh, Katie! It's lovely to see you."
"Hi, Mrs. Grimes." She put her hands in her pockets, feeling eighteen again in the worst possible way.
"It's been a few years," Mrs. Grimes said with reproach.
"Um, yes." The house still smelled like wet dog. Kate petted the three shelties that were currently trying to herd her toward the couch.
"Well, I’m glad you're going to see Tad. I keep telling him he needs to get out more, but he doesn't listen to me."
Kate shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I just wanted his help with a work problem."
"Sure. Work." Mrs. Grimes sounded knowing, and Kate shuddered. "Well, go on down. You know the way."
Okay, yuck. The woman was doing everything but the “wink-wink-nudge-nudge” routine. Kate fled through the open door to the basement.
Tad had painted the walls black, with a strip of LED lights giving off an eerie violet glow. There were Star Wars models hanging from the ceiling with fishing wire, their phosphorescent paint like beacons. Something techno yet depressing was playing.
“Really?” she murmured to herself. “You’re going to be that guy, Tadpole?”
"Hey, sexy.”
She yelped. He'd emerged from the darkness behind her.
He still looked the same, she thought...
skinny, with stringy unwashed hair and a T-shirt that was almost more holes than cotton.
She wondered how long he'd been wearing it.
He had doused himself with cologne, so it was hard to tell. His smile was wide and lascivious.
"Hi Tad," she said, backing away before he could touch her. He kept moving in on her, and she had to maneuver a chair between the two of them to prevent him from making contact. "You got my message?”
“I sure did.” Same smile as his mom. Which was doubly creepy, now that she thought about it.
Focus, she chided herself. “So, do you think you can help me with the computer program?"
"Are you kidding? Image recognition, of a word?” he said, his thin, pointy nose sticking up with derision. "You might give me a challenge next time. What's the language? English? Chinese? Farsi?"
"It's not a language, exactly. It's some kind of code," she said, and noticed his ears prick up as he leaned forward with interest. She handed him the slip of paper with the character Slim had drawn for her.
"This is what they're looking for, on a bunch of pages that have variations that look sort of like a contract.
I need a program that can pick this out of a bunch of other stuff in this same code. "
"It looks vaguely familiar," Tad said, and she fought not to roll her eyes.
He hated admitting he didn't know something, so of course it looked familiar.
"But even if it wasn't a word at all, even if it’s just an image…
I mean, you could do this yourself. There are a lot of free things out there. Google image search."
She smiled. He might be a douche, but this was principled. He didn’t have to tell her.
“Unless you can’t even handle that,” he tacked on, ruining it.
She sighed. "I thought of it, but this is tight security top secret stuff. The last thing I need is for it to get swiped or break loose somewhere it shouldn’t.” She glared at him. “I can’t emphasize that enough. This can’t get online at all. You do not want to cross the guy I work for.”
At least Tad looked suitably convinced. “Okay.”
“How long's it going to take?"
"A few days, tops.”
“Why so long? You said child’s play!”
“I have some other stuff to do,” he said, then saw her expression. “But this’ll be priority," he quickly added.
She stood straighter, taking a deep breath... then choked on the cloying scent of Axe body spray layered over dirty laundry.
"So, how much?" she coughed. “I know your time is valuable, and I’m willing to pay you for it.”
He smiled that leering smile again. “Well, now....”
“Not that kind of party, pal,” she said firmly. “I’m subcontracting, not whoring.”
“Come on, Kate. We’re friends, not associates,” he wheedled. “How about dinner as payment?”
“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll get you a gift certificate to any restaurant in the city.”
His look of hurt stabbed at her as he stepped in closer. Of course, she’d feel more guilty if he didn’t then inappropriately stroke her arm. “I’d like to take you to dinner, Kate. I think that it’s the least you could do, since I’m doing you a favor?”
Oh, God.
He smiled. She could smell his breath—Cheetos and pizza. His eyes gleamed with hope as well as lust.
A date? She bet he’d go for a boob fondle, in public or not, or maybe a really awful ass grab. Did she really want this program that badly?
She closed her eyes, picturing Slim’s sad, drawn face. “They don’t know how bad the Overseer can be. But I do.”
“If I get the program in twenty-four hours," she heard herself say, and shuddered. “Then I’ll go out to dinner with you.”
He grinned in victory before licking his lips. Reading the signs, she dodged nanoseconds before he reached in and hugged her. His hands brushed over her ass. She shoved him back.
“And if on this date, you go for second or even first base,” she pointed out, “I’ll pepper spray you.”