Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
True to his word, Tadpole texted her. He had come through, or claimed to.
She’d hoped to pick up the program and put off the dinner—indefinitely, if she could manage it. Instead, he’d arranged it like a prisoner exchange. He’d give her the stuff at their date.
Blocked, she’d had no choice but to agree.
She met him at Jack London Square, thinking they’d go someplace casual, like Roscoe’s Chicken & Waffles.
Instead, he met her in the center of the square, then ushered her to Yoshi’s, the chic sushi bar/jazz club that had been an institution in Oakland for as long as she could remember.
"Here? Really?" Kate said, her voice weak.
Tad winked at her, guiding her with a hand at the small of her back. He was newly showered, his hair gelled into submission. He was also wearing a dress shirt that still held creases from being in the plastic package. He wore his usual sneakers, but otherwise he’d made a serious effort.
Oh, God. He really thinks this is a date.
She was wearing slacks, at least, and a definite, non-date sort of gray sweater. She pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. "Did you bring the stuff?" she asked.
He looked hurt for a second, and she winced. Yes, he was problematic. Still, once upon a time, they’d be friends of sorts, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for him.
"Obviously," he replied, rolling his eyes. "You can get it after dinner, okay? Can you at least try to pretend like you’re having a good time?"
She sighed. Save me from nerds in love. She’d been one once, herself, although she wondered if it was somehow different for the males of the species.
She let him open the door for her, tried to look suitably impressed when he gave their name and the waitress led them to their table. There wasn't a concert, at least, although the buzz of chatter around them was still pretty loud. She loved sushi. That said, she was way too broke to pay for it.
When life gives you Tadpole, I suppose.
"What's it like working at the Evil Empire?" Tad asked, opening the menu. She noticed him glancing over the prices and frowning.
"Could be worse," she said, then grinned a little, thinking of her conversation with Thomas. It seemed like forever ago. Her cheeks warmed, and her stomach jittered.
And that was just thinking of the guy. Honestly, it was ridiculous.
"So... how's the eBay thing coming along?" she asked Tad quickly.
He puffed with pride, and killed the next twenty minutes talking about his mint-in-the-box Star Wars figure enterprise, and how much money he was making. She let him ramble, forcing herself not to look at her cell phone to check the time.
Finally, when their dinner was served, she took out her chopsticks, lovingly staring at the sashimi. Mmmmm.
"So, was the program difficult?" she asked, when she thought it was safe to bring it up.
"Pfft," he said, preening a little. "I cranked it out in like five minutes. I don't know how a company like Fiendish could be making so much money if they're doing bonehead stuff like that."
"Somehow, they manage,” she said, then frowned, remembering how they treated the Basement Boys.
Maybe that’s how Thomas had made so much money at such a relatively young age.
He wouldn’t be the first hot guy with no scruples, and he sure wouldn’t be the first rich guy.
Maybe she needed to do a little more research on him, and on Fiendish.
Hell, maybe her people-judge-o-meter needed to be recalibrated.
Again. "Let’s not talk shop, Kate," Tad said, and to her surprise, he reached out and grasped her free hand.
She dropped a fat slice of tuna in shock.
"I'm really, really glad you agreed to go out with me.
" She hadn't really agreed so much as was extorted, but now probably wasn’t the best time to bring that up.
"I appreciate you writing the program and getting it to work," she said.
"The fact that you're willing to throw in dinner on top of helping me with my work is a huge favor. "
She tried to tug her hand away, but he tightened his grip. "I've been meaning to ask you to dinner for years," he said, his voice low and hard to hear over the jazzy vibe in the restaurant. "I just didn't have the opportunity. Now that I have, I've got a lot to say."
She pressed against rounded back of her chair, almost tipping it over. "Octopus?" she said, offering him a piece, praying that he'd be disgusted enough to give her some space.
"No, thanks," he mumbled, looking into her eyes like he was trying to hypnotize her. "Kate... I think you know how much I like you." "Um." She felt like a butterfly on a T-pin, and writhed in agony. "Tad, you're a good guy. A good friend."
"Don't, Kate. Don't fucking friendzone me," he interrupted, scowling. "I'd rather be an asshole than a 'good friend.' You might as well say eunuch."
"If you don't let go of my hand," Kate said, as his grip increased to painful pressure, "I'll be calling you an asshole in a second, Tadpole. And that eunuch bit might be a close second if you keep it up." "Why won't you even give me a damned chance?"
“Let go of me,” she repeated, starting to feel a little nervous. Tad was persistent, and annoying—but she’d never felt afraid of him before. There was something off about him tonight, something edgy and sharp and unlike him.
“I think about you a lot,” he growled. “Ever since I started working with that thing you gave me, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”
She stared at him, aghast.
Has he been drinking or something?
"Is everything all right here?" a new voice intoned. She glanced over... then gaped. Thomas Kestrel. Standing there in one of his dark trademark suits, with a snowy white shirt and a tie the color of blood-red roses. He looked at her, eyes full of concern. "Hey, Kate," he murmured.
She couldn't help it. She flushed. The guy's drawl was like being drizzled with honey. Then licked.
Tad, of course, noticed.
"This is between me and my girlfriend," Tad said sharply. Then he got up, moving in like a missile. "Gack!" she protested, just before his thin lips locked onto hers.