Authors: Sadie Hayes
“Where’s Tom?” Amelia asked.
“His flight got delayed,” T. J. said, overhearing her question as he walked into the booth, sliding the cell phone he’d just been talking on into his pocket. “I told him to take the private jet but he always insists on going commercial. Listen, sorry I’m late. I had a family dinner. I brought you some dessert.”
T. J. dropped a white box on the table and looked empathetically at Amelia. “But you don’t look very hungry.” He pulled her up gently from her keeled-over position and put his hands on her shoulders. He looked straight into her eyes and said seriously, “Amelia, you are going to be spectacular tonight. Okay?”
She blinked her eyes. Growing up, she never cried, but she felt tears forming and fought desperately to hold them back.
“I don’t care what you did or where you came from. You’re here now and you’re the most exciting thing at the expo and absolutely nothing anyone does or says will change that,” T. J. went on.
Amelia nodded her head like a child trying to appease her parent.
“I mean, I’m a total asshole who always looks for the worst in everyone, so if
I’m
saying that…” T. J. smiled, and Amelia let out a laugh, wiping a tear from her eye. T. J. was new at the whole self-deprecation thing, but he was pleased that it seemed to be making Amelia feel better.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s go get you back in front of your computer, talking about code.” He led her to the front of the booth, where conference participants had already started to gather.
Adam followed them, simultaneously impressed by and jealous of T. J.’s ability to console Amelia. Adam glanced at the box of dessert, computing that if T. J. had just finished dinner with his family, then Lisa was wandering around unoccupied somewhere in the hotel. Just then, across the room, he spotted the back of a blond head set on a slender frame. Lisa!
Adam raced across the room and tapped her on the shoulder. “Lisa!”
“I’m sorry?” He heard a British accent as the woman turned toward him. Not Lisa.
“Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“Not to worry, Adam.”
Adam blushed and darted back to the Doreye booth, wondering briefly how the woman knew his name.
Thirty people were gathered around the Doreye booth as Amelia started the demo. She was holding an iPhone in her hand and linking it to her laptop, which was hooked up to a forty-eight-inch Alienware LCD monitor suspended above the booth. A television, a radio-controlled toy car, a microwave and several other devices were arranged on the table.
“I want to be honest about the shortcomings of this alpha version,” Amelia said to the crowd. “I haven’t yet been able to make Doreye as robust as I want to, which means we can’t yet manage multiple devices simultaneously. I set up a queue system, which is a good patch for now, but there’s still a slight lag as Doreye switches between devices. The lag is because of the network. I wish we were on 4G. Anyway, in the future this shouldn’t be a problem, but for now, fair warning.”
The crowd smiled, charmed by the young girl’s honesty. They all watched as she proceeded to open the Doreye app on her iPhone and use it to run the other devices on the table. With the swipe of Amelia’s finger, the television turned on and changed channels before turning off again. A brief moment later, the toy car moved in a semicircle and stopped next to the microwave, which suddenly turned on. The devices were elegantly operating in concert, and Amelia was the conductor. There was ooh-ing and ahh-ing as more people huddled around the table.
Just then, though, the microwave shut down. Amelia looked at it quizzically—she hadn’t done anything to turn it off. Then the toy car started moving without her touching the Doreye app. She looked at the iPhone in her hand. What was going on?
On the monitor, the devices started flicking off and on, registering as “in use,” then “out of use,” and going completely haywire. The crowd began to murmur.
“Amelia,” Adam whispered. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything,” Amelia whispered back. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
A man in the front row heard her. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
Amelia looked up at the crowd and blushed. “I’m not sure what’s going on,” she admitted. “Maybe there’s an issue with the network here?” She was desperately searching for an answer. “But that’s never been a problem before…”
“That’s just the carpenter blaming her tools,” a British accent called out from the back of the crowd. The group parted and the blond who looked like Lisa but wasn’t sauntered forward. She was glaring at Amelia and smiling menacingly. “It’s not the network, it’s your program. Not being able to handle multiple devices isn’t the only problem. It’s entirely flawed software.”
Amelia’s and Adam’s jaws dropped. Who was this woman?
“She stole the idea from us, but she missed a few details. If you want to see the real deal, come with me to the RemoteX booth.”
The crowd followed her, leaving the Doreye table empty. Adam, Amelia, and T. J. were stunned.
CHAPTER 8:
Some Things
Champagne Can’t Fix
T
he last thing T. J. wanted to do was to go to Shandi Hawkins’ “Moonlight Drinks” reception on the Four Seasons terrace. It would be like every other Atherton party—the same faces, the same what’s-the-latest-hot-deal-in-the-Valley chat among the men and how-do-you-keep-your-skin-so-young-looking dialogue amongst the women—just in a different setting with a few East Coast WASPs interlaced, courtesy of Chad Sebastian Bronson of the Darien, Connecticut Bronsons.
The demo had been a disaster. T. J. had to figure out who that woman was and what RemoteX was all about.
But, in truth, that was secondary. What was really weighing on him now was Amelia, and a deep sense that he’d let her down. He should have stepped in, should have been able to help her recover from the malfunction, should have been able to recapture the audience’s attention when that woman interrupted.
He couldn’t explain it, except to say that he’d felt so good, so
valuable
, earlier in the day when he’d been able to protect Amelia from the nasty journalist during the panel. And he’d felt exactly the opposite at tonight’s demo.
He rolled his head to stretch his neck and pulled up the sleeves of his pale-blue linen button-down so they just covered his elbows. Then he took a deep breath and walked onto the terrace with a forced smile, grabbing a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter as he headed to the bar.
While he waited for the bartender’s attention, a cute brunette in a purple maxi dress approached. She was clearly already drunk, the pink cocktail in her hand swirling precariously as she swayed on her heels.
“Are you T. J.?” she giggled.
“I am,” he said. She had great breasts and would be an easy score—girls at weddings always were.
She giggled again. “Actually I already knew that. Everyone has been saying you’re the guy to meet.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Lauren. I grew up with Chad.”
Good old Shandi, prepping all the single girls for his arrival.
“Very nice to meet you, Lauren. Can I get you a drink?”
“Yes, please! I’ll have another one of whatever these pink ones are.” Lauren pointed to the menu where specialty cocktails were listed.
He turned back to the bar, motioning to the bartender. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Heard about the demo. Tough start for the weekend.” T. J.’s father suddenly appeared beside him.
T. J. felt his jaw clench. He tried to sound cool. “We’ll get through it. I’m not worried.”
He motioned again for the bartender, purposefully keeping his gaze averted from Ted.
“Still, not good news about RemoteX. How’d you miss that there was a competitor?”
T. J. swallowed hard. He was not going to give in to his father’s provocations. He focused on the bartender. Why was this guy not coming over?
“I’m looking forward to seeing more about what they’ve developed. It’s hard to tell how many parallels there really are,” T. J. answered.
Finally, the bartender approached and took his order. “Jack and Coke and one of those pink cocktails, please.”
“Still,” Ted continued, “I guess with Amelia’s background, it’s possible she did steal the technology. Poor kid, growing up alone, no moral center. She probably doesn’t even realize it’s wrong.”
This was too much. It was one thing to push T. J.’s buttons about the business, but Ted had no right to pull Amelia into it. He turned to face his father, his brow furrowed and his blue eyes intense. Ted was casually leaning back, both elbows propped on the bar, looking out at the crowd and sipping a beer. He was totally at ease as he taunted his son.
“You know what I think?” T. J. said decisively, a mix of anger and total confidence in his voice. “I think Amelia was lucky. It’s better to have no father at all than a morally bankrupt, money-grubbing one.”
Ted raised his eyebrows and shifted his gaze to his son. “I’m sorry?”
“What you did at Gibly—what you’re
doing
at Gibly—is wrong and you know it. It could threaten
national security
—our very safety. You’re pleading ignorance for profits, as though that makes you inculpable. But it doesn’t. If the person paying for that data is a terrorist and, because of it, we’re attacked? That’s on you. And that’s fucking immoral as hell.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ted hissed, standing up straight. T. J. was focused.
“Let me tell you what I do know: Amelia was right to tell the press about Gibly. She was right to expose what shady shit you’ve been up to. You were once respected and admired—you were powerful—and then a little girl took it all away from you. You want your revenge on Amelia? You’re going to have to go through me.”
“You’ve always been so full of yourself, son. But what have you ever done without my help? Even this little job that you’re so cocky about. Who got you that job? Me.”
“You’re a shitty father. You tried to compensate for being absent and cold by providing Lisa and me with opportunities. But it’s a poor trade. You always put yourself first, always prioritized your business deals and ego over everything that mattered to me. I’d rather have a poor father with no connections—I’d rather have no father at all—than one I disrespect as much as I disrespect you.”
T. J. handed a five-dollar tip to the bartender and walked away, leaving Ted looking for the first time in his life like he wasn’t sure what to do.
“Did you get my cocktail?” Lauren stumbled away from the group of girls she’d been chatting with and grabbed T. J.’s arm.
“It’s on the bar,” he snapped, shoving his hands in his pockets and heading for the door.
CHAPTER 9:
Prove Yourself
A
melia and Adam were back in their hotel room, huddled over her laptop. After the demo fiasco, Amelia had texted George, hoping he was still awake and could gather a few folks from Gates for a Skype conference to figure out what had gone wrong. George had readily obliged.
“I just don’t understand what could have happened. The devices have never malfunctioned like that.” Amelia was talking to George, T-Bag, and Luke, another engineer who was part of the Wednesday night crew.
“Do you think it was a network issue? Maybe there was too much interference from the other products at the demo,” George offered.
“More interference than I’ve had at Gates? If there’s no problem there, with all the computers and iPhones and other programs running, I can’t imagine there would be a problem here.”
“Unless the broadband is weaker to begin with,” T-Bag offered.
“Wouldn’t that be a major problem for us, then?” Adam started, looking a little panicked. “I mean, that would mean Doreye wouldn’t work everywhere, right?”
“Yeah, Adam, that’s what it would mean,” George said in an irritated voice, as though he were talking to a child.
“Or maybe there was just another type of product that interfered. What were the devices around you at the demo?” Luke asked.
“There was the electric car, like, three booths down. That must have taken a ton of energy,” Adam piped in.
“An electric car would take electric energy, Adam, not broadband.” George was clearly annoyed. “Listen, Adam, maybe you should leave this one to us.”
Adam winced. He was just trying to help. Why did this geek George think he had the right to tell him to bug off? He looked at Amelia to stand up for him.
Amelia bit her lower lip and said softly, “I think George is right. Why don’t you go find Lisa? This’ll probably take a while and be boring for you anyway.”
Adam sat for a moment, stunned. Was she serious? Then, realizing she was, he picked up his wallet and notebook. “Yeah, okay.”
He’d love to see Lisa, but he had texted her twice and she still hadn’t responded.
Adam headed to the hotel bar, his feelings crushed.