Semper Fidelis (3 page)

“Look, Welc. You said it yourself. I know you pretty fucking well by now. We’ve been through some sick-ass shit together, and if you think I’d give a fuck that you’re gay… It’s insulting, man. So, I’ll ask you again. Which was it that got you so sidetracked that you ignored where Waze was telling you to go?”

He thumped his head against the headrest as he entered the 210 again, backtracking to Synthfad. “Man.”

Casey chuckled. “You horny shitbrain.”

“
You’re
the shitbrain! I almost crashed, and then I missed my exit—which I didn’t need directions to get to in the first place!”

“Did you at least get his number?”

“How the hell would I have done that?”

“Sent him a message through the app, dumbass.”

Galen stared at his cell in disbelief. “You can do that?”

Casey chuckled. “Yeah. Now we just have to figure out how to maximize your chances of running into him again.”

Chapter Two

Zach Rivera ran his fingers through his black wavy hair to tame it and smoothed his ironed shirt down. Only then—when he was sure he didn’t look the part of mad scientist—did he knock on his boss’ office door.

“Come in,” a booming voice called from the other side.

Zach exhaled, twisted the knob and stepped inside. It wasn’t as if he’d been called into the boss without any notice or any idea why the normally hands-off manager wanted to see him. Zach had requested this meeting himself, leaving a jump drive with intricate plans in his boss’ hands the previous Friday, asking him to review the files over the weekend so they could meet on Monday to discuss if there was any future to what Zach had been doing in his already limited free time.

Zach couldn’t read the guy—had never been able to with anyone. Social cues weren’t his strength. His boss sat straight-backed in his leather executive chair, forearms resting on his mahogany desk and hands intertwined over a plain manila folder. Zach sat in the chair across from him and tried to pick apart the clues his boss was giving him. That he had no idea how his plans were received didn’t make him any less assured about what he’d accomplished.

“You’re crazy to be bringing this to me, Zach,” his boss began. “But you know that already. So let’s talk.”

He nodded. Call it hubris, ego or pride. Zach was okay with any of those terms because he was confident in his design.

The man stabbed a finger at the file. “This work is groundbreaking. It’s definitely outside of the scope of what you do for Synthfad on a daily basis, too.”

“It is,” he agreed. He adjusted his glasses and sat up straighter. “More like the tech coming out of the experimental lab.”

His boss winced at the mention of the promotion Zach had been passed over for. “Point taken. You’ve been undervalued and underestimated. This beta proves that.”

“So you think it’s good?”

“Yeah, Zach. It’s good. This drone offense system is leaps above the tech we’re studying now. Do you ever sleep?”

“Enough. I do the whole juicing thing, too. Helps keep me in balance.”

His boss went slack-jawed. “You’re shitting me.”

Zach shook his head in disbelief. The man had managed him for six years now—while he was still in his Masters program in fact—and should have known Zach was no granola head. Maybe this project would be enough to finally put him on management’s radar. “Yeah, I am. Let’s get back to the beta. I haven’t used anything proprietary in the components, so neither the university nor Synthfad owns it. But I’m not an ass either. If this is something that could help keep our soldiers alive, then I want the US government to have it.”

“You mean you want Synthfad to have it.”

“Chicken and egg argument, sir.” Zach thrummed his fingers on his knee. “Look. I know there are no guarantees in R&D. I just don’t want this idea to die without being tested first.”

“I’ll get legal on whether or not we can test something that’s not our property—liability and all.”

Zach smiled. Now that he had his boss’ attention, the hardest part of this battle was won. “I understand.”

* * * *

It had been another good day of playing spot the anomaly in Synthfad’s headquarters. Galen got into his rental and paired his phone to the audio so he could relax with some MGMT. He went to shift into drive when he stopped cold. There was a huge chance he’d never see ZJR’s avatar appear on Waze again, but there wasn’t any harm on giving Casey’s plan a try.

Right?

Especially now that he knew how to message him if he happened to pop up. He opened up the traffic app and searched for the address of the hotel he stayed in in Pasadena when he did an overnight because of an early morning. He didn’t need directions for how to get to the hotel, so instead he programmed Waze to take him on the longest path possible. His route would take him back over the 210 and by the exit ZJR had gotten off. It was roughly ‘quitting time’, if such a thing even existed, let alone in LA. This research gig was the closest he’d ever come to the whole office job thing so he had no idea whether the five o’clock end time was real or just something in sitcoms.

His finger hovered over the screen as he watched the avatars of other Waze users appear on the map. What the hell was he doing? He’d caught one glimpse of this guy. One. And yeah he was hot… Okay, really hot. But what were the chances he’d see him again, let alone that the guy was gay
and
single?

That was going to take a hell of a lot of luck Galen didn’t think he had.

It wasn’t as if he ever relied on luck anyway. In his work, he was so well prepared and practiced that all contingencies were covered. That ethic bled into his personal life. He laughed. Yeah right, what little of a life he had anymore.

Most of the time he was so driven by his job that he didn’t notice men at all.
Wow.
When had that happened? When had he become that disconnected? He dropped his forehead onto the steering wheel in frustration, then winced with the pain. Cheap plastic rental car steering wheels were not made for epiphanies.

“What the hell do I have to lose?” he said out loud. To his phone.
Yikes.

Whatever. He was doing this. Casey had talked him into doing a basic grid pattern search on the streets around the 210 while Waze operated, with the assumption—aka blind and baseless hope—that the mystery guy worked around the area. If Galen ran across him, then he could click on his avatar and send him a message. If the guy answered, then Galen would be able to message him without them being near each other anymore. His location had been added to the map, other users were popping up and it was just a matter of—

“Dude. I am not that fucking lucky.” Galen stared dumbfounded at the screen of his cell as the Captain America shield avatar hovered only feet away from his car. His heart started to pound. “Has to be a different guy. Has to be.”

He hit the avatar and the name ZJR came up just as the icon was getting closer and closer to him. Galen watched out his rearview mirror and saw the black car pass by with the mysterious hottie at the wheel. “Holy shit.” He threw his cell into the passenger seat in lieu of taking the time to put it into the dashboard cradle and shifted the car into reverse to follow ZJR so he didn’t lose him before getting to send him a message.

He punched the accelerator so hard he slammed into the car in the lot behind him. Just as ZJR pulled onto the main road and disappeared.

* * * *

Zach heard a heavy thud and looked around for what sounded like a car accident, but didn’t see anything. He shrugged and pulled out into the street. He drove toward the 210, the dulcet voice of his traffic app letting him know there was already a backup and she was rerouting him. But his drive was going to take him forty-five minutes, regardless of which way he took. So why did he need to go home at all?

He hit the button on his phone for voice dialing. “Call Linc.”

While the other end of the line rang, Zach pulled into a gas station and waited for an open pump. The call went to Linc’s voicemail—‘
Don’t you fucking dare leave a message’
—and Zach hung up. He was just about to text Linc when a Waze notification popped up. Every message he’d ever gotten was from the app developers, usually talking about updates and improvements, but he hated seeing those obnoxious red bubbles and had to clear them away for his own sanity.

Zach tapped the app open and went to his inbox that had a little red ‘1’ in the corner. When he opened his inbox, though, this time the username wasn’t one he recognized. It was a message from another Waze user named Galen who had a ninja avatar with a rainbow mask.

Galen: Did you know that Captain America can use Thor’s hammer?

Zach chuckled. What the hell was this?

His cell pinged with another notification and another message appeared.

Galen: You’re blown away by my intimate knowledge of Steve Rogers, no?

This time Zach laughed out loud. Now he was really intrigued and had to reply.

ZJR: I didn’t know I could get messages from other users through here.

Galen: Oh yeah, I’m a totally advanced Waze doer person.

ZJR: Think we’re called Wazers.

Galen: That’s so basic. I prefer Waze doer. Like evildoer but for completely distracted driving in heavy dangerous traffic.

ZJR: You’re not driving while you type are you?

Galen: Are you?

ZJR: Can’t you see me on the map? Figure that’s the only way to message someone.

Galen: Saw your kickass avatar when I was in the Synthfad parking lot.

Galen: Okay, that totally sounded like a stalker.

ZJR: Think that saying you sound like a stalker is classic stalker as well.

Galen: Dammit.

ZJR: That was awkward.

Galen: I’m on temporary assignment at Synthfad, by the way. So at least you know I had to pass a government security clearance.

ZJR: Bit less awkward.

Galen: Soooo ZJR like RDJ?

ZJR: Those initials aren’t remotely the same.

Galen: Zeffer James Reading? Zola Jean Rafferty?

ZJR: Just Zach.

Galen: Hey Just Zach, I’m Just Galen.

ZJR: Figured from the username.

Galen: What do you do?

ZJR: I’m an aerospace engineer. Work on propulsion systems.

Galen: …… You’re a rocket scientist.

Zach laughed.

ZJR: Yes. A genuine rocket scientist. You?

Galen: Marine.

ZJR: Working with Synthfad on the IEDs. Cool.

Galen: I don’t know what ultra-classified project you’re talking about ;)

The IED identification project wasn’t ultra-classified, but at least this guy had a sense of humor, unlike many of the Marines Zach had met. He was trying to figure out what to type back to Galen, if anything, when another message came through.

Galen: I’m going to add you as a friend on here since we share part of our commute. Talk to you later, ZJR not RDJ Just Zach.

ZJR: Later, Just Galen.

With that exchange, he shut off Waze. He wasn’t sure what had just happened—a friendly greeting or a pickup. Galen hadn’t asked him to meet. He hadn’t pushed any kind of agenda besides starting up a conversation because of something they had in common. There was something reassuring about that since Zach hated trying to guess what other people were thinking. This type of communication was removed, far safer than face-to-face. Zach found himself thinking about that rainbow mask around Galen’s Waze avatar. He couldn’t help but hope that Galen would keep his promise and message Zach later.

* * * *

It wasn’t often that Zach used valet, but the restaurant his best friend had chosen wasn’t located in a part of LA where he wanted to leave his car parked on the street. It was another trendy pop up joint that had appeared in an abandoned warehouse and would be gone by the end of the week. Linc loved these kinds of places, traveling with the hordes of foodie hipsters for the thrill of ushering in the next viral movement. Zach was more into family-run holes-in-the-wall, but even those came with foodie hipsters as of late.

“Zach Rivera for Lincoln Celso,” he announced to the man-beast guarding the front door.

The man nodded and opened the smoked glass door for him. He was met by a rail-thin model type who led him to a table near the bar.

“Burly silent bouncers and emaciated eye candy,” Zach noted out loud when he sat down. “How retro cliché.”

Linc lifted his mirrored aviators off, pushing back his auburn hair, and gave a mischievous half-smirk. “And I hear the food is minuscule and overpriced.”

Zach took a swig out of Linc’s martini glass and motioned to the waitress to bring another. “Lovely. Why are we here, then?”

“Publicist outing. One of my record company execs is the owner. Can’t have empty tables.”

“So I get to suffer with you. The bane of being friends with a pop star.”

“Minor pop star. I ever make it to venues that hold more than a thousand, then maybe we’ll hit the back room.” Linc leaned in, resting his chin on his interlocked hands that were stacked with rings. He was classically handsome in a roguish way, very close to Zach’s type, save that he was a Kinsey zero. “I am glad you called. Truthfully, I’m shocked you’re not working.”

The waitress set his drink in front of him and he knocked half of it back in one pull. “Should be. I gave my boss the drone plans last week.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. I could’ve held onto them, but for what reason? I don’t want to start my own company and Synthfad has a great track record with defense contracts.”

Linc raised an eyebrow as if he was considering the validity of Zach’s statement. Then he nodded and said, “This is your business, Zach. I hear ya. There was no way I was going indie either. It’s tough to go it on your own. So now what?”

“I’m waiting to hear from legal whether they’ll allow me to test it without handing over control.”

“
You have one new message from a friend
,” that soothing voice of Waze called out from his phone. Zach felt the blood and heat rushing to his face. He thought he’d shut off the app, but apparently a new private message didn’t play by the usual rules.