“Welcome, Joe. Grand opening and all.” She made a weak gesture at the sign.
“Thanks. Seems like a great spot, what with your firm and the design school upstairs. Vee…” he said, drawing out the vowels. “That’s very charming, I like it.”
Violet smiled as if she had passed some test. What difference did it make if Joe liked her name or not? Regardless of its implication, his approval pleased her.
“You came here for coffee, right? Come and pick something you like.”
Violet didn’t move. The last thing she wanted him to think was that he needed to serve her coffee. The shop was closed, after all. “Joe, no. I shouldn’t have even disturbed you.”
Despite her protests, he had gone behind the counter and was now perusing his own selection of coffees. “No trouble at all.” He pushed down on the tap of one of the huge pots and a pink paper cup filled with the magical brew.
An arrow of guilt winged its way through her chest. Francis made them coffee. However, Joe was already pouring the coffee; she couldn’t just walk away. She made her way over to the counter to claim her cup.
Joe’s curious gaze traveled over her face and she did her best not to blush, but her traitorous cheeks heated despite her effort. “Two creams, one sugar, right?”
Violet felt her eyes widen. Was he a mind reader? “How did you know?”
Joe added the extras. “You don’t seem like the type of gal who likes it too sweet.” He fitted a pink top to the cup and placed it on the counter. “No charge.”
“I couldn’t.” She rummaged through her messenger bag. Taking the coffee would be rude; she had to pay him something.
Joe put his hand on her gloved ones, stilling their frantic digging. “Take it and enjoy.”
A reluctant smile crept across her face. “I will. Thank you.” She scooped up her messenger bag. “Thank you,” she said again and grabbed the paper cup, the heat of the coffee penetrating the thin leather of her glove.
“Nice to meet you, Vee,” Joe called after her.
She raised one hand in reply.
****
Violet walked across the carpeted hallway to the mailroom, pulled the mail from yesterday, and tucked it in her bag. Francis never seemed to remember to check the box.
On her way to the elevator, she heard the lobby door open.
“Vee!” Francis called.
Violet stopped, trying not to squeeze the cup of coffee in her hand. If only she could stick it in her pocket. “Hello, Francis,” she said, pressing the button for the elevator. “Look who’s early.”
“You’re earlier.” He eyed the cup of coffee in her hand. “Where did you get that?”
“The coffee shop.” The elevator door opened with a ding and they stepped inside.
Francis pushed the button for the second floor. “When I walked by it was closed.”
“It is closed,” she said as the elevator’s doors opened. “I got a free sample.”
“Free sample. How nice.” Francis was expressionless as he unlocked the office door. He pushed it open. “After you.”
****
Rogers settled at the common table with his co-workers and peeled the plastic wrap from his chicken salad sandwich—the one thing that the cafeteria did well. For a small company, the set-up was pretty sweet. None of the other companies he’d worked for had given him his own office. Anything you want, Francis had told him, which was fine until he realized “anything” had a limit named Violet.
“I hope we’re able to pull this off,” said Alyssa, gesturing with a fork that trailed ramen noodles. The girl lived on Coke Zero and those instant soups in a cup. “We’re working on a tight deadline. My eyes are screaming for some relief from that damn screen.”
“For the bonuses they’re paying, it’ll be worth it.” Pete took a big bite of his sandwich, brushed at the crumbs that fell across his chest. “I’m with ‘em to the end.”
Rogers shrugged. “I’ve worked with tighter deadlines,” he said with feigned enthusiasm. “But you’re right. I’d work straight through for that bonus.”
Alyssa dug into her Styrofoam cup and scraped the sides, a sound that irritated Rogers. As the newest programmer, she had a huge case of hero worship for Violet and, from what he saw, a schoolgirl crush on Francis.
He frowned, and then rearranged his face into a more pleasant expression. In less than two weeks, this all would be over and NorthStar Tech would be no more.
“Violet is the best at what she does. If anyone can pull it off, she can.” To his relief, she dropped the plastic spoon in the cup and tossed it in the trash. “I was so thrilled when I was hired here.”
Pete nodded. “They’re both great to work for. Hands off, not looking over your shoulder.”
Lemmings. Violet ran this place like a nursery school and Francis allowed it. No other programmer’s job required him to speak to end-users, idiots who didn’t realize that the fault wasn’t in the software, but in them. It was amazing how many calls he fielded per week on that preschool software they’d produced their first year in business. He couldn’t imagine how much that would increase with the newest product. But it wouldn’t. Because they would fail. There would be no software and he wouldn’t have to answer phones ever again.
He bit into his sandwich with renewed relish.
Chapter Six
The tiny office/storeroom they provided with the contract was cold and drafty. In addition, every duct housing in the building routed through there, or so it seemed. Joe tapped on the keys of his laptop, the screen glowing in the semi-darkness. He should bring in a lamp, or at least something that gave him the semblance of an actual workspace. The smell of the brewed coffee was less here, but every time the blower kicked on, he would get a blast of Jamaican roast along with dry heat.
Violet, or Vee—he’d call her anything she wanted him to call her—was more than he’d anticipated. After he’d seen where she’d worked, he expected a skinny little computer geek with glasses and hair in her eyes, not to mention flat chested.
But the famed Violet Connelly in the flesh was nothing like the underground Violet of his imagination and he sat back in his chair, reliving their encounter. Underneath that wool coat, he’d bet, there was a nice body, if the swell of her bosom was any indication. The sexy way she nibbled at the corner of her lip when she was trying to pay him for the coffee, the way those brown eyes widened when he guessed her cream/sugar ratio, it turned him on. In addition, he had the best vantage point to see her come and go, the point of the whole assignment.
Work done, he was going to stretch his legs with a walk around the office complex when he heard voices through the vents. Surprisingly clear.
A male voice: “Violet, come in here. I want to show you something.”
Violet: “Sure you do. This is the most interesting bathroom in the office complex, isn’t it?”
Joe sat up at his desk, running through the layout of the building in his head. If he had it right, then it was NorthStar Tech right above where he was, which explained Violet. But who was the man? It couldn’t possibly be that partner of hers. He settled in his chair, grinning. The walk around the complex could wait.
The male voice again: “You needed a break.”
“You needed a top-off.”
“Does it matter?”
Pause. Silence. Joe strained his ears and heard the passionate sounds of kissing.
Violet: “That’s enough. I have work to do.”
“You’re not leaving.”
Silence. More kissing.
The man’s voice, softer but still clear: “How about now, Violet? Still have work to do?”
“Maybe not.”
More silence. Joe leaned forward in his chair, holding his breath.
Then he heard it, a whisper of a moan, a sound so erotic that his own body responded. Who was she fucking?
“You like that?”
Violet’s voice was still soft: “Yes…” Then, “Oh,” followed by a breathy moan.
<
br /> Joe squeezed the arms of his chair, closed his eyes to imagine Violet bent over the sink or against the wall or wherever, being plowed by some lucky guy.
Some murmurings, soft laughter.
More silence, then two quick breathy sighs and another “Oh.” Then the blower kicked on and the smell of coffee filled his cramped space, drowning out the action. He rocked backwards in his chair, a grin plastered across his face. This gig was going to be interesting as well as lucrative.
****
That afternoon, Violet clicked through the emails from the beta testers that flooded her inbox, a growing sense of panic gnawing at her empty stomach. One after the other, the testers reported glitches in the once smoothly running program, anything from an issue with signing into the program to saving scores for multiple users. She sat back in her office chair, rocking back and forth. How did this come up all of a sudden?
Francis opened the office door, managed to make his way to his desk without bumping into anything, despite the fact he never took his eyes from his cell phone screen. “Vee, did you see this?”
“I saw it.”
He looked at her, his expression anxious. “We have a problem.” He dropped into his desk chair, tossed his phone on the blotter. Not a moment later, he picked it up again and dragged his fingers over the screen. “They moved the deadline up two weeks.”
Violet heard video bird squawks and pigs grunting as he played one of his games. “What the hell, Francis? I didn’t get that…” She turned back to her screen. Right under the frantic emails from the beta-testers, she saw the Edu-Gaming email. She didn’t bother to click on it. “Shit.”
“I have to think.”
Violet closed her email program. She’d seen enough. “Stay calm, Francis.”
“I am calm.” He glanced up at her for a second, and then turned his attention back to his iPhone. “Ice cube calm. No problem that there’s less than two weeks to turn this thing in. No problem at all. We’ll work overtime to correct the mistakes.” He tossed the phone on the desk blotter, birds and pigs still making noises. “We can work miracles, right?” Kicking his chair back, he stared at the ceiling, where he had tacked a poster of Yoda with the words: Do or do not. There is no try. “Miracle workers.”
Violet watched him, white sleeves rolled to the elbow, neat gray sweater vest, and dark blue pants. When she’d told him one time that he dressed like a mortician, he came in the next day with a green sweater vest so brightly hideous that she begged him to take it off before lunchtime. After that, she never complained again. His style of dress was comforting, dependable. If anyone could handle a crisis, Francis could.
“And the beta testers reporting problems, when there were no problems before?” An edge of panic tinged his voice. “A one-two punch. Sabotage,” he said, his hands behind his head, still staring at the ceiling. “For this to happen all of a sudden, after all these things were checked, it’s got to be sabotage.”
Violet shook her head. He could come up with the most outlandish ideas. “You’re paranoid, which I heard goes with depression. Maybe while they were fixing stuff, someone made a mistake?”
“No way. Not with Rogers’ coding. There are no mistakes, no stray lines of code. The man is a machine.” He removed his glasses and polished them with the little microfiber cloth he kept handy. “Everything has been going well up till now. Sure, we’ve had some glitches, but what software doesn’t? They even allow for it in the competition. But now failure to log in? Can’t save scores? Multiple users can’t access the game. Something else is going on.”
The panic in his voice was increasing. “Francis. We can run diagnostics on the server. Maybe—”
He ignored her. “Anti-virus and malware programs are only as good as the information they have.” He picked up his phone, tossed it back on the desk. “If this rogue program was created by someone and only used on our server, the anti-whatever programs wouldn’t catch it.”
“Dammit.” Violet snatched a pencil from one of the jars on her desk and tapped it on the blotter. Panic was contagious. If Francis was correct, and he usually was, then they would have to go in and find the bug. She hated going into code. This was why she hired the wonderfully efficient programmers/developers like Alyssa and Rogers and Pete. The thought of going in to find the problem, then to fix the problem, made her head hurt. “Good Lord.” She put her head down on the desk.
His chair pushed back with a squeak and he was behind her, rubbing her shoulders with strong hands. “Violet. I’m betting it’s a small problem. We’ll run the diagnostics on the server like you said.”
“But you said—”
“I’m a gloom and doom type of person. It’s probably a simple piece of malware. We’ll wipe it out and go on our merry way.”
“If you’re sure.” Her folded arms and her desk muffled her voice.
“All we can do is try. Then we can see where to go from there.” He slid his fingers into her hair and began massaging her scalp. “But you have to relax, you hear me?”
Violet wanted to curl up and purr, right there on her desk. Why couldn’t she have a normal life with a normal boyfriend, not this strange, out-there relationship with someone who was supposed to be a business partner? Damn Atlantic City conventions and their Manager’s Receptions! Free-flowing liquor and a balmy night at the Jersey Shore was a recipe for disaster. On top of it all, what happened in Atlantic City didn’t stay in Atlantic City.
They should have gone to Vegas.
“Francis?”
“Yes?”
“Never mind.” Soothed by the scalp massage, she had to shake herself into action. “Let’s start running the checks. No time like the present.”
Chapter Seven
Despite the diagnosis on the servers, the anti-virus, the malware programs, and everything else, the ticks and glitches in the programs kept appearing and seemed to be multiplying. Even after running every program on the server known to the free world, they still weren’t sure what was going on. Violet tapped her blotter with the silver letter opener. Early morning in the office was quiet. Before they got started on another day of searching, she sorted through the mail.
“Is it safe?” She spoke without looking up.
Francis didn’t miss a beat. Stumping each other with movie quotes or other trivia was a way of kick starting the morning. “Marathon Man.” He guessed correctly. “How about: ‘I had a roommate, but my mother moved to Florida’.”
“Ghostbusters. Easy-peasy.” Violet grinned at him. “I saw that last night.”
“Seems like we’re even. But you owe me lunch.”
“I’ll raise your lunch and buy you dinner, since it looks like we’re going to be spending even more time here tonight.” Violet sliced open an envelope with a flick of her wrist and scanned the contents. “Seems like I have so many trial offers going I don’t know what’s what.”
Watching her was a welcome distraction from the crisis. Yawning, she placed the envelope in a stack of similar envelopes and dropped the letter opener in the desk drawer. “What’s the good word for today, if there is any?”
“Not so good, Vee. The beta testers are reporting even more problems with the software. Seems like what we’re doing isn’t working.”
“Damn.” Violet snatched a lucky pencil from her jar and began scribbling on her blotter.
As he filled her in on the latest bad news, the scratching of pencil on paper became more furious until she dropped that pencil and snatched another. It was a five-pencil debriefing. When he had finished speaking, she tapped the sixth pencil on her desk, a pensive look on her face.
“This is serious. Have you spoken to Rogers about this?”
Francis hesitated before answering and she peeked over her monitor at him.
“Francis?”
“I…have not spoken to any of the programmers about this. This is between me and you.”
She got up and came over to her desk, pulling a chair up from the conference table to face him. �
��I thought Rogers was your friend.”
Francis shook his head, rubbed his chin. “He and I are friends, however, we do have a business to run, and he’s on a need-to-know basis. He’s an employee, not a partner.”
“All right.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, lost in thought. “We’ll keep the programmers busy. They can fix the glitches. Save them to their hard drives. In the meantime, we can keep working on the issue. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds good,” he said, pleased that she was able to give him such a fast answer. He had been wrangling with the problem all night. He didn’t want to leave his friend out of the loop, but the way things stood, this was between him and Violet.
Violet put her hand on his leg. “How much capital do you have left?”
He thought about it. “I have a bit of a cushion given my gains from the Super Bowl, but other than that I’m busted. Maybe two months?”
She smiled a little. “I still think it’s so funny that you play fantasy football. You don’t seem the type.”
“It’s statistics and luck.”
“But you’ve done pretty well.”
“I had a good season.”
“The loan from my parents is almost gone.” She toyed with the pens on his desk, pushing them back and forth. “For me, failure is not an option.”
****
Violet, her laptop tucked underneath her arm, was on her way out of the building when Joe’s greeting changed her mind about going out to her car to get some much-needed fresh air. The once-garish Valentine’s decorations now seemed cheerful. She decided to sit and chat with Joe, having missed their regular early morning chat.
“How are you this morning?” She stepped inside the shop. “I bet you’re making money hand over fist. I heard half of the design school is in love with you.”
Joe smiled as he walked toward her, provoking an answering smile on Violet’s face. What a relief to focus on something other than the crashing and burning of her software company, at least for a few moments.
Love Bytes Page 3