Erotic Refugees

by Paddy Kelly

  “But then it's bloody useless, the whole thing! Diamond Date is the biggest site, and if we don't have any profiles from there, we're finished!”

  “Of course you're not. There's other dating sites, in Sweden and in other places. There is, actually, an American site doing the same thing you're doing, but for the US market—”

  “Is there?” Rob said in amazement. “But I looked—”

  “It's not very big.” Linus tried the wine and winced. “And not very good either. Yours is much better. So that could be an option. But I agree, doing the Swedish market without Diamond Date is sort of pointless.”

  “We could give ye free advertising, lots of banners—”

  “It's not about advertising or money, it's about … wait, I had the legal people write it down for me.” He fished in his pocket and took out a slip of paper. “It’s because you are infringing on the anonymity and integrity of our users. And since we can't control what you do with that information, we have to stop you.”

  Rob sat back, with his arms folded, and glared. “All this, after nicking our kid-week idea. It's bloody bad style, if ye ask me.”

  And it was. Why did Rob have to give up all his hard work because of this guy and his stupid moustache? It was like being fired all over again. The site was his future, his ticket out of being a bloody code-monkey forever, but now everything was about to go pear-shaped for the second time in a year. It wasn't bloody fair.

  Linus shrugged. “We have to protect our business, what can I say? But, you know, you did a very good job on that site. I'm impressed, and people who can pull that kind of thing together are hard to find.”

  He straightened the cuffs of his shirt and leaned forward.

  “So I was thinking, why don't you come and work for us? Seriously, we need Flash and PHP people now, and I think you'd fit in well.”

  Rob's mouth locked in the open position as he stared furiously at Linus' moustache. It took a few seconds for him to remember to blink and take a breath.

  “So what, yer offering me a job to kill our site?”

  Linus smiled. “You'll be killing your site anyway, I thought that part was clear. But at least now you'll get something out of it. You've shown you understand the online dating market, and Kajsa has said a few good things about you. Not very good things, mind you, but good enough. So I don't think you'll be a big risk.”

  Rob looked away, trying to pull his thoughts together. This was a great offer, and to be personally recruited by one of the founders of Diamond Date was huge. The timing couldn't be better either, as he had only one month left on his unemployment insurance. And all he had to do was kill Dating Dirt, or at least cripple it so it was pretty much useless.

  But that was the big problem, because there was also Eoin and Karen and Milly to consider. Between them they'd poured months of work into this project. He couldn't just sell them out to save his own arse.

  Or could he? Well, why not? They all had jobs (except for Milly who had Ellinor to pay the rent) and they didn't have the threat of poverty hanging over them. They'd understand, right? Sure they would.

  “Well?” Linus said. “I don't think I need to throw in a company car, but your wages will be at least what you had earlier, I promise you that.”

  “Look,” Rob said. “Give me a day or two to think about it. But yeah, I'm interested.”

  “Great. Just get back to me,” Linus stood and produced a card from his wallet. “My private mail. Don't wait too long though. And don't forget to remove the Diamond Date profiles from your site, pronto. I'll be checking up on you.”

  “Fine,” Rob said as Linus made for the door. He didn't look back once, leaving Rob in the empty kitchen with a half-filled glass of red, a pile of bruised dreams, and a brand new future to consider.

  One thing was clear. He was going to need a lot more wine.

  Eoin stepped into the kitchen and came to a halt when he saw Rob sitting there morosely with two glasses in front of him.

  “Ellinor told me something was up. So who was that leaving? Was it Kajsa's brother, the Diamond Date guy?”

  Rob nodded and told him what had happened. Eoin groaned and dropped into a chair. “No, he can't just shut us down. Can he? I mean, all the work—”

  “You want to fight lawyers Eoin, fine, off you go.”

  Eoin grabbed the unfinished glass of wine and swallowed half.

  “But he could just be bluffing, right? As long as we're not doing anything illegal, we could just keep going and see what happens. Of course it was smart of him to offer you a job, because if you're working for him, then it's probably in your contract that you can't have any interests that clash with Diamond Date.”

  “Buying my silence, I suppose ye’d call it.”

  “Right. Damn it, all that work. Milly won't be happy.”

  “Well fuck it, none of us are happy, but think about it. We can't fight Diamond Date, can we? I turn thirty in a few months, and this is a good job—”

  “A job with the bastard who stole your ideas.”

  “Yeah, there is that part. But I don't ever expect to like my boss, so why start now? Look, I'll have a think about it, and I'll talk to him in a couple of days.” He fell silent and stared into his glass for a while. “I just wish I knew what to do.”

  Eoin fell suddenly sorry for him. He sipped some more wine and spoke softly.

  “Look Rob, don't beat yourself up over it. If the site's dead anyway, there's no point in throwing blame around. I mean, I know how horrible it is to have no job. If you say yes to Linus, it's fine with me. I'm behind you. Just so you know that.”

  Rob nodded, mumbling his thanks. “The party,” he said. “How's it going?”

  “It's going well. Most of the guests are still here. And Andy and Alice … well maybe you should ask Andy about that one.”

  Rob’s interest perked. “Oh? So the chances of her whackin' a bottle over his head have been greatly reduced?”

  “It looks that way.” Eoin picked up his wine glass and pushed back his chair.

  ”Look, we'll talk to Milly and Karen tomorrow, just don't make any decisions about this tonight, okay? Get out there and drink and eat and enjoy your success. I mean, this is your project, you started this whole thing. And whatever way it goes, you should celebrate getting it at least this far.”

  Rob nodded. He sat up, straightened his shoulders, and tucked his shirt in. Then, with everything in place, Eoin led him out into the noise and bustle of the party to celebrate both the birth of Dating Dirt and its sad and unnecessary demise.

  And they saw to it that no website had ever received a finer send-off.

  Chapter 37

  Eoin pushed his way through the revolving door of the ugly building that housed his office and shivered. Winter was getting close and before they knew it there'd be frigid air and muddy slush and days that were just a slightly brighter version of night. At least four months of it, and that’s if they were lucky.

  Eoin adjusted his scarf and hurried towards the subway. It had been a very dull day at work and his thumping hangover from the launch party hadn't helped either. It would have been nice to spend the evening in his flat, eating the leftover sausage rolls and reading a good book.

  No such luck though. He was going over to Rob's to perform the post-mortem on the project. Nobody was pretending any more that it wasn't dead, what with Rob going to work for the enemy and the site pretty much crippled. But they needed a final chat so no feelings were hurt. Or at least no more than necessary.

  It was properly dark when Eoin got home. He had to turn on the light in the hall just so he could locate the hook to hang his keys on. There was something on the floor, something that had come through the letter slot. It was an inflexible A4 padded envelope, addressed to him in handwriting that he found familiar.

  Eoin kicked off his shoes and sat down at the kitchen table where he opened the package. He slid out the contents and stared at them in amazement. It was Damien's photos, all the best ones he'd
taken, from the day after his birth and right up to a month before the separation. They were the originals too, as his initials and the date were scribbled on the back of each one.

  Eoin shook his head in confusion and held the envelope upside down, allowing a note to flutter out. He plucked it up and read.

  “These are yours. I made new prints. Jenny.”

  He read it again, in a daze. He'd sent a mail to Jenny a week earlier asking nicely for the photos and explaining how much they meant to him. He'd never expected it to work, but now here they were, just like that.

  He fixed a cup of tea as he tried to analyse why she'd sent them. Was she looking for some favour in return? Or maybe she'd simply realised the photos meant more to him that they did to her, and had sent them over just to be nice?

  Eoin mulled that over as he drank his tea—the idea that Jenny was capable of being nice to him for no good reason. And with a little effort he managed to look beyond the last couple of years, back to the time where Jenny had been nice to him a lot, when it felt like nothing could destroy what they had.

  Nothing remained of that now—it was truly scorched ground—but to remember it made Eoin confused and sad. How could he forget feeling like that so quickly? And wasn't there anything between how it was then and how it was now?

  Well, it seemed Jenny had done something to locate that middle ground. It was a small gesture, and one he'd actually requested, but a gesture nonetheless. Now he should reply to it, for no other reason than it was a kind thing to do.

  He walked into his living room and came to a halt before his portrait wall. He took down his favourite photo of Damien, the one from the park in August. They'd found a friendly cat, which had jumped up into the delighted boy's arms. Damien beamed out of the photo with infectious glee, his hair wild and his eyes sparkling. A moment of perfect childhood happiness captured forever.

  Eoin took it down, removed it from the frame and returned to the kitchen. He slipped the photo into the envelope Jenny had sent, crossed out his address and wrote in hers instead. Then he added a small note of his own.

  Thanks. And here's a new one I thought you might like to have.

  He stared at it for a moment, and then took it to his mail shelf in the hall. Tomorrow he'd take it to work and post it. And he felt good about that.

  Now, though, it was time to get moving as he needed to be at Rob's in twenty minutes. He changed his shirt, grabbed his project notes, and pulled on his shoes. He looked at the letter again as he passed through the hall and couldn't help feeling, despite all the hard things that had happened over the last year, a tiny glimmer of hope.

  Eoin met Milly on the way from the tunnelbana station. She gave him a hug and a sad smile. “So it ends like this.”

  “I know,” Eoin said. “So what do you think about it all?”

  “Well, the same as last night. It sucks, sure, but he needs a job, and that is a good job. I mean, I have my projects, so I won't be bored—there's always things that need to be wrapped in knitting. But how about you? I mean, this was half your idea, wasn't it?”

  “It was. But I have a job, so I can't preach at him. It's just, you know…”

  “Yeah,” Milly said. “I know, for sure.”

  Rob had one window that faced the street and tonight there were candles burning in it. A very un-Rob thing to do, Eoin thought, but then realised that it was probably Karen's idea as she was there for another couple of days.

  He tapped in the code at the outer door and they made their way up the stairs, walking with heavy steps as if on their way to an execution.

  “Hello?” Eoin pushed the door open but got no answer. He unlaced his boots and stepped into the kitchen where he froze.

  Rob was sitting there in silence. In front of him, on the table, were four bottles of champagne and four fat cigars. On his face was the biggest shit-eating grin Eoin had ever seen.

  “Um, Rob?” Eoin said delicately. “Have you gone mad?”

  Rob beamed at him and shook his head. “No sir. But come on, sit down. Karen, get in here, we're on!”

  Milly pushed her way into the tiny kitchen and squeezed into the chair next to Eoin's. Karen emerged from the other room, wearing striped yellow tights and black nail varnish, and beamed at them.

  “Look,” she said, “I didn't want to say anything, but since Rob got the job offer I had to hurry things along and—”

  “Cut the intro,” Rob said, “and just bloody tell them!”

  “Okay,” she said and took a breath. “Alright. It's like this. You remember that idea you said we could have, the one you didn't use?”

  “No,” Eoin said, still in a daze. “What idea?”

  “Oh you know! The one where you photograph your haircuts and upload them and get people to comment on them, you remember? Anyway, me and Preben had done a bit of work on that before you changed the plan, so Preben took that idea as a case study for his marketing course. I helped him to get a demo together, just to show off the idea. We decided we could do clothes as well as hair and—”

  “Karen, you're a nice girl,” Milly said. “And I love to hear you tell a story. But if you don't tell us the actual news, and right now, I'm afraid I will have to kill you.”

  Karen nudged her brother, who looked as if he'd detonate into bloody chunks if he had to be kept quiet any longer.

  “They fixed us a deal,” he blurted out. “A fucking deal!”

  Karen pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. “A five fucking figure deal. That's five figures in Euros, and the first figure sure as hell isn't a one!”

  Eoin grew light-headed and grabbed the edge of the table for support. “Rob, Karen, for fuck's sake, how much?”

  Rob grabbed Eoin's notebook, scribbled on the cover and slid it back across the table. Eoin read the number and blinked. He squinted and read it again. Beside him Milly squealed and threw her arms around him in a crushing hug.

  “Wait,” Eoin said. “Wait, wait … they are giving you this money? And which they? Who the hell is they, Rob?”

  “Sixty was their first offer,” Karen said. “But Preben's trying to push then harder. Plus maybe extend the time we get to develop it—”

  “Who?” Eoin shouted in desperation.

  “KR, the Danish clothes chain,” Karen said. “Preben had a contact there, and they're looking for interactive ways to show off their collections, with communities and forums and what have you. He presented it, and they just loved the idea. Suited them down to the ground.”

  “It's brilliant,” Milly said. She jumped to her feet, slipped by Eoin's chair and threw her arms around Karen. “It's bloody brilliant, girl!”

  They squealed for a while and Rob rolled his eyes at Eoin. “Shush down there. Come on, we have stuff to discuss.”

  Milly resumed her position at the table, still grinning like an idiot. Rob shoved a bottle of champagne at her.

  “Here, make yourself useful and open this.”

  Milly nodded and began stripping the foil. “So how's this site going to work?”

  “Well,” Karen said, “basically you present yourself and the clothes you like and why. Then other users can comment on what they think works on you or not. You'll be able to try lots of KR clothes virtually, tagged with style, colour, cut and so on. It's all on paper since we needed a good functional spec to show KR. But now there's databases to build and Flash to program—”

  “Wait,” Eoin said with a bewildered shake of his head. “Hang on. Just how long have you known about this?”

  “Preben was talking to them for a couple of months, and I didn't want to say anything until we were sure. But I called him right after the party and told him to fix a meeting with them today, and push the whole thing forward. I wanted to try and save Rob from a fate worse than death.”

  Eoin turned to Rob. “So you're not taking the job?”

  “Nope,” Rob said with a self-satisfied smirk. “Called Linus just now and told him to take his job and bloody well stuff it.”


  “He did in his arse,” Karen said. “I've never heard such grovelling and apologising from a grown man. Pathetic, it was.”

  Rob shrugged. “Well, no point makin' enemies, is there?”

  Milly shot the cork from the bottle and everybody gave a cheer.

  “Nice one, Milly,” Rob said. “Give that here.” He poured a sloppy serving of champagne into the glasses and each one was eagerly grabbed.

  “Sixty thousand Euros,” Eoin said, letting the number echo in his head. “There's a catch surely, I mean there's always a catch.”

  “Sure there is,” Karen said. “Lots of hard work. And if they like the working prototype there'll be a lot more actual development. We could be stuck doing this one project and nothing else for a very long time.”

  Eoin grinned. “That's not much of a catch. In fact that all sounds kind of great. And this money is just for the prototype?”

  “Yip,” Rob said. “To buy the rights to the idea and the work we've done so far, and get the prototype running. If it works the way they want, and it will, they'll pay us more to develop it properly into an actual service. I'm talking proper wages. And if this thing gets big, the work could last for years!”

  “Think of it!” Milly said, pouring more champagne for herself. “All the kids will be logging in to tell each other what they should be wearing. It'll be huge! Do you have a name for it yet?”

  “The demo was called Fasher, you know, for fashion—”

  “And not at all close to 'flasher'”, Rob pointed out.

  “Well the name's the least thing to worry about now,” Eoin said. “First off we'll need an office space, and a company name, and a logo—”

  “Plus we'll have to start paying Rob some wages,” Milly said, “since he'll be our full-time employee.”

  “Well what about you?” Eoin said. “You don't have a job either.”

  “Oh don't worry about me, I have my ways. I'll be fine.”

  “Okay,” Eoin said. “And that money sounds like a lot, but it won't last long. But it doesn’t stop us from taking other work, does it? There’ll be four of us, and—”