by Mary Smith
Wait, yes, I can.
I get up and go to the shower. I take the coldest one I possibly can and then lay down in bed. Even though I close my eyes a hundred times, I toss and turn—I can’t sleep.
The bottle is right there on the table.
In the other room.
It’s not about proving it to anyone because I have nothing to prove. However, I want to prove to Erin that I can handle this. I know I can handle this.
Getting out of bed, I slip into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, rush to the living room, pick up the bottle and go across the hall, banging on her door until she opens it.
“Yes,” she answers in an overly loving tone.
“Here. I don’t need your little bottle to test me. I’m well aware of what I can handle, and I don’t need this.” I force it into her hand. “Thanks for your help.”
“Wow.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m so shocked you brought it back to me. So, glad you were able to hang in there.”
It’s clear by her tone she’s being sarcastic. “I don’t need this shit, Erin.”
“Then get your ass some help before I find you dead in your apartment someday.” She slams the door in my face.
My eyes are fixed on her door for a full minute before I go back into my place. I manage to find a bottle I had stashed in my closet so she wouldn’t find it since she likes to throw away my things. I chug down the alcohol.
Chapter Four
Erin
“I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet you face to face.” I’m having difficulty containing my enthusiasm. Across from me sat the one person I looked up to, despite the fact we’re the same age. I’d love to have her talent and bank account.
“It’s nice to meet you as well.” Victoria Denton smiles, but it’s clear to see she’s uncomfortable with the attention.
“I’m sorry.” I quickly apologize. “I’ll try to dial it back. It’s just the fact you’re you, and no one has hardly even seen you before.” My heart is racing.
“I’m aware.” She giggles, tucking a piece of her dark brown hair behind her ear. Her striking blue eyes are bright. “Thanks for meeting me here and signing the non-disclosure agreement.”
“Hey, I’ll sign whatever you want, Shoe Lady.” I laugh nervously at my horrible joke. “I’m sure you’re tired of people calling you that?” I try to figure out something else to talk about. “This is my favorite coffee shop.”
“The Latte Bean is mine as well.” She sips her iced coffee. “I don’t mind being called the Shoe Lady since I am her, but I’d like for you to call me Victoria.”
I nod. “Again, I’m sorry. I’m just a huge fan of your work and still surprised you reached out to me. I’m certain there are a million other people you could have contacted to help you with this coding.”
Victoria stares at her hands with her fingers laced together. I sip my caramel latte trying to remember to be a professional. The female across from me created the most lucrative phone app ever. The Shoes and More. She is known as the Shoe Lady because her app has helped every person who has used it. The concept is ingenious. If I saw a pair of shoes, or jacket, or any piece of clothing, I’d snap a photo and it would instantly tell me who made, where it could be purchased, and if there was a cheaper brand of it. Sounds silly? This app was picked up by every major retailer in the US and Canada. Shortly after, it went international and then major designers jumped on board. Victoria sold it to several investors for a cool billion dollars.
Everyone, who is anyone, knows her story. She was born and raised in Manchester, New Hampshire before heading off to MIT. It was there she created the idea and worked on the app her entire college career.
However, she’s different than other billionaires. She’s not spotted often in the public. In fact, I wasn’t even sure what she looked like when I walked into The Latte Bean since she does stay far out of the public eye. It’s also why I wasn’t shocked I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement. I can’t talk to anyone else about our business deal, take pictures of her, or speak of her in an outside setting.
“I have others I could have contacted, but I like keeping things local. If you know what I mean.” She blushes. “I try to help out others in New Hampshire.”
“Well, I appreciate it. Um, do we need to go somewhere more private?” I glance around the busy coffee shop.
She shakes her head. “I figured out a long time ago, it’s the busiest places where people pay the least amount of attention.”
I nod, unsure of her logic, but she’s the boss and paying me well. “Am I allowed to take notes because I have to write down stuff.”
“That’s fine.” She smiles at me, and I feel a bit more relaxed.
“Great.” I pull out a notepad and pen.
“I still write down everything as well.” Just then she pulls out a notebook and pen also. “I know everyone likes putting everything on their phones and tablets, but—”
“No one can hack paper.” I finish her sentence.
“Exactly.” She giggles. “So, here is my idea.”
She turns the book around to me, and I feel like this is what people experience when they see the Mona Lisa or maybe Chris Hemsworth in public.
It’s a masterpiece.
“Wow.” I breathe out. “This is brilliant.”
“And simplistic.” She completes my inner thoughts. “I’m surprised no one has thought of it before. Which is why I want to get it out as fast as possible. I have a possible buyer.”
“Already?” I’m shocked because I would think they would want to see a finished app with alpha and beta tests completed before purchasing it.
“I have this for you as well.” She hands me a thick stack of papers. “It’s a contract. Since you’re going to be helping me with this, I’d like to list you as more than an assistant.”
“Oh.” I’m frozen in the seat. I breeze through the numerous pages and realize she’s listed me as a co-developer and I would receive a portion from the sale of the app.
“I feel as if I can trust you.”
Her words bring me out of the trance I’m in. “You don’t know me.” I reason with her. “We just met and only exchanged a few emails.”
She stares for a second or two before stating. “I’m a good judge of character.”
I’m still stunned. This could lead to millions…several millions of dollars for me.
“You’ll need to have your attorney look over the contract.”
I nod. It’s an automatic movement because I’m not sure if I’m really even thinking at the moment. “I don’t have an attorney.” I’m twenty-four. Do twenty-four-year-olds have attorneys on speed dial? Well, certainly Victoria does.
“Would you rather not talk about this until you’ve contacted someone?” She almost sounds disappointed.
I snap out of my foggy haze. “What? No. I’ll deal with it later. Let’s get some work done.”
Victoria has created a dating app. To acquire more matches, you have to answer puzzle questions and then each level you meet more matches. The problem she was having was the generation of questions and puzzles. Each had to be more complex than the next. I have had some experience with puzzles and games since I’ve coded them before with other clients. Even though she’s creating something complex, it just needs some tweaking.
“How long do you think?” she asks after her third cup of iced coffee. I have moved to decaf because my hands were beginning to shake.
“Maybe a month.” I hate to give her such a long timeline, but this is something I can’t do overnight.
“Think if I help we can knock it out in a couple of weeks? Twenty days?”
“It’ll be a lot of all-nighters.” I warn her.
“I’m used to those.”
“Me too.” I smirk, especially this past week. I have been avoiding Bas, and it’s killing me.
“Is working at your home a problem?”
“Oh.” I’m taken aback by her question. “No, I mean, it’s a small apar
tment, but if you don’t mind that, then sure my place is fine.”
Victoria Denton in my apartment? I better do some deep cleaning.
My eyes are burning as I continue to stare at my computer screen. It’s been almost forty-eight hours since my meeting with Victoria. I had managed to find an attorney, who didn’t charge me an arm and leg to look over the contract. I signed it and sent it to Victoria. Since then, I’ve only worked on her app.
Well…our app.
Knock. Knock.
I sigh. It has to be Bas. This is the longest we’ve not talked to each other since…never.
“Yes, Bas…oh.” I stop when I realize it’s not Bas but one of his brothers. “Bax?”
“No.” The Bas lookalike shakes his head. His long brown hair shakes in waves with his movement. “I’m Beck.” He holds out his hand. “We met before.”
“I remember. Sorry, I didn’t remember which one you were.” I shake his hand.
“It’s okay. Happens a lot.”
“What can I help you with?”
He thumbs behind him to Bas’ door. “You seen him?”
“Not for a week or so. Have you?”
“We’re not close, but I want to talk to him.” He looks at his door and back at me. “You wouldn’t happen to have a key, would you?”
“Um.” I have Bas’ key, but I know he likes his privacy. “I do, but he wouldn’t appreciate me letting you into his apartment without him being there or giving me permission.”
“You’re right and I’m not asking to go in there but could you do something for me.”
“I can try.” I’m unsure what he’s going to ask, and I don’t want to commit to anything.
“He always forgets to eat.” He bends down and I notice several grocery bags. “Would you make sure he gets these? Don’t tell him they’re from me?”
“Of course.” I take the bags. “I’ll take them over there while he’s at practice.”
“Thank you. Have a good day.” He leaves me standing there with the food.
After grabbing the key, I head over to Bas’ place. I hold my breath because I’m sure he’s not kept up with cleaning the apartment, but surprisingly it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I go over to the fridge and load everything Beck bought into it. I check around the place and make sure there isn’t anything else that needs to be done. I know I shouldn’t do it. I need to leave before I’m sucked back up into his world.
I’m not fast enough…
“What are you doing?”
I jump and turn to Bas’ deep English voice. “Nothing.” Lame response, Erin.
“Are you snooping?”
“What? No!” I exclaim, even though I am sort of snooping.
“Whatever.” He slams his door and drops his backpack with a loud thud.
“How are you?” Such a dumb question!
“Outstanding.” He opens his fridge and stares at it. “Stop buying me food. I can take care of myself.”
“I didn’t buy it.” I tell him honestly.
He stops for a brief second and then goes for the bottle of vodka on the side of the door. I notice he has several bottles. I’m not shocked. “You can leave now.”
“Wow, throwing me out after just two minutes together in the same room. I didn’t know you were such a gentleman.” I sneer at him while heading toward the door.
“Wait.” He reaches for my arm. “I’m sorry.”
Right then and there you could have knocked me over with a feather. “Huh?” Did Bas Zorn just apologize to me?
“It’s been a long day. Thank you for the food.”
“You’re welcome.” I state. “I have to work. Be sure to eat something.” I tell him before leaving his place and going back to mine. I do have to work, and I know I don’t have time to make him anything for supper.
I’m sitting in front of my computer when I hear another knock on my door. I sigh, knowing this time it has to be Bas, but again I’m wrong.
“Hey, Victoria.” I take a mental note to get on the building manager to get the security door fixed.
She comes in with a smile. “Hi. I hope it’s okay, but I told my sisters I would be here. They may stop by.”
“Sure.” She can do whatever she wants. I’m making a lot of money on this deal so right now, so yes, she can do anything. “Something to drink?”
“Water would be great.”
I go and grab a bottle of water for her and watch her for a second as she inspects my computer setup.
“This is amazing.” She ahs and ohs over my desk. “No wonder you’re so good.”
I actually blush. “No, I’m not that good.”
She turns to face me. “Trust me, you are.”
I hand her the bottle. “Ready to start working?” I change the subject hoping she doesn’t praise me anymore. I’m not someone who handles compliments easily. They weren’t thrown about when I was growing up.
“Yes.” She opens her notebook as I grab mine off the desk.
For the next hour, we go over, in more detail, the design of the app and I showed her some mock-ups I created.
“Hhmm…” She studies each mock-up. “I think one would be more user-friendly.” She points to one on the left. “But I like the brightness of this one.”
“I see what you mean. I can combine the two.”
“And we’ll need to pick an eye-catching font.” She hums over the pages again. “What about this one?” She picks up a different page.
“I like it.” I continue making notes as she continues to talk. I jump over to my computer and tinker with the mock-ups for a visual.
Victoria looks over my shoulder. “Yep, that’s it. That’s what I pictured.”
I beam at the screen. “It does look better.” There is no way to put into words how I feel right now. Creating something from nothing out of thin air and for the world to see.
Knock. Knock.
“Those are my sisters,” Victoria says. “They’re good people, I promise.”
I giggle. “I believe you.” I stand up and go to open the door.
On the other side of the door are two females around my and Victoria’s age and none of them look like sisters.
“Erin, this is my sister Blanche Potts.” Victoria points to the taller of the two. She had long blonde hair with pale green eyes.
“Nice to meet you.” Blanche holds out her hand and I shake it.
“She works in PR with the Manchester Cats.” Victoria volunteers. “And this is Paityn Rice, our youngest sister.” She points to the shorter female.
“Hello.” She smiles. Her platinum blonde hair is obviously dyed but suits her perfectly with the pixie cut. Her sea blue eyes are bright.
“Paityn is a chef,” Victoria says proudly.
“I love to cook as well.” I sound like some idiot. She’s a chef, a trained chef. I just like to look on Pinterest and follow directions.
“Awesome.” Paityn smiles. “I brought snacks.” She holds up a canvas tote bag.
“Please let there be chocolate in there.” Victoria snatches the bag and heads to the couch.
“Maybe it’s healthy snacks.” Paityn makes her way inside followed by Blanche.
“How’s work going?” Blanche asks sitting next to Victoria while looking over her shoulder into the bag.
“Erin is a genius and saved me a lot of time.” She brags about me without looking up from the bag.
“She’s being kind.” I counter and rush to the kitchen and grab some water for everyone.
Victoria goes on and on about what we accomplished today, and I quickly figure there isn’t a non-disclosure agreement between them. I still can’t figure out why none of them look alike. Not even close.
“We’re not real sisters.” Paityn announces as if she’s reading my mind. “We’re foster sisters.”
“Oh.” I suddenly feel horrible for staring. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Victoria jumps up and hands me a bag of what looks like trail mi
x. “Happens all the time.” She gives me an encouraging smile.
“I knew you were in foster care based on your interviews,” I say like a stalker.
“I don’t like to talk about it, but it’s one thing I can’t hide from the internet.” She tells me, sitting back down.
“Erin.” Paityn pulls my attention to her. “This is a nice setup.” She waves her hand around my apartment.
“Thanks. I’ve been here for a few years.” I don’t want to talk about me. “Blanche, what’s it like working in PR for the Cats? Have you been doing it long?”
“It’s great. I’ve always been a huge baseball fan and this job is a dream. I just wasn’t prepared for all the long hours and the asshole boss.” She explains honestly. “But I love it. I really do.”
“What do you like to cook?” Paityn asks me.
“Oh, I’m not that good of a cook. I just try to put things together here and there.” I can feel my cheeks turn red. They all sound so accomplished. Not that I’m ashamed of what I’ve done, but it seems like peanuts to them.
We talk briefly about nothing in particular and then Victoria says she’s ready to head home. She tells me she’ll call me tomorrow to set up another time to come over and work on the app. I’m excited to see what else we can create. After I say goodbye to the girls, I shut the door and clean up. I sit down at my computer and work on some more coding when I hear a loud thud.
I sigh because I know the sound. I quickly get up and open my door. There is Bas, leaning against his door. I watch him slowly slide down.
“What are you doing?” I bend down to him.
“I was coming over to apologize.” He slurs.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Come on, let’s get you back into your apartment.” I can’t let him pass out on the hallway floor. I use all my strength to get him up on his feet and back into his apartment. Surprisingly, the apartment is still—fairly—clean, but the smell is beginning to grow worse. The stale vodka with a hint of vomit. I manage to get him on his bed and pull off his shoes.
“Stay with me.” He begs.
“Not tonight.”
“Please.” He absently reaches for me. “Please, I’m sorry.”