This was where Kyle agreed with Ava. He should explain that he had to work. This was his cue to hurry through the rest of the tour and make the offer for them to come back another time. Or never. This was where he regained his focus and concentrated on his priorities.
That chalkboard wall trapped Kyle’s gaze as if reflecting some void deep inside of himself. But Kyle liked his life. “It’s Saturday, you can play as much and as long as you want.”
“Seriously?” Ben asked.
Ava kept her hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if holding him in place, and eyed Kyle. “One hour.”
He should accept her terms. One hour was already overstaying their welcome. He held her green gaze, locked on as if they’d entered some staring contest where the winner received more than simple bragging rights. “As it happens, my afternoon is wide-open.”
Ava never flinched. “One hour should be more than enough time.”
Challenge accepted. He’d make sure one hour wasn’t long enough. Kyle pointed to the wall again and grinned at Ben. “I feel I should warn you that I don’t lose easily, and I intend to have my name up there.”
Ben shrugged one shoulder as if unconcerned with Kyle’s skills. “I like to win, too.”
“I can’t decide where we should start.” Dan’s laughter mixed with Ben’s as the pair ventured around the room.
The cheerful sound seeped inside Kyle as if trying to fill that void. He’d once shared that same joy with his sisters, playing Ping-Pong in their parents’ basement that they’d converted into a teenager’s hideaway. Kyle looked at Ava. “We can continue the tour or play a round of pool.”
She opted for the tour, but her gaze landed on the Skee-Ball lanes and stuck as they passed.
Kyle guided Ava into the development lab. The state-of-the-art room had multiple desktops, a dry-erase-board wall and tinted glass windows that overlooked the city. More hand-held games and toys littered the entire space. Multicolored puzzle balls and cubes sat among the various plastic building blocks scattered across the empty worktable. Three-dimensional printed items, ranging from a bottle opener to the first pieces of a chess game, stood sentry around the room. Each piece a reminder of his continued unoriginality. Middle school kids printed more complicated designs on their 3-D printers.
“You’re running a contest?” Ava pointed at the contest time line Kyle had written in colored markers on the dry-erase board.
“I put it together this week with my legal team, and we issued a press statement yesterday morning.” Kyle eyed the list on the dry-erase board. Acting as tour guide to Ava accomplished nothing productive and only reminded him of that awkward boy he’d long since outgrown. “I need to thank Ben for the idea.”
“Ben?” Ava stood beside the sleek metal table and picked up the piggy bank he’d used as a paperweight for the stack of contest flyers.
“I got the idea when Ben talked about that invention game you guys play.” Guilt pricked into his skin like a rough tag in his shirt collar. He’d done nothing wrong. He had nothing to confess.
He’d launched a contest. Planned to give the winner money. He’d even written in the rules that the winner’s idea became the property of his company once they accepted the cash payout. He’d spent hours with his legal team. Even required the entrants to click an “I accept the terms and conditions agreement” box to enter the contest. That wasn’t guilt scratching at him; it was panic. He had to find judges and mentors immediately.
Ava picked up a contest flyer and searched the paper as if searching for understanding. “What’s behind the contest?”
His chance at success. Albeit from the mind of someone else. Still, the winner would get money and Kyle would fulfill his contract. Everyone won. That scratch dug deeper into his neck like a razor pressed at the wrong angle. “It’s a way to give back. People have great ideas, but no platform to build them.”
“You’ll supply the platform.” Ava smiled, sincere and wide. Surprise drifted through her voice as if she’d doubted his altruistic streak. “That’s really impressive.”
Somehow her smile only sharpened that razor against his skin. He stepped forward and grabbed the flyer.
Ava held on to the paper. “Afraid I might enter?”
Kyle didn’t want to encourage her. After all, playing a game about invention ideas in the car was much different than coming up with a viable idea that could potentially change lives. Ava was certainly a pleasure to be around, but she wasn’t an inventor. Nor was she his conscience. “The contest is open to anyone with an idea.”
Ava released the paper. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kyle placed the flyer and his guilt back under the piggy bank paperweight.
“Your contest can possibly change someone’s life,” she said.
Or return his life to how it should be: with his family home, where he needed them. “I’m not sure it’s life-changing money.”
“Trust me. It is.” Ava’s earnest tone drew Kyle’s focus. “You’re going to change someone’s world.”
He only wanted to bring back his old world, where he’d always belonged—the one he’d relied on before Papa Quinn’s death. Before his family had splintered and had fled in different directions. Without a new idea, the contest was his only chance. “The contest has to be a success first.”
“It has your name and you’re already a success,” Ava said. “How could it fail?”
Kyle concentrated on her wide smile, refusing to list all the ways his plan might fail. Or the ways he might fail. If only her smile was enough to lessen the unease building inside him. He grabbed a puzzle cube from the table to keep his hands busy. But no matter how many turns he made on the cube, he couldn’t quite organize his guilt back under that pile of flyers. Or rearrange his unease.
He rushed out of the design room. In his haste to retreat, he led Ava into his living quarters. His personal space. Not the place he should’ve taken her. The apartment area was too small. Too compact. She was too close.
He couldn’t avoid her gaze that was too penetrating, as if she could read his secrets. She was supposed to have stopped at the game room. Been enthralled by the glitz and the glamor of the theater room. Been in awe of the state-of-the-art development lab.
She wasn’t supposed to look any deeper at Kyle.
He wasn’t supposed to let her.
He feared if she looked too close, she might glimpse the fraud inside him. For some unknown reason, he didn’t want her to see him that way.
“There’s no separation between work and home.” Ava opened his college-dorm-style refrigerator that had leftover pizza and an assortment of Greek-style yogurt inside. She grinned at him over the door, a tease in her voice. “Don’t cook much?”
“One of the perks of selling the earbud. I got to add a personal chef to the payroll.” He kept his tone easygoing but touched his medical-alert bracelet.
Her gaze tracked to his wrist. “What’s the bracelet for?”
He stiffened, but kept his voice mild and indifferent. As if his condition was no more life-threatening than a hangnail. In the summer before the sixth grade, he’d wanted nothing more than to fit in with the other boys. He’d boasted about his allergy and embellished his stories about ambulance rides to sound cooler than they ever were. Troy Simmons—one of the boys Kyle had wanted desperately to call a friend—decided to test Kyle’s claims and hide a nut in Kyle’s lunch. That single nut had sent Kyle on another ambulance ride. His three-day hospital stay had taught him a life lesson in trust. His family became the only ones he’d ever fully trust. He’d returned to school, confident that it was easier to be alone with his secrets than to be betrayed by so-called friends. “Nut allergy.”
“How severe is it?” she asked.
“Enough that I need to wear this.” And the personal chef had been hired to ensure his employees didn’t bring food into the buildi
ng that would cause a reaction that sent him to the hospital. He wasn’t about to confess that weakness to Ava. She was a stranger. A temporary guest in his building.
In middle school, he’d stopped discussing his food allergies with people outside of his family. Now, even though his personal staff had moved on to other jobs, his chef still delivered meals twice a week. He’d grown tired of the five things he knew how to cook that wouldn’t make him reach for his EpiPen and dial 9-1-1.
“You don’t talk about it much.” She shut the refrigerator door and watched him. “At least from what I read.”
“You looked me up?” He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or worried.
“I wasn’t bringing Ben into a stranger’s house.” Her voice was confident and sure. Her stance, with her hands on her hips, was unapologetic.
“I’d be even more cautious after reading anything about me on the internet.” The news reporters and gossip columnists were just another reason he kept to himself.
“You don’t like to talk about yourself, do you?”
“I like to keep my private life private.”
“But you’re a local celebrity and the public wants to know.” Ava leaned against the counter as if in no rush to continue the tour. “I imagine everyone wants to spill your secrets.”
Good thing he didn’t have too many. And none that he’d risk sharing with another person. He eyed Ava. No makeup concealed the freckles across her nose. No designer labels peeked out on her yoga pants and oversize sweatshirt. As if she really wore those clothes to work out in. She’d dressed for herself and her own comfort, not to impress. Such a refreshing change, yet everyone had an agenda.
What was Ava’s? Was she looking for a fast track to her fifteen minutes of fame? Looking for an easy payout with a story to sell? He hoped she was. That was more than enough for him to escort her out of his suite and sever his interest in her. “It’s a good thing that I don’t have any secrets, then.”
“Well, you’ve got one,” she challenged.
Alarms blared through him. He knew she’d been too perfect. “What’s that?”
“I never read a quote or story about you from your private chef.”
“She’s discreet.” He paid Haley Waters, his chef, very well for that discretion.
She nodded, as if content with his answer. Content not to press for more. “We remodeled our kitchen, but it might’ve been wiser to invest in a personal chef.”
Like his chef, Haley? Did Ava have secrets? Kyle should walk her back to her friends. Not linger in his kitchen as if he wanted to get to know her better. As if he wanted to know her. Yet he should discover what she wanted from him. “You don’t like to cook, either?”
“It’s not the cooking. It’s the shopping.” Ava grimaced. “Although now I get our groceries delivered.”
Our. Kyle scanned her fingers for a ring. Even without a ring, she could be involved with someone. That thought knocked around inside his gut like the break of the balls on the pool table. Definitely not his business. Those were only hunger pangs making his stomach clench. Nothing food wouldn’t quiet. Before he could shove a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth, he asked, “You cook for more than yourself?”
He had to stop talking or she’d question his angle. As if he had one.
“My mom and I live together.” She walked out of the kitchen, toward the game room, as if she’d revealed more than enough.
She wanted to keep her private life private, too. That put them on common ground. And intensified his desire to learn what else they might have in common. Why couldn’t she have been like the women he’d met who were only interested in what his money could do for them? Why did she have to be interesting? And standoffish, as if she didn’t trust him with her secrets.
She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. “We should get going.”
He’d asked one personal question and she wanted to leave. “Play one game of Skee-Ball. It’ll be hard to talk while you’re trying to beat me.”
Her gaze shifted toward the lanes. Temptation was there in her half grin.
“Come on, Ava,” Dan urged. “I talked to my dad. Your mom is good, and they already planned dinner without us.”
“One game.” Ava stepped up to the first lane.
Kyle pressed Play on the second lane. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He already knew what he got: a game room that wasn’t empty or silent. He’d enjoy the moment. Then get back to work. What harm was there in one round?
One game turned into two. Then three. The moment extended into the evening. Then through dinner. The foursome moved together from one section to another. Challenges issued. Teams made and disbanded. Everyone proved to be poor losers and even worse winners. Between the boasting and bragging, more challenges were tossed out. Laughter threaded through every minute: good-natured and contagious.
Finally, Dan called a halt. Ben had exceeded his yawn limit and bedtime beckoned.
One last debate followed.
Ava grabbed the chalk and walked to the wall. “I claim the top spot.”
“For Skee-Ball only,” Dan argued. Both Ben and Kyle nodded, drawing out her frown.
“Fine.” She filled up the wall with a swirl of blue chalk. “Here are the final standings.”
Kyle earned: Expert Ping-Pong Player.
Ben: Highest Score 11 and under.
Dan: Best Off-Road Driver.
Ava: High Score Skee-Ball.
Kyle walked the trio out and returned to the suite. Time to work. His reprieve had ended much like all good times had to. His gaze stuck on the chalkboard wall. Ava had added a smiley face after her name: bold and challenging, like her.
He skipped turning off the lights and instead pressed the start button on the Skee-Ball lane.
One more game wasn’t a big deal. It meant nothing. It wasn’t as if he wanted to extend the moment. As if he couldn’t accept the evening had ended.
As if he wasn’t ready for the silence of being alone. He preferred the quiet.
He just wanted to play one more game. Nothing wrong with that.
CHAPTER FOUR
KYLE FINISHED A direct deposit into Penny’s Place bank account to cover the shelter’s expenses for the month, submitted Callie’s tuition payment early and logged out of his banking website. His ringing cell phone disrupted the silence that had blanketed the suite the past week. The heavy quiet draped like sheets over the furniture of an abandoned house.
Or perhaps the real damage had come from Ava, Dan and Ben last weekend. Their laughter no longer lingered and that amplified the stillness surrounding him. He’d never have noticed if he hadn’t opened the door that day. Even more disturbing was that he wanted to invite them back. He needed an idea, though, not friends.
He pressed Answer on the phone screen.
Over the speakerphone, the brusque voice of Terri Stanton, VP of Tech Realized, Inc., disrupted the still, sterile air in the development lab. “Kyle, you can help as many amateur inventors as you want with your contest, as long as you submit your proposal as outlined in the contract you signed.”
“You’ll have a proposal by the due date.” Kyle double-checked the time line on the dry-erase board. The contest ended two days before his idea was due. Late last night, he’d added the last judge to the panel. The official contest open house happened tomorrow afternoon. Everything was proceeding as planned.
Everything but creating his own original idea. That wasn’t proceeding at all.
He’d spent the entire week inside the lab. The result: a 3-D printed chess game board, complete with all the individual chess pieces. And a growing list of ideas he’d thought were original until a quick search on the patent website proved him wrong. It seemed everyone had gotten to his ideas first.
The contest was quickly becoming his plan A.
“Hey, I like an altruistic streak as much as the next person,” Terri added. The graciousness in her voice was cut by the bluntness in her tone. “Just not at the expense of your commitments.”
“And the bottom line,” Kyle said before he could shut his mouth.
There was a pause in the air over the speakerphone. Then Terri cleared her throat as if strengthening the firmness in her voice. “We’ve all enjoyed the Medi-Spy profits, even you, Kyle. You can’t deny it. That doesn’t make us bad people.”
No, bad people stole others’ ideas and passed them off as their own. Kyle ran his hands through his hair. He wasn’t really stealing an idea. Every part of the contest had been vetted and approved by his legal team at Thornton, Davies and Associates. Every contestant had to sign an agreement and a waiver. No one was being duped. No one was being forced to submit an entry.
Besides, he wasn’t taking every idea. Only the winner’s. The winner received a monetary prize. A quite nice reward. Maybe if he increased the payout, he’d decrease his guilt.
This was for his family, after all. That didn’t make him a bad guy. A bad guy wanted to line his own pockets. “These inventions have to be about more than money.”
“Do they?” Terri laughed as if his innocence amused her. “Money opens doors.”
And was supposed to solve any problem, wasn’t it? “It really is all about the money.”
“It’s about making more money. With your new invention.” Terri’s voice increased, as if she picked up the phone and spoke directly into the receiver to get her point across. “Then we can do whatever we want. Even sit around and philosophize about the dangers of money if we choose to.”
Several clunks echoed down the hallway, followed by the clatter of bells. Kyle was supposed to be alone. Like he wanted. Like he chose to be. “I’ll have my proposal to you on time, Terri. I need to get to a meeting.”
“Make it a profitable one. I promise you won’t regret it.” Terri laughed and clicked off.
Kyle stood up, stuffed his phone into the pocket of his jeans and walked into his inspiration area. A curly-haired petite woman in four-inch red heels and a charcoal-gray business suit picked a ball out of the Skee-Ball queue. One underhand toss and the ball flipped up the ramp, landing in the forty-point circle. The points flashed in red lights across the digital screen on the top.
Ava's Prize Page 4