KEEP (Men of the ESRB Book 2)

by Shiloh, Hollis

  Kevin wanted me to learn about the company's work, and there were a lot of divisions to the company, so that took some time. I also needed to memorize all the CEOs of the various companies we worked with, so I'd recognize them on sight. Then there were the people inside the company I needed to know the names and faces of. All in all, it kept me busy.

  The apartment was so lavish and friendly and calming I had absolutely no desire to move out and live independently. It felt like a blessed balm right now. I might change my mind in the future, but there was something amazing about being able to roll out of bed, shower, take the elevator up one floor, and have the world's most lavish breakfast within minutes.

  I also took to swimming and working out in the gym when I had the time. I saw a few people on a regular basis, and nodded to them, but we didn't speak. I was glad enough for now to have a certain amount of privacy.

  I worked on memorizing all the names, faces, details, and positions. I got the finished suits, and looked pretty amazing in them, if I do say so myself. I got my laptop hooked up to the internet and found some great-looking gay clubs to check out when I had the time. I could certainly afford the cover charge now, even at the most expensive one.

  It was a big city, and there were probably lots of hot guys to have safe, near-anonymous sex with. And definitely not fall in love with. When I had the time, that would happen. I wouldn't bring them here, of course; we'd go to their place or a hotel.

  It felt good to have a plan. But I could foresee a future where I was very lonely indeed, if this was going to be my entire life. I hoped the money and luxuries would make up for it — and that I wouldn't do something stupid like falling in love again.

  If worse came to worse, it would be better to quit, travel a little, and either come back or do something else instead.

  I must admit, I was very curious about the clairvoyant on staff, but I never saw him. He was proving to be elusive. Erin said he was on a retreat and mustn't be disturbed, because this was a time of year when he was most likely to get visions.

  "Most of the time he has impressions and hunches. But I won't bore you with the details."

  I wasn't bored; it was her way of saying she couldn't spend all day gossiping with me when there was work to be done.

  Before long, it was time for my first big meeting. I'd sat in on a few internal get-togethers, and had reported my impressions and readings to Kevin afterwards. I took discreet notes, and no one noticed me. But this was getting serious now. Kevin and the others all took my abilities so seriously it freaked me out a little. It wasn't something I had to try to do; if anything, I sometimes wished I could shut off the awareness of what people were really feeling.

  Kevin was completely focused on the job. I sat two seats down from him, keeping my head down for the most part, not saying a word, but taking lots of notes. Fortunately, he'd prepared me well. I recognized the people at the table and more or less understood what was being discussed.

  It was a meeting about nanotechnology in cancer research. Decisions needed to be made about which research groups to fund. The company had poured billions into research already. I had an instinctive distrust of gigantic medical corporations, but Kevin at least was completely honest and wanted to do and be the best. He didn't want anyone in the company taking or giving bribes, twisting data, or doing any of the other myriad unscrupulous things that could tilt internal policy, results, politics, or public opinion. He was a truly honest man in his job.

  Fortunately, he was focused on work when he was with me, so I was spared impressions about his personal life. I didn't even know if he was straight, gay, bi, pan, etc. I just knew he wasn't interested in me that way, or Erin, or anybody I'd ever seen him with. He was all business, but nice about it. I really liked that and admired it about him.

  Also, it helped that he wasn't overbearing with me. He expected the best from me, but he wanted to make sure I had all the tools I could possibly need to achieve it. And he liked having me here; he didn't distrust or resent me. He wasn't afraid of me. If anything, he felt proud and accomplished for having an empath on the team, working for him. It made him fond of me.

  He'd fixed my tie for me before the meeting, and looked me in the eye and told me I'd be fine. "Just focus on what you're doing. If anyone asks who you are or why you're there, I'll field it." He searched my gaze once more, and then clasped my arms in his hands. "You'll do fine."

  I nodded, hoping it was true. Then I slipped into the meeting and went to my assigned chair while he went around to enter through another doorway and greet everyone by name.

  The emotions in the room were more or less under control, but this was important to everyone here, and many of them had deeply personal investments in the outcome. It was a testament to the working environment the company had fostered that there was no shouting, bullying, or playground behavior. People presented their data calmly, and questioned and countered one another like actual scientists trying to learn and understand. They even took turns speaking.

  I was impressed — almost floored. I'd never been around such highly important decisions that were handled so well. All the same, I had plenty of readings to share with Kevin afterwards. I took copious notes, and didn't speak once. When someone asked who I was Kevin brushed it aside quickly, implying I was as an aide learning the ropes. It seemed to satisfy them.

  After the meeting, which lasted five hours with breaks in between for the toilet, food, and stretching our legs, I was exhausted. Everyone else was, too. Kevin seemed unflagging in his energy, but I sensed it was a front. There had been a lot to take in, and the decisions that came out of the meeting would affect hundreds, even thousands, of jobs and the potential future of all kinds of medical possibilities.

  Which group had the best chance to make the breakthroughs? Which aspect of the work needed study the most, and money the most? Who was actually qualified to bring together all the technical aspects into a working whole, from biochemistry to nanotechnology, melding the pieces into one and making it useful? It required an amazing team, and a functional one, the ability to be steadfast but also pivot where needed and to question one's own work and data without letting ego get in the way.

  This wasn't the final meeting on the topic, and it wouldn't decide everything, but it was important. Clever science-y people making big decisions about research and cancer and tiny little robots — and money, don't forget money.

  "Do you need a break?" asked Kevin, without looking at me, after he'd seen the last of the scientists off.

  "I do, but I'd like to go over the basics with you now, while it's all fresh," I said.

  He nodded, pleased with my answer. We went back into the conference room, where I went over my notes and impressions and tried hard to be precise about the information I'd gotten from everyone. He listened at least as hard as he'd done during the meeting, with an intensity that would've been unnerving if I hadn't known him pretty well by now (professionally, at least).

  The more I told him, the more impressed he seemed. Although he did a good job of hiding it outwardly, simply asking searching and open-ended questions to get to the end of what I could offer, inwardly he was more and more impressed and astonished.

  "How accurate are these impressions generally for you?" he asked. I couldn't possibly be getting so much, he seemed sure. There had to be a great deal of conjecture. He could work with it, but he needed me to be careful and not overestimate and get carried away with myself.

  "I can't hear thoughts," I reminded him. Then I reminded him of my ranking and level of skill, and what that meant, going over old ground to steady him and help him keep his expectations in line with reality. "But when I get the strong impression that someone is lying to me, I'm certified as being accurate — more accurate than a lie detector. When I get the strong impression someone is hungry, you could always say I heard his stomach growl, or guessed because of the time, or something like that. Sure, body language is part of things — we all judge it all the time, and I'm not g
oing to say it never plays a role for me. But the fact is, you either believe me or you don't. If I say that my impression is that he was hungry, fidgety, and didn't want you to look at the numbers for last month, that's the truth."

  I looked at him, hard. It had been a long day. I was tired, hungry, and getting grouchy. Kevin's mouth twitched a little as he tried to hold back a smile. "I wasn't trying to question your credentials, Pete," he told me, far more mildly than I probably deserved. "It's important to understand as best I can how it works, what it means when you say something."

  I nodded tightly. He was right, but it still felt like I was being cross-examined. I guess I was still kind of sensitive.

  "Well, if you've gone over the major points, why don't you knock off for the day and we'll go over it again briefly tomorrow, in case I missed anything?"

  He was so pleasant, I felt like an ungrateful peasant resenting his questions. I headed off to eat something.

  I was so busy focusing on dishing myself something hearty that I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings.

  He wasn't, either. We nearly bumped into each other beside the dish of mushrooms and steak. "Sorry," I said, like an echo of his voice. He'd gotten there part of a second sooner.

  The short man blinked up at me with astonished eyes. He was smaller than I was in every sense — not just shorter, but built along slight, almost fragile lines. He looked like he had frail bones. He had unusual hair, almost white and extremely frizzy. With that and his big, nervous eyes, he looked like the kind of guy who'd have been bullied horribly as a kid, and was still likely to flinch around loud, bossy people.

  "Sorry," I said again, touching his arm very lightly. It's awful being the smallest person in the room and having people think they can intimidate you physically really easily. I wanted him to know that I wasn't trying to do that to him.

  But he didn't acknowledge the apology, or the touch, or anything. He was just staring at me, frozen, almost blank. I started to move past. "Er, I'm just gonna . . ." I indicated the buffet.

  He blinked and shook his head, getting himself out of whatever state he'd been in. He'd seemed to be almost entirely in shock — and a kind of very surprised recognition. He looked shaken, too pale underneath his light tan. He moved awkwardly after me down the buffet line. I cast him a quick look, not sure about this.

  "Sorry, sorry. I'm . . . I'm just surprised to meet you. I'm . . . I'm Ellery Smess. The clairvoyant. You're . . . Peter Durphy?"

  "Yes, that's right." I smiled now, not so uneasy with him in my personal space. The vibes I was getting off him were odd, very intense, but that no longer surprised me. Being a clairvoyant wasn't likely any easier than being an empath. We're all a little cracked, I think, by our 'gifts.'

  I noticed his hand was trembling; it was impossible to miss because the plate he was holding was shaking so badly. Still, he gave me a game, brave smile. His adrenaline level was through the roof, but he met my gaze steadily, and he meant the smile.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said carefully. "I'd love to get together and talk sometime."

  "Sure," I agreed. "I'd like that."

  I'd have suggested right now, but I didn't think either of us was up to it. He seemed about five minutes away from a panic attack if he couldn't calm down, and I was really exhausted from the meeting, from paying attention and sitting still for so long.

  All of my teachers would've had the last laugh, me finding myself in a job that required so much sitting still and listening. Yet somehow it hadn't really bothered me in the moment. The meeting had gotten long and intense and had worn me out, but I hadn't felt like fidgeting and screaming and jumping up and running out of the room even once. I'd been so focused on what I was doing, which was reading everybody, that I couldn't get bored out of my skull too quickly.

  There was no guarantee that the meetings would all go that well, of course.

  I grabbed some more food — steak, a potato — and headed to a tiny table in the corner to eat. I could feel the emotional vibes of the people in the room. It wasn't too crowded, and most of them, like me, were tired and hungry and wanted to relax.

  But Ellery Smess was still there, even if he was on the opposite side of the room, and his emotional aura was pinging all over the place. He was jazzed — and embarrassed, awkward, humiliated, yet also soaring with happiness. He'd probably been happy to meet the other ESRB graduate working here.

  He'd obviously heard about me and wanted to talk with me. I couldn't say I minded that; I was curious about him, too. He seemed like a quirky kind of guy, a little weird and smaller than I was. I would never feel like a shortass around him. Which is not at all a good reason to cultivate a friendship.

  But all the same, I wouldn't mind getting to know him better.

  #

  It was two days more before I saw Ellery again.

  Someone knocked tentatively at my door, and when I opened it, there he was.

  He'd done himself up a bit. My brows rose. He was wearing a suit that was clearly as expensive as the ones Kevin had had made for me, and just as good-looking. The suit fit his trim lines perfectly, making him look slim and classy instead of awkward and scrawny.

  He'd done something with his hair so that it lay neatly flat instead of frizzing everywhere. But his eyes were the same, big and blue and nervous, and he was still small — he'd never be the biggest guy in a room, unless he was the only adult. Maybe even then, depending on how old the kids were. Some kids get big pretty quickly, a reality I'd always despised because I hadn't.

  "Um, come in," I said. "Unless you'd like to take a walk or something?"

  He glanced past me into my rooms, and a faint tinge of color touched his pale cheeks. He was blushing. Cute.

  "I wasn't propositioning you," I said stiffly.

  "Er, no." He flushed pinker, feeling deeply embarrassed.

  I took pity on the guy. "Okay, let's go for a walk, maybe sit somewhere and talk, or have a bite to eat. That okay with you?"

  He nodded, but he couldn't seem to get any more words out. With one hand he twisted the cloth of his pants, a very nervous, pinched gesture. Inside, he was feeling almost sick with tension and anxiety. Poor guy.

  No wonder they'd been so thrilled that I could make simple decisions, if they were used to dealing with his levels of nervousness. I slid my shoes on and walked out to join him, giving him a nice smile, or trying to. I felt like he was probably going to throw up on his nice, shiny shoes if he couldn't calm down a little.

  "You okay? You need something?" I asked, touching his elbow lightly. I always seemed to be touching him. I hoped it didn't freak him out.

  He shook his head quickly, although his face still had that washed-out look to it, and he was clearly trying to find a spot between hyperventilating and holding his breath — with difficulty. He honestly looked like he was going to be sick.

  We walked a few paces, me matching his gait so he didn't have to rush to keep up with me. I snuck glances at him. He was trying so hard to be brave. But —

  Uh-oh. I caught his arm and steered him towards a little window seat in front of an expansive window looking out over the city. "Here. Sit down. Head between your knees," I instructed, pushing him gently down.

  "I'm sorry," he gasped, trying to catch his breath and fight back the churning weakness. I kept a hand on his back and patted and rubbed in sturdy reassurance.

  "It's all right. You're okay," I told him. He seemed so little and forlorn hunching there, a picture of misery. Embarrassment rolled off him, the deep, keening kind of embarrassment that follows you years into the future, keeping you awake at night in squirming shame. "Do you have some kind of medication? Is there something I can do?" I squeezed the back of his neck in what I hoped was a reassuring way.

  "No, I, er, I'm sorry. I'd better . . . I suppose . . ." He was gasping again, as if he couldn't keep oxygen in his lungs. He gave a little half laugh that sounded close to tears. "I'm so sorry. Maybe another day . . ."

  "Ye
ah, of course." I was really worried about him by this point. "Can I walk you to your room?" The last thing I wanted was him conking out and hitting his head on the floor with no one around. I mean, he had enough to deal with, clearly. Brain damage should not be added to the mix.

  He gave a brittle little laugh. "Sure."

  He got himself more or less under control after a few minutes, although passing people cast him quick looks. I wasn't sure what I should be doing, so I just sat with him. I couldn't really think of much to say; I didn't know him well enough to know what might encourage him or take his mind off this. My only choice was to be silent or stick to "How 'bout them Yankees?" or the weather. I chose silence. I didn't actually know how the Yankees were doing, or care. I hadn't even been out in the weather recently.

  When he could get up, I rose with him, standing unobtrusively close and holding on to his arm gently. He moved slowly but seemed steadier now. He shot me a quick, apologetic smile, although it was hard for him to make himself meet my eyes. I walked him to his room, which was on the same floor, not far away at all.

  He pressed his hand against the fingerprint security scanner and his door opened. He went in. I stood there, leaning in the doorway. His room was laid out like mine, but decorated along different lines. It was all whites and blues that made it feel bigger, spacious and cool like a beach home.

  The windows had gauzy curtains; the bed had something that looked like mosquito netting but prettier around it. The tiles on the kitchenette floor were white, and some of them had blue anchors painted on them.

  The couch had a striped blue-and-white summery look to it, with a little painting of a ship behind it on the wall. There was a basket of seashells on the coffee table, and the tea towels were decorated with seagulls along the edges. A small ceiling fan added to the relaxed atmosphere. It was cozy, cute, and just shy of kitschy.