by Noga Porat
“Yeah, he gave me the short version and said he’d expand on it in our next meeting. He said he hoped he’d have more to report by then,” said Roseword. “How is work going?”
“It is fine, progressing,” I answered, reminding myself of something that I realized I’d rather forget.
“Would you mind if I took her away for a few minutes?” he asked the guy who had been my dance partner. We walked away from the dance floor, after he’d excused himself from the woman with whom he was dancing, and sat down at one of the tables.
“So, really, what are you doing here? Don’t you have a boyfriend waiting at home?”
“Don’t you have a wife waiting at home?” I asked, being a little rude.
“I guess we never actually got into the details of our private lives, huh?”
“Not really,” I said. “But I did see your son when we were over at your house.”
“If you must know,” he said, “I’m divorced. But we do have one child. He’s ten.”
“Well, since we’re sharing, I’m single, no kids. Some chicks running around here and there.”
“Interesting,” he said. “Young, talented person like you? I’d think you would have someone.”
I tried not to blush, and that only made me blush harder.
“Actually, I do have someone whom I’m kind of seeing on a somewhat regular basis,” I said. If one night a week is considered a “somewhat regular basis,” I thought to myself. And if “seeing” is literally just sharing a beer and a slice of pie with.
We talked a little more about what we did in our downtime. He participated in triathlons to keep in shape. I talked about the chicks that I’d taken from the farm, and admitted that I hadn’t had much time to work out lately, although I had just recently joined a gym.
“I’m a little tense about NavoLogic,” I admitted.
Suddenly, he didn’t seem to want to talk about work at all.
“No shop talk,” he said, shaking his head. “Enjoy some barbecue. Finish your margarita.” The conversation took another turn; he solicitously invited me out to come with him on his yacht someday, take a break from the lab. I sensed that he might be flirting with me, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, I enjoyed the attention; on the other, I felt it was inappropriate and I questioned his motives.
I decided that since we’d both let our guard down, I would gently poke fun at this.
“You know, I might start to think that you didn’t invest in our project solely for your concern over the painful deaths of newborn chicks,” I teased.
“I did it for the money,” he said, “and I believe you’ll come through with the product.”
Good, he was understanding the boundaries I was setting.
“So you believe in me?”
“I’ve believed you can do anything you set your mind to do, since the first time I saw you,” he said in a serious tone before turning on a dime. “Although, a young woman thinking she can change the world, it’s a little naïve, albeit romantic.” I must have made a face; he could tell my feelings were hurt. “Don’t get defensive,” he said. “I’m just dishing it back out. Seriously though. This is going to be hard, Scarlet.”
I felt my jaw start to tense. If I were a cat, my hackles would be raised.
“You’re aware who you’re taking on, right?” he asked. “There are big corporations who have a vested interest in keeping things as they are, as they have been for years. How are you going to change their minds?”
“We’ll play them against each other,” I said. “They’ll all want a chick-sorting solution.”
“But that is only true for the injection-device companies. Do the poultry corporations need it?” he asked. “Could they do without it?”
“I guess they could,” I admitted. “They have been. But I assume they’ll just buy whatever the injection companies sell them. If one corporation has a chick-sorting solution, the other one will want it too, so all the injection company has to do is to have them compete with each other in order to get them to sign on. On the other hand, you’re right that if the injection machine no longer existed, they could just go back to manual injection and not miss it.”
“So they are being sold something that they can essentially do without?” he pushed.
“But automation means progress, and that is why they agreed to it in the first place. It must have saved them money,” I pushed back.
“I don’t know, Scarlet,” he said. “Still seems a little more of a romantic idea than a strictly monetary issue.”
I felt my jaw start to tense up again, and knew he must have seen it.
“But to be completely honest, that’s part of why I wanted to invest.”
“So you’re a little romantic yourself, huh?”
“Maybe I do care about those newborn chicks,” he said. “Especially since they’re all male. That’s just cruel.”
“In all seriousness, Roseword,” I said, wanting to make my point, now that I felt he’d be receptive. “It’s that kind of thought—the ‘strictly business’ thought—that hinders progress. I was raised to think about ideals, about making the world a better place. If you put a price tag on everything, it makes it hard to do that.”
“You’re right, and that’s exactly why I invested in you. Who knows, maybe you will turn me into a believer, after all,” he said.
“Who knows, maybe you can turn me on to biking, running, and swimming,” I shot back.
“Cheers to that.” We raised our wineglasses.
“Say,” he began, a sly smile taking over his face, “have you ever had Kürtöskalács?
“Never.”
“There’s a great bakery right around the corner and they make the best ones you’ll ever taste. Ever,” he said.
I said a quick good-bye to Lauralynn, and the two of us snuck out of the party.
It turned out to be an amazing cake.
“Have you ever tasted Taiwanese brioche?” I asked him as I munched away.
“Brioche is French.”
“You would think so, but if you tasted the Taiwanese brioche that I tasted, you would change your mind. I have a friend whose uncle owns a bakery in Taiwan and each time she goes there, she brings one back for me; it melts in your mouth,” I gushed.
“We could fly there tonight and taste it if you’d like,” he said, enjoying his cake.
“No, I’m OK with this, thanks” I said. “Besides, right now, I have way too much work to do. But I will definitely take a rain check.”
We finally got around to arranging a biology bench in one of the corners of the open space at Joel’s office, and we set up a miniature refrigeration and freezer unit. This would save me the time and effort of traveling back and forth with the materials and tubes, carrying everything in ice buckets in my car. This way, I could take half days and work with Joel longer on developing that aspect of the application.
We bought all the necessary equipment: pipettes, a tube shaker, a temperature block, etc. Luckily, since we were not yet working with biological samples, we did not require special security measures. It was more or less suitable for what we needed. It was garage-style, true, but it would do. The only real hassle was getting insurance in case something happened to me.
Initially, we thought we’d put me on Joel’s insurance policy because I was working at his building and they had insurance for everyone under their roof. However, this was only for workers or visitors, and I was neither; I worked for Spells. After some finagling, I was able to write Joel under the Spells insurance policy at no additional cost and we added me on as a volunteer at Joel’s company, which oddly, conferred insurance.
With those logistics out of the way, I went to see William at the pub. I wanted to tell him about the talk with Debauchee and Dubreuil. He was sitting at our usual table, waiting for me. He never missed a date, and neither did I, even though we didn’t communicate ahead of time to schedule it. I still didn’t have his phone number or contact information of a
ny kind. Maybe he’s here every night, I thought. Maybe I should come more often.
“Bonsoir, ma chérie,” William greeted me as I sat down.
“Je ne parle pas français,” I joked. I thought it was pretty witty, saying I don’t speak French in French.
“Oh, I thought that since you had the meeting with NavoLogic, you would be fluent by now. How did it go?” He smiled.
I shrugged. “Todd thinks it went well, but we didn’t close a deal. They agreed to collaborate and wait to monitor our progress, much like RICPCom.”
“Perhaps they feel the timing is a little premature. Maybe if you show them some more progress, they will invest,” William reassured me.
“I don’t know. The CTO specifically said he was searching for projects to invest in and take under his wing,” I said.
“Aren’t these the people working on the heartbeat solution?” William asked.
“Ostensibly,” I said, “but neither one of the people we met with would give us any information on that application or where it stands.”
“Did they say anything about your method, besides agreeing to collaborate?” William asked.
“They complimented us on the method, but they still weren’t ready to make a commitment,” I said, frustrated.
“Well, you still have money to work right? Take your time and work. The more progress you make on your own, the more you will be worth when they decide they want you,” William pointed out.
“I guess you’re right,” I said. “Maybe I’m expecting the wrong things from these meetings. I guess I’m looking for confirmation when what I should really be looking for is information. I should be thinking of them as future customers, and I need to find out from them what type of product they need.”
“Now you’re talking,” said William. “Although, I’d hate for you to have to move to France so soon after we’ve met.”
Soon? I thought to myself. Boy, this guy is slow-moving.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I won’t be moving anywhere for now,” I said with a wink. “I have a lot of work to do. I don’t know what is with this bar, but my eye is bothering me again. Would you be so kind as to check it again?” I leaned close to him.
He checked it, putting on a very serious face and then said with a wink, “You’re fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Thanks, I always get worried because I once worked with this guy who had a simple eyelash caught in his eye and it scratched his cornea. He was in terrible pain,” I said, trying to explain my quirkiness. “William, please tell me a bit more about yourself,” I said, sitting back down across from him. “I really want to know you better, we always talk about me and my business.”
“Sure, ask me anything. I’m game to answer.”
“Well, like, what’s your favorite color?”
“Ooh, such a hard question,” he said, giving me a hard time. “I’ll go with blue. Yours?”
“I like orange. I think blue goes perfectly with orange, don’t you?” I teased.
“Mmm-hmm. OK, I get the drift; I’ll tell you more about myself. I consider myself a level-headed, down-to-earth kind of guy. I love life and long walks on the beach, and I am usually totally immersed in the woman I love. I’m very devoted, you know.”
“But first you need to be in love . . .” I was fishing for answers.
“I tend to come across as shy, but I open up at the right time and with the right person. I am generally calm, confident, and happy. I do admit I am an introvert by nature. I’m organized; I like a lot of structure.”
“I guess you would have to be organized in order to be a journalist and own your own business. I try to be extremely organized in the lab, unlike in my personal life and my apartment,” I said, laughing.
“I love to show attention, but sometimes I have a pretty awkward sense of humor and people may see it as more of a tease or a test than being funny. So I tend to stay friends with those who stick around despite my humor or those who just like it kinky. I look at it this way: I’d rather make a joke than sit around and dwell on things I can’t do much to change.”
“I don’t know, I can take a joke as long as the context and timing is right, but I have noticed there is sometimes a fine line between a joke and a put-down and that’s where I have learned to draw the line. I am too sensitive, I cry profusely in movies, and I cry at books or sometimes even about notes people write. So sometimes jokes offend me, even though I always prefer a man with a sense of humor to a man without.”
“I will try to be sensitive around you, Scar, so as not to leave a scar in your heart. I see you for the beautiful soul you are, Scarlet. A woman’s beauty is seen in her eyes, it’s the doorway to her heart and I find you to be very beautiful. I want to keep you safe.” He held my hand, looked into my eyes and became very quiet all of a sudden. As he was pondering, a cloud of grave concern passed over his face. “I wanted to tell you something,” he said, lowering his voice as he usually did when he was about to drop a bomb. “Watch out for your new guy. Joel, I think you said his name was?”
I didn’t understand why he was bringing Joel up.
“Yes, Joel. Why?”
“Just watch out for his safety. It’s just a hunch.”
I felt a lump start to rise in my throat, a knot start to twist in my stomach. I realized I didn’t know William very well at all. Was he just messing with my head? Was this his twisted sense of humor that he was talking about? It couldn’t be. I nodded at him, deciding to call it a night shortly after that. It took me hours to find sleep, and when I did, it was fitful.
One of the blessings—though sometimes, it was a curse—about the incubator space was that it wasn’t just me and my equipment. One day, an investor walked into the lab, looking classy in a white satin suit and flanked by an accountant. It turned out, he was investing in the company that worked beside me; they were working on diagnosing the level of antibiotics in milk. He was satisfied with a meeting they’d just had and was clearly in a good mood, so he introduced himself.
“I’m Lenny Yang,” he said. “And what is it you’re doing?”
His ears perked up when I started in on my simple pitch: “Chickens.”
I told him a little bit about it, not in great detail, but I was excited by the opportunity to talk with an investor, right there in the lab without having to dress up and go to a meeting in a fancy office space. He asked me to send him my presentation and said he would like to meet with me again. Of course, I immediately called Todd and Roseword and told them the good news.
A short time later, Roseword offered that we meet on his yacht, but Mr. Yang preferred that we come to his house to talk.
So Roseword sent Todd, Joel, and me to meet this investor at his home. We drove over to his house and found it to be a sprawling affair with many rooms. He invited us to sit down in the living room, but Todd asked for a place where he could show his presentation. Lenny assured us that he felt more comfortable in the living room and that Todd could explain everything he needed without slides.
Todd began explaining but Lenny cut him off; there was a story he had to tell us about a woman who gave birth in a car when he was on one of his trips to Africa. He just had to tell it to us, he said, since we were on the subject of pregnancy. He finished the story as Joel was finishing the bowl of macadamia nuts on the table, pointing out that he had never before considered laying eggs as a pregnancy per se.
Todd went on to describe the equipment Joel had been working on for the last four years. Again, Lenny cut him short.
“If we’re talking about Africa,” he said, “I’ve been to Mount Kilimanjaro. Boy, do I have a story about that.”
Lenny told us about how he took his seven-year-old son there, proclaiming that if you can take a few hours’ flight to Africa to see the animals in the wild, why would you take the kids to the zoo in the nearby town? If you include traffic and the crowds, he reasoned, it is more worth your while to fly to Africa than drive to the local zoo.
Af
ter he took his kids to see the animals, they went on to explore Mount Kilimanjaro. They started climbing the mountain with a guide and suddenly, his son became blue, experiencing shortness of breath. Lenny hadn’t known what had happened or what to do. Had he swallowed something?
Lenny called the paramedics with a walkie-talkie and they had to climb the mountain to meet them. His son had a case of mountain sickness, which meant the mountain air was too thin for him. The child started vomiting as well. In this case, they said, he would not be able go higher until the symptoms disappeared and that he should stay put until he felt better. They also reprimanded him for taking the kid with him on the climb. They camped there and climbed down the next morning.
Lenny explained that it was not a big deal though because he flew there every other weekend, and that someday his son would be able to climb the famous mountain. He invited us to come along some time.
“I take excellent photos of the animals,” he bragged.
Then he let Joel talk about the things he wanted to add to his machine and how much money it would take. But then suddenly, Lenny remembered that he had wonderful pictures of his adventures in Africa that we might be interested in seeing. Of course, we were; we couldn’t very well turn him down in his own home. He took us down to his office and showed us slides on his new wide-screen, using his brand-new projector, and we saw him climb Mount Kilimanjaro, which is, he emphasized, the highest mountain in Africa and the highest “walkable” mountain in the world.
Todd suggested that since we were already in his office and we had the slide projector switched on, he could maybe use it to show Lenny the presentation. Joel also wanted to show a short video about how the machine was built and works.
“That’ll be fine,” said Lenny. “But first, maybe we can take a look at these pictures. Personally, they’re almost professional grade. I should skip this whole thing and get a job with National Geographic.”
We tried to muster a chuckle. And indeed, his pictures were impressive. He told us that he’d spent all night in a jeep waiting to get a close-up of the lions since he’d had the finest cameras and lens to achieve a fantastic shot.