Chick Flick

by Noga Porat

  “I can tell. What a dress!” he said, eyeing my bright, new number.

  I blushed. “I decided I had to wear it tonight to see if it worked for me at home, or if it only worked in France.”

  “Is this what you wore for the meeting?” he asked with utter surprise. I guess he knew I wasn’t a dress person. “Unbelievable!”

  “What is unbelievable is that they liked us! And the more they heard, the more engaged they became. I got a good feeling from them, and I really believe they can help us get this project going.”

  “They want you?” he teased.

  “Yes, why not?”

  “Well, of course, in that dress, who wouldn’t?”

  “They want me for my mind, William.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Stop! it’s true! They think I have good ideas.”

  “Well, you will set them straight soon enough,” he said with a smile. I liked the banter we had going; it made me feel like the connection between us was real and mutual.

  “I loved their food.”

  “You love food, period.”

  “I know, I know; I am a foodie,” I admitted, “but this food! It was . . . indescribable.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. Does it mean you don’t want our plain little pie tonight?”

  “Well, I do. But before I eat the pie, I should make sure it is not poisoned,” I said, cloaking truth in jest. My mind had turned to the warning he’d given me about Joel.

  “Why?”

  “Tell me how you knew Joel was going to get hurt,” I said.

  “Joel was hurt? What happened to him?” He seemed genuinely surprised, even though he had been the one to give me the warning.

  I told William about the dramatic morning of our flight—the laser beam, the emergency room, all of it. He became quiet and serious.

  “I’m really not playing around, William,” I said. “I need to know.”

  He put up his hands in a gesture to indicate that he couldn’t reveal his sources.

  “I hope that expensive insurance you got him helped, at least?”

  I stopped, my blood running cold. I was sure I hadn’t told him about that. I ate my pie and stole suspicious glances at him. He was strange, that was for sure. But I had a good instinct about him. Something told me he was one of the good guys.

  The summer ground down to an eerily dead halt. I didn’t even see William on our usual nights. After a long period of waiting for something—anything—to happen, finally, some good news arrived. Caroline at RICPCom had called Roseword and shared that they’d been sold to Flink Pharmaceuticals for the price of $200 million. Soon, she’d said, RICPCom and Flink would probably be able to make a deal with us, and everything would fall into place. She had even asked Roseword to join her at the next Flink board meeting, and had booked him a flight out later that night.

  When he called to tell me of his travel plans, I insisted that we meet before he left. I knew I had to tell him about my conversation with Debauchee, as well as the fact that he had disappeared and we hadn’t heard from him since. Todd couldn’t get ahold of him; all of his attempts came up dry.

  We agreed to meet at the beachfront that evening before his flight. I liked to stand in the sand, where I felt safe, like no one was listening. While I waited for him to arrive, I took my shoes off and let my toes sink into the warm sand. I loved that feeling. But despite the comfort of that familiar sensation, the more I thought about Debauchee’s warning, the more distraught I became. Everything had been just about to start, and it seemed so promising. Why was this happening? Why were we in danger?

  When Roseword showed up and I told him what had happened, he didn’t seem surprised.

  “Well, that fits with what we know so far. Someone isn’t happy with your work,” he said. “We should lie low. Tell you what, Scarlet, let’s not attempt to contact NavoLogic, and instead, we’ll wait and see if they contact you. Go on about your business as usual in the lab.”

  I felt like if I had to go through another day of waiting, I would spontaneously combust. I had barely made it through those last few weeks.

  “This is becoming a nightmare,” I said. “How can I wait? We said we would arrange a time to come back there and show them our method in the lab. They must have already ordered the materials.”

  “Then wait for them to contact you regarding the lab test. He didn’t tell you the exact nature of the threat, correct?” he asked.

  “No, but he explained that it was the reason he had not yet made us an offer,” I said. “He doesn’t want this public.”

  “Do not worry Scarlet. This is not your fault,” said Roseword. “The only thing we can do is continue working on our project. We have an important goal to reach.”

  Roseword advised me to be very careful, both about my personal security and the security of my materials in the lab. He said he would make a few phone calls to try to get to the bottom of all this, and reassured me that as long as I was not being directly threatened, we should continue the project as planned.

  Before he left for his meeting with Caroline, I wished him luck. Then, to calm down, I went for a run in the sand. What could this mean? What should we do? I knew I needed to speak to William, but first, I had to make an important call.

  I contacted my initial source at NavoLogic, who had originally given me information about the heartbeat method. He didn’t know about anything suspicious, but he did confirm that Debauchee was adamant about forging a connection with Spells.

  I asked him about the progress of the heartbeat method and he said they were progressing, but that they’d had difficulties with getting the error ratio down; however, they hadn’t given up.

  Following that call, I went directly to the pub and made a beeline for the corner table. Thankfully, for the first time in weeks, William was sitting there. I missed him so.

  “You’re not going to believe what happened,” I said, frowning.

  “You missed me?”

  I was in no mood for banter, no matter how handsome he looked.

  “I had really good news to share, but now I have really bad news too.”

  “Start with the good news,” he said.

  “The good news is that we got an e-mail from Debauchee’s secretary at NavoLogic. She said our data and results had passed the scientific advisory board’s approval and they were just waiting on final confirmation from management.”

  “That is great news!” he smiled and got up to give me a hug, but I sat him back down again before he could do that. I needed to tell him the bad news.

  “Right, but . . .”

  “Debauchee is missing,” he finished—his brow, furrowed.

  “This isn’t funny anymore, William. Who are your sources?” I felt myself becoming agitated. “I need to know what’s going on. Are you really even my friend?”

  He looked sad and winded, like he’d been punched in the gut. I felt pained that I had hurt him, but my world was in disarray. I had to know what was going on.

  He reached across the table and took my hands.

  “Listen carefully,” he said. “You really need to be careful with this project. RICPCom is desperate for your solution, and they know you’ve been going behind their back to competitors. They also know about the heartbeat method, and they don’t want that to fly. They are wrapping up the pharma sale, and they can’t take any risks. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  I gulped and nodded. If we didn’t go with RICPCom, something bad might happen . . . in addition to the bad things that had already happened, of course.

  “Are you saying Debauchee’s disappearance has something to do with my method?”

  “Exactly,” said William, his expression, grim.

  “And how do you know all this?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll tell you some other time. But right now, you need to get in touch with RICPCom and tell them you want to meet. Don’t mention Debauchee or NavoLogic. Take Todd and fly out there for a meeting. Give them the impress
ion that you’re in the palm of their hands.”

  I felt nauseous suddenly, and very, very tired. We talked for a while longer, hashing out a plan for me to finish my research as quickly as I possibly could—and, of course, without letting anyone know my findings. I’d need to play my cards close to my chest. I let out a sigh and asked William to walk me home.

  “Certainly,” he agreed. “And don’t forget to call Roseword and clue him in on this as well. Just don’t do it over the phone. You can trust him, but your phone may be bugged.”

  But Roseword is already on his way to Caroline, I thought. I felt like I was about to cry.

  “I just wanted to sort chicks, not develop nuclear arms, William,” I said. “What is going on?”

  “Scarlet, you’re talking about a billion-dollar industry owned by a few, powerful people who like things to go their way,” he said, shaking his head. “But you just keep your head down. Do what you’re good at. Keep on with the science.”

  We walked home quietly in the dark, and at one point, I felt myself leaning into William a bit as we walked.

  “I feel like you’re protecting me, but what are you getting out of it?” I asked. “Don’t you need a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on?”

  I wondered why he hadn’t ever offered me any of his contact information. I guessed that he might not be ready for any type of commitment, and I’d have to settle for these meetings over pie and beer. But no matter what was going on in my life, I felt the desire to hold him close, to keep him safe.

  I worked hard, memorizing my results, keeping the secret sequence I’d sought and discovered locked in my head and nowhere else. We continued to hear nothing from NavoLogic, and Debauchee remained off the radar.

  As I worked in the lab, I couldn’t help but feel totally alone, completely down. I had always been the type of person to offer all the help I possibly could; anyone who had worked with me could attest to that. But now, when I felt like I needed help, who would be there for me?

  When Cole walked through the door, I felt my face fall; he wasn’t the solution I had been hoping for. And what’s with dropping by unannounced? Can’t the man send an e-mail? I wondered. I was annoyed.

  I tried to smile politely.

  “Welcome to my humble establishment.”

  “Did I not explain to you what you should and shouldn’t be doing? Have you read my e-mail messages?”

  “Sorry, no, they must have slipped into my spam folder. I didn’t realize that when Roseword put his own money on me, it required me to report to you.”

  “I am his right-hand man, no matter where the money comes from. You would be wise to listen to reason. I asked you to not to pursue this, right? Where is Roseword now?”

  “You’re his right-hand man, after all. Don’t you know where he is?”

  “I told you things would go wrong if you cross me,” he said in a quiet but firm voice.

  “Roseword is with Caroline now. I wasn’t aware I was crossing you. I have always tried to be polite to you and have taken seriously the clues you mentioned.”

  “Have you found it?”

  “Found what?”

  “Don’t mess around here!” he demanded.

  “The solution?” I asked hesitantly, fishing for answers, myself.

  “Yes!” he replied, his eyes widening. He didn’t move a muscle, like a tiger stalking his prey.

  I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I realized I was all alone in the lab. When my phone rang, I jumped.

  “Roseword, hi! We were just talking about you. Cole is here; he was asking about where you are. Would you like to talk to him?”

  I handed Cole the phone and walked slowly to push the red call button that Roseword had set up for me in case I ever had an emergency.

  Cole finished his conversation with Roseword, hung up, and handed me the phone. He walked over to the door, saying something about how he was in a hurry. As he was leaving, a security man walked in. I signaled to him that everything was fine and he walked Cole outside the building. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I sat down on my bench, the most comforting place in the world, and continued working. In a way, I felt ungrateful, feeling so fatalistic. We were expecting a positive answer from Caroline and RICPCom, and it seemed there was hope. But underneath, it felt like rocks were tumbling onto smooth stones in my stomach. I felt as though the world as I knew it was crumbling around me.

  I had started to doubt everything. I needed to talk to William. He was the only one who could make me feel better, but I could only see him on Tuesday, and it was a Friday. How ridiculous is that? How much more pathetic can I be? Waiting for a guy who will not give me his number? Waiting to hear from a professional who liked my ideas and then disappeared? Waiting for my investor to work his business magic? Waiting for Nikola to set aside her bruised ego and endorse me? Waiting for Caroline to promote a younger woman? Begging the people who live in the forest with nothing to eat, to take my healthy newborn chicks that I could not take back to the farm? I asked myself, doubting my purpose. Would the chicks really feel less pain, if we achieved sexing in ten days instead of twenty-one, when they hatch? When do they begin feeling pain?

  Roseword’s meeting with Caroline was delayed—first, by days, and then, by weeks. With everything going on with the Flink Pharmaceuticals acquisition, it was no surprise. He called often to let us know that resolution would come soon enough. I tried to be as patient as I could, though it was hard to keep my spirits up after I had begun to sink into the doldrums.

  Then, it happened. The big day. Roseword came back into town and suddenly appeared at my door in the lab. I was shocked. When I saw his face, I could tell it wasn’t good news, and my heart started splinter into a thousand tiny pieces.

  “Please, I can’t handle any more bad news,” I said.

  “We need to talk,” he said, looking around. “In private.” I had never seen him so down before.

  “No one died, right?” I asked, and we started walking. I was relieved when he shook his head. I felt like I couldn’t take that kind of thing for granted anymore.

  He looked at the ground as we walked along, saying nothing for a long time, and then finally: “I gave it my best shot, Scarlet. I swear.”

  “How many of them were there?”

  “About twelve on the board.”

  “And only one of you,” I said. “I’m so sorry you had to go in there alone.”

  “Caroline was there for me—and she was totally on our side,” he said.

  Some part of me was pleased to hear that; I wanted to know who to trust.

  “Why did they say no in the end?”

  “Who knows why? They gave some excuse, said they were just in the process of being sold and transferred, and that establishing the research and development would take time, and that they were discontinuing their chick-sorting research,” he replied.

  “But were there also representatives from Flink?”

  “Yeah. They sang the same song. Process, time, not sure where they’re going, all that nonsense.”

  “What about the edge that chick sexing would bring?”

  “Caroline had already made the case. They had seemed to accept it earlier, but now, they’ve done a total 180. No explanation, nothing to go on,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  That was the final straw, I burst into tears.

  He put his arm on my shoulder.

  “Not you, too! Caroline cried all last night.”

  “All that buildup? All the expectation? And no reason for this change of heart?”

  “None. They complimented your idea. They said it was truly innovative,” he said.

  “If I hear one more compliment about how my idea is good with no action to back it up, I swear—”

  “Scarlet,” he said, trying to calm me down, “please don’t take it personally.”

  “Before I started this venture, all I could dream about was that one person, someone, anyone, would say something nice about my
idea. But that’s not enough,” I said.

  “But Scarlet,” he said, “I care. I backed you up. I gave you what I could.”

  He reached for my hand. He was absolutely right. He had done everything he could for me and more. He’d certainly gone that extra mile. Why am I shouting at him? None of this is his fault. It is just my frustration. I remembered that and gave Roseword a big hug, thanking him for being there for me, for being the best investor one could ever hope for.

  “Don’t worry, kiddo,” he said, suddenly brightening. “This isn’t over by a long shot.”

  I was now a woman obsessed; I couldn’t get the project out of my mind. I called Caroline and told her that I had the sequence I needed, that we were closer than ever to a prototype. She was very excited to hear it and said she would pass it along right away, as soon as we hung up, in fact. She told me a little bit about the dreadful meeting and was very discouraged about the fact that management would not take on the chick-sexing project. I asked her what she thought the problem was and, like Roseword, she said she had no clue. They were fighting to get this project into the sale agreement, and then suddenly backed out.

  I asked her if, perhaps, the sequence would help give us some leverage, and she said she’d try. I told her that if, before, the technology was just in theory, it was now verified, and was very likely to be up and running soon with the right investment. I told her that I was disappointed because I felt I had put all my eggs in one basket in hopes that their injection machine would complement my method, and that together, we could do it. She agreed that I was right, and that she felt the same way.

  I believed I had done the best I could have, since this project had a unique advantage that had now become a huge disadvantage. There were two or three companies to collaborate with and five potentially significant customers. This meant that we would only depend on a few people to be successful, so we wouldn’t have to run from customer to customer to make a sale. If we could not depend on the injection companies, we did not have anyone to collaborate with, and we would need to either do it all on our own and develop an injection machine or give up the idea entirely.