Why should I bother? he thought. All she’ll tell me is that my grades are unacceptable because of skipping summer classes, messing up my internship, and failing to complete assignments. Fucking Rhonda must have turned me in after I didn’t show for coffee.
He squeezed into a crowded bus, crushed between an old man needing a shower and a middle-aged woman shouting into her phone. As the bus careened over potholes and uneven roads, he wondered how he would survive without income, or even a place to stay long term.
It was possible he could request full-time employment at Sunshine Warehouse, though it had been weeks since he had checked in for work.
If I do still have that job, it shouldn’t be hard to convince that red-headed fuckwit of a manager to help me out.
Dothan climbed the metal stairs at a slow pace and ripped the eviction notice off the apartment door. He collapsed on the sofa and closed his eyes, allowing himself to escape into the dark void of an exhausted sleep.
A thudding on his door brought Dothan to his feet. He ran to the blinds and peered outside, where a young man in a blue jacket lifted his arm to knock again.
Dothan opened the door with a scowl, “What?”
“Dothan Knox?” asked the man. He flashed a beaming smile.
“Yeah.”
“Consider yourself served.” He handed Dothan a large manila envelope. “Have a nice day.”
Served? What was he supposed to have done now? Robbed a bank?
Dothan ripped open the glued end and pulled out the paper just enough to see the title of the document.
January Kinsie
vs.
Dothan Knox
Immediate Restraining Order (Ex Parte) and Hearing Notice.
Without bothering to read the rest of the document, Dothan shoved it back into the envelope and threw it across the room. It would not differ from the one he’d received from Dr. Terry.
It made no difference to him when the clerk had scheduled the hearing. He had no intention of attending it, only to have January blank him in the courtroom. If this was what she wanted, then she could have it. He had finished with her, Bekkii, Dunlevy, and anyone else who got in his way.
Dothan packed his belongings and called Agnes.
When she arrived, he carried his few pitiful boxes to her car and retrieved the envelope. As she watched, he set the golden paper on fire in the sink.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Starting over,” he said, as the black and gray ashes flew upwards and circled around the room.
Chapter Twenty Two
At first, Dothan’s stay with Agnes had been an abject humiliation.
She tried to mother him, but snarled if he strayed outside her immovable schedule. As the warmth of the Indian summer turned into a brisk autumn, though, he adjusted to her bossy nature. What other choice did he have? He had lost everything that mattered in his life.
Even Sunshine Warehouse let him down. The bastard manager had refused to allow him to return to work and fired him on the spot. With all of its faults, the place had at least been a paycheck, but now it appeared he was to be forever confined to Agnes’s floral sofa.
It had been a fitful night, and Dothan pulled the scratchy blanket over his head as the first brutal rays of sunlight burst across the lumpy couch.
I’ve got to tell this woman to get some fucking blackout curtains, he thought.
He rubbed his half-opened eyes as he lifted the heavy wool. With a loud yawn, he righted himself to a seated position and put on his glasses. He squinted at the clock on the back wall, stretched and scratched his long, overgrown beard. At least it was almost time for Agnes to get out of bed and ready for work. He only had to wait a few minutes more for her to bring him coffee.
A thud against the front door heralded the arrival of the newspaper, and Dothan threw on his favorite sweatpants to retrieve it. As he opened the heavy mahogany panel, the breath of a chilled autumn breeze rushed past him. He inhaled the sour-sweet aroma of the changing leaves and surveyed the turn-of-the-century Seattle neighborhood. Several neighbors waved to him and he acknowledged their greeting with a nod as he bent to pick up the banded paper, battered and ripped by the errant delivery person.
Dothan wiped his fingers on his sweatpants and stepped back inside.
Why read actual newspapers when you can get the same information online without getting covered in black ink?
He stretched his arms and scratched his head, moving aside as Agnes descended the staircase.
“Morning,” he said.
“I think I’ll make pancakes,” she said. “Want some?”
Dothan nodded and dropped back onto the couch. The soft cushions gave way under his weight and he considered another nap might be in order after Agnes went to work. He unbanded the paper and opened the tri-fold wad, scanned the front page and tossed aside the first three sections as he dug for the business pages.
He stopped, his eyes growing wide as his grip on the paper tightened.
“Shit,” he shouted and stood.
“Watch that mouth,” said Agnes, standing at the kitchen door with a spatula in her hand.
“January,” he said. “Look, it’s January.” He held up the article, showing a full-color photograph of the stunning brunette in a tailored suit shaking hands with the CEO of Conscentiam. “She’s taking credit for solving Sibella’s murder and sold my code to those assholes. They’ve just made her a vice president of its research and development and all of Acquisitions.”
“What?” Agnes raced into the room, grabbed the paper, and read the article. “She can’t do that. There’s got to be a way to force her to give that software back to you.”
“I went through all that the first week I was here. She filed the copyright, trademark, and has a patent pending for the algorithm. It’s hers, Agnes. If we sued, and by some bizarre chance we beat Conscentiam’s corporate pit bulls, with my luck Dunlevy would swoop in and say it was theirs. We wouldn’t even get attorney’s fees.” He seated himself and leaned on his knees. “You were right all along. She lied about everything.”
Agnes sat beside him. “It’ll all be fine. We’ll find you a good job, get you back in school, and you can start over, just as you said.” She patted his shoulder and returned to the kitchen.
Dothan bunched up the paper in his hands and threw it across the room.
“Wait a minute,” he whispered. He boosted himself from the couch and ran to the balled-up paper. As he untangled it and smoothed the crinkles from the article, he stared at January’s picture. “Oh my god. Oh, holy fucking god.”
The beautiful eyes gazed into the camera while an obese old man swamped her right hand with his flabby flesh. The other lay by her side, adorned by a ring gracing the long, tapered finger.
Dothan grabbed his phone and opened the newspaper’s website. He expanded the image, filling his screen with her left hand. His heart pounded in his chest. January was still wearing his mother’s white sapphire ring.
It was a sign, he was sure of it. January was trying to tell him she still wanted to marry him. Maybe she was being kept from him against her will by the company and she was sending him a message.
Agnes peeked out from the kitchen. “Did you say something?”
Dothan shook his head, wide-eyed. “I just wondered if I can have butter and syrup on the pancakes?” He lowered his head with an innocent smile.
She laughed and said, “Of course. Oh, your coffee is ready whenever you want it.”
“Cool,” he said, continuing to grin until she disappeared. Dothan returned to the picture as his soul filled with joy and bewilderment. He would find her, no matter what the restraining order said and convey to her he understood and would abide by whatever rules she wanted. To know she still loved him meant he could survive anything life threw at him.
Dothan grinne
d as he ate his breakfast. His entire world, lost in darkness just moments before, had become a brilliant beacon of light.
“I can’t believe you’re so thrilled about finding out January screwed you over,” said Agnes, collecting the dishes.
He leaned back with his mug of steaming coffee and smiled. “I’m not, but from now on, things are going to be different. You’re right. I need to get my life together. I’ll just pick up a few freelance coding jobs. They’ll never check my background, unlike the big companies. Even if I just get stuck with hack work, I’ll be bringing in some money to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me.”
“Well, well. After all that woman put you through, who would have thought she could turn you around?”
He watched Agnes collect her things for work and walk out the door. Dothan fired up his laptop and opened an anonymous browser. There were plenty of black hats who could use his talents for a ton of money. First, though, he had to smooth the waters with VprKlU and stop the onslaught to his identity.
Digging into the dark web, he returned to the private message board, requesting a truce from the hacker and offering a business deal. Within seconds, VprKlU responded.
“Listening.”
“Stop & reverse shit & w/receive all.”
“Still listening,” replied the hacker
Dothan detailed his idea to take the hacker’s project and expand it for a specified amount in crypto-currency.
“1/2 & w/agree to turnaround. No more bullshit from U.”
Dothan shrugged. The jerk was trying to shaft him, but half of the fee was better than nothing at all.
“Agreed,” wrote Dothan. “Stop & reverse & w/deposit promised goods 3 pm PST.”
A reply of a smiley with dollar signs in his eyes sealed their deal.
Dothan waited fifteen minutes. With trembling hands, he called the bank and requested an agent. To his relief, the woman acknowledged the funds were there. While she had no answer for the glitch in his account, everything seemed resolved and they were sending him a new card overnight.
He howled with joy. If he kept the projects coming in, legit or not, he could have his own place within days. After that he would find January. However long it took, no matter the cost, he would have her back in his arms and never let her go again.
No more companies, schools, or society telling him what to do. This time, he defined the way the game was played.
He was a genius, after all.
THE END
Author Bio
Noelle Jeffreys was born and raised outside the city of Detroit, Michigan, during one of the most turbulent times in the city’s history. She has been involved in technology since the 1980’s and continues to delve into its ever-evolving trends. With an unending imagination and a fascination for thriller and mystery fiction, she began to write stories at an early age. She began to explore ways in which to combine tech and mystery into a stunning world of intrigue. The result is her debut novel, The Optogram.
Visit Noelle at https://www.noellejeffreys.com
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