Friend Me (2 page)

“I liked the umbrella.”

“Why?” He redrew the umbrella.

“Because you drew a friendly figure to start with, and the umbrella was more consistent with that. The gun looked out of place.”

“You've got it. We just designed someone you were comfortable
with. It was simple, it was intuitive, and it was interesting.”

I know where this is going. I'm a mile ahead of you, Mr. Getz
.

“Here it is, Melissa. Plain and simple. We are going to provide the means to let people custom-design their own friends. Yes, I really mean
friends
. We've got the technology, you know that. What we've lacked was the platform to make it worthwhile. Social networking—Facebook and all the rest—gives that to us.”

Silence settled in the air as he allowed the implications of that to form in her mind.

“Let's imagine Jane Doe sitting at home. She's worried, she's depressed, she wants someone to confide in. Who's she going to turn to?”

“Her friends?”

“But those
friends
are real people. She doesn't dare tell them what's really going on. For all she knows, it could be all over Facebook in an hour, and then the whole world would know her secret. No, she needs someone she can trust with the deepest secrets of her life.

“So, Jane Doe goes to our website and we let her design the perfect friend. A virtual friend.”

“She designs one online?”

“We start with something as simple as the basic personality types and have her build from there. So she chooses introverted or outgoing, friendly or reserved, kind or difficult, understanding or impatient.

“Someone's going to choose an impatient friend?”

“The important thing is that we provide the choice. From there she picks her friend's hair, physique, family background,
age, everything. Maybe she builds the sister she never had. Perhaps she builds a high school friend she lost touch with. It's up to her.”

Melissa realized what Getz was presenting to her was not only doable, it was perfect.
Why has no one ever done this?
“So, how far does this go? Synthesized voice? Conversations? The whole works? I mean, I can see getting all of this done if we have the resources.”

“We take it as far as we can, Melissa. And we've definitely got the resources. I envision our Jane Doe building her friend and then we automatically register her friend on Facebook. From then on, she can interact with her virtual friend just as easily as she could with a real person.” He flashed a conspiratorial smile. “Well, any way but physical.”

She didn't like what Getz was doing with his eyes and squirmed under his gaze.

Melissa pointed at the whiteboard, drawing Getz's eyes off her. “And how do we profit from this?”

He blinked, turned back to her. “We make money two ways. First, even though we start out with this as a free service, eventually we ramp it up and charge money for the ‘premium' friend. People won't hesitate. Second, these friends can sell products, services. Old-fashioned click-through advertising will be like a horse cart compared to what we can offer.”

I've got it, Mr. Getz. You won't see me coming till I run over you
.

“This is fascinating. I never . . .”

“I've only begun to scratch the surface here, Melissa. For instance, well, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Is your mother living?”

It felt like she'd been struck in the chest with a rock. Why in the world would he ask her a question like that? Her, of all people.
Could he know?

Control. She shook her head slowly. “No, she's not.”

Getz bent over the table, palms flat, his face close to hers. “Then here's the big one, Melissa. We can give her back to you in every way but physically.”

Yes, it's true. We can do that
. The potential, the power of what they had in their hands was overwhelming. She shook off the lightheaded feeling.

People would be re-creating deceased children, mothers, fathers. They'd be getting e-mails on their birthdays from people who'd been gone for many years. Was it a kind of self-deception? Sure, but how different was it from hanging a picture of a loved one in the hallway? Wasn't it there to remind you of the person? Something to help you recall old conversations, hugs, and special times? And perhaps to imagine what might have been?

I can make it real
.

She felt again the pressure of Getz's gaze on her as she worked through it mentally, emotionally.
This will work, and I can do it
.

Another idea tugged on the edges of her mind with tiny, insistent fingers. The one that would make it supremely worthwhile.
Not now. Later. I'll think about that when the time comes
.

•  •  •

THE WAY HE'S LOOKING AT
me. A shiver fluttered along Melissa's exposed forearm.

She needed to steer the conversation somewhere else, and still stroke the man's ego. “How did you come up with the idea? I
mean, this isn't just numbers lined up in columns. This is genius.”

He rolled his head to one side, as if savoring the memory. “I remember the moment of . . .
inspiration . . 
. when the concept of the
virtual friend
came to me. It left me nearly breathless. This was the multimillion-dollar idea I'd been searching for all my adult life.”

She watched an expression slither over his features and recoiled at the way it made her feel. The man was a snake.

“And you will be the greatest asset of all. Your design and architectural talents will make the
virtual friend
a reality, Melissa. There is nothing to stop us.”

Us
. She swallowed, smiled back.

“We'll make an incredible team, Mr. Getz.”

No one had to tell her she was good. And there was much more he would learn about her, but he could wait a little longer for that surprise.

He slid his soft fingers across her hand. “Yes, Melissa. The two of us will be working
very
closely over the next four or five years. A project this size will surely take that long before it's ready for the world to see. And all the time, we'll be working together, planning, developing. Both of us learning what the other has to offer.”

The question was,
how
closely would they be working? Getz was a predator. He probably thought of himself as the big brass ring every girl wants to snag, but she wasn't here to become his trophy. She was here for work, serious work.

She still clutched the employment letter in one hand as she looked up at the whiteboard.

Getz asked, “So, what do you think? Are you starting to see the possibilities?”

Always the suggestive comments. How should she answer? “The possibilities? Yes, absolutely. This is brilliant.”

Melissa looked up at Getz, who still stood by the whiteboard. Keep his mind on the project. “We could build out a library of celebrity characters. Everyone from Madonna to Steve Jobs. People would go crazy.”

“There you go, you've got the idea,” said Getz. “Already in the plans. What else?”

Melissa looked at the whiteboard, then back to Getz, forcing herself to remain clear and focused. “Some people will just be looking for a new relationship. A boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Someone to talk to. There's that.”

“Premium content.” Getz grinned. “And you've just approached what's probably going to be the main profit center. What we call ‘The Virtual Ideal.' There's something inside people that's always searching for that ideal relationship. We're going to come pretty close to fulfilling that.”

I have an ideal man, and he's not virtual. He exists somewhere, and this will help me find him
.

Getz erased the Doughboy figure with the umbrella off the whiteboard. “I've got a meeting with our CEO, Dan Hammersmith, in a few minutes. He'll want to meet you on Monday when you come in. You can go through all the Human Resources rigmarole then, all right?”

“Sure,” said Melissa. “That sounds great. I'll be here when the doors open.”

Getz reached toward her and took her hand before she could withdraw it. He held on to it as he looked into her eyes, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I'd like to talk to you more before then. There's a lot we
need to discuss before we . . .” He grinned, mirthlessly. “Before we get down and dirty, so to speak.” He paused. “I could, say, meet you for dinner tonight? Just talk through some things? I think it's going to be important to know we're compatible, that we think the same way about things, don't you?”

Here it is. Oh, I know you, Getz. Down, dirty, and compatible
.

She looked at his left hand. No wedding ring. She didn't want to lose this job before she got it.

No matter. If it went wrong, she knew what to do. “Sure, Mr. Getz. What do you have in mind?”

“Aaron, call me Aaron,” he said. He still gripped her hand. “I've got your address from your résumé. How about I pick you up at six-thirty and we go out to the Tuscan Villa? It's in downtown Indianapolis near where you live.”

She hid a shudder, as if she were in the coils of a venomous serpent.

Getz hesitated. Had he seen her react?

“Don't worry. Strictly professional. Do you like Italian okay?”

She withdrew her hand. “That will work. I'll expect you then. And thank you for working out the job.”

Melissa could still feel Getz's green eyes on her as she walked through the double glass doors to the street outside.

Problem Solved

T
hrough the large bay window in the living room, Melissa glanced down at the street in front of her house. The glowing blue numerals on the mantel clock read 6:20. Getz would be here soon.

She straightened the dark gray pantsuit she'd chosen for the evening. It looked businesslike, efficient. If Getz was going to get weird on her, it wouldn't be because she encouraged it.

She strode into the kitchen and opened the wide drawer under the breakfast counter. It rattled as she pulled it open. The nine-inch Gingher scissors had been purchased for a craft class the year before. The knife edges on the blades were like new, and the scissors slipped easily into her handbag.

A car horn sounded outside. She could see Aaron Getz waiting in front with his hazard lights flashing.
I'm just a piece of meat to him. He doesn't even bother coming to the door
. She turned off the lights and descended the steps to the curb.

Getz smiled at her as he opened the passenger door of his SUV. “Good evening, Miss Montalvo,” he said with mock courtesy. “I'm happy to see you again so soon.”

“Thank you.” She held up her purse. “I'm ready to take notes,” she said, moving quickly to keep the conversation focused on business.

Melissa settled down in the wide seat and buckled her seat belt.

“I talked with Dan and told him you'd be starting on Monday. He's excited to have you on board. We all are.”

“Hammersmith?”

“Right, Dan Hammersmith. CEO. I told you I'd be meeting with him. We'd like to jump right in with a big planning meeting on Monday afternoon.”

“Sounds great.”

Getz was dressed in a gray polo and khaki slacks. Did they look like they had both dressed in gray to please one another? Melissa hoped not.

“You just need to finish up all your HR paperwork so we can finalize the hire that morning.”

The words struck her. “Finalize?” Hadn't she already accepted the offer? What was going on here? Was finalizing the job conditioned on how this evening turned out?

“Oh,” said Getz. “Nothing to worry about.” He kept his eyes on the road ahead, avoiding her gaze. He moved his right hand to her knee, stroked it lightly, and returned it to the steering wheel. “Dan simply wants to know we're going to work well together.”

Melissa cocked her head to one side. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I think I hear a thumping sound coming from one of your tires. Don't you hear it?”

He tipped his head toward the driver window. “No, I don't hear anything. Are you sure?”

She put on her best
concentrating
face. “I'm sure of it. You'd better do a walkaround as soon as you can and check it out.”

Getz pulled the SUV up in front of the restaurant. As soon as the tires stopped rolling, Melissa jumped out. “You can check your tires. I'll get a table and meet you inside.”

The Tuscan Villa was a storefront with a deep interior. It was built with an abundance of wood, both on the floors and in the walls. The right-hand side of the large room had an oil painting of an Italian street scene.

Melissa chose a table in the back of the restaurant, away from the window. She sat with her back to the door. A candle in a fishnet-wrapped globe burned in the center of the thick, crisp, white tablecloth. She bent close and blew the candle out.

Getz arrived at the table, exhaled loudly. “The tires looked okay; I don't know what you were hearing.”

Melissa shrugged. “Maybe just road noise. Never hurts to be careful.”

After he was seated, he ordered a seafood plate. He tried to get Melissa to do the same, but she demurred. She kept her back turned to the server and ordered only salad and bread sticks.

She wondered what Aaron Getz had in mind. No, correct that. She knew what Aaron Getz had in mind. What was in doubt was how the evening would turn out for Mr. Getz, not for her. Either way, it was not going to be what he expected.

Dinner arrived. Melissa reached down for her purse on the floor as the server put the plates on the table, keeping her face from view.

“I had another thought,” said Melissa. “For the virtual friend concept. Have you considered having living people do virtual clones of themselves?”