I Heart Geeks (22 page)

“Our third-place prize winner of a hundred and twenty-five dollars is Penny Lovette!” The girl next to me jumped up and squealed loudly. The crowd clapped as she ran up the stage to accept her certificate and check.

Wait, there were actual monetary prizes? I mean, I was so excited for the exposure and the chance to meet some of these judges, that I hadn’t even considered the possibility of money. It never occurred to me to hope, or expect, more than having people in the industry read my stuff. Now, I wished I could’ve won something, then maybe I could’ve bought some flowers for Rose. No that was lame. Maybe some new running shoes or football tickets. I rubbed a hand on the back of my neck. Who was I kidding? No amount of well-intentioned bribery was going to make this any better.

Penny plopped back down in her seat, beaming at no one in particular.

“Our second-place prize winner of two hundred and fifty dollars and a copy of one of our very own judge’s writing handbooks is Jared McCreedy,” the announcer chimed. From somewhere behind me a guy let out a “yes,” and the crowd clapped again. He took a little more time getting on and off stage, I guess because he was sitting farther back.

“And now, for our grand prize winner who will receive five hundred dollars and a spot in this year’s publication of the Fantasy Short Stories anthology, Dean Flynn!”

My coffee cup dropped to the floor in front of me. There was no way I’d heard her right. And did she say publication? A loud shout in the back of the room from several voices broke my stupor. The crowd clapped to match the yellers’ enthusiasm. Somehow I made my way up to the stage and was accepting a check and shaking hands with all of the judges.

I won
.

Bruno shook my hand last and handed me another sheet of paper. On it was the excerpt they wanted me to read.
Frack, I’m the sap.
Hopefully the coffee and aspirin had restored my brain enough to remember what words looked like and, even better, how to say them. I hated public speaking, but I was pretty good at reading stuff aloud.
I wish Rose was here
. She always knew how to make me feel better before this kind of stuff.

Walking up to the microphone, I kept my gaze firmly on the sheet of paper and did my best not to sound hung over as I read the end of my short story. It was the part where Veridiana Stern overcomes the evil warrior overlord, Droryn, not through her superior assassin skills, but through her cunning. Corny, but one of the best heroines I’d ever written.

As I finished the last line, I glanced up at the crowd. My breath hitched on the last word.
She’s here
.

The crowd took this as genuine emotion for the end of the story. I took an awkward bow and stepped off the stage, trying to sneak out of a side door. The coordinator from last night stopped me.
Perfect.

“Hold up. You have to stay for the questions and stuff from the crowd, man.”

All at once, people got up from their seats and went to greet one of the three of us. Several stopped and shook my hand or patted my back in congratulations. But I paid them little attention. My eyes were stuck on the three people at the back of the room, all beaming at me and flashing me thumbs up. I was staring at one in particular, trying to gauge her mood. She didn’t look mad, per se, but she didn’t look happy either. There was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, though. Or maybe that was the lights and I was being overly optimistic. I rubbed my sweaty hand on me jeans and waited.

When the crowd dispersed, Kyle was the first to reach me. “Congrats, Dean. Really cool story,” he said as he smiled and smacked me on the back. I tried to smile at him, but was pretty sure I only managed to look confused.

“It was very well done,” Janis said. She walked up next and gave me a quick hug. My arms squished at my sides so that I couldn’t really return it. Not that I wanted to. Rose was here. She was standing right in front of me and I didn’t want to do anything else to piss her off.

Rose stared at me with a frown plastered on her face.
Frack.
So she was still pissed. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” She punched me in the arm.

“I know,” I said, flinching at her raised voice and rubbing at my still pounding temple. I didn’t need her to tell me that. Still, she had to be here for more than telling me off, right?

“I didn’t mean goodbye forever, you moron. I was just mad,” she said softly, intertwining her fingers with my own and leaning in closer to me.

“Really, I’m sorry. I just thought—”

“I know what you thought. I talked to Kyle this morning after you left. And I am sorry, Dean, but you’re still a moron.” Rose went up to her toes and kissed my cheek.

Thank the gods
. Scooping her up into my arms, I kissed her over and over again. I was a moron, her moron. Hugging her tighter, I breathed in the scent of her. She felt warm in my arms. Even with my pulse pounding in my skull, I couldn’t’ve been happier. It was just a stupid fight, and I was a moron, a moron that loved this
fracking
girl.

“You what?” Rose pushed back from my embrace and held my eyes with hers.
Oh, did I say that out loud?
“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, idiot.” She smiled as our lips met again. This time, our kiss was accompanied by a small chorus of “hooray” and “finally.”

By Monday, we were officially a couple and had plans to see each other in a month. The best part, was that my internship was in the same city as Rose’s college. We were even getting an apartment together in the fall.

Sometimes life really does end up better than a story ever could.

My borrowed Donut Dolly outfit was two sizes too small. The buttons strained at my boobs and that point of tension held the attention of the security guard.

“Donut delivery for the fourth floor.” I waved the box under his nose. He was torn between my chest and my donuts so he compromised by darting his eyes back and forth.

“I’ll call up,” he said, groping blindly for his phone.

“You know they never answer. Pick out a donut for yourself and buzz me up.” I flipped open the box and drew his full attention to the donuts on display. It was hard to beat Donut Dolly’s which was why I had bought my bait there. He grabbed a donut and hit a button on his console. One of the elevators behind him opened. I gave him a grin and hoped he wouldn’t notice the sickly edge to it. I also hoped he wouldn’t lose his job because of me.

The elevator opened onto the fourth floor and I stepped out. It was a Saturday night but there would always be a lab geek or two working. I was counting on it. I sidled down the corridor looking into each lab. All were brightly lit but empty. A big pharma company like Alltex didn’t worry about energy waste. Finally I was rewarded by a bent back covered by a pristine lab coat. I tried the door and found it open.

I got quite close to him before he sensed my presence and turned his head. He was at a computer workstation and over his shoulder I could see protein models folding and unfolding on the screen. His eyes widened slightly, but to do him credit, after a brief sweep of my boobs and the donut box, they returned to my face. He was a normal looking guy, a bit scruffy with a few days of beard growth and a poor quality haircut.

“Donut?” I proffered the box.

“No food allowed in the labs. Who are you?” He had faint traces of a stutter. I could see him concentrate when he said his ‘f’ and his ‘w’.

“My name is Penny Allen.”

He looked at me for a few moments. “Ah, Patricia Allen’s sister.”

Shit. This was not in my plan. I was going to work up to my request. Try donuts and failing that, offer my body. But he knew who I was right off the bat. This wasn’t some lab rat trying to earn a degree.

“Dr. Rusach, I presume.”

“Yes,” he said. “Ian Rusach.”

“Why is the big boss working late, alone, on a Saturday night? On Independence Day when everyone has a barbeque to go to?”

“Nothing better to do.” He frowned and amended his statement. “Nothing more important to do.”

“And what you do is very important.” I put the donut box down on a free bench.

“I can’t help your sister, Ms. Allen.”

“Yes, yes you can and I want you to listen to me.”

“Okay,” he said, surprising me. “Pull up a chair.”

I pulled over a rolling chair and stared at him for a moment, gathering my wits. Doctor Ian Rusach was a whiz kid. A medical degree at twenty-one, two PhD’s in pharmacology and neurochemistry by twenty-eight. He had surprised a lot of people when he took the job offered by Alltex instead of going to a prestigious university. He joined the team working on Kramer’s Syndrome and helped them make it to clinical trials in a record six years. Now those trials were about to start. My sister had applied to be a trial subject and had been rejected. My sister, Pam, who was dying from Kramer’s Syndrome.

“I think my sister would benefit greatly from your treatment. She and everyone else with the double mutation in the CYB1 gene.”

He opened his mouth to interrupt me and I overrode him.

“No, listen. The Italian paper was wrong. They didn’t use the right controls, that’s why it looked like gene therapy would not benefit people with the double mutation. Everyone just accepts their research as the gold standard and focuses on the single mutations. No one wants to revisit the possibility that you can neutralize the mutated protein with engineered peptides either.” I was screwing it up. I was trying to explain months of study, of reviewing, in a few sentences.

“Are you in science, Ms. Allen?”

“No. I just learned everything I could when Pam got sick.”

“What do you do then? I don’t think you work at Dolly’s Donuts. They would never issue such an ill-fitting uniform.”

I choked back a laugh. “It’s Donut Dolly and you’re correct. I make instruments.”

“Scientific instruments?”

“No. Violins mostly. I’m a luthier. That’s what we violin makers are called.”

He gave me a surprised smile. It warmed his blue eyes. They had not been unfriendly before, just a bit wary. I couldn’t blame him for that. “Do you play?”

“Yes, not brilliantly but competently. I completed a degree in music before taking over the family business of violin making.”

“So you follow in a parent’s footsteps?”

“My Dad’s. Both our parents are dead. It’s just me and Pam.”

“Did either die from…”

“Dad. Yes, he had Kramer’s Syndrome. Mom’s was a car accident, years before Dad passed.”

“Ah.”

We sat there staring at each other. He turned away and my heart fell. He opened a webpage. It was the Italians’ paper.

“Show me,” he said and I did.

After a few hours of surfing and talking, we both leaned back in our chairs.

“I’m not sure I’m completely convinced but I’ll make a pitch to the higher ups to allow me to run a double mutation side group in the trials. No promises but I’ll try and get Pam in.”

“You mean it?” Could it be that straightforward?

“I don’t say anything I don’t mean, Ms. Allen. You’ve made a good argument. If a paper comes of this, I’ll see that you are a co-author.”

“I don’t want to be on a paper. I just want Pam to live. She’s only twenty. She had to drop out of high school. She wanted, wants to be a vet tech.” I started to sob. It was the last thing I wanted to do but I didn’t seem to have any control left. I wrapped my arms around myself so that the horrible guttural noises I was making wouldn’t tear me apart. He slid his fingers around mine and loosened their death grip on my biceps. I sat there, hunched over while he held my hands, running his thumbs over each set of knuckles. As I calmed down, I tugged to get free and he let me go.

“I’m sorry Dr. Rusach. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Running too long on just nerves and fear, I suspect. I need one thing from you, Penny.” His eyes flicked down to my chest and I realized the buttons had finally popped. I had worn a black lace shelf bra underneath to enhance my charms. I had fully intended to buy help for Pam in any way necessary but I felt a pang of disappointment that the great Ian Rusach was like any other male asshole.

“Yeah, sure.” I started unbuttoning the rest of the uniform and looked up in surprise when he caught my hands again, stopping me. He was red with embarrassment and the look of compassion in his eyes had been replaced with something else. Distaste? I gulped in horror.

“I’m sorry. I misunderstood.”

“Has anyone asked that of you, in exchange for helping your sister? If so, I want to know their names.”

“No, it was just an idea I had. I guess I watch too much TV.” I could feel the heat of my embarrassment radiating from my face. I pulled free again and buttoned up my blouse.

“What I was going to ask is that you take time for yourself. Regroup a bit. It’s going to be a long haul even if she gets into clinical trials. Do you have someone to stay with Pam to give you respite?”

“I have a neighbor who’s with her now. But I can’t ask her to do more than an evening here and there. Besides, Pam’s not that bad yet.” I had calmed down but I didn’t know where he was going with this.

“What do you do when you’re at work?” His eyes were intent on my face, as if I were some puzzle he had to solve.

“We live above my store. I check on her and I can hear her if she calls for help. Really, Dr. Rusach, now’s not a good time to go off on vacation to the Grand Cayman Islands.” Not to mention we didn’t have the money for it. Dad’s illness had wiped us out. Thank God we owned the building that housed our store and apartment. The rent from the other apartment, the Pam-sitting neighbor’s, and the café next to our store kept the mortgage paid. When Pam got really sick, I would have to become her full-time caregiver. I wouldn’t be able to put in the time necessary to make a good violin.

Rusach leaned over and flipped open the box of donuts. He considered them a moment and selected one. Hmmm. Never would have figured him for a chocolate cream. He bit into it and his forehead wrinkled. Then he carefully put it aside. I noted that there was no ring on his left hand.