Nothing Personal (15 page)

“Sure,” Joe said.

“And that’s my cue,” Brandon said, getting up himself. “I think I hear my mother calling. Anyway, you wouldn’t want me to watch you guys logging in. That’d probably violate three or four of Rae’s rules right there, and she’d have to give me a spanking.” He laughed, bent over, and gave himself a slap. “Owww, baby. Maybe that’s enough reason to do it, what do you think?”

“I think,” Joe said without looking up
from where he was bent over, pulling his laptop case from behind the couch, “that you should shut up.”

“Or
I might guess your super-duper special passwords,” Brandon went on, ignoring him, “even without my Secret Decoder Ring. Come to think of it, Rae should probably crack down on the two of you, do a brain wipe after you work together. I thought nobody was supposed to have all the pieces, and yet what do you know, somebody has to. Wonder if she’s thought of that, that there you both are, all clued-in and cozy? I’d call that a serious security breach.”

“Got to trust somebody,” Alec said. “For my part, I’ll stick with Joe. Take some snacks if you want, before you go.” He was grateful that Brandon lived close, in another of the towering condo complexes that had sprung up south of Market, and had walked over, because he wasn’t in any shape to drive home. “There are some sandwiches left. And, you know, your favorites. Baby vegetables and hummus.”

“
Taquitos,” Brandon decided, heading into the kitchen and opening drawers. “Where are your ziplock bags?”

“Uh
. . . not sure,” Alec said, willing himself to relax. Just Brandon and his mouth, giving it a little extra today because he was a little drunk. “Imee rearranged things, I think.”

“Never mind. I found them.” Brandon dumped a few of the little rolls into a bag. “I guess it’d be way too much to expect you to have any little plastic containers for guacamole and bean dip.”

“Just take them. I won’t be eating them.”

Brandon did, added a couple rolled sandwiches to his bag. “Bachelor dinner. I need to find a woman who can cook.”

“They have to stick around to cook for you,” Alec pointed out. “You get that when you actually, you know,
date
them, and they invite you over for dinner. You never get that far.”

“Because he’s too busy running away in the morning,” Joe said. “Afraid he’ll have accidentally married somebody, or promised
her a second date.”

“Me?”
Brandon protested. “I’m not the only one here who specializes in casual. Can’t help it if I’m better at it than Alec.”

“Yeah, right,” Joe snorted. “He might be casual, but
they cook for him. He gets a little tickle in his throat, some girl’s over here with her homemade chicken soup. You’ve got a ways to go, grasshopper.”

“Well,
if we don’t get started,” Alec told Joe, “we’re going to be here till morning. Stick what you don’t take back in the fridge, Brandon, so Joe and I don’t die of food poisoning. ‘Mysterious loss of startup brain trust: foul play suspected.’ Little would they know it was because Brandon left the potato salad out.”

“More likely to think we killed ourselves in despair over being beat to market because we’re too damn
slow,”
Joe growled.

“OK, I’m going.” Brandon shoved the fridge door shut. “Don’t have to tell me more than seven or eight times. See you guys tomorrow.”

And then
Alec and Joe were alone, opening their laptops together, as they’d done so many thousands of times, over so many years. Alec logged into the cloud-based server, then hesitated.

“D
oes Brandon seem like kind of an . . .” he began.

“Asshole?” Joe asked, not looking up. “Yeah.”

The startled a laugh out of Alec. “But is he worse?”

“Not sure,” Joe said, and this time he did look up. “Maybe it’s just that you’ve changed, so he looks worse.”

“Ouch. I was that bad?”

“No
. But close, sometimes. Let’s go.” Joe opened the file, and they lost themselves in solving the mysteries of code. Again, as always.

“All right,” Alec said, sitting back and stretching a couple hours later. “That’s a fairly good start. I’ll be able to give it some more time tomorrow.”

“
Hope so,” Joe said, going to the fridge to refill his water glass. “Seeing as how you canned my best programmer.”

“Hey,
I told you. No choice.”

“He was that far over the line?”

“Yes. He was. If you’d been there to hear it, you’d have done the same thing. How’s Michael been since then? I almost fired him too, in the heat of the moment. We going to need to?”

“
No. Not that bad,” Joe said. “At least, yeah, he was pissed. You know how tight he and Simon were. But he wants the job, and let’s face it, with Simon gone, he’s in the Number One spot, got access to the best stuff, building that resume. He’s not going to walk away from that, or to risk it.”

He
took a seat again, started packing up, and spoke without looking at Alec. “But you and Rae are getting pretty . . . corporate, aren’t you?”

That one took Alec by surprise
. “Corporate? Not the word I was expecting.”

“
That too. But doesn’t it all feel a little stifling, all these rules, doing it by the book, having it get so big? Don’t you miss the gunslinger days?”

Alec got up
himself, took a restless turn around the room. He’d been sitting too long, needed another workout before bed. This was the downside of always meeting at his place.

“
No,” he said, grateful for the opportunity to put words to the feelings he’d been having for a while now. “I want to do bigger things. And bigger things mean bigger companies. Not even sure I want to keep starting up and selling out, tell you the truth. Maybe I’d like to actually run something, you know, grow it, expand the product line. As long as I had somebody to do the boring parts, of course,” he added with a grin for his partner.

“Like Rae, you mean.” Joe’s eyes were watchful, and he wasn’t smiling back.

“But I’m not planning on leaving you out,” Alec said, realizing where this was going. “Hell, the more I get wrapped up in running the show, doing the whole visionary-founder deal, the more I need you on the tech side.”

“Yeah, well,” Joe said, finishing off his water. “
As long as I’m happy just being your tech side. Maybe I do still want the startup rush. Who knows, maybe I’ll decide I want to do it on my own, be the big boss, end up with a fleet of classic cars, one of those stacked garages for them underneath my mansion, not just one lousy Audi.”

“I’d hate to lose you, man,” Alec said, completely sobered now.

“Looks to me like you’d have compensations.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Joe considered, taking his time as always. “Obvious to me, anyway. And I’m not exactly Mr. Sensitivity, so if I’m seeing it . . .”

“Well, I’m not the first guy in history to have a thing for a woman he works with,” Alec said. “And sure as hell not the first to get flat nowhere with it. So just quit shooting off that big mouth of yours
about it around the office, and we’ll be good.”

He got a smile out of Joe
at that, because Joe could give clams lessons. But Alec reminded himself that he’d better figure out how to keep his partner challenged and on board, because he needed him. And Joe might be quiet, but he was anything but passive.

Joe
slung his laptop case over a broad shoulder and got up to leave. “Yeah. Quit gossiping. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I thought I’d better check in before things got all wild and crazy,” Desiree said nearly three weeks later, leaning back a little in her desk chair and smiling into the phone as if her grandmother could see her. “Because Pinochle Night’s at your house tonight, isn’t it? How are the preparations going?”

“Oh, pretty good.”

That didn’t sound like Dixie’s usual enthusiasm. “Everything OK?” Desiree asked. “Is Mrs. Sanderson counting cards or something? You have to watch that woman like a hawk, I know.”

And there was
the wheezy, whisky laugh, to her relief. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Just been a little tired this week, got a little indigestion.”

“Did you check with Dr.
Alberts?”

“For what?
My stomach’s bothering me, that’s all. And I wore myself out some, I guess, doing the gardening the other day. But I got all that nasty oxalis up. That spring rain brings those weeds right out.”

“Maybe you should call him,” Desiree persisted.
“The doctor.”

“If I’m not
better by Monday, I’ll think about it,” Dixie conceded, and that was as much as Desiree could get from her. “But right now, I’m going to lie down on the couch and have a nice rest before the girls come over. I’ll be fine.”

Desiree was putting the finishing touches on the report that would accompany the latest financials when her phone rang again. She reached for it with an exasperated sigh, looked at the screen. Dixie again.

“What?” she asked teasingly when she
’d picked up. “I
told
you she was counting cards.”

But it wasn’t her grandmother who answered her.

“Desiree? Honey, it’s Marti Sanderson. Your grandma’s just gone to the hospital in the ambulance.”

“What?”
Desiree was already grabbing for the drawer pull, reaching for her purse. “What happened?”

“Her heart, I think,” Mrs. Sa
nderson said, and Desiree heard the worry in the quavering voice. “We’d just got there. She got up to get the drinks, and she collapsed. Fell right on down.”

“Is she . . .” Desiree couldn’t say it. “All
right?” Knowing that she wasn’t, and praying all the same.

“Oh, honey,
I don’t know. But you’d better come.”

She left her laptop open, her notes scattered. “I’m coming,” she said. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

She hurried around the corner of the desk, caught her hip on the edge, and stumbled. Her purse flew from her hand, her phone dropping to the floor, and she was there, scrabbling for it. “Mrs. Sanderson? Are you still there?”

“I’m here, honey.”

“I’m coming. Fast as I can. Call me if you hear anything, will you?”

She hung up, picked up her purse, grabbed for the rest of her things and stuffed them back into it. Where were her keys? She found them, finally, under the desk. Got to the door, shut it, and fumbled with the key, but her hand was shaking, and she couldn’t fit it into the lock.

“Going so soon?”

It was Alec, coming out of the break room with a Red Bull in his hand. The only one still here other than Michael and Joe, after six on Friday night.

“I . . .” She was still trying to fit the key. “I have to go. To Chico. My grandma . . .”

“Whoa.” Alec’s hand was
on her shoulder. “Rae. What’s wrong? What happened?”

She gave up on her keys, turned to him, saw the concern in his eyes, and almost lost it. “She’s been taken to the hospital. They think . . . her heart. But I don’t know. I have to go.”

He took the keys from her hand, locked the door, handed them back to her. “I’ll drive you. Let me grab my stuff. We’ll be out of here in two minutes.”

“
No. I have to go. I can’t . . .”

“Desiree.
Sit down.” He guided her to an empty cube, sat her in its chair. “You can’t drive yourself. Two minutes. Wait.”

She waited, because she didn’t know what else to do.
Her car was at home, and home was too far away, even if she got a cab. So instead, she watched him walk briskly to his office, then watched the door until he emerged again, jacket on, laptop case slung over his shoulder, and came back to her.

“Let’s go,” he said
. Within fifteen minutes, he’d walked her to his car and was pulling out of the Millennium Tower’s underground garage. And that was where the progress stopped, because they were immediately caught in the rush hour traffic heading for the Bay Bridge.

She
pulled her phone from her purse again with clumsy fingers, tried to punch ‘Chico Hospital’ into the navigation bar, but couldn’t do it.

“
Damn
it,” she breathed, feeling the agitation rise. “Come
on.”
The tears were close now, hot and sharp beneath her lids, and Alec glanced across at her.

“I need to call,” she said
helplessly. “I need to find out what’s happening. And I can’t make it work.”

He nodded. “Hang on.” P
ushed a button on the leather-wrapped steering wheel with his thumb and said, “Call Dad.”

A
nother few seconds, then Dave Kincaid’s deep, rich voice filled the car, and Alec was explaining the situation in a few quick sentences.

“I’ll call right now,” Dave said. “Back to you in a few minutes.”

Alec hung up, glanced over at Desiree again. “Dad knows everybody,” he promised. “If there’s anything to find out, he’ll find it out.”

The
minutes ticked by, neither of them saying anything, because there was nothing to say. Just the litany running through Desiree’s mind,
Please let her be all right,
over and over again, as the traffic inched across the bridge approach, not even on the span yet, and she watched the red brake lights winking on and off ahead of her, and wanted desperately to hurry, and couldn’t, because they were stuck.

The chime of the phone through the big car’s speakers made her jump.

Alec punched the button again. “Dad? Got you on speaker.”

“She made it to the hospital OK,” Dave said. “That’s all I know. Probably all there is to know. I’ll head
on over there now, and keep you posted. How far out are you?”

“A good four hours,” Alec guessed.

“I’ll keep you posted,” Dave said again. “And Desiree?”

“Yes
, sir?” She heard her voice trembling with relief and the tears she couldn’t completely hold back anymore, because her grandmother was alive.

“You
hold that good thought,” Dave said. “Your grandma’s a strong lady, and so are you. You say a prayer and let Alec take care of you, and don’t despair. I’ll be right back to you just as soon as I get the word.”

The drive was endless, and at the end of it, her grandmother was still alive.

She and Alec s
at for another hour in the surgical waiting room, and Dave Kincaid sat there too, and they waited, and Desiree felt as if she were going to wait forever, cycling between dull numbness and restless anxiety. But when the middle-aged woman in the green scrubs came into the room and called her name, there was no question which emotion was uppermost.

Alec was up with her, she barely registered as she approached the doctor. She was s
earching the woman’s face for the expression that would give her the news, not seeing it, and knowing that it couldn’t be. It couldn’t, because she couldn’t stand it.

Please,
she prayed as she took what felt like the longest walk of her life.
Please.

“Your grandmother’s in Recovery,” was the first thing
she heard, and she sagged, and knew she would have fallen if Alec hadn’t put an arm around her to hold her up.

“She’s a lucky woman,” the doctor went on. “
That this happened when she had someone with her, and they called the ambulance as fast as they did, which meant that we were able to begin thrombolytic therapy right away too. Clot-busting drugs,” she explained.

Desiree nodded. She’d heard all this.
And she knew what the doctor hadn’t said, too. That if it hadn’t been Pinochle Night, her grandmother would have collapsed alone. And that she would have died.

“We did go ahead and do the
angioplasty, and we put in a stent to relieve the blockage,” the doctor went on. “She came through it well, and the damage wasn’t severe, so all in all, you’ve got about as good an outcome as you could hope for.” She smiled a little, the fatigue evident now, well after midnight. “Like I said, she’s in Recovery, and best case, we’ll keep her for another couple days, but we’ll need to see.”

“Can I see her?” Desiree asked.

“She’ll be taken to Intensive Care,” the doctor said. “On the fourth floor. But you won’t be allowed to visit until morning. You should think about going home and getting some rest. You can come back as early as six.”

Desiree shook her head. “No. Can I sit in their waiting room?”

“Of course.” The woman put a hand out and touched Desiree’s arm. “Your grandmother’s a sick lady, but she’s a tough one too,” she said, and the sympathy made Desiree’s tears well. “I’ll come check on her again tomorrow, and then we’ll see.”

Alec could feel the trembling in
Rae’s body as he led her back across the room and lowered her into her chair. She immediately leaned forward, circled her arms over her knees, and held on.

“Desiree,” he said. H
is arm was still around her, his hand rubbing over her shoulder, and he’d never felt so helpless. “Oh, baby.”

She shook her head
violently, and he could feel her shaking under his hand, and still she was bent double, hanging on so tight. He looked helplessly at his father.

“Just hold her,” Dave said quietly. “Wait.”

So he held her and waited until the shaking had lessened, until she finally sat up again and he could pull her into him, because he couldn’t help it, and hear the shudders of the sobs she was still trying to suppress.

“
Thanks. I’m OK,” she said at last, sounding anything but, and pushing herself upright, away from him. “It was just . . . hearing she was all right.”

“Of course it was
.” He let her go, but he kept his arm around her shoulders, because he had to. “And now we should take you home, to my parents’.” He looked at his dad, got the nod of approval. “For a few hours, at least. You need some rest.”

“No.” She
stood, and he stood helplessly with her. “I’m waiting wherever they let me. Close to her.”

So he stayed with her, all that night. Dozed in the uncomfortable chairs,
checked on her every time he woke, and saw her sleeping and waking too. And in the morning, she was able to see her grandmother, and that was better. Alec got her to go to breakfast, and coaxed her to eat twice more during that long day, during which her grandmother was transferred to a regular room on the cardiac care floor, so Rae could sit at her bedside and hold her hand.

Alec
watched some of the terrible tension leave her over that long day. And still she didn’t cry.