One Night Burns (The Vampires of Livix, #1) (2 page)

He bought a large regular coffee leaving it black and sat down a little to the other side of the room. Not sure if that’s helpful for me or not. Distracting. He pulled out a paper notebook from his shoulder bag, one of those with the leather covers and stretchy bookmark bands. Then he opened a computer similar to mine. But none of that generic computer operating system chime that pings across every university and corporation when it is ready. Different music with some nice-sounding soft drums. He jammed his pen behind his ear and started typing into his computer.

I went back to my news. Something happening in Asia. The markets are moving down too rapidly. It’s late morning in China and their markets broiled, ignited by heavy wheat and corn futures turning over. Russian wet spring rains and an exceptionally dry summer cut expected yields. I glanced across the top of my computer screen. He’s still intently typing.

I clicked my billing icon and returned to the Patent Office system. More brackets. Here’s an automotive starter motor showing a special cast aluminum bracket by a Michigan company. I click open their website. They have a web blog showing their new starter artwork. Not versed with how a starter functions, other than having one break on an old car of mine back in high school and stranding me at the wrestling match, I go to my search engine and look for images of a starter. I find an interesting one with extensive descriptions and a full engine cutaway so I click on it. I look over the top of my computer screen and see Mr. Mysterious continuing to work away but now writing notes in his notebook referencing something on his computer.

My computer demanded my attention with a flashing icon and an attentive beep. I glanced down. Something was wrong! Pop-ups appeared on my computer screen like a horrific DNA cross between popcorn and fireworks. One telling me helpfully ‘searching for viruses’ on my hard drive. Another screamed malware choked the machine’s performance, asking me if a list of accounts included my credit card and bank savings (thankfully not but it still looked official!). One screen wanted me to send them fifty bucks for their particular brand of computer security.

“Gah!!” I exclaimed, pushing the thing away from me. I shoved my chair back from the table too. As if I could get infected with the virus running rampant on my computer. I reached forward and yanked out my USB flash drive before it could be compromised, hopefully it is fine since my work notes and billing hours are on it.

Mr. Mysterious looked up as I slammed the lid and yanked out the power cord, and as if possessed, the computer hard drive light remained urgently flashing and chewing at my data. He stared at me from across the room and offered, “Take the battery out too.” His glance piercing me for a moment then he went back to his notes.

I clawed at the buttons to release the battery and the hot little strip popped into my hand. Embarrassing, I should have thought of the battery. The lights on the computer faded like the vanquished eyes of a dying dragon. I sat with parts from my work and computer sprawled across the small table. The unhooked end of the power cord slide over the table edge like a fleeing snake. I stared at my stuff not sure what action will solve my problem.

“Ever use Linux?” he said at last. His eyes are hard and blue yet his face is helpful.

I ask, “What’s that? An anti-virus program?” A few other patrons looked up from their books and papers and electronic-readers. Virus is a powerful word among strangers. A few seemed to reach for little pocket containers of hand sanitizer while others glanced around their computer screens wary of anything unexpected.

Collecting his things and dropping them into the pockets of his pack he moved to the open table next to me, “No, but I suppose you could call it that.”

“I clicked on a random website and it started going through my hard drive and locking me out of shutting it down.” I laughed at it, nervously extending, “It’s probably sent my credit card and social security number to Nairobi where some prince is paying that lawyer to claim his fortune.”

“That’s good!” he smiled. “Typical virus activity. I got tired of the viruses and the worry and the lost data. I’d had it and looked for an alternative and found Ubuntu Linux.”

“You lost me there.”

“Here, try this for a week.” he gave me a small flash drive, “You can get it back to me next week and tell me if you like it or not. I’m here nearly every Tuesday, working.”

“How do I use it?”

“Put your computer back together and before turning it on, insert the flash drive. You can boot it instead of your hard drive. It will be a free and a virus free experience.”

“Really? How can it be free?” I asked dubiously, my eyes narrowing, “…  is it pirated?”

He laughed, I liked the sound of his laugh, “That media industry really has you twisted around. This contains open source, free, and freedom software, like Firefox.”

“Ok. Cool,” I’m familiar with the Firefox Web Browser.

He held out his hand to introduce himself. His long fingers had clean carefully attended nails, “I’m Garin by the way. Garin Ramsburgh.”

“I’m Anna Arkena,” I said, shaking hands. His hand a chill lower than being warm, noticeable but not unpleasantly cool. Expected with the rain. A reserved strength in his firm grasp.

“I should get back to my work. I’m fortunate for this excuse to introduce myself. Pleasant to meet you.” He picked up his stuff to go back to the other side of the coffee shop.

“You don’t need to go back over there.” I said. And then thinking quickly trying not to sound odd or desperate or crazy. While I didn’t notice his cologne about him, after touching his hand, I could smell traces of his scent hanging on my finger tips. And it was wonderful. Probably some aftershave or something, “… I might need some help with this flash drive.”

“It’s pretty easy, but sure.” he reached into his bag for his computer and notebook. Setting them on the table he said, “I hope you don’t mind I stared at you from across the room, you’re pretty with your hair like that, and you smell of strawberries.”

“Ah, thanks.” While I thoroughly enjoyed them, I wasn’t good at compliments. I bit the inside of my lip, “I don’t mind, it’s nice getting noticed sometimes.” And what is in that shampoo of mine that lingers across the room, in a coffee shop no less? “What type of work do you do?”

His computer made that different boot up sound again, this flash drive thing will probably do that with mine, “I work at a hedge fund slash private equity investment group. I’m an analyst there.”

“And what does an analyst typically do?” I asked as I snapped the battery back in my computer.

He laughed, “A lot of presentation decks.” He flipped open his notebook and fiddled with his pen, “I’m the guy that collects the data about a company and puts its story together. I analyze their competition and the market dynamics. Then I present the possible financial scenarios if following any of several investment paths.” he paused. “I didn’t lose you with that did I?”

“No. We get corporate oriented classes on Mergers & Acquisitions.”

He grinned, again with that precise and beautiful smile, “Then we either invest in the company, or not. I do the business case work. The partners actually make the decision. I can recommend, or tell them where I expect holes are in my analysis that increase risk, and advise with my own opinions, but they ultimately make the decision.”

“Can you tell me what company you’re looking at now? Or is that a big secret?”

“Well, that’s a big secret. But it is in the fashionable, and possibly trendy, electric vehicle market.”

“That’s what I’m working on, too!” I’ve forgotten my broken computer pieces by now. “I work at a patent attorney’s office. I’m going to law school focusing on patent law, and this is my work-study job. More work than study, now that school is done for the summer… sort of. I’m still taking one class over the summer.”

“That must be fun. I have to read patents too, now and then, sometimes the company we are evaluating really is about their patent. Otherwise there would be no value in the company. Strange how the work and hopes and dreams of an entire company of people come down to that document.”

“Thomas Jefferson championed the patent system,” why did I say that? “Nice he thought of our future jobs.”

“He was smart. It allows companies to hold value…  But my eyes glaze over and I get sleepy reading those patent documents. You’re probably working on ‘A plethora of attachment features’ or something, with a paragraph of description of what those attachment claims include. Why not say ‘it’s bolted on’?”

“I get sleepy too,” I giggled. Great. Now I’m involuntarily giggling. “Some of that is so boring I can’t stand it either. The patent I’m working on is for an electric motor bracket. Prior art in brackets are huge. Wading through that patent alone could be my whole summer.”

“That’s funny!” He lurched and leaned back in his chair so he could jamb his hand in his pocket to retrieve his phone. He pressed a button answering, “Ok. Hold on a minute.” He took his coat and turned to me, “Can you watch my stuff? I need to take this outside.”

“– Outside? Sure.”

He put on his rain coat, flopping the hood forward while reaching into a breast pocket retrieving his phone’s blue-tooth ear-piece. He winked at me as he put the device in his ear and went out the coffee shop door. I could see him in the rain, animated in his conversation. He talked a lot with his hands. One moment it looked like he twisted open a pickle jar and the next painting a Rembrandt. For some reason I liked that passion.

I decided I should try this flash drive of his. I plugged it in and finished replacing the computer battery and power cord. Then turned it on. The screen flickered and gave me an option to boot the flash drive or the host system hard disk drive. I selected the flash drive. It puts up a splash screen with a little circle and dot icon, then presents the desktop with that same African drum sound I heard his computer start with. I look over at him and he’s still there, keeping his back to the wind and driving rain, and talking.

I open the web browser. The Internet is there and I can do work! I find the spreadsheet program and navigate to my data flash drive to find my research notes. They are there! I even found a time-keeping program, but have to install it. A couple of clicks and it is installed. This is kind of cool.

I’d do work but I can’t really concentrate. I brush my hand near my face out of habit, and smell his cologne fleetingly fading but it still smells nice. I close my eyes and dwell on that scent until I think I must look curious to the others in the Cafe. I looked at his things. Classic tailored dark leather with tightly puckered stitching. His computer screen left tilted toward me. I could make out notes on the top of the open document: “Research Report Findings for Partners of the Bank of Draydon”

“Target Co is short of cash … Burn rate will keep them operational for another six months … Mezzanine financing will be required to maintain operations … IPO unlikely for three years … Recommending these three –” And the screen saver faded to black!

I sat back in my chair, I shouldn’t peer anyway. I picked up my coffee for a little sip; noting a hint of blackberries floating among the mix of other dark flavors. Garin still stood in the rain but he checked his heavy stainless steel watch. He pressed his fingers to the side of his blue-tooth headset and turned to come inside.

The gust of wind that came in with him this time sprayed rain against the prepackaged coffee bags on the impulse shelving near the door. Garin firmly pushed the door closed. He flipped his hood back and strode smoothly over to our tables.

“Sorry to drip and run,” he scooped up his stuff and jammed them into his bag, “I have a crazy meeting to attend now.”

“Oh, that’s ok.” I wiggled in my chair, “You said you’re usually here on Tuesdays? So I can give this back to you?”

“Usually. I like the coffee here and when the weather is nice,” he turned his head and looked longingly out the blustery window, “it’s good to look at the bustling street. I have a thing for people watching.”

“Sometimes I do that too.”

He smiled, “See you again, I hope?” he walked backward to the door.

“Sure.” And when halfway to the exit, he slung his bag over his shoulder and flipped up his hood. He paused after opening the door and looked at me one more time.

“Bye” I said mostly with my lips while fumbling a little hand wave.

“Take Care.”

And he disappeared into the rain, vanishing in the maelstrom.

Would I see him again?

-:- Three -:-

I stayed at the coffee shop. I cannot believe a week has gone by already, busy on bracket patents! Interspersed with bursts of activity helping a client draft a response to a second company. They received a stop shipping demand letter on a part claimed to have a patent on it. They want to avoid court time. By Marilyn’s experience, she told me we needed to draft a good counter letter, based on the template in her office network database, and reference the client’s development history. So I’m switching between those two searches in the patent office database and creating the rough draft response. I’m slow at the draft because this is my first one, even with the template. Marilyn probably fits hers in the one hundred and forty characters of a Twitter tweet.

The time spirals around at the pace I idly stirred more cream in my coffee mug with that little wooden paddle. I kept watching the propped open door letting the street noises mingle with the music from across the street. It’s nice. But every time someone walks through the entry I look up. Hoping.

I push my hair back. The day has bled into the late afternoon and that into early evening. The regular nine-to-fives and their bustling street sounds sulked and faded away with them. The guitar outside is clearer.

I rolled my stuff into my bag and went to the rest room. I’d been waiting far too long on a couple of coffees. On the way I tossed my empty coffee in the trash, glimpsing how the smudge of my lipstick stained the top.