Crash - Part One

  Crash – Episode One is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used ficticiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or their likeness is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 Miranda Dawson

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover design by Cover Shot Creations (covershotcreations.com)

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  Posted on Mobilisim forum..who will be a leecher????

  donna@mobilisim

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Author’s Note

  Mailing List

  About the book

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  I took a peak into the conference hall to look at our audience. There were hundreds or people out there. Mainly men, but with a token scattering of women in power suits. Soon they would all have their attention fixed on me. Was I ready for that? I’d never been the subject of attention like this before.

  “Do you think we should do one more run through of the presentation?” I asked John. “We did slip up a little in the middle when talking about the historic financial data.”

  John smiled at me. “Relax, Emily. We’ve got this. That slip up was entirely my fault and it won’t happen again. The more we stress about every little detail, the more likely we are to make a mistake.”

  “I can’t help it,” I said. “You do realize that everyone out there is going to be waiting for me to screw up?

  “Not this again, Emily,” John sighed. “No one in the audience even knows about your leg.”

  “Actually, smartass, I was referring to the fact that I am a woman. I’ve checked out the list of speakers for this conference, and only three women are scheduled to speak. And the other two look like they could be part-time supermodels.”

  John sighed again, but he didn’t argue. He couldn’t disagree with me on this one; Silicon Valley was still a boys club, and the vast majority of women who did make it here were attractive or had other connections. I had neither.

  “The fact that you are a woman gives you an advantage, not a disadvantage,” John said. “Besides, I guarantee you that most of the men in this audience would do anything to get you in the sack.”

  “Oh, please,” I said. “I’m hardly beating men off with a stick.”

  “That’s because you won’t even let them get that close. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Emily—when men think about what they like in a woman, the lower half of one leg features pretty low on the list. Now stop sulking and get ready for this presentation.”

  John was right. I needed to get my head in the game and stop worrying about things that were out of my control. This presentation could make or break our startup, so it had to be a good one. My paranoia about having a prosthetic leg would have to wait.

  ---

  John was on fire. He spoke with a confidence I had not seen in him before as he wowed the audience of investors with the business plan for our start-up venture. LimbAnalytics had started as just an idea—something I had dabbled with in my spare time while pursuing my biology major at Stanford—but with John’s help, I had made it into a business.

  With the right investors, LimbAnalytics might revolutionize life for people with artificial limbs like me. To say I was excited would have been an understatement.

  I scanned the room and picked out a few faces I recognized. Silicon Valley was a close-knit community, so the same people appeared at most of these events. Every face in the crowd represented cash, the lifeblood of my business.

  But one face stood out from the crowd. A man stood at the back of the room whispering into a woman’s ear. I saw her giggle as he handed her a business card. Based on her body language, they would be having more than a networking lunch.

  I kept an eye on him as he pulled his mouth away from the woman’s ear. He was captivating. I was standing on stage next to my business partner as he gave a presentation and yet all I could do was stare at this man. He wore a fitted, light gray suit that hugged his muscular arms and bulging chest. I’d never mentally undressed a man before—heck, I’d never undressed a man period—but I already had him shirtless and was unbuckling his belt in my mind.

  My eyes followed him as he left the room. His tight trousers left me with a detailed view of his rear and I couldn’t help but imagine sinking my teeth into it. The man was a walking Greek God—an Adonis. I ached with longing and found myself eager to get back to my hotel room and spend some time between the sheets.

  “Emily?” John said next to me, sounding a little agitated.

  I looked toward him and could hear the crowd murmuring and snickering at me as I stood there under the lights. I looked at our presentation and realized it was my turn to speak. Judging by the sweat glistening on John’s forehead, he had been trying to get my attention for some time.

  “Uh, sorry. Um...” I muttered, kicking myself for daydreaming at the worst possible time. “As John has explained the business plan, please now let me explain a little more about how LimbAnalytics works and how it will revolutionize medical treatment for people with—”

  As I spoke, my fake leg hit the back of my other calf and I went flying into the podium. I tried to grab hold of it, but only succeeded in pushing it over on my way down to meet the floor. My knee took the brunt of the fall, but that wasn’t my concern right now. My trouser leg had crept up and my prosthetic limb was showing to all and sundry. The gasp from the audience washed over me as John picked me up.

  “At least now I have your attention,” I said, rearranging my clothing. It was a bad joke, but the audience gave a polite laugh.

  The rest of the presentation went surprisingly well, given that little incident. I did have to apologize to John for leaving him hanging. Apparently he had called my name at least five times with no response. I gave him some excuse about seeing an old college friend in the audience and he seemed to buy that.

  It didn’t matter anyway. After the presentation we were inundated with people who wanted to speak to us about our product. Intriguing people had never been a problem, though; it was getting them to invest that had caused many sleepless nights. LimbAnalytics had a great business model, but we required huge capital investment with little chance of return for five years. I had every belief we would succeed, but I couldn’t blame potential investors for getting cold feet after looking at our accounts.

  John and I spent the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening networking with nondescript men who all started to look alike after a while. They were all white, middle-aged, and dressed in a suit, but without the tie, which was about as formal as it got in the Valley.

  The only way I could tell them apart was the way they acted with me. There was Niles, the skinny guy who kept trying to peer through the gap in my blouse. Preston kept putting his hand on my knee or on my arm whenever he made a bad joke. Richard and
Wilson treated me like an idiot and assumed I wouldn’t understand any of the financial aspects of investment.

  None of them were ideal investors, but at least they retained my vision for the company. They were not the real problem. The problem that kept me up at night was PharmaTech, the world’s largest pharmaceutical firm that had been sniffing around our company for months. They would make an offer sometime in the next few months, that much I knew. It would be an offer that would make us millionaires overnight and likely mean we would never have to work again for the rest of our lives. But they would also destroy my dream.

  PharmaTech would buy the company and then immediately dismantle it because our product threatened their profits. PharmaTech made big money under the existing system and we worried them. I couldn’t let them buy the company. I started LimbAnalytics to help people, not to make a rich company even richer.

  “You going to call it a night, Emily?” John asked when he had finally managed to shake off the last hanger-on.

  “I’m going to grab a bite to eat at the bar,” I said. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast and my stomach is growling. Want to join me?”

  “No, better not. I promised Tom I would give him a call. He always worries that these networking trips are just orgies in disguise.”

  I smiled and said goodbye. John’s boyfriend was a little clingy, but it was nice to see John settling down in a serious relationship. He’d spent all of college sleeping around, so a boyfriend was a big lifestyle change for him.

  The hotel restaurant was small and all the tables were taken. I considered heading out into the city for food when a few people got up from the bar and vacated their seats. I grabbed a stool and skimmed the menu before settling on a large burger. It was hardly an original choice, but I needed comfort food right now.

  The burger arrived quickly and I immediately set about destroying it. I didn’t look entirely ladylike, but at that point I couldn't have cared less; it’d been a long day. Not a lot could have taken my attention from my dinner right then, but someone walked into my line of vision and stopped me mid-bite.

  In through the hotel entrance walked the man I had seen earlier while I gave my presentation. He strolled through the door in the same gray suit, although I would never have guessed he had spent the day in it. The only change to his appearance from earlier was the rough stubble around his face. Other than that, he looked immaculate.

  The man stopped to finish up a phone conversation, giving me a great opportunity to take him all in and store him in my memory for later. He held the phone in his hand; elbow bent to reveal a large bicep that seemed eager to escape his suit. His tailored shirt did not leave a lot to the imagination either, and if I had to guess, I would have imagined he had the beginning of a six-pack on his stomach.

  He put the phone down and I quickly looked away to avoid getting caught, then went back to picking at my food. Just a few moments later, someone pulled out the stool next to me and took a seat.

  My peripheral vision took in a gray suit. I chanced a quick look to the side as he picked up the menu. It was him. He was sitting right next to me. I could smell a faint whiff of subtle aftershave and it sent my hormones into overdrive. Suddenly I felt drunk and giddy like a schoolgirl.

  The bar had emptied out somewhat while I had been eating, and there were now plenty of tables free. He did not have to sit next to me, and yet here he was. If I were to move slightly to my right, my arm would brush against his.

  Why had he sat next to me? Surely he wasn’t planning to hit on me? One-night stands were hardly unusual in hotels, but that sort of thing didn’t happen to me. Just a few seats to my left a stunningly gorgeous woman in a red dress was drinking alone, practically screaming for a guy to buy her a drink, and yet this man, this god in human form, had chosen to sit next to me.

  Maybe he had a thing for broken women? Or he could detect my innocence and wanted to teach someone “pure?” I wasn’t technically a virgin, but I felt like one and I was sure I gave off that vibe.

  I made an effort to eat slowly and finish my drink. Hopefully he would take note of the empty glass and decide it might need a refill.

  “Hi,” came a soft voice from the seat next to me. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  Oh my God, it had worked. It was really happening. No one like this had ever hit on me before except at college, and that was usually as a joke.

  I tried to act cool. “Sure. I’ll have a vodka tonic,” I said, turning my head to smile at him. But he had his back toward me. He turned and looked at me over his shoulder, staring into my eyes and looking confused. My heart sank as I saw a stick-thin, beautiful woman in a silver dress on the other side of him. It was the same woman he had been talking to during my presentation. He wasn’t asking me for a drink; he was asking her. The woman snickered and made little effort to hide her amusement.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said, looking at me with pity. “I was asking this lady. But please, allow me to buy you a drink anyway.”

  I quickly rummaged around in my purse for some cash, then threw it down on the bar and ran as fast as I could with only one working leg. A few strangers cast worried looks in my direction, but I ignored them and headed straight for the elevators. Unfortunately, they were all on their way up to other floors.

  I looked back over and saw them both still looking at me. The elevator took an eternity to arrive and by the time I arrived back in my room I was a hot, sweaty mess. What a fool I had been. Men like that did not buy drinks for women like me. I lay on the bed and cried myself to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  I couldn’t face going downstairs to breakfast the next morning. It took me nearly an hour to shower and make myself look presentable, and by the time I was done, the breakfast buffet was probably just down to the dregs anyway.

  My phone had a few missed calls from my mom. I’d promised to update her on how the day went and she tended to panic when I forgot to call. I contemplated just sending her a text, but I really needed to speak to a comforting voice right now.

  Mom always answered the phone with a generic, “Hello?” as if she didn’t know exactly who was on the other end. It usually drove me nuts, but right now I found it kind of endearing.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Oh, hello, dear. How are you? How did the big day go?”

  “I’m fine, mom. Sorry for not calling last night. John and I were networking into the early hours, and by the time I got back to my room I was just exhausted. I fell right to sleep.” I could never outright lie to my mother, so I just kept to statements that were technically true.

  “Networking?” Mom said. “I am impressed, dear.” posted on Mobilisim forum!

  Mom was impressed with most of what I did. I was the first in the family to go to college, so when I graduated Stanford University with a major in human biology, it was a pretty big deal. Mom didn’t entirely understand my business or the amounts of money that were being bandied around, but that was probably for the best.

  “It’s not as exciting as it sounds, I’m afraid,” I said. “Just talking to lots of rich men about money.”

  “Sounds exciting to me dear. I wouldn’t mind spending my evenings talking to rich men who want to give me money.”

  “Mom!”

  “What? I’m just saying that perhaps things aren’t all that bad. Any chance one of these rich men wants to buy you dinner?”

  “Hardly, Mother,” I said. “I doubt I’m their type.”

  I heard my mother sigh on the other end. “Not this again, darling. You are a beautiful young woman, and when you project a little confidence, I doubt any man can resist you. No man worth having is going to care about your leg.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, just to keep Mother happy. I didn’t want to get into that discussion right now. “This is just not a good place to meet men, that’s all.”

  “I thought it was a sausage-fest over there,” Mom said. “You should be able to have your pick.”

  I cringed at Mom
’s choice of words. No one wanted to hear their mother talk about “sausage-fests.” Her and Dad had started drifting apart after my brother died and Mom seemed determined to regain her lost youth. That meant talking to me like she was still twenty, and it was painful.

  “I’m trying to keep it all business while I’m out here,” I said. That should keep her happy. She wanted me to find a man, but she also wanted me to be successful, so work had to come first sometimes.

  “Anyway, can we talk about that on your birthday? I assume you can still make it over for that weekend? I’ve booked a restaurant for us.” It wasn’t a cheap one either, but then it wasn’t every year your mother turned fifty. With Dad unable to get out of work this weekend, she would only end up spending it with other couples. She hated that, so we’d arranged for her to come and spend the weekend with me in the city.

  “Oh, yes,” Mom said. “I’ll be there. Can’t wait to get out of this place, actually. The weather is getting up into the hundreds, so it’s too hot to even go outside.”

  “All right, well, I’m going to buy your plane ticket when I get home tonight. I’ve got to dash now. I have one final bit of networking to do.”

  “Okay, dear. Do see if you can snare a man while you’re at it.”

  “I’ve told you, Mom. I’m not interested in these guys.”

  “Not for you. For me. Have a good day.”

  Mothers. I checked myself in the mirror and decided to try and take Mom’s words to heart. I was the founder of a popular start-up company and people were interested in me. I wasn’t unattractive. When I wore trousers or a long skirt to hide my leg, I attracted a lot of glances. Bigger tits would have been nice, but the ones I had were pert and went well with my slender frame.

  I pulled on a professional pair of trousers and paired it with a blouse that opened low, revealing a hint of bosom. I didn’t have a lot to work with, but I was damn sure going to make the best of it. Time to go charm some investors.

  Chapter Three

  After two days of mingling with investors, I actually found it rather challenging to return to work. Whereas I usually leapt out of bed in the morning ready to change the world, I now found myself lingering between the sheets and reluctant to even switch on my computer.