Crash - Part One Page 2

  I spent Saturday at home, but it was not exactly productive. I answered some emails and made a few minor tweaks to the code, but nothing exciting. John didn’t like it when I fiddled around too much with his code, because more often than not, I broke it and he would spend days fixing it. Still, given that only a year ago I had known nothing about computer coding, the fact that I could do anything at all was an achievement.

  Unfortunately I made the mistake of streaming TV shows on Netflix, and from that point, the day was over in terms of productivity.

  John apparently had the same problem. “Want to work at the SF Station tomorrow?” he asked in a message. “Can’t work at home with Tom around.”

  “Sure. See you there at 10 am.”

  The SF Station was our go-to coffee shop located roughly equidistant between John and me. They served excellent coffee but were criminally underrated, which meant John and I could always find a table to sit down and work.

  “Usual, Emily?” Jane asked as I approached the counter.

  “Yes, please, but could you drop a second shot of espresso in there today?”

  “One of those days, is it?” Jane asked with a smile.

  “Something like that.”

  John had already claimed a table in the corner that was big enough for four people. Or it was until we pulled out laptops and chargers and spread ourselves out.

  “Morning,” I said, sitting down adjacent to him.

  “Hey,” John replied. “Thanks for coming here today. I was just getting so much grief from Tom for working at the weekend. I had to get out.”

  “But he doesn’t mind you working at the coffee shop?” I asked.

  “He might,” John said. “But I told him I was visiting my brother down in Palo Alto.”

  “Ah. Well, I would likely have come here anyway. I barely got a thing done yesterday.”

  “How I Met Your Mother?” John asked.

  “Frasier, actually,” I replied. “Haven’t watched it in years, and you know what it’s like once you get started.”

  “Only too well,” John said.

  We had a quick catch up on where we were with the business and then divided up a couple of important tasks. LimbAnalytics had started with us working like this in the coffee shop, so being back here with John helped me forget about the investors and really knuckle down to work.

  “I’m going to need another coffee,” John said after we had worked in silence for at least two hours. “You want one?”

  “Oh, yes,” I replied. “Soy milk latte, please.”

  John left the table and headed over to order the drinks. I should have asked him to grab me a snack as well. As soon as I stopped working I realized how hungry I was.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” asked a man with a strong accent. Was he English?

  I hated sharing a table, but the two of us could hardly justify taking up a large table if the place was busy.

  Except it wasn’t busy. I looked up and saw a number of empty tables in front of me. It was too late to say anything now; the stranger was taking a seat opposite me and next to John.

  “Thank you,” the man said.

  “No problem,” I muttered and took a quick look up at the man.

  It was him; the guy from the bar at the conference, the man in front of whom I had completely embarrassed myself.

  “Hi,” he said with a grin. “Remember me?”

  How could I forget him? In shock, my lungs expelled the air from my body and I saw a tiny bit of spittle escape from my mouth and land directly in front of him. He pretended not to notice. His appearance was different from the night before. The stubble had gone and a polo shirt and jeans had replaced the tailored, slim-fit suit, but his face was not one I was likely to forget in a hurry.

  “Yes,” I said, finally able to form a word. “I’m sorry about what happened. I hope I didn’t spoil your evening.”

  The man looked puzzled. “Why are you sorry? That was all just a misunderstanding. These things happen.”

  He kept staring at me, his eyes looking deep into mine as if he were trying to read my mind. What should I say next?

  The silence stretched on while he waited for me to speak. With impeccable timing, John returned to the table with my coffee.

  “Oh, hello,” John said to the stranger, assuming I knew him from the way we were looking at each other. “I’m John, Emily’s business partner.” John held out his hand to the man while I looked on, still not entirely sure what was happening.

  “Hello, John. I’m Carter. Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Is that an English accent?” John asked, his eyes lighting up. He was a sucker for an English accent almost as much as I was. Knowing my luck, the two of them would be talking about Doctor Who any minute now.

  “Yes,” Carter replied, glancing back at me. “I’m from Winchester. It’s near London,” he added when John glanced at him with a confused look on his face.

  “I met Carter at the conference the other night,” I said, trying to take some control over the situation.

  “Ah, you want to invest in LimbAnalytics?” John asked.

  Carter lifted his cup to his lips, his bicep flexing under the tight shirt as he did so. God, this guy was a dream. Better, in fact. Even the men in my dreams were grounded in reality. This guy should not have been real.

  Two Chinese girls at the table next to us were clearly talking about him. I didn’t need to know Mandarin to recognize sexual desire when it was that obvious.

  “No, no,” Carter said. “I’m afraid I know nothing of technology. Not my thing at all. I just popped by to ask Emily for a favor.”

  It all fell into place. The other night was no doubt an illicit liaison that needed to stay secret. He had come here to ask me to keep my mouth shut. How romantic.

  “How can I help you, Carter?” I asked.

  Carter smiled. “You can accompany me to dinner on Friday.”

  Chapter Four

  I saw John mouth the words, “holy crap!” He looked as excited as I should have felt.

  “I, uh, I’ve just remembered I need to make a call outside,” John said, standing up from the table so quickly he banged his knees and nearly tripped over the power cord connected to his laptop. I thought he mouthed, “go for it,” as he left, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “You want to take me to dinner?” I asked.

  “Yes, if you would be so kind.” Carter leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, never losing eye contact with me.

  “Look, I get that the other night was embarrassing for all concerned, but you don’t need to make it up to me.”

  “I know,” Carter said. “I’m not trying to make it up to you. I just want to buy you dinner.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I’m not exactly your type, am I?”

  I caught a hint of confusion in Carter’s face, but he did a good job of hiding his emotions.

  “What is my type, exactly? I wasn’t aware I had one.”

  “I saw the woman you were with the other night. She was stunning. Don’t tell me you are interested in someone like me.”

  “You don’t really think a lot of me, do you?” Carter asked, each word coming out soft in his English accent. “I don’t have a type. I just like beautiful women, and you, Emily, are very beautiful.”

  He must have been lying, but what for? Did he just want to sleep with a disabled girl for a laugh? Maybe he hadn’t noticed my leg? I’d assumed he’d noticed as I tripped on my way out of the restaurant, but it was possible he’d been too fixated on Miss Big Tits to notice.

  “Why are you in the US?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “On business,” Carter replied.

  “So you are only here for a week or so?”

  “A couple of months, actually.”

  “And then you go home. I’m not looking for a short fling, I’m afraid. I suggest you stick to women who are only looking for a night of fun.”

  “Ouch,” Carter said. He looked genui
nely offended. “All I want to do is take you for dinner this Friday. Is that really so much to ask? I think I could show you a good time, and if you don’t want anything else to happen, then it doesn’t have to.”

  Carter wasn’t used to people telling him no, and I must have been crazy to be doing that. I could see John staring through the window and egging me on. Was I mad to be turning him down? Carter looked genuine enough, but something didn’t quite fit in this situation, and there was no way I could let myself fall for someone like him. In a few months he would head home and leave me here where no man could ever measure up.

  “I don’t mean to sound rude,” I said. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like jumping into things so quickly, and knowing that you’re going home in a few months just makes this the sensible decision. Besides, I have a disability that isn’t exactly conducive to having passionate flings.”

  Carter smiled. Was that a nice smile or a condescending one? I couldn’t decide.

  “You have an artificial leg, Emily. That hardly makes you incapable of going to dinner with me. Do you always do the sensible thing? Because life would be a lot more fun if you let your hair down once in a while.”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I replied. Every decision in my life was based on being sensible. “Anyway, it’s my mom’s birthday on Friday and I’m taking her for dinner.”

  “Okay,” Carter said, standing up. “I’m not going to try and force you to do something you don’t want to do. It’s a shame, though, because you seem like a remarkable woman.”

  “Wait,” I called out as Carter walked away. “How did you know I would be here?”

  “Easy,” Carter replied. “I saw your company name on your name badge at the convention. That company has an office nearby, according to public records. I assume it’s just a PO box, or something like that?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re a start-up. Start-ups like to work in coffee shops. I looked in a few ones nearby and bingo, here you are.”

  “Impressive,” I said.

  “Like I said, I really want to take you to dinner, and I always get what I want. Goodbye, Emily. I will see you again soon.”

  I gave a weak wave as he left the coffee shop. He had gone through all that effort to find me. Why would he do that for a girl who made a fool of herself in front of him?

  “Are you crazy?” John yelled at me as he sat back down. “You turned him down? Are you blind?”

  Everyone in the coffee shop was staring at us now.

  “He just wanted a one-night stand,” I said. “And yes, I know he is attractive—”

  “No, he’s not attractive,” John said. “Brad Pitt is attractive. Carter looks like he was personally sculpted by God and then given an English accent. What were you thinking?”

  “Come on, John. Doesn’t this all sound a bit weird to you? He could have anyone he wants, but he decides to invite me out to dinner? He just wants to have a bit of fun with a cripple and then ditch me. Maybe he just wants to brag to his friends that he slept with a one-legged girl.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” John scolded. “Anyway, so what if he just does want a bit of fun? What’s wrong with that? I don’t mean to sound rude, Emily, but you really need to let someone in one day. And not just in your heart, if you get my meaning.”

  “He’s not my type, John, okay? Now just leave it.”

  John dropped it and we got back to work, but he looked baffled and acted a little off for the rest of the day. I kept typing away, but couldn’t get Carter out of my mind. Those eyes. Those arms. I just couldn’t shake them.

  As soon as I got home, I took some time to myself between the sheets. I shuddered to a climax imagining Carter’s strong arms lifting me up and throwing me onto the bed before making me into a woman.

  Every time I masturbated, I told myself that I would loosen up and get a man for real. I’d allow him to breach my sex and fill my insides with flesh in a way that my fingers just couldn’t do. But then I would meet men and clam up; all the negative possibilities would take over my mind.

  What if he freaked out when he saw my leg? What if I was crap in bed? Logically, I knew thinking this way was stupid, but that didn’t help. I couldn’t change the way I was, but didn’t seem to be able to accept it either. Until I did, men like Carter would only be fucking me in my fantasies.

  Chapter Five

  Mom insisted on staying in a hotel even though I offered her my bed. She said she didn’t want to cramp my style, but I had a horrible feeling she just didn’t want me to cramp hers. My mother made no secret of her newfound lust for life, and I dreaded to think of the ways she might occupy herself with a hotel room in a big city.

  On Friday night, we met at the expensive restaurant I’d picked for her meal—La Table. John and I ate here the night we first got some seed funding for the company. It was a reckless way to blow through a couple of hundred bucks, but we’d both been living on noodles for months and John convinced me that we deserved a treat.

  The business was generating a bit of cash now, but this night would still represent a noticeable blow to my bank balance. Still, my mom wouldn’t be turning fifty every year, and without Dad around I felt like I had to make an effort.

  The restaurant was one of the few places in San Francisco that actually had a dress code, so I wore a dark blue, full-length dress with thin straps and a somewhat risky low neckline. This dress was one of the few that gave me a bit of confidence in my figure, mostly because it completely covered my leg but also because it hugged my figure, pushing my breasts up and out. The maître d' at La Table seemed to approve, judging by the lusty look he gave me.

  “Good evening madam,” he said, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from my chest. “Do you have a reservation?”

  “Yes, table for two under the name Emily Saunders.”

  “Ah yes, your other guest is already at the table.”

  He walked me over to a little two-seater table at the back of the room. It was in the middle of an aisle and near the restroom, so we would have people squeezing past us all night. I’d been lucky to get a table at all and couldn’t afford to be picky about its location.

  “Happy birthday Mom,” I said, wrapping my arms around her thin frame. She lost a little weight over the last few months and looked damn good. If I looked like her at fifty, I would be very happy.

  “Thank you, dear. I cannot believe how fancy this place is. You really didn’t need to bring me somewhere like this. Have you seen the prices?”

  I smiled. Mom was used to the dirt cheap food they served in Phoenix, so the prices in San Francisco were bound to be a bit of a shock to her. “Don’t worry about that, Mom. It’s my treat for your birthday. Just order whatever you want.”

  “I’m glad you said that, because I have taken the liberty of ordering us a couple of cocktails. Ah, here they are.”

  Over the next hour we sampled a bit from the cocktail menu, usually ones with rude names that seemed to titillate my mother, and got through our appetizer and main course. The courses had been quite modest in size, so I contemplated squeezing in dessert.

  “Mom, you getting anything?” I asked.

  No reply. My mom stared into space, deep in thought. “Mom?”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry, dear. Did you say something?”

  “I was asking if you wanted anything for dessert?”

  “What I want for dessert has just walked in through the door. Goddamn, what I wouldn’t give to devour that fine specimen.”

  “Mom!” I exclaimed. “I don’t want to hear things like that.”

  “Look behind you at your five o’clock and tell me you wouldn’t do wicked things to that man.”

  I sighed, but swiveled slightly in my chair to get a better look at the object of my mom’s desire. I couldn’t see anyone at first, but then noticed the man with his back to me. He was pulling out the chair for his date, a stunning leggy blonde who must have come straight off the catwalk. This man certainly had a nice ass, I agreed with my mom
on that point. Rich as well, judging by the location of the table which had a view out over the bay and by the fact that staff were hovering around to see to the couple’s every whim and desire.

  Finally the lady took her seat and the man turned round to take his own. He was stunning, all right. Stunning and familiar.

  It was Carter.

  Chapter Six

  Suddenly I felt lightheaded and my eyes slipped in and out of focus. I turned back and reached for the glass of water on the table. I gulped that back and then took a few deep breaths.

  “Emily? Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” My mom frowned, and I realized that I must have looked a little rough. I felt cold and sweaty at the same time and my dress clung to my skin.

  “Fine, Mom,” I said. “Just came over a bit funny.”

  I took another glance toward the table. Carter was already charming the young blonde, who either found him hysterical or was a great actress. That could have been me. He had asked me out on a date. I could have been sitting there right now, gazing into his eyes and having him spoil me rotten. But I’d said no.

  Looking at him with yet another attractive woman made me both jealous and relieved. Deep down, I knew I’d made the right decision. Carter was not a one-woman man. It was better to realize that now than three months down the line.

  “Oh my God, do you know that man?” Mom asked.

  “What man?” I responded, trying to look clueless.

  “You know what man I mean. The one that every woman in the restaurant is trying not to look at right now. The one with—”

  “All right, Mother, all right. Yes, I know that man. Well, I know his name, anyway. That’s about it. He’s called Carter and he’s from England. He’s just in town for a few months.”

  “He’s English, too? Wow. Just wow. I will remember this birthday for many years, my darling. So how do you know him?”