Single Dad Page 14

Now, for the real challenge. I thank the volunteer and raise the drone again, this time flying it out over the crowd.

  They react with squeals, shouts and laughter as they cover their heads, hoping not to get caught in a milk shower should the drone fail.

  It doesn’t fail.

  My fifteen minutes are nearly up, and it’s with a sense of joy and pride that I conclude it with, “The Excalibur GTX3 will revolutionize the way online retailers deliver products to the homes of their faithful customers. Same-day delivery no longer has to be nothing more than a pipe dream for many. It can now be a reality for a greater number of retailers and customers than ever before. Thank you so much for attending Guardian Technologies’ presentation. I’ll be available for questions after the other presentations are complete.”

  The crowd responds with resounding applause which rings in my ears long after I’ve brought the drone backstage with me. Only now, can I breathe a sigh of relief, my legs are suddenly as weak as they were when I ran a marathon. I might as well have run it, come to think of it. This entire process has been just about as grueling.

  Where’s Ryland? I look around, finally finding him lurking deep in the shadows. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look as distressed as he does. What did he expect? He has to know that Sam’s work was successful. The work which did not carry the alteration.

  A smile quickly takes the place of distress. “You did it, buddy,” he rejoices, clapping a hand over my shoulder. “You did it.”

  “We did it,” I correct him. Though, I don’t mean him. I mean Sam and me. The drone would’ve crashed and burned if it hadn’t been for her tireless efforts. “But we’re not out of the woods yet. We still have to see how Arcane does.”

  “We came first,” he reminds me.

  And he’s right, for once. We went first. They’ll remember us, no matter how Arcane’s demonstration goes.

  And it’s up next.

  After a few minutes go by, I don’t even know where Ryland is as Weissman’s employee gets started. He’s probably lurking somewhere, watching from another angle, unwilling or unable to be too close to me when it’s all on the line like this. A shame, because I would like to watch his reaction should the drone fail.

  I look out over the crowd and it’s obvious they’re scratching their heads, wondering why they feel like they’ve seen this before. Not that Weissman was stupid enough to lift the verbiage of our presentation or anything, but the technology is literally the same. “That’s right,” I whisper, watching with a smirk. “You’ve seen this before. They’re thieves. Unoriginal hacks.”

  The digital clock mounted to the floor at the edge of the stage reads eight minutes. The drone is still in-flight. Doubt wraps itself around my heart. Is it going to succeed, after all? Did Ryland clue into the way Sam lied to him? Did she lie, or was that all a story to throw me off-track?

  Have I been unfairly accusing my best friend ever since last night?

  Nine minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Jesus Christ. Sam lied.

  I look towards the back where she was standing and she’s no longer there. I stare at Weissman’s drone in a daze. I was so sure of Sam. My heart feels as if it is being chewed up.

  Suddenly, a voice fills the auditorium. A voice I’ve dreamed about. I twist my head in the direction of it.

  Sam is standing at the edge of the stage holding a mike. “That’s all great,” she says. “Now, let’s see how this drone does when it is not flying, but has to hover for more than ten minutes.”

  Weissman’s team starts looking at each other in consternation.

  The crowd starts murmuring.

  “Go on, show us how your drone will perform if it is forced to hover and not fly.”

  Someone in the audience speaks up, “Yes, let’s see that function work.”

  Weissman’s team has no choice but to comply. They let their drone hover.

  At nine-and-fifteen, I hear it. A spark. And I’m not the only one, as several of the people close to where the drone currently hovers start looking nervous. A few cover their heads with their arms. Nobody is laughing, as they were when I dangled a gallon of milk over their heads.

  A spark becomes a small flame, which becomes a bigger flame. Panic begins to spread as people jump from their seats, climbing over each other and running for the doors as the drone plummets in a cloud of smoke and fire. Panicked screams fill the room faster than the smoke.

  “What is this?” Weissman bellows, jumping up in outrage.

  I know what it is. It’s just desserts.

  Lincoln

  Where the hell did she go? It never even crosses my mind that she could be one of the spectators who ran from the room in a panic when the drone burst into flames? She’s seen enough drones crash and burn to fear that. Besides, she would’ve wanted to stay and watch the chaos and her father’s absolutely epic meltdown.

  I look around the lobby, the crowd looks as if they’re still in shock after what just happened. An employee of the convention center ran in and used the extinguisher on the drone, which was nothing but a melted lump of plastic and metal by the time the fire went out.

  I couldn’t have planned it better myself, honestly. Even in my wildest dreams, they wouldn’t have crashed and burned so spectacularly.

  No pun intended.

  “What about his drone? Can his drone pass the hover test?” Weissman screams.

  My drone passes the hover test easily and I can’t help but grin as I continue to scan the lobby for any sign of Samantha. I need to apologize for being the biggest blockhead the world has ever known. I would give her just about anything right now, but it wouldn’t be enough.

  It’s not Sam that my gaze finds. It’s Ryland.

  Followed by Weissman.

  They don’t think anybody’s watching as they duck through a door labeled “Employees Only.”

  But I am. I follow them, darting through the crowd, and hurry quickly down a corridor. They don’t go too far, only towards the boiler room of the building. I press myself to the wall, watching them through the machinery.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Weissman roars, hands rising up as if he wants to strike Ryland. “Do you know what a fool you just made of me in there? You’re the one who gave me the plans. You’re the one who assured me this would go off without a hitch. Were you trying to make a fool of me all along?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what happened any more than you do!” Ryland says, sounding more dismayed than I’ve ever heard him in all our years of supposed friendship. “Samantha was the one who provided the data, she’s the one who gave me the dimensions for the tweak in the body of the drone. I only gave you what she gave me! It should’ve worked, damn it! I was with her before the holiday, we tested it ourselves. It worked in the lab! It worked for him!”

  I know that he means me.

  “Then she lied to you, didn’t she?” Weissman snarls. “Or she’s just smarter than you, and she screwed something up deliberately. I told you it wouldn’t work, bringing her in. You should’ve done this on your own, the way I wanted you to from the beginning.”

  Which makes it sound as though Ryland was a partner in all of this, instead of an accomplice. God damn him. Even up until now, part of me didn’t want to believe he was capable of such a thing. I wanted to believe that he’d been tricked, that he had no choice, that there were extenuating circumstances which would mean he wasn’t exactly guilty. Will I ever learn to stop seeing only what I want to see?

  “All that money! All that work! All of it, down the drain, Along with my reputation, all the contracts we were going to land because of this! Millions of dollars. We’ll never get a single investor to back us once word gets out of what just happened in there, you witless wonder. You failed. You’re nothing but a stupid, ungrateful, failure!”

  I leave the room with Weissman’s words ringing in my ears. I don’t want to hear anymore, nor do I need to. He’s told me everything I needed to hear.

  “Mr. Cage! Mr. Cag
e!”

  I barely have time to take another breath upon stepping back into the lobby before I’m bombarded by excited attendees.

  But none of them are Sam, and she’s the only person I want to see.

  Samantha

  GUARDIAN SUES ARCANE FOR PATENT INFRINGEMENT

  The headline makes my head buzz with excitement. He’s really doing it, just like I’d hoped he would. He’s suing my lying, cheating jerk of a father for all he’s worth, which admittedly, isn’t much after his epic failure at the conference.

  If words were weapons, he would’ve beaten me beyond recognition when I confronted him the day after the ill-fated demonstration. As it is, my pride still stings a little, even though I’ve stopped caring about his opinion of me. But nobody, no matter how hard-hearted, can escape a verbal beating like that without a psyche wound or two.

  “You.” The word was a curse, delivered with all of my father’s not-inconsiderable ire, when I stepped into his office. Disgust was written all over his face, the corner of his upper lip lifted in a snarl.

  “Me,” I replied with a slight shrug.

  “How could a little nobody like you manage to double-cross me like that? You chose that bastard over me, your own father, didn’t you?”

  I swallowed my rising rage. How could my own father speak to me that way? How could he hate me so much? What did I ever do to make him care so little about me, my life, my feelings? “Why do you hate me so much, Dad? What have I ever done to you?”

  “You want to know the truth. I hate you because you look like her.”

  I stare at him in astonishment. All these years and he has never once spoken to me about my mother. “What did she do to you?”

  “She left me.” His tone is cold and hard. “The airhead didn’t know which side of her bread was buttered. And you are exactly the same.”

  “Maybe I’m not as stupid as you thought,” I whispered, willing my voice not to shake. “Or, perhaps you’re even more witless than I am. I mean, it wasn’t difficult for me to get the upper hand once I knew the score.”

  “And you would ruin me that way? Your own flesh and blood? You would allow my business to crumble, all because you felt the need to prove something?”

  I shook my head slowly, even sorrowfully. He would never get it. Everything was about him, always. The ultimate narcissist. “What makes you think I wanted to prove anything to you? What makes you think anything I do has anything to do with you anymore? I wanted to do the right thing, to see the right person win out. Lincoln deserved to win. It was his idea, something he worked hard on. I would’ve done anything to make sure the bad guy didn’t profit from something he had no hand in.”

  He stared at me for a long, silent moment before clapping. Slowly. Sarcastically. “My, my. You’re quite the heroine, aren’t you?”

  “The heroine who knew how to fool you, anyway,” I replied. “I guess that’s as heroic as I needed to be.”

  “We’ll see how heroic you are when you see my Will.”

  I laughed. “You think I care about that? You never knew me at all. Not like you ever made an attempt to get to know me. I don’t need your money, and I don’t want it.”

  “Right,” he sneered.

  “I mean it. I’m doing just fine on my own. Now that the world knows about the Excalibur GTX3 and my role in its creation, because Lincoln has been generous enough to drop my name, but you probably know that by now. I’ve had more requests to consult on more design projects than I know what to do with.”

  “I won’t wish you well,” he said and turned away from me.

  This was the end. If anything, he made it easy for me to walk away from him, from any chance of having a relationship with him. There’s nothing between us. “I have a feeling I’ll have better luck than you will.” I smiled to this rigid back before turning away, and closing the door between us forever.

  Now, I sit here and read the headline again, then skim the contents of the article as I sit at my usual table. I hope Lincoln cleans Arcane out and grinds it into the dust. We haven’t smoothed things over between us, and I don’t know if we ever can, after all the horrible things that have gone on between us, but he did make it a point to spread the word that I played a major role in the prototype’s success. He didn’t have to do that. Just another example of how vastly different he is from my father, who would’ve taken all the glory for himself without a second thought.

  The case will never make it to court, of course. The article hints at the strong possibility that it’ll be settled privately. A shame, actually, since my father deserves to be on the witness stand having to sweat bullets.

  Ryland, on the other hand, will go on trial, having been arrested for corporate espionage. I can’t believe I ever looked up to him. My heart aches for Lincoln, who cared about him much more than I ever did.

  My heart aches for Lincoln, period.

  Samantha

  It’s a hot day, well into the nineties before noon. “Thank God for air conditioning,” I whisper, cranking it up a bit more to keep the apartment comfortable on cleaning day. One of the perks of working for myself now, is having time to keep my place clean. One of the downfalls is having no excuse on the weekend to avoid cleaning my place. My cleaning sessions are almost as good as an actual workout.

  When the doorbell rings, I’m on my knees on the kitchen floor with a scrub brush in one hand. “Who the heck is this?” I mutter, dropping the brush into the bucket of sudsy water and wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my forearm as I walk to the door. I’m not expecting anything, or anyone.

  And I sure as hell am not expecting Lincoln and Maddie. Not in a million years.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I ask, suddenly intensely conscious of my ratty sweats and bleach-stained tank top. My hair’s in a messy bun on top of my head, strands falling out all over the place. Probably stuck to the back of my neck with sweat too.

  Maddie giggles, holding her father’s hand. “We came to see you!”

  “I can see that,” I say, smiling, looking from her to Lincoln. I don’t feel like smiling at him right now. He could’ve called. He could’ve given me a little warning. And he could’ve refrained from bringing his daughter with him, like I’m going to soften just because she’s here. He should know me better than that.

  “Can we come in?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

  “It doesn’t look as though I have much of a choice,” I murmur, stepping aside to let them in.

  “Oh Sam, your apartment is so cute!” Maddie gushes, her eyes big and excited.

  I’m glad I’m almost finished with the cleaning. I don’t have to be embarrassed by dust bunnies under the sofa. “You like it, huh?” I chuckle, hands on my hips. “It’s nearly as big as your Princess tent.”

  “No, it’s not,” she says seriously. My tent is muuuuch smaller.”

  I absolutely adore this kid. She’s so cute. “Make yourself comfortable,” I encourage her, still side-eyeing Lincoln at the same time. I don’t know what game he thinks he’s playing, even though the sight of him—the fact that he’s here in my apartment—makes my heart race.

  I can’t pretend I didn’t develop feelings for him.

  “I don’t think I should,” she says, smiling ever so slightly.

  “Why not?”

  Another knock at the door. I turn to it, surprised, and hear Maddie explain, “I have another appointment to go to. I’m pretty busy.”

  I have to laugh as I open the door to find a kindly middle-aged woman standing in the hall.

  “I’m here to pick up Maddie,” she explains.

  Maddie runs to the door and flings her arms around the lady’s waist.

  “This is Gwen, Maddie’s nanny.” Lincoln pats the top of Maddie’s head.

  “I see.” And I can see that he brought his daughter as a way to get in the door. Now that he’s in, he can send her off with Gwen. My heart is thumping with a strange excitement, but I’m not sure how I feel about this bit of t
rickery. Does he think he can just roll in here and take up where we left off?

  “Sam, will you come over to our house soon? Please?” Maddie asks.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I reply, stroking her hair before Gwen leads her away.

  Leaving only Lincoln and me.

  I wait until the door is closed before I whirl on him. “What do you think you’re doing here?” I ask, my voice shrill with nervousness. “How manipulative can you possibly be?”

  “What? You think I’m trying to manipulate you?”

  I fold my arms across my chest and raise my eyebrows disbelievingly. He knew exactly what he was doing. “By bringing the baby.”

  “She’s been driving me insane for two weeks, asking every day when we’ll be able to see you again. If I didn’t bring her with me, even so she could see you for a few minutes, I’d never hear the end of it. If anything, I’m the victim here,” he says with a hangdog expression.

  The idea of him being a victim is so ridiculous, I burst out laughing. “You’re crazy.”

  “Yeah, I know. Crazy for you.”

  I pretend not to hear the last part even though my heart is singing. “Even so, I don’t have to listen to a word you say. You know that, right? I could throw you out right now and have every right to do so. Nobody would blame me.”

  “I won’t leave until you hear me out. Please, Samantha? I want to apologize.”

  “You could have done that over the phone.” But my resolve is weakening every moment, every time our eyes meet. It’s not fair. He’s too sexy, too handsome, too magnetic, too everything. How am I supposed to fight that kind of pressure?

  “Yeah, I could have, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  It’s exhausting, trying to win. I should just give up. “Okay. You’re here now. What do you have to say?” I’m careful to keep my arms folded tight in front of me, unwilling to leave myself open to him. He needs to know how much he hurt me. I can’t make it easy.