Page 57 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“The fewer clients I have to deal with, the sooner I can finish it.”

“I’m not taking away any of your clients,” Mel says with finality.

I shrug.

“Worth a shot.”

“That’s all for now. I don’t think I’ll have anything else before our lunch next week.”

“Talk to you then.”

I end the call and close the video conferencing window. Every program used by Harp Solutions is custom-built, mostly by Mel and me. When she recruited me out of college, I had been about to accept a job in software engineering for a cryptocurrency company. Her dream sounded far more interesting and I’d get to work from home once we’d established things.

Everything from the communication with clients down to the video calls within the company–all of it is encrypted, pathways hidden so that even if one layer of defense falls, we’ll be safe. Our clients will be safe. All of our payments are routed through a dozen different banks or more. My own salary doesn’t even go to an American bank. It was in my contract. When I signed it, I felt like I was joining some kind of spy ring. I didn’t realize I’d be helping knock-off Bill Gates catch his wife cheating.

I scroll through my emails, flagging things for my to-do list–running reports, tracking a few bank transfers, checking internet searches. It’s mindless work, but it takes most of the morning just to get through the emails that came in after I left for my date last night.

Sophie.

I really fucked that one up. It was going so well until she told me and I had to go and be a spaz. Miles is the most understanding, open-minded person I’ve ever met in my life and it’s mostly thanks to his job. I find it hard to believe Sophie isn’t the same. Honestly, if anyone is going to be up for the challenge that is my lack of sexual history, it will probably be her.

Would have been, I have to correct myself.Could have beenif I wasn’t such a moron. With a groan, I stand from my chair and stretch, twisting my neck from side to side. Maybe I need to move on. I haven’t checked the new messages that have come in onKinkRink.

Twenty minutes later, sitting at the kitchen island with a salad in front of me, untouched, I scroll through the messages. I’ve gotten more than I would have expected, given that my profile has nothing more than a fully clothed photo that doesn’t even include my head and a very brief ‘About Me’.

Pass.

Nope.

I scroll through message after message from women and a few men being overly aggressive. After another half-dozen, I swipe up on the screen, ready to close the app. But something gives me pause. I should reach out to Sophie one more time. Attempt to apologize, beg forgiveness.

“Whatcha got for lunch?”

Miles slaps my back as he walks up behind me before rounding the island to go to the fridge.

“Salad,” I mutter, still staring at my phone.

“Oh, did you use the last of the ranch?” He opens the fridge to scan the shelves.

“Still in the door,” I say quickly and watch his head whip around to find the bottle.

“Sweet!” Miles grabs more ingredients to throw together as well as the cold grilled chicken he made on Monday morning, ready for the week. “Hearanything from paint girl?”

“Paint girl?” I raise my eyebrows and then my eyes widen. “Oh shit, the paintings.”

“When are you supposed to pick them up?” Miles takes a large bowl from an upper cabinet and sets it on the island to begin preparing his salad.

“Today,” I groan, running a hand down my face.

“Use it as a peace offering.” He’s not looking at me when my gaze finds him. “See if she’ll forgive you for… whatever you did.”

“I ran out,” I mutter.

“What?”

I’m not sure if he didn’t hear me or if he doesn’t believe what he heard, so I repeat myself.

“I ran out.” My voice is a little louder, if still weak.

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