Page 44 of Just Curious

“You really give a shit about a glorified video game?” she sneered at him.

Ryker’s face whipped around and he glared at her. “Don’t you ever compare what I do to a video game again, or you’ll be sorry. You enjoy living in a nice place like this, don’t you? You enjoy having me find things for you like books to pirate, don’t you? It’s my hacking skills that do all of this for you, you ungrateful bitch!” Spittle flew in her face as he continued his tirade. “And now you’ve jeopardized everything because you wanted her to know we have the goods on her and those two guys. Shit, I wonder who the other one is…” He turned the video back on, but Casey’s face was not familiar to him. He knew that didn’t mean much. “Did you know that the guy you’ve probably just pissed off is amajorplayer in the technology world? He’s a fucking billionaire and a genius, Deb. You are so screwed. Just don’t expect to take me down with you. As a matter of fact…” He stomped away muttering and headed for the closet. He grabbed some clothes and crammed them haphazardly into a bag that he tossed at her feet.

Deb looked appalled and whispered, “What’s that for?”

“Get out of here.”

“What? Where am I supposed to go?” she cried.

“Your problem, not mine. Now leave. You’re more trouble than you’re worth. I don’t want the cops sniffing around here anymore because of you.” He glared at her for a moment and then went back to his computer, ignoring her.

Ryker had been hacking into the computers of large companies for years, syphoning off amounts of money that were small enough to go unnoticed or chalked up to accounting errors. He was clever enough to cover his tracks, and he did it so often and to so many different places that he made a decent living. But lately it was becoming harder and harder to breach some of his best sources. His best “clients” were starting to teach their coders to write safe material that didn’t leave gaping holes for hackers to penetrate. The practice pissed him off, and he was perpetually in a bad mood.

Crying and screaming didn’t seem to faze Ryker, so a few minutes later, after snatching her prized Oscar off of the mantel, Deb tried—and failed—to exit the house with some dignity. She slammed the door of her car and called Bernie Baxter, tears streaming down her face. “The bastard threw me out, Bernie! I don’t know where to go! What can I do now? I can’t leave the area, or I’ll get arrested again. Can you put me up for a while? Please?” Even though Bernie had rescinded his offer to make another movie with her, she figured he still adored her.

Bernie Baxter, who knew just how annoying Deb could be even on a good day, told her placatingly, “Just sit tight a second. I can’t put you up here because I have… um… company coming from out of town. But I’ll find you a hotel and I’ll call you back.” Avoiding a scandal was one thing, but spending time listening to that voice of hers grate on his last nerve was quite another. With an irritated sigh, Bernie pulled up accommodation information on his phone.

Deb rallied a little while she waited. She had dreams of room service and spa treatments at the Beverly Wilshire on Bernie’s tab. He obviously owed her a lot after her brilliant movie won an Oscar, and he was loaded. Her breathing slowed and she mustered a small smile when he called her back. The smile disappeared immediately, however, when he directed her to the Pasadena Parade Inn.

“That place is a dump, and you know it, Bernie. What gives?”

In a no-nonsense tone, he replied, “You’re way too much trouble lately, so take it or leave it. They’re holding the room for you until six, so you better skedaddle over there. It’s the only room available in the area tonight according to Pricecheck. Oh, and they take credit cards. I hope you have one on you.”

“They probably have roaches!”

“Well, then maybe you can make friends with them.” He hung up and blocked her number.

Deb stared at her phone in shock. So much for loyalty in Hollywood.

She checked into her ugly room before they gave it to someone else and then proceeded to call around for something better. Apparently, Bernie had been right about the lack of rooms. She couldn’t find anything. That made her feel less awful about Bernie’s failure to put her up in the lap of luxury like she clearly deserved, but not by much. The motel was noisy and uncomfortable, and the orange and brown décor made her feel queasy. She spent the night worrying about bedbugs and vowing to herself that she’d get back in Ryker’s good graces as soon as he cooled down. She knew just what to say.

Ryker wasn’t all that fond of Deb, but he was so socially awkward, having her around for regular and fairly enthusiastic sex was important. He’d cooled down a little—enough at least to open the door when she rang his bell at nine-thirty the next morning.

“Whaddya want?” he asked scratching his stomach and yawning. Deb could tell he hadn’t slept well. He also apparently hadn’t showered by the looks of him. His hair was greasy, and he smelled like a pair of dirty sweat socks. There was a bit of cereal decorating his beard that she had to ignore as she looked plaintively into his eyes.

“Ryker, baby, I’m so sorry for messing up. I missed you terribly last night.” Her lower lip stuck out like a petulant toddler who’d been deprived of a favorite toy. “I promise to make it up to you if you let me come back.”

Squinting at Deb suspiciously, he asked, “What does that mean—you’ll make it up to me?”

Deb batted her eyes and whispered, “You know, baby. I’ll let you do thatthingyou’ve always wanted to do.”

Ryker’s squint relaxed and his eyes opened up with a much greedier look. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

Blushing and looking at her feet, Deb said barely audibly, “You know… I’ll let you, um…do the…backdoor thing.”

Ryker grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside as he muttered, “You better be telling the truth.”

Half an hour later, Deb lay on the bed whimpering. She was amazed that anyone enjoyed that activity, but she’d gotten a good look—actually several looks—at what Willa’s men were packing, and she finally reasoned to herself that if Willa seemed to enjoy it, she could definitely put up with Ryker’s crummy little dick. What she didn’t realize was that Ryker had plenty of enthusiasm for backdoor entry but completely lacked the skill for how to do it without just barging in. It was excruciating, and she’d hated it. Still—she needed a place to live, and she had no other options. There certainly weren’t any movie deals coming her way like she’d expected, and she’d gone through all she’d earned on the last one long ago. Just having all of those hardcover books printed and shipped to bookstores by the vanity publisher had set her way back. And now no one could even buy them because the books had been confiscated by the cops until her trial.What a crappy deal.

Ryker, on the other hand, was so pleased with his experience, he ignored Deb’s lack of excitement. Feeling like the king of the world, he announced, “Fuck the Monday morning deadline, babe. We’re letting that video loose right now. I hate that Mitchell guy, and he has it coming for keeping me from winning what I deserved at DEF CON. He won’t know what hit him.”

An hour later, Deb lay in the tub relaxing when she heard Ryker cackling gleefully from the other room. She hauled herself into a standing position and dried off. After putting on a robe, she went to find him. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

Laughing so hard he was wiping his eyes, Ryker explained, “I got back into Willa’s computer from this one the cops didn’t confiscate and attached the video to everyone she’s ever sent an email to or received from. It went out to all of them just now, and when it hits the receiver’s inbox, it will attach to all of their addresses as well, and on and on. I also faked the original IP address so that it looks like it started in Brazil. God, I’m good. Nowthisis brilliant, right?” He didn’t wait for a reply, but strutted away singing loudly and off-key, “We will, we willmock you!” And then he laughed maniacally.

Thinking Ryker sounded more like Alvin and the Chipmunks than Freddie Mercury, Deb sat down on the bed with a plunk and winced. She hoped to hell Ryker’s game improved with experience. She planned to go buy some lube later and kicked herself for not showing up with it in the first place. She’d been too anxious to get out of that motel and back home where she belonged. Then she thought about the video hitting all of those inboxes and spreading like wildfire, and she forgot her sore butt. She started cackling like Ryker just thinking about how Willa and those two guys must be feeling. It felt like divine justice somehow. Willa didn’t deserve all of the looks, all of the success, and all of the handsome men.Those things should have been mine.

She remembered back when she’d first met Willa. The girl had been incredibly talented, that was obvious after hearing one beautifully creative sentence from her manuscript, but she’d also been so naïve and trusting, it tickled Deb to remember how she’d tricked her. She had been so gorgeous with those perfect tits and those big blue eyes. Of course, it never occurred to Willa that someone might not have her best interests at heart. Stupid bitch. It pissed her off.Well,she thought to herself, the mighty have fallen now.

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