Page 25 of Edge of Secrets

“Uh, thank you,” I said, confused. “But, ah … that reaction did not bode well.”

“I swear,” he said. “It means nothing. Don’t mind him. He’s just twitchy because there’s been so much turmoil in his company since we started working on this game. And there’s an element of risk, too. Everything’s shaken up. He’ll calm down.”

“But if he hates all my ideas, I really don’t see the point in developing?—”

“He doesn’t hate anything,” Bruce soothed. “He’s just being a dickhead. It’ll pass. Pay him no mind—he’s just programmed that way. I think maybe because he always has his guard up. He used to be a spy, you know.”

That startled me. “Really? I did not know that!”

“Yeah. Intelligence and analysis for the NSA. He spent a lot of time in nasty hot spots, sneaking around and monitoring bad actors. I’d like to say that being a spy made him a tight-assed bastard, but the truth is, he’s been one since we were kids. So don’t expect it to change anytime soon.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything of the kind,” I murmured.

“He’s a genius when it comes to cybersecurity,” Bruce went on, warming to his subject. “His biggest client is the U.S. government—they love his stuff. He’s made a fortune designing stuff for them. But everything’s always so damn serious. National security. Terrorist threats. Blood and guts. Something frivolous like a video game drives the poor guy nuts. He’ll feel better about it once the money starts pouring in. He likes money just fine. You just keep coming up with those brilliant ideas, and he’ll calm down. Everything will be great. Trust me.”

“Okay,” I said cautiously. “I’m taking you at your word.”

Bruce circled the table. “You can take it to the bank,” he said as he sat down next to me. “So let me just tell you what I need from you right away, okay?”

We worked for the better part of an hour, detailing and prioritizing the texts that I needed to churn out first. I was pleasantly surprised to realize that this work might actually be fun. A hell of a lot better than paralegaling and typing up legal briefs all night long. I could even get a bit excited about it, even if I was probably going to have to skip pesky little details like, say, sleep, to keep up with Bruce’s schedule. He needed what would amount to about twelve hours of work by tomorrow afternoon, and I had a long waitressing shift cutting right into the middle of it. I would be required to warp time and space in order to fulfill my professional obligations. So what else was new.

He started to wrap things up, but I held up my hand. “Wait a second. Doesn’t any of this stuff need to be signed off by your brother?”

“No,” Bruce said forcefully. “Ignore him. Suit yourself. But work fast, because I’ve got programmers and graphic artists working on the sixth level, and we need to catch up with the texts.” He looked over his shoulder with exaggerated caution, and dropped a gallant kiss on my hand. “Our unprofessional secret,” he whispered.

I was laughing when the door opened.

I pulled my hand back when I saw Duncan standing there, looking thunderous. “What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded.

“Work, Duncan,” Bruce’s voice was heavy with practiced patience.

“It didn’t look like work,” Duncan said.

My hackles went up at his tone, but Bruce just glanced from me to Duncan and back again with a thoughtful frown. “Hey,” he said. “Duncan. Did I tell you lately about the new girl I’m seeing?”

“No,” Duncan said brusquely. “It’s not relevant. Nor do I particularly care at the moment. Since we’re working. Tell me later.”

“Her name’s Melissa,” Bruce went on, ignoring him. “She’s a knockout. I’ve got to introduce you. Oh, and she’s a poetry fan. The romantic literary type. Speaking of which, Nell, maybe you could give me a little advice.” Bruce slanted me a sly smile.

I crossed my arms, wary of a trap. “What kind of advice?”

“Well, like I said, Melissa loves poetry, and I want to impress her. What would be a good poem for me to memorize? To, ah, you know, melt her?”

“That depends entirely on her tastes,” I said. “But before I recommend anything at all, tell me one thing. What’s your ultimate purpose in this exercise?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bruce said, with a roguish wink.

“No, not necessarily,” I said. “If you mean to genuinely court this woman, then I caution you against presenting yourself as other than who you really are, because she’ll just be disappointed when she realizes the truth. Which she will. Don’t fool yourself.”

“I’m not a total Neanderthal, Nell,” Bruce said, looking faintly miffed.

“How nice for you. But if, on the other hand, you’re not serious, and you mean to simply use this woman to, uh ...”

“Slake his animal lust?” Duncan offered.

“Yes, exactly—to slake your animal lust, leaving her crushed and embittered—then you’re a dirty dog, and you don’t deserve my help. Either way, I don’t want to participate in your wicked little games. Don’t ask me for seduction advice, Bruce. Read some actual poetry yourself, for real. Expand your horizons. Take a night class. Go to the public library. I wish you luck. More to the point, I wish Melissa luck.”

I slapped the file closed, and looked at him sternly over the lenses of my glasses.

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