The fanfare doesn’t last long. My coworkers quickly get back to work. Mason takes charge of me. I work hard to get my nerves under control as he tells me he wants me to try to fix a number of bugs that have been making it difficult to get new products out the door.
“Is this like a test?” I say, remembering to smile so that he knows I’m joking.
“Precisely.”
Max guessed my first assignment would be bug fixing, and he was right. He said my troubleshooting skills would be evaluated in real life. As another act of deception, I’m supposed to fix the script in record time and try to find a way to make the software more functional, proving myself as a valuable asset.
Mason stands behind me as I stare at the script on my screen. I see the problem. They’re using GIT’s Killer Firewall. The program purposely attacks Roswell. I didn’t devise that part of the script—one of GIT’s in-house programmers did. It’s a dirty trick to make end users purchase upgrades and plug-ins. Grandfather would never have allowed Lynx to pull those kinds of cheap tricks. He believed in making money the honest way. My initial version of Killer Firewall would have worked perfectly with Roswell. Regardless, I know how to fix the issue for free. I could also rewrite the entire script using the GGG code I created, named after my grandfather. It would be stronger and more efficient than what they’ve created using Roswell, a language that has its limitations. But I can't use my code. I can't go too far—even though I want to.
“Everything okay?” Mason asks.
I pull my attention from my screen. His expression is pinched, and his eyes look worried.
I smile to reassure him. “Everything’s fine.”
Only, I’m struck by an unexpected thought. I could totally screw this up. Mason would graciously thank me for my time and tell me he’d continue his search for the right candidate who had the experience he’s looking for. I’d be off the hook. Then, even though I have more millions in the bank than I know what to do with, I could look for a real job with a pod just like this one, using my real name.
Eyebrows drawn, he casts a glance at Lake. He doubts me.
“Let me know if you need some help. Two heads are better than one,” Lake says. Her tone is pleasant, but I can hear her worry too.
“We hired her for one head, not two heads,” Mason says.
“Well, maybe she’s not familiar with Roswell.”
Mason snorts cynically. “Roswell’s a dinosaur. If she’s not familiar with Roswell, then we hired the wrong person.”
The corners of Lake’s mouth turn downward.Ouch. This version of Mason is a lot like Max and my father, down to his even-tempered delivery of blunt words. Luckily, I’ve spent my entire life dealing with this sort of disposition.
I lift my hand and wave it to get them to focus on me. “I know Roswell. And you’re right, Mason, Roswell’s a dinosaur.” Without another word, I start the fix.
* * *
Twenty-Three Minutes Later
I’m in the zone, carefully correcting myself when I start to go too far. Common sense dictates that I shouldn’t give away clues that I’m the person who created Killer Firewall. And even though I’ve been engrossed in my work, I can sense Lake’s eyes on me from time to time. She’s worried I won’t make the cut. I wonder if she was the one who convinced Mason to hire me. I give one last tap on my keyboard and look up.
I fold my arms, grinning triumphantly. “Done.”
Lake stretches her neck to see over the top of my screen. “Already?”
“No way.” Mason springs to his feet.
In a flash, he’s behind me, checking my work as if he knows what he’s looking at.He doesn’t. Not yet. I’ll have to walk him through my steps.I notice that the closer Mason gets, the more Lake frowns. I think she likes him.
He stands up straight. “Let’s test it.”
“Let’s,” I say, sounding a bit smug. Without delay, I show him how I made VTI’s gaming software better than when he handed it off to me.
* * *
I had no doubtmy script would pass the test. It's five thirty in the evening. My shift ended thirty minutes ago, but Mason has been excited about my expertise, and we spent the remainder of the day making VTI’s structure and buggy software products compatible with Killer Firewall. We even worked through lunch, dining on a feast of paninis, homemade potato chips, and an assortment of salads that were delivered to our pod. The day gave me such a high that I forgot to inquire about the tension between Orion Valentine and Mason. I need to know just in case Orion requests a meeting with me. Unlike Mason, I can't blow him off. After all, he’s one of the owners.
When I walk through my front door, carrying a VTI canvas bag full of a week’s worth of leftover paninis, chips, salad, and cookies, I’m on cloud nine.
“This could work,” I whisper as I sashay to the small kitchen.
According to Max, Hercules will be gone for at least a month. But I’ve faced Hercules before, and he didn’t recognize me. Maybe he’ll never recognize me. And I can do whatever it takes to avoid him. If I’m smart, I could play Lark Davenport for at least a year.
