Beauty and the Geek (Gone Geek Book 1) (4 page)

Silence.

“Think about it,” he said, gentling his tone. “I don’t even know your real name, but I don’t feel like it would matter at this point. Call me if you want to talk.”

More silence. A bit of breath rustling over the mic.

Stephen ended the call and tossed his phone across the couch. It bounced off and onto the floor.

Fuck.

He already wanted to snatch it back, call her, tell her he’d changed his mind.

But that would be falling into the same pattern that had never yielded what he needed. If he did that, she’d become another line on his list, and he didn’t want to add another.

Instead, he got to his feet and went to his desktop. He deleted his user account on the adult site and uninstalled all of his chat clients. All of them. It took about fifteen minutes, but after two reboots—he was clean.

Going cold turkey like this would suck, but he had to change his habits or this would keep happening. At least his mom would have one less way to bug him about coming home to visit. She’d discovered Skype four months ago, and it was the bane of his existence.

Pam couldn’t contact him now. At least not without putting herself out there.

Had she even been in that picture?

The only way Pam, or whoever she was, had of contacting him, was his phone. He poured himself a drink and downed it, not yet ready to face the awful reality.

He’d fallen for a woman he’d never met—wouldn’t know her if he passed her on the street—and once again, he wasn’t good enough. The only difference was this time it was worse. This time, he’d thought his face wouldn’t matter. Turned out he wasn’t worth getting even that far.

4.

Tamara held still while
the techs stripped the suit off her. A good six hours of going through standing and fighting stances shouldn’t make her sweat, but the sensor-lined suit didn’t breathe at all. It was a good thing today’s agenda didn’t require her brain because her head wasn’t in today’s job. It was stuck in last night. That phone call. Fixing things with Piper.

Her heart withered a bit more.

How much could she fuck things up in one day?

A lot, apparently.

“Good job.”

The director gave her a high five and handed her a towel.

“Did we get it all?” She scrubbed her face and chest. The sports bra and shorts stuck to her like a second skin, but she’d had it worse. For appearances sake, she needed to at least seem interested what they were doing.

“Yeah, want to see?” The director led her around to the screens where thousands of images in 3D form were captured in individual stills. Each one was her. Caught in thousands upon thousands of micro-movements.

“So cool.”

In time, the designers would mold and shape her 3D renderings into whatever the character was supposed to look like and be. Every time she did one of these body doubles the technology was better. A little more cutting edge. And she loved it. Even if the pay was crap and the hours were long. At least these guys always treated her well.

They talked through the schedule for tomorrow before everyone started packing up. She grabbed her water and bag and slipped out the side door into the L.A. afternoon before anyone could ask her about Legend and Adam.

The weight of the last two days came crashing back down.

Tamara checked her phone just in case.

Stephen was silent.

Piper was ignoring her.

Miranda was...conveniently busy.

The only person taking her calls was Rashae.

Tamara sighed, hooked her ear piece on and hit dial on Rashae’s number.

“What?” she said after a single ring.

“Hello to you, too.”

“I’m busy. Some of us work for a living. What’s up?”

“I’m leaving work. Which work are you working on?”

“The fun job.”

“Which fun job?” Tamara laughed. The only other person who really got her multiple jobs was Rashae, in part because their lines of business rivaled each other in number, depending on the given week.

“I’ve got a Black Widow bodysuit due to mail out in…six hours. What do you want?”

“Ah, today’s a sewing day?” Tamara unlocked her car and threw her bag into the passenger seat.

“Talked to Piper?”

“She’s not answering me.”

“Do you understand why?”

“Yes…but…”

“But what? You really expected her to be all,
it’s cool
?”

“But I want her to talk to me about it. What I did was wrong. I know. I should never have sent a stranger a picture. Period. Especially one with my friends in it. Believe me. I’ve thought about every way I’ve fucked up since we left the beach.” Tamara leaned forward, her forehead on the hot steering wheel. “I’m going to make this right.”

“Talk to your therapist yet?”

“Yes, yesterday, actually.” Tamara hadn’t left anything out, in the hopes that maybe Piper would open up in her next session. Hell, maybe they could do another one of those sit-ins, where they did an hour together.

“You get any good insight there?”

“Nothing new, but it was good to talk it all out. I really am going to make this right.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I…don’t know yet. Stephen called me and…I fucked it up more. I tried to tell him but…I couldn’t get it out.”

Her stomach churned. There was a very easy way to set the record straight, but that meant doing the one thing she didn’t want to do.

Getting face to face with the object of her affections, and that meant letting him into the shit-storm that was her life. She couldn’t lie and say she didn’t want to see him. Right now she was craving his voice, and she ached from the severed connection. She’d grown to rely on him. He wasn’t just her friends-with-benefits guy; he was…the person she talked to about the girls when they were being obnoxious. The person who got the non-girly parts of herself. And…she missed him.

What had begun as protecting her privacy and identity had crossed the line a long time ago. She cared for him to the point she was scared of losing him if he found out everything about her. Was it better this way? Or was she tormenting herself for no reason?

“Well, you better figure it out because I do not want to have to sit between the two of you at CosCon. What about dick gif guy?”

“Stephen. His name is Stephen.” Her stomach churned in a whole new way.

“Sorry, you just said that, didn’t you? I’m losing my ever-loving brain, I swear. What about Stephen?”

Tamara chose to let it go. Rashae was horrible with names and juggling enough of her own stuff to keep Tamara’s life in order, too. It wasn’t like Rashae was having a cake walk of a time right now either. Her father had just been appointed
the
Secretary of State. As in, of the United States. And that carried with it a whole load of responsibility and scrutiny.

“He won’t answer my chats. I think he still wants to meet.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

“I…” She sighed. “Yeah. Yes, I want to meet him. I miss him and it’s crazy because I’ve never met him, but we’ve never gone this long without talking. I just…don’t know how it’s going to go. I have to at least call him back and tell him I’m not Piper. I can’t do that without telling him who I am, and…I guess…I don’t know.” Or Rashae. Or Miranda. Or anyone else in that picture—except herself.

“This is weird. You aren’t normally all…this. Uncertain. He’s got under your skin, and he’s pushing for more. I doubt he’s totally clueless about who and what you are. He figured out Piper from the picture, he’s probably looked everyone of us up. Besides, A guy with a dick like that can’t be half bad. And if he is, that’s what a gag is for.”

Tamara chuckled and swallowed down the butterflies.

She had a face. And a name. And a whole life. Stephen wasn’t all that secretive about his online foot print and once she’d figured it out, she’d become his Internet stalker. She’d known he was smart. Wickedly smart in all the ways that made her weak in the knees. She just hadn’t realized how off-the-charts he was, until she really dug into him.

What was a guy like that doing in cyber chats?

Maybe the port-wine birthmark on his cheek and neck had something to do with it? She could see people being assholes about it, and growing up looking different was never easy. But his eyes… There was one candid snapshot in his public profile pictures she’d stared at for a while. His dark hair was messy, a little long, and someone had captured him leaning forward, his chin tipped up. His eyes were light blue or green, it was hard to tell, but they stared into her soul—and the little half smile had done her in.

“Earth to Tamara?”

“Sorry—was thinking.”

“About Stephen?” Rashae drew his name out into a teasing taunt.

“Yes.”

“Okay, seriously, what gives? Why are you so scared to meet him? Besides the fact that you’ve been lying to him?”

“Because…what if he’s just like everyone else? What if he can’t handle my life? And…I’ve got baggage. And…he’s smart, Rashae. Like, scary, brilliant smart. What would a guy like that want with someone like me?”

“You are a total smart-guy slut, and I say that with complete love.”

“I am, but I think he’s too smart for me.” Tamara leaned back. She liked geeks. Guys who could talk about quantum physics, biology and now, robotics, were the top of her list when it came to turning her on.

“Too smart? Are you for real?”

“Yes.”

“You should go look at your fancy degree for a minute and remember you’re not just a hot body. I love you, but you’re being stupid to the point that I kind of want to throw something sharp and pointy at you. If this guy likes you, he’ll deal with the crazy circus that is your life. End of story. The rest does not matter. If it doesn’t, he’s not worth your time. Figure it out. I need to use both hands and my mouth now.”

“Sounds dirty.”

“Bye.”

“Thank you, Rashae.”

“Any time.”

Tamara chuckled and let the call end.

She had to set things straight. If not for herself, then for Piper.

But what would Stephen say once she turned out not to be a blonde beauty and was instead a fraud? What if he’d always wanted her to be Piper? And what if her baggage really did matter?

She was a terrible person.

Tamara started the car and hit the road. There was plenty of time to think, to mull it over. If she couldn’t bring herself to type the truth, then maybe she needed to pull the plug and give Stephen what he wanted and what Piper deserved. A face to face.

Stephen peered at the
drone’s inner workings, paying special attention to the new connections. The alternate power supply assignment was proving to be more challenging than he’d hoped, and this crop of students was more competitive than their predecessors.

“See here?” He waved the student closer. This semester, each student worked on a single drone for the class assignments. The poor things were already showing the wear and tear.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Check your pos and neg.” Stephen carefully handed the drone back to the student. Between the flipped wires and the student trying to use…hydro power…he didn’t have much hope for the longevity of that drone’s life.

He’d been especially cruel and hadn’t mentioned there were back-ups. Students were already sweating over how they were going to make their drones last the semester. It was completely evil, but he also hadn’t yet pointed out that, though he’d said they’d do their class work on one drone, he’d never said the drone had to last until Christmas. He was enjoying the lengthy discussions on repair and maintenance. Several students were already making improvements to preserve their drones, which were very important upgrades, considering how durable drones needed to be these days.

The lab double doors opened. Silently. Just as he’d designed them to be. A young woman he didn’t immediately recognize as one of his stepped in and hovered at the red line. Stephen took note only that she was there, in the designated area where onlookers were allowed to be, before turning his back.

After his one and only experience dating a former student—after she’d graduated—he’d made a point of ignoring any and all students that weren’t in his classes. Besides, whenever the whole class was in the lab they got a lot of lookie-lous who wanted to watch. Many of them were girls this semester, since one of the star football players was also his student. Kid was brilliant. If only he didn’t miss so many days.

Class finally ended, but at least half the students remained, working out their power supply issues. The goal was not to ultimately replace batteries, but to think outside the box. To stretch the student’s imaginations of what was possible. Some rose to the challenge and others scraped by. This was where he found the next true innovators. The rest of the coursework would set them apart.

In ones and twos, the students trickled out, either elated with their progress or determined to figure out a better solution. The light from the upper windows near the ceiling was fading by the time the last student packed up their things and left for the night.

Stephen pushed his glasses up on his head and rubbed his eyes. The mental weariness of the day hit him at full strength. He loved teaching, almost as much as he loved robotics, but none of it was easy, and going through chat withdrawal only made it worse. He’d sketched whenever his fingers itched for his phone, but none of it was useful. A few of the doodles might even be pornographic. He should rip those out of his Moleskin. Not that he’d let anyone flip around in his notebook, but it was better to be safe.

“Professor Kipper?”

He turned, a bit disoriented by the voice. The sound was familiar, but the young, Asian co-ed was not. Had she been to class before? He had the weirdest, nagging sensation that he knew her from somewhere...

Freshman feeling out a change of majors? He had office hours for that kind of thing.

“Lab’s closed.” He flicked his fingers toward the sliding doors. She wasn’t one of his this semester. She’d be pure distraction in the classroom, and he already had one of those with his football star.

“I see that.” She shoved her hands into the miniscule pockets of her shorts and continued to stand there staring at him. “I’m Tamara Roh.”

Stephen nodded, as if that was supposed to mean anything to him. Roh…that was somewhat familiar. Why did he know that name? He couldn’t place it, so he put it out of mind. He was getting good at that these days. Or trying to.

“Well, Tamara, I’m going home, so if you will please see yourself out?” He was being rude and short, probably dismissive. What he wanted to do was check his phone, even though there would be no missed calls, no messages, nothing.