Sometimes It Is Rocket Science (16 page)

Georgiana’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs.  “Three words, Bobby:  My.  Entire.  Closet.”

She hopped off the stool and left a sputtering Robert behind.  While not as rewarding as mechanical work, it eased some of the tension knotting her shoulders.  She grinned merrily at Yvonne.    “Saturday all squared away?”

“Yes, it is.  I think you’re out of favors with the head chef at Quattro, though.”  A crease appeared between Yvonne’s brows.  “Are you sure you won’t need me Saturday?”

“Absolutely certain.  I promise I won’t leave the house, and,” she paused to glance over her shoulder at Robert, “I’ll make red beans and rice and keep Bobby chained up inside.  It’ll be a fire-less night for everyone.”  Her eye twitched, she waggled a finger at a smug Yvonne.  “Don’t you dare say whatever’s running through your mind now.”

Yvonne mimed zipping her lips closed.  She gestured at her dress then pointed at the bathroom.  Georgiana nodded.  Once Yvonne was out of the room, Georgiana turned her blinding smile on Allan.  “I’ll have a quick meeting with my security department before noon.  As long as you don’t ruffle too many feathers, I’ll smooth the way for your evaluation.”

“Discreet is my middle name, ma’am,” Allan responded, dimples appearing in his tanned cheeks.

“Perfect.”  Georgiana sidled up to Cedric.  “If you give me your email address, I’ll send you directions to Quattro.  Take Dan’s Jag.  Anything else will be wasted on Yvonne.  Treat her like you would your sister’s best friend.  Pick up flowers; she likes peach roses.  The florist two blocks from Dan’s does the best arrangements.  Ask for Stacy.  Don’t let her have a cocktail before dinner or she’ll fall asleep during the symphony.  She likes white wine.  She’ll tell you she likes merlot if you suggest it, but she doesn’t.”

She was pleased to see Cedric jotting notes in a small, leather notebook.  She had made the right decision when she’d picked Cedric.  To keep up with Robert’s hectic business and social life, Cedric had to be highly flexible and quick on his feet.  He’d get along perfectly with Yvonne.

“You do know they’re going to talk about us all night, don’t you?”  Robert slipped an arm around Georgiana’s shoulders and tucked her against his side.  He dropped his chin so he could continue to whisper in her ear.  “Every embarrassing thing you’ve done will be fair game.”

“That’s okay.”  She tilted her head back to poke her tongue out at him.  “My list is
far
, far shorter than yours.”

"Pickup."  Georgiana lobbed the small bit of twisted, scratched metal at Robert. 

Robert dropped the piece in the pile along the west wall of the workshop.  Georgiana had marked off two spaces with blue painter’s tape.  A picture of the same model as Tab’s SUV was taped above one section, while a picture of a pickup was above the other.  Ever since he'd wandered down into the workshop, Robert had been putting pieces into the appropriate piles.

"I'm not entirely convinced you're not guessing.  There's no way you can tell with some of the smaller parts."

Georgiana glanced up from section of fiberglass she'd been examining.  Grease was smeared across both cheeks and her nose.  Chips of blue paint and dust coated her hair and coveralls.  She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and succeeded in streaking grease along the only expanse of previously unmarred skin.

"It's hardly my fault you wasted your time fooling around with computers when you could have been learning something important like where the drive shaft is located and what it does."

"I wouldn't call giving up a Spring Break at South Padre so I could redesign the servers and system configurations for the company so that it was stable and secure 'fooling around.'"

"I would."

"Of course you would.  Never mind the fact that you were one who finally got your father to implement my servers at his company.  I gave a two-hour presentation and demo, but all you had to do was flutter your eyelashes and say ‘please’.  Of course, when I asked you to help, you dashed off to Indianapolis for gearhead camp."

Georgiana tossed a washer at his head.  She didn't bother pointing out that he'd attended the same camp at the racetrack a year earlier.  "Do you even remember how to change a tire, Bobby?"

"I have AAA and Allan."  Robert set the screw on the corner of his desk.  "Face it, doll, computers and automation are the way to go.  I could program a robot to do it for me.  It could change all four tires in the time it would take a person to change one."

"And who would build that robot for you, hmm?  Do you know what tolerance allowances to make so the joints don't fail?  All the programming in the world won't save you if you can't get the arm to turn enough or at the right angle or apply enough torque.  You can be as smug as you want to, buddy, but you need me just as much as I need you."

Robert shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.   It was growing exponentially difficult to resist the urge to press her against the nearest vertical surface and kiss her until she couldn't breathe, much less argue with him.  He wondered if the coveralls were one of her favorite sets or if she'd mind a few rips and lost buttons.  The patch of bare skin above her collarbone looked like it was designed for nibbling.

"Bobby!"  Georgiana's voice, rich with exasperation, interrupted his increasingly x-rated daydream.  She waved her hand in the air, a section of seatbelt dangling from her fist.  "Mercedes."

Robert's stomach sank when he caught the specks of dried blood on the seatbelt.  If Georgiana hadn't noticed her brother's blood, he wasn't going to bring it to her attention.  The longer time he spent with Tab, the fonder he grew of the younger Collier.  The teen wasn't as talkative as Robert remembered, but he was just as passionate about computers.  While packing up for the move, they'd had a lively debate over which gaming platform was the easiest to exploit.  Tab was quickly turning in to the younger brother Robert had often longed to have; Robert hated seeing anyone he loved in pain.

"We have separate rooms, doll," Robert said, putting the seatbelt and his more maudlin thoughts aside.  "I don't think that's going to help our story at all.  Dad's bound to be suspicious."

"The rooms are across the hall from each other."  Georgiana squinted at a blackened triangle of sheet metal.  "Besides, Dan knows I'm on nightmare duty every night."

"Every night?"

"That's what I said.  Pickup."  She frowned, squinted until her eyes were nearly shut.  "I think."

Robert tossed the piece in the appropriate pile.  He'd caught Georgiana yawning during their dinner of burgers and onion rings.  She'd dozed off for a few minutes while Tab and Robert argued about the vulnerability of wireless input devices.  Her exhaustion made him tired.  "When do you sleep?"

"When Tab does.  Can you see if there's a serial number on that round piece near your right foot?" 

Georgiana wiped her hands on her coveralls.  She took advantage of Robert's momentary distraction to shamelessly ogle him.  He'd changed out of his suit before hauling boxes.  The sleeves of his plaid cotton shirt were rolled up to his elbows, highlighting the corded muscles of his forearms, and the fit of his jeans was downright criminal.  Though enticing when in business mogul persona, he was unexpectedly devastating when relaxed.

She calculated the distance between her chair and Robert's position on her cluttered desk.  With the right trajectory, leaping over the debris scattered over the floor wouldn't be a problem.  The landing could be a problem. A knee to the groin would ruin the point of tackling him.

A flash of platinum and purple caught her attention.  She stared at the ring twinkling on her left hand.  The reminder of her tie to Robert, fake but dangerously tempting to believe, slowed her thundering heart.  When they had an audience, Robert enthusiastically played the devoted, affectionate fiancé.  She had mentally alphabetized the periodic table to keep her cool when he kissed her after a quick lunch in the Collier Analytics' cafeteria.  Too many moments like that and she would forget they weren't truly planning a winter wedding.

"We're not right," she murmured, hoping to knock sense into her lust-fogged head.

"What's not right, Gigi?"

Georgiana winced.  She didn't want to explain that they weren't right; that she wasn't right for him.  It was obvious to anyone with half a brain, and actually articulating the words would be humiliating.  "This part," she lied, holding up a cylinder of metal and melted plastic.  "It doesn't look like it belongs with either vehicle, and NORA's having difficulty identifying it."

Robert leaned forward to take the piece from her hand.  His fingertips grazed her palm; electricity sparked and raced up her arm.  She gulped several mouthfuls of icy water from the bottle by her foot.  She was going to instruct NORA to analyze his aftershave to see if it contained pheromones.  It was the only logical explanation for why she was acting so out of character.

"Do you - ," she croaked, paused to clear her throat, "do you know why I picked out the Mercedes for Tab?  The stability control was a main factor, naturally.  It's not the fun coupe he wanted, but we were going for safety over style.  Not that it did us any good."

When Robert opened his mouth to speak, she swiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks and continued.  Cars were science, and science was
her
stability control.  "We compromised and got the ML63 AMG, which has a V8 engine.  They say it displaces 6.3 liters, but it's really 6.208.  Marketing."  She shook her head, crossed her arms over her chest.  "The seven-speed automatic transmission's pretty sweet.  Of course, short acceleration time is always sweet.  Mercedes calls it the most powerful naturally aspirated V8 engine, but what they
mean
is it’s the most powerful
commercially available
V8 engine.  Give me a gallon of coffee and a few hours, and I'll spec out something that’ll blow your mind."

As expected, Robert’s eyes glazed over.  "Actually, doll, I have a bit of work to do.  You don't mind, do you?"

She smothered a grin at the sight of his faintly overwhelmed expression.  It was nice to get payback after the over-her-head conversation between Robert and Tab she'd watched like a ping-pong game during the move.  She didn't mind him leaving, either.  It would give her a chance to have NORA flush the air in the room.  "Nope.  Tell Cedric I've emailed him directions to both Quattro and the symphony.  Yvonne has the tickets already, as well as a corporate credit card."

Once she heard the door at the top of the stairs close, she settled on the floor, leaned back on her elbows, and crossed her ankles.  "NORA?"

"Yes, Georgie dear?"

"Open all the vents and circulate clean air in here.  All these male pheromones are distracting."

"I do not detect any trace of foreign chemicals in the air."

Georgiana slammed her eyes shut.  She was infinitely grateful NORA wasn't programmed to detect pheromones.  She could only imagine how mortified she'd be if NORA were to announce a sudden spike while they were eating breakfast or with the others.  "Just trust me, NORA, I need fresh oxygen."

"Vents open and circulation started.  Is there anything else you require, Georgie dear?"

"I'm in the mood for a little H.C.  Start with the early instrumentals and then you can move on to the vocals."  The familiar trombone start of 'Bourbon Street Parade' filled the workshop.  Tapping her foot along with the music, she let the stress that had piled up on her shoulders throughout the day roll off and dissipate in the air.  She pushed the mental image of Robert’s piercing eyes fade into the background, and concentrated on vehicle schematics and Harry Connick, Jr.'s Dixieland music.

In the smaller of the house’s two home offices, Robert booted up his laptop and checked his email.  He scanned the dozen messages, forwarded half of them to Cedric, and pulled up the latest report on a graphics company on the verge of a meltdown.  They'd rejected his first generous offer.  His second offer wasn't going to be nearly as benevolent.  There wouldn't be a third offer.  He'd pick up the pieces of whatever was left once the courts were through with them and absorb their client base and talent into the Norwood conglomerate.

Eyes already aching after hours spent going over reports at the Norwood office, he tried to print the report only to discover the ink cartridge in the printer he'd borrowed from his father's home office had dried out.  He searched the drawers of his desk and bureau.  Grumbling, he stalked down the hall towards his father's office.

A faint whimper coming from behind Tab’s closed bedroom door stopped him in his tracks.  Unwilling to burst inside only to discover he'd misheard, Robert pressed his ear against the door and waited.  He didn’t have to wait long for a second, more frantic whimper.

Robert was no stranger to nightmares.  It was something he’d only confided in his father.  For two years after his mother was killed during an attempted carjacking, he’d been plagued by night terrors.  Robert had been nowhere near the incident, but his young mind had been far too eager to fill in the blanks.  After months of therapist visits and trying every method in the book, his father had stumbled on the answer to the problem.  The least Robert could do was pass that knowledge along to Tab.

He rapped on the door.  As expected, there was no answer.  Once inside, he immediately flicked on the light switch.  Tab jerked upright, blinked furiously at the sudden onslaught of brightness. 

“Whas goin’ on?”  Tab scrubbed his eyes with his forearm. 

“I’m sorry, Tab.  I thought you were awake.  I was hoping we could play a game.”  Robert smiled conspiratorially.  “Your sister’s working on one of her top-secret projects.  You
know
how she gets when she’s in the zone.”

Tab grunted in agreement.  He tossed aside his blue plaid comforter and scooted over to the edge of the bed.  "I have two copies of Zorkamoid, and NORA can access my private server.  We could set up in here if you want to play that."  He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous gesture he'd copied from his sister, and blinked up at Robert.  "Or, I brought my GameMania console.  You could show me that cheat for level six of Zombie Spring Break Babes Apocalypse II."

Robert had already put off finalizing the proposal for the graphics company twice.  There was an issue with the personnel at the Brussels office he needed to examine.  His personal project, a more efficient and more secure way to link the international offices to the main hub, hadn't received attention in over a week.  Cedric was going to start sabotaging the coffee supply if Robert didn't at least glance through the stack of memos piling up in his email inbox.

A few hours of mindless, bloody entertainment wouldn't hurt.  He could use the decompression time.  It would help with Tab’s nightmares, too.  Keeping his mind occupied and staying busy until he was utterly exhausted when he fell asleep had helped Robert overcome his nightmares.  He had a strong suspicion that Tab went to bed so early every night because he didn't have the energy or will to do much else.  That much time to think gave the brain ample opportunity to torture a person with nightmares.

"I'll show you the cheat for level six if you show me how you managed to find the Bra of Brains in the bonus level," Robert said. 

"Deal!"

“You set up the game in the media room.  You’ve never played ZSBBAII until you’ve played it on a large screen. 
Everything
is bigger.”  Robert backed out in to the hallway.  He wanted to grab that printer cartridge and print out the proposal so Cedric wouldn’t be completely miffed when he returned from the Norwood office.  “I’ll talk NORA into rustling up a snack.”

“I saw Gigi grab a couple of bags of Oreos from the house before we left,” Tab supplied, straightening his pajama pants.  “Since she won’t surface until NORA reminds her about breakfast, I say we claim them.  We’ll call it an abandonment tax.”