Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
He strikes a defiant glare. Then, as if deciding the information is worth the risk, and correctly calculating that I am not the one to fuck with, he flares his nostrils and pulls out his phone. With a huff he transfers the money. I check my own phone to see an alert the transaction’s gone through.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” I hand him the drive and close the door in his face.
A loud snicker sounds from the couch. “That dumbass really gave you five hundred dollars to find something embarrassing on the guy who stole his girlfriend?” Fenn says, restarting the level.
“Yup. Matters of the heart.” I grab a soda from the fridge for myself and toss another to him. “What can you do?”
“I’ve got to learn some of this computer stuff.”
We both look at each other when there’s another knock on our door.
“Unhappy customer?” Fenn asks with a sigh.
“Grab the bat.”
I gave the kid his money’s worth—what’s on the drive more than satisfies his request. I’m not in the business of scamming my customers. But every now and then, someone shows up with buyer’s remorse and I have to enforce a strict final sale policy.
“If it’s Duke,” he says, with the metal bat over his shoulder, “this won’t help you.”
I open the door. Luckily, it’s not a disgruntled customer. Just some guy with a box and a clipboard.
“Shaw or Bishop?” he barks.
“Yeah?”
“Sign here.” He shoves his clipboard at me with a pen and I scribble my signature. Then he hands me the box and hurries off.
“What’s that?” Fenn stashes the bat and comes over to read the label on the box. “Shit. It’s from my dad. Must be for both of us.”
Inside, we find two identical smartphones in elaborate packaging like something out of Mission: Impossible.
I stare at the thing, confused. “I already have a phone.”
Fenn tosses his on his desk and walks back to the couch. “He does this. It’s probably some exclusive toy no one can get their hands on. But he did. And he wants us to know what a big deal it is.”
“What do I do with it?” My old phone works fine. My first instinct is to sell the new one, though I suppose David would notice eventually.
“Keep it. Flush it. Whatever.” Fenn mashes buttons on the controller, angrily muttering at the screen while his tone grows more frustrated. “He’s trying to buy you off so you’ll like him. That’s his M.O. Easier to spend money than effort.”
“As long as he’s taking good care of my mom, I’m basically indifferent to the man.” I shrug. “I mean, he seems like a step up from Ponytail Venture Capitalist. But not as cool as Tech Start-Up CEO—that guy was a total douche, but he let me beta test some sick new apps.”
“Wait, these are guys your mom dated?” Fenn sounds amused. “They don’t have names?”
“After a while I stopped learning names. Easier that way.”
“So what you’re saying is, my new stepmother is a slut?”
“Hey.” My face hardens with a warning. “Go there again and I’ll erase your existence from the digital world. Drain your trust fund, too.”
He has the decency to look repentant. “Sorry.”
“Better be.” Nobody talks shit about Mom. She might be self-absorbed at times, but she’s still my mother.
On the coffee table, Fenn’s old phone starts vibrating. He leans forward to glance at the screen, then grimaces.
“Fuck. Here we go.” He puts it on speaker and rolls his eyes at me. “Yeah?”
“Glad I caught you,” David says. “RJ there with you?”
Fenn holds the phone toward me.
“Yeah, hi, David,” I say awkwardly.
“Great. I’ve got your mom here with me. You have a chance to open the package I had couriered over?” He must have just gotten the notice it had been delivered. Quite the eager beaver.
I flop down next to Fenn. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, bud. Hey, Fenn.”
“Pretty cool, right?” David sounds far more enthusiastic about the new device than either of us. “It’s supposed to become the first smartphone on the moon. I don’t how that works, but you’d probably understand the tech stuff better than I do.”
“Great, Dad.” Fenn flashes his middle finger at the phone. “I can order a pizza from NASA but will it work in an elevator?”
“RJ, they tell me it’s got the fastest processor ever designed in a smartphone. Twice that of anything on the market.”
“Cool, yeah. Uh, thank you, David.”
It feels strange even accepting it. Presents from Mom usually amounted to gift cards or cash. Which I’m not complaining about.
“I’m sure you know how to set them up,” David says. “Let me know what you think.”
“Yep. Okay,” Fenn says, rushing to hang up. “Bye.”
“Oh, buddy, before you go.” My mom jumps in before Fenn can end the call. “We were thinking it’d be fun to take a family vacation for the holidays. We didn’t get to spend much time together, the four of us, before you two left for school. What do you think?”