Chapter 8

Becka

“He what?” Lisa exclaimed as she stood in the doorway to the office. She wore her pajamas and had her hair up in a ponytail. I was dressed nearly the same, except my hair was floating down around my collar. I grabbed it out of frustration and pulled it over one of my shoulders.

“He stole my research. I can’t fucking believe it.” I stood, staring at the blank spot on the floor, shaking my head, trying to keep my breath moving in and out of my body, struggling to make it happen. I heard ringing in my ears. “It was right here.” I pointed to the floor where there had obviously been a stack of something; there was a blank square in the middle of the floor by my desk. I wasn’t exactly the best housekeeper, especially in our shared office. Usually Lisa straightened everything up and I ended up stacking things anywhere there was open space. The place where the boxes had been was the only empty space of carpet on the floor.

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked. It would have been hard for him to get those boxes out of the apartment; I’ve seen them. They’re not exactly light. I mean, he couldn’t tuck them into a backpack and disappear into the dead of night.”

“I’m sure,” I said, dully. “I don’t know how he did it, but it doesn’t matter. He did.”

“Let’s look around anyway, okay?” Lisa, always the optimist, suggested. “Maybe he just moved them. Maybe you moved them. Shit, maybe I moved them,” even though that was never something Lisa would do. Still, Lisa was right, it was possible that things had gotten moved around. I was willing to search the place from top to bottom before I believed fully that Oliver was a thief and a liar.

As we searched the entire apartment from top to bottom, starting in the office and tearing it apart, I tried to imagine why Oliver would ever do such a thing. It was really more something that Ethan would do, if Ethan had been in my house and known about the research. That was the difference; Oliver knew about the research. He had found out about it, and, like an idiot, I had admitted to everything I had gathered. What started as an independent investigation had turned into me investigating Ethan, then Oliver, then the two of them, and now it was back to…” Who? Absolutely nothing, no one, because my research had disappeared.

I continued to search ever room. I walked by the bathroom and Lisa was on her hands and knees, looking in the cabinet under the sink. I shook my head but didn’t say a word; it was certainly possible.

“Maybe we have a ghost,” I said. “A research stealing ghost, hell bent on making sure that the evils of animal experimentation are alive and well and carried out with gusto at Neurotova.”

“And that ghost just likes to hide things. You know, in the bathroom.” Lisa smiled. I appreciated her trying to keep the situation light… but, the truth was, she had no idea the seriousness of what losing that research would mean.

I sat down on the couch in the living room and put my head in my hands. “I don’t know why I didn’t back everything up! I’m such a fucking idiot!”

Lisa came to sit beside me. “You didn’t back it up because you didn’t want multiple copies of incriminating things. I get it.”

“I’m going to call them both.” I started with Oliver. His phone rang though to his voicemail and I hung up before I left a message. I realized I had no idea what to say to him. I took a deep breath and looked at Lisa.

“Just be straight with him,” she said. “Tell him that the research is missing and you’re wondering if he has it. That you need it back, and you need it back now.”

I was so grateful for Lisa, always, of course, but especially in this moment. With her sitting next to me, I felt stronger.

I dialed Oliver’s number again and let it ring to his voicemail. “Oliver, it’s Becka. Listen, you were here last night, and you left this morning without saying goodbye. I also happen to notice that all of my research into Neurotova, research I’ve been trying to use to clear you, has disappeared. I can’t imagine why you would steal from me, but it’s looking like that’s the case. Obviously, we need to speak. Immediately. Call me.”

I hung up the phone and immediately shivered, all of the shaking energy I’d kept out of my voice surging through me at once. Lisa put her arm around me.

“Good job,” she said. “Now call that bastard Ethan.”

I called Ethan’s number. Of course, there was no response. I was more prepared to talk this time around, and I gave him much the same speech I gave Oliver, minus a few important details. “Ethan, I need you to call me back. Some very important documents were taken from my apartment last night—something I’m sure you have some idea about—and I need them back. I need them back now. Today. If you took them as some sort of a joke, or revenge for the other night at Oliver’s, it’s not funny, and it’s not necessary. Call me back the second you get this.”

I hung up and looked at Lisa, shaking my head. “What a fucking mess,” I said.

I texted them both, reiterating that if they took my research, it was essential that they return it. I told them both that I would work with them in whatever way they wanted, I just needed my work back. I even tied my dissertation into it, saying that some of the data was critical to my dissertation and its completion. I stared at my phone. Nothing. No calls, no texts.

Lisa stood up and went into her room for a moment, then came back out. She grabbed some coffee from the kitchen and brought us each a cup.

“I called in sick to work,” she said. She set the coffee in front of me.

“Why?” I asked, confused. It was late, but it wasn’t so late she couldn’t still get into work for the majority of the day.

“You may want to look outside,” Lisa said gently. “But, prepare yourself.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Just look.” She walked over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. We usually left our blinds open to keep some light coming into the room. I looked out and looked down at the street at the bottom of my building. My jaw dropped open.

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I looked at Lisa. “What the fuck is happening?”

“Apparently neither of us is going to leave the house for awhile,” Lisa said glumly.

***

I pulled open the blinds and my mouth dropped. “What the fuck,” I said, more to myself than to Lisa, though she stood right beside me. “What are all of those people doing down there?”

“They’re reporters,” she said gently. “Look, there are news vans all along the perimeter.” I looked. Every major news station in town was there. Radio stations, too. They were all milling around, talking to each other, their iPads out, some speaking into cameras, it looked like a complete mob scene. They were all standing what I’m sure they’d been told was the closest they were allowed to the front door of my building.

“Oh my God,” I said.

“What have you gotten us into here, Becka?” she asked. “This is more than just doing some casual research into the company you work for. It’s more than just you dating a billionaire—or two—” she couldn’t resist. “This is, like, major celebrity paparazzi or something. What haven’t you told me?”

I was still absolutely stunned as I looked out the window. Someone shouted “She’s there!” and a flutter went through the crowd, there had to be a hundred, maybe more, reporters on the ground, all looking up at the same time, cameras flashing. I dropped the blinds as quickly as I could and stepped away from the window, pulling Lisa with me, as if they could still see me through the blinds.

I had told Lisa the truth about everything earlier, about how Oliver and Ethan were brothers, and about how Neurotova was under investigation for animal cruelty, about how Oliver was at risk. But, I hadn’t mentioned much about Ethan when we talked before. Now, I filled her in on his piece of it. Not just that they were brothers, but that I had no choice but to suspect them equally of everything that was happening. That when she had dropped me off at Oliver’s house the other night, I had been greeted by Ethan, not Oliver, and that I had spent the evening being certain that Ethan had killed Oliver, or hurt him in some way, until he was able to convince me otherwise.

“You’re living in a fucking spy novel,” Lisa said, shaking her head. She hugged me. “I’m so sorry. But why was Oliver even back in the house? What happened?”

“When I got home from his house, I opened the door and thought he was you. I have no idea how he got into the house, but I had no idea how Ethan had gotten into Oliver’s house either. Apparently these two are magicians or something. He explained everything, that he had needed to leave the country to get away from the press,” I gestured out the window, “something that makes a whole lot more sense now,” and he hadn’t contacted me because he hadn’t wanted me involved.

“All of that sounded very plausible and I was on board with forgiving him, again, until this morning when I woke up and both he and my research were gone!” I smacked my forehead with my palm. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

There was a knock at the door. Both Lisa and I looked at it as if we’d never heard such a sound before. Lisa shushed me and stealthily walked across the living room. She looked through the peephole. She turned back.

“It’s a reporter,” she mouthed. I shook my head and collapsed on the couch. We were surrounded. “Go away!” she yelled through the door. “No comment, or whatever! We’re not talking to anyone. Get away from our door!”

“Lisa, stop,” I said, “don’t even give them that much.” I could tell Lisa was getting pissed, and I didn’t blame her. She wasn’t involved in any of this, and yet here she was, trapped like a rat in her own home, unable to go to work or even look out the window.

She stalked past me and opened the blinds, slid open the window. Like an amoeba, the entire mass of reporters moved as one, cameras and faces angled upwards and the sound of clicks was deafening, the flash of light blinding.

“Fuck off!” she yelled. “All of you, fuck off! Go away and leave me and my roommate alone. Go find some Ponzi schemer or some serial killer and leave us alone. Go find some real news!” And, she slammed the screen shut and dropped the blinds again.

I smiled in spite of myself, in spite of the look of pure rage in her eyes.

“Go find a serial killer?” I asked.

“Well,” she paused, searching for something more to say, coming up with nothing. “Yes! I mean, fucking fuck! We’re two grad students. Surely there’s more interesting news out there.”

“Actually,” I said, “unfortunately I might be part of the most interesting news in awhile.”

“Well, whatever,” she grumbled. “I mean, now I’m fucking blind from their stupid camera flashes.” She rubbed her eyes dramatically and, though I knew she was overdoing it a bit, I also knew that the black patches of light burns in both of our eyes were very real.

“Let’s do something to take our mind off of the vultures outside,” I suggested. “We used to want to have a day like this all the time, where we could hang out in our pajamas, watch movies, eat junk food all day, have some drinks, let’s just do that.”

Lisa hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, we don’t have a ton of food since today is grocery shopping day, but we’ve got enough crap to make it a good movie day. What do you want to watch? See what we just got from Netflix. Or we can always plug something in from Amazon.”

While Lisa went to get food and drinks from the fridge, I grabbed blankets from my bedroom and hers, along with a bunch of pillows. I was starting to feel at least a little better—as long as the reporters stayed outside and we stayed inside, I could pretend, at least for the time being, that they weren’t there.

I dropped all of the bedding and turned on the tv, not happy with the three Netflix discs we had on the coffee table. I thought we should watch something funny, some Will Ferrell something or other. I felt absolutely numb about both Oliver and Ethan. It would be good for me to take my mind out of the crazy world I’d been existing in for awhile. I realized as I set up our fort on the couch how completely out of touch I’d fallen with my old, normal life. It might have been a little on the boring side, but there was nothing wrong with it.

The words on the television hit me before the picture even turned on. I heard my name. Lisa and I both gazed as the picture came into focus on our too old television. The scene was complete chaos, with the words “Breaking News” in huge type across the bottom. A blond newscaster with enormous breasts was standing on the sidewalk outside my apartment. In a small picture in picture in the top right corner was a photograph of Oliver. In another small picture in picture in the top left corner was the moving image of Lisa, a moment ago, shutting the blinds. I sat on the couch and stared.

“We have just discovered that Rebecka Jasper, reported girlfriend and unconfirmed fiancée of billionaire Oliver Weeks, is, in fact, hiding out inside her fifth floor apartment. We have confirmation from people who know her that the shadow who closed the blinds was Ms. Jasper.” At this, they showed a full screen rewind of Lisa closing the blinds.

“Dammit!” I swore at the screen. “That’s not even me!” I glared at Lisa. “And Oliver and I are not engaged! Not even close!”

“I love that they caught me saying they should go hunt a serial killer,” she giggled. “I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious.”

“Yeah, they cut that part out, though, so it looks like it was me in the frame, not you. Now shh, I want to hear what they’re saying.”

The newscaster had been going on about whatever the breaking news element was. “This reporter has received an anonymous tip that, not only is Becka Jasper one of the ringleaders in Weeks’ criminal escapades, but also that there is a rift beginning between them.” The blond woman leaned into the camera as if she was sharing a juicy secret that she had just learned and couldn’t wait to clue in her best friends. All millions of them. “We have confirmation that Becka has been working overtime trying to discredit Oliver Weeks and Neurotova because of no other reason that the world’s oldest conflict between lovers: plain and simple jealousy.”

“What is that bitch even talking about?” I said. “She’s not making sense.”

“It’s been known for a long time that Oliver Weeks is a playboy, always being seen with a different woman on his arm. No one is sure how long Ms. Jasper has been in the picture, but it must have made her very angry when Mr. Weeks continued to date other women and take them out to his more important public function.” She pouted as if she was thinking poor Rebecka, poor Becka with no friends who thinks her boyfriend likes her. Then, as if out of nowhere, she held up a document and my chin dropped. It was a file of my research.

“Not only that,” she continued. “It appears as though Ms. Jasper has been secretly gathering materials that will lead to the downfall of Neurotova. We have boxes of documents such as this,” she said, dropping her voice as if keeping it secret from the crowd around her that was still gathering. “These were dropped off at KSTFN early this morning by our source. I must say, there are some very juicy details in these files, and there’s enough information, financial and otherwise, that could bring ruin to a lot of the higher up at Neurotova, to Oliver Weeks, and, of course, to the woman causing it all, Rebecka Jasper. And, we must say, if Rebecka Jasper is taking the ultimate revenge as a woman scorned, even though she may well get implicated and arrested herself in the process, well played, Ms. Jasper. Well played.” The newscaster smiled her fake newscaster smile and began a slow clap, her microphone tucked under her arm.

“Shut this shit off,” I said. I stood up and went to the kitchen. I got a bottle of wine from the cabinet and opened it, pouring a glass. I downed the first glass and then poured another. I heard Lisa behind me.

“Not gonna drink alone, are you?” she asked, her hand on my arm. I shook my head.

“What the fuck is happening around here? If Oliver stole the research, why on earth would he turn it over to the media? It’ll ruin him. And jealousy? I don’t even know what the hell is going on anymore!” I yelled in complete frustration and threw my glass across the wall. It shattered, and, at the same time, the doorbell rang and a loud knock sounded on the door at the same time.

“Who the fuck is that?” I yelled, not to answer the door, but to Lisa, though she was standing right beside me.

“Don’t worry about it; I’ll take care of it.” Lisa ran to the door and looked through the peep hole. “Fucking Jesus,” she muttered. Then, in a louder voice, she yelled, “Get away from our door, you vultures! This is private property! I’ll call the police on you! You have exactly ten seconds to get your cameras and your goons and get the fuck off of our doorstep!”

She turned to me. “We need to call the cops,” she said; this is ridiculous.

I grabbed my phone and flipped it open. I was ready to dial 911 when my phone lit up.

“Well what the fuck,” I said as I answered the phone.

***

“Becka,” Ethan’s voice was breathless. “I watched the news, then I just drove by your place. Are you okay?”

“You drove by? Did they see you?” The last thing I needed was for Ethan to be seen anywhere near my apartment.

“No, I had a hoodie on and a cap. I look like I belong in a prison, but no one recognized me.”

“But, your car,” I protested.

“Becka, give me some credit. I borrowed someone else’s.”

“Borrowed? Stole? Like you stole my research?” It was a feeler, nothing more, nothing less. Ethan seemed the more likely person to steal it; it was his personality. But, he hadn’t had the opportunity; Oliver had.

His voice softened. “I didn’t steal your research, Becka. I’ve tried to tell you over and over again that I’m not responsible for any of this mess, not like Oliver has been saying I have been. And my name is in this just as deep as yours.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Think about it. I’m Oliver’s brother. How long do you think it’s going to take for the news to get bored of the girlfriend angle and start investigating Oliver’s family, including his estranged, revenge-seeking brother who used to be half owner of Neurotova? I mean, I can’t believe they started with you, quite frankly.”

I sat down in the kitchen. Lisa looked at me and I mouthed “Ethan” to her. She crossed her eyes and made a cutting motion across her throat, telling me to hang up on him. I waved her away.

Ethan was still talking. “Honey, Oliver isn’t who you thought he was. I’ve tried to tell you that time and time again. He stole your research. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he called the news himself to take the attention off of him and what he’s doing at Neurotova, which, I don’t need to point out to you is fact, the animal experimentation, you found that out yourself.”

“I know,” I interrupted, “but,”

“Of course he needed your research, but he’ll use it to twist the truth to match his version of the facts. He’s going to use you as a scapegoat. Does that sound like someone who loves you?”

I paused, a feeling of pure acid beginning to burn in my stomach. I put my head on the table.

“No,” I said quietly.

“I want to see you,” he said. “I know that you need to be with someone you can trust right now.”

I snorted. “Good luck. The media has this place canvassed. They’re crawling through the vents like mice. They’ve been knocking down the door for the last hour. I’m half expecting a drone to start poking at the window any minute now.”

“Can you get to your roof?” he asked.

“I doubt it,” I said.

“Can you try?”

“To what end? Anywhere we go, I’ll be recognized. And that will give the news something to really focus on. It was dangerous enough for you to come anywhere near my place. It’s probably a terrible idea for us to be on the phone!” I immediately thought of the possibility that my phone could be bugged. I looked around the room. Was that possible? Were there cameras? People watching?

I breathed. I knew I was being paranoid… the question was, was the paranoia justifiable.

“I’m not leaving the house, Ethan, because, quite frankly, I don’t trust you much either. I don’t have to point out to you that things between Oliver and me were going along just fine until you showed up in my class and started to try to shake things up.”

“I was trying to get you to see the truth!” he said.

“Were you? Or were you just using me to ruin Oliver?”

“You keep accusing me of things, Becka, but nothing ever turns out to be true.”

“No, but my boyfriend disappears,”

“Which he explained,” Ethan interrupted, and it had nothing to do with me.”

“My research gets stolen—”

“By your boyfriend!”

“And now there are journalists crawling all the way up my ass!”

“Which he called!” Ethan finally exploded. “I mean, Becka, pull your head out and pay attention to who’s actually on your side here.

“You say Oliver stole my research, but there’s one problem: Oliver would never do that. Oliver loves me. He gave me full access to his databases and to basically his entire system so that I could incorporate the research into my dissertation, so that I would have the backing I needed to pursue the invention of Protame and get a name for myself in the industry. Everything he’s done has been to help me. You, on the other hand, every time you show up, things turn to shit!”

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” Ethan’s voice turned venomous. “How about if you take two seconds and remember that you’re a scientist. Look at the facts in front of you rather than making things up. Facts, not fantasy. What are the facts here? Fact: Oliver runs a company that has participated in animal experimentation. Fact: Oliver stole research from your home office after earning your trust. Fact: Oliver ran out on you without telling you where he was going or how long he would be gone. How does any of that suggest that he loves you? That he’s going to help you?

“I’m done with you,” I said coldly. “Don’t call me again. Don’t show up here. Don’t talk to the media, don’t drive by my apartment, and, if you see me on the street, assuming I’m ever able to leave my apartment again, I don’t want you to even acknowledge that you know me. Leave me alone.”

I hung up on him, and I closed my eyes. I was breathing heavily and my heart was pounding. I had to remind myself over and over what a practiced, skilled liar Ethan was. The truth was, everything he’d said sounded plausible. I thought with alarm how I may have reacted if I’d been with him in person instead of on the phone. If we had been in physical contact… would I have believed him?

My phone rang and I rolled my eyes. “Fucker doesn’t know when to quit!”

I picked it up and looked at the screen, then swallowed hard. It was my college advisor, Dr. Evans.

“Hi,” I said weakly.

“Becka, what the hell is going on?” Her voice was furious. I’d never heard her so angry in my life.

“I… you mean about the news?” I honestly didn’t know which part to address first. The college knew I was under investigation, of course, but I hadn’t heard anything about it from the college’s end since Dr. Evans had first told me that I needed to be aware of it a few weeks back.

“I mean, about everything! You’re in a lot of trouble here, Becka. The college has said that they will no longer be affiliated with Neurotova. They returned Dr. Weeks’ donation. That means all of the funding for Protame has been pulled once again.”

“What?” I gasped. “Can they do that?”

“They did it, and it’s in large part due to you, so don’t act so shocked.”

“You’re not blaming me…” I began, but Dr. Evans wasn’t listening.

“The college issued a statement to the press saying that it has no affiliation with Neurotova, and that you are no longer a student at the college. As of today, you’re suspended until further notice.”

I felt like I was going to faint. I heard a rushing in my ears and I heard the phone drop to the floor.

“What is it?” Lisa asked, rushing into the room. “What’s wrong?”

I stared at the phone on the floor. Dr. Evans had disconnected.

“I’m suspended from school,” I whispered. “The college has dropped any of its association with Oliver or with Neurotova.”

“Oh Becka,” Lisa said, sitting down next to me. She put her arms around me and, for the first time, I started to cry.

I could hear the chanting of the press outside our window; it sounded like they were after blood. And, they had it. I was flayed open, dying. My boyfriend had stolen my research. It didn’t need saying that I no longer had a job at Neurotova. And, my college had suspended me, which meant that, even if I could get my research back, my dissertation was over. When I woke up this morning, sure, life wasn’t perfect, but now… now my life was over.

I looked at Lisa. “I want to get out of here,” I said. “I want to get out of here right now.”

“We’ll go anywhere you want to go,” she said firmly.

“I want to go to Vegas.”

“Vegas?” she said, arching her eyebrows. “I was thinking more…” she shook her head. “Never mind what I was thinking. You want to go to Vegas, that’s where we’ll go. Do you have your passport?”

I nodded.

“Then let’s pack and go.”

“No packing,” I said. “We need to disguise ourselves, and we can’t leave the building with luggage; that will draw attention. We can buy everything we need when we get there.”

“I won’t ask where the money is coming from to do this,” she said.

I smiled, for the first time in what seemed like ages. “I have the credit card to Oliver’s expense account in my purse. It’s the least he can do.”

Lisa grinned. “Indeed. It is the very least.” She grabbed my hand and we went to our rooms. Fortunately, Lisa had a rather extensive wig collection. I picked one that looked the opposite of my personality. It was a spiky, neon green, long in the front and short in the back. I put it on, then put black eyeliner on my lips and my eyes, dressed in fluorescent pink, and put fingerless gloves that ran the full length of my arms.

“Jesus,” Lisa said when she saw me.

“The best way to be ignored is to get them all to look at me, right?”

“That way, I can get the car out of the garage. Smart.” She nodded.

“I’ll scoot down to the end of the block and you can get me there.”

The plan actually worked, though I nearly froze when I walked out the front door of my building. The view from above was nothing compared to being at eye level with the more than a hundred people standing around all looking for me. Fortunately for me, the majority of them were looking up. The ones that weren’t were looking for a geeky, mousy scientist type who was most likely trying to sneak out… not a bold as can be, confident goth chick strolling out the door like she owned the place.

Lisa got the car out of the garage and drove it around the block; I got in and we laughed, a matching pair of goths on the run.

***

The lights of Vegas washed clean my thoughts about Oliver and Ethan and the trouble I was in with school and the law. For a moment, I imagined living in Vegas forever, moving from casino to casino, no awareness of space or time, eating when I was hungry, gambling when I was bored. I shook my head. That was not my life.

“We need clothes,” Lisa said.

“Definitely,” I said. “Let’s hit the mall, then go to the strip.” We had rented a convertible, and we took a quick hour to go shopping and pick up clothes for the weekend, then headed back to our hotel. We’d decided to stay on the strip at the Wynn. We checked in, then went to our room to change. When I showered and put on my normal clothes, I felt a ton better. I’d gone with skinny jeans and a midriff bearing red top that accentuated my curves and my breasts. I paired it with red flats; I was tall enough I didn’t need heels.

Lisa looked similarly sexy, and we knew we’d draw some looks as we walked through the casinos. I withdrew a few hundred bucks from Oliver’s card, and we went to the first blackjack table we came to. The dealer was more than happy to have two beautiful women sit down at a table of all men. The men were there for a business conference, and they began to hit on us immediately. After a short while, we weren’t spending our own money any longer; they were betting for us, adding to the bets we placed. Lisa was more theatrical than I was, and she was eating up all of the attention.

After awhile, I turned to Lisa. “I’m starving,” I said. I had no idea how long we’d been there, but it had to be late afternoon.

“Me too.” We finished our round and then stood up, to the groans of the table of men.

“Sorry, boys, beauty’s gotta eat!” Lisa said, always the flirt. “We’ll come back, promise!”

“You better!” One of the men said. “This place already sucks without you!”

She smiled and blew him a kiss. We pocketed our chips and went to cash out.

“Forget work, we could make a living this way,” Lisa said as the cashier handed us close to a thousand dollars.

“No shit,” I said. “Let’s walk the strip a little? I want to see the Bellagio fountain.” The fountain was a landmark in Vegas, a colorful work of art that played music, the water dancing to the beat of the song. It was remarkable.

We were standing at the fountain, listening to Billie Jean by Michael Jackson, when I heard someone call my name.

“Becka? Becka Jasper? Is that you?”

I turned and saw a man who was familiar; it took me a moment to place him.

“Marcus? What the fuck!” I grinned and ran to him, throwing my arms around him. “What are you doing here?”

He flicked his name tag; he was here for a conference on biomedical engineering.

“Want to introduce me?” Lisa said, coming to my side and extending her hand. I could already feel her sizing up Marcus as a potential mate.

“This is Marcus Benson,” I said, “the high school love of my life.”

“It’s a crazy small world,” he said, winking at me.

“It is,” Lisa agreed, “but you have no idea how often I’ve run into someone I know in this town. It’s crazy.”

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“Just… having a girls’ weekend. We needed to get away for a few days.”

I was sure that the news of Neurotova would eventually go national, but hopefully the dome of Vegas would keep it out for at least the time I was here.

“It’s so good to see you!” I said warmly. I hugged him again. Marcus and I had dated for three years in high school and had broken up only because we went to different colleges and had agreed that we’d get back together if it was meant to be. During the time we were broken up, we discovered that we loved being friends far more than we’d loved dating. We’d stayed close for a long time, but then, as people do, we’d lost touch over the last two years.

“You look amazing,” he said, holding me at arm’s distance so he could get a look at me. “Like, seriously hot.”

“Stop,” I said, blushing.

“Don’t stop,” Lisa corrected me. “Tell her she looks like a million bucks; she could use the ego boost right now.”

“Shut up, Lisa,” I warned.

“What’s going on?” Marcus asked, looking at me, concerned.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’ve just been having a rough go of it lately.”

“Well, how about if you tell me about it over dinner? We’re done for the day with the conference. There’s a dinner and cocktail hour later, but, frankly, I’d rather hang out with you than with that group of nerds.” He looked at Lisa. “Of course, you’re invited, too.”

“Aw, thanks!” she grinned. “But maybe I’ll just hit the tables while you’re at dinner. Maybe we can all get lucky tonight.” She arched her eyebrows meaningfully at me and I punched her in the shoulder.

“See you later!” she waved.

“She’s subtle,” Marcus said, laughing.

“Tell me about it.” We walked into the nearest restaurant, an Italian place, and spent two hours getting caught up on our lives. I told him only the basics of my dissertation and Neurotova, though I didn’t mention it by name. I kept everything in the present tense.

We drank two bottles of wine, and, by the time the bill came and we were ready to leave, I was unsteady on my feet.

“Where are you staying?” Marcus asked. His face was close to mine, closer than it had been in years, and I looked directly into his green eyes, they were green with grey flecks, they both matched and contrasted his light brown hair. His jaw was strong, still very cut, but it has softened over the years since we’d dated.

“Um,” I said, for the moment forgetting the name of the Wynn.

He took that opportunity to lean in and kiss me, softly at first, then, as I returned his kiss, more firmly. I felt my body respond in a completely different way to his familiar touch. It was like coming home to a home cooked meal, or your own bed after a long vacation.

“I’m staying upstairs,” he said. “Want to continue the party up there?”

I hesitated as I felt my body pulled in two directions. It was a surreal feeling; I was almost sure I could feel the angel and devil cartoons on my right and left shoulders. The devil was hissing at me to go upstairs with Marcus and let that kiss be the first of many. The angel was pleading with me to remember that I had a boyfriend and, no matter how angry I was at Oliver, cheating was never my thing.

“I…” I looked away. “I have a boyfriend,” I said quietly. “And I can’t.”

Marcus smiled and looked down to catch my eye. He lifted my chin.

“Babe, that’s cool. We’ll call it good with dinner, yeah? It’s probably better for me to get a good night’s sleep before the conference continues tomorrow anyway.”

I smiled. I should have known; Marcus had always been a classy guy, and it looked like that trait had continued.

“You’re a sweetheart, Marc,” I said. “You always have been.”

“Do you want me to walk back to the Wynn with you?” he asked.

I told him I was going to Uber it back, and he waited with me at the door until the car pulled up. I kissed him goodbye again—on the cheek this time—and we agreed that we would keep in touch.

The trip to the Wynn was fast, and I got to my room feeling a bit more sober than when I’d left. I was eminently grateful that I had listened to the angel on my shoulder and gone home. When I laid down on my bed, I looked at my phone. Wished I could text Oliver. Wished I had a normal relationship.

Then, I began to imagine how it would be if he were with me here at the Wynn. Touching me, lying beside me, pleasuring me. I imagined him crawling into bed next to me and kissing me, his warm body against mine. His mouth soft, searching, using his tongue, his teeth, and his lips to connect with me, to arouse me. I would press against him and feel his hard cock against me as he nudged it between my legs. He would groan softly and I would smile, knowing that, though he was a billionaire, in the bedroom he needed something money could never buy: he needed me. I would be wet, and he would slide his fingers between my legs, pushing them easily into me. I would spread my legs wide, giving him space to pleasure me. As I fantasized, I watched his movements through my imagination… his thumb lightly tracing the hood of my clit as it begins to harden, my clit growing against his touch. I smiled, imagining him pulling his fingers out of me and licking them, smiling at me, then sliding his cock in and beginning to thrust against me, slowly at first, then faster.

I closed my eyes and groaned with pleasure at the familiarity of him, the sensation of him inside of me. He knew exactly where and how to touch me, and I breathed into his scent, his warmth, even though I had no idea where on Earth he was. I opened my eyes and looked at my phone again. I knew that I needed to talk to him. Not tonight; it was late and I had been drinking far too much to call anyone. I wasn’t a drunk dialer. I texted Lisa instead.

“Where are u?” I asked

“Almost there!” she responded. “Got caught at the slots. Got bank tho! $$$”

I smiled and clicked the phone to silent for the night. I knew that if she won big—which for us would be about a hundred bucks—she would come to the room with a bottle of something bubbly for us. I thought back over my evening…things had gone pretty well. I had made good decisions, and I’d gotten some clarity. If I was willing to turn down Marcus because Oliver was my boyfriend, there had to be something in me that was still on Oliver’s side. I felt victorious; I knew how I felt about Oliver, and I’d managed to figure it out without texting, calling, or otherwise notifying him. I still had my advantage, whatever that was.

I thought about heading home and everything that would be waiting for me there; I hoped I could keep this feeling going. I sighed. Reality was about to knock on my door once again. Just then, I heard the key swipe in the lock, and Lisa came through the door with, as I had guessed, a bottle of champagne.

“Honey, I’m home!” she called into the room, grinning at me.

***

When we pulled back up to our apartment, the crowd of journalists had dwindled down to practically nothing, but there were still a few creeping around. When I saw them, the reality of my situation hit me in the face like a shock of fire. Everything I’d lost: my college, my advisor, my boyfriend, my dissertation, my job, my future…all of my research… I was empty.

I looked at Lisa and I knew she knew exactly what I was thinking. We walked quietly up to the apartment. I went straight to the couch and laid down. The time in Vegas, seeing Marcus… it had been fun, but I wondered if it had led to a larger emotional fall coming home. I felt, truly, like I could die.

“You know,” Lisa said, sitting beside me, her hand on my thigh, “you still haven’t talked to Oliver since the morning he supposedly took your research. Maybe you should call him.”

I looked at her, surprised.

“It’s just that… you’re miserable without him. I can see that. Anyone with eyes can see that. Do you truly believe he’s the monster the media and Ethan are making him out to be?”

“That’s the whole thing,” I said. “I don’t know what to believe.”

“Here’s what I know. You’ve always had amazing intuition when it comes to people. I know that you would never date anyone that you didn’t trust. You would never be around someone you didn’t have a good feeling about long enough to actually date them. And, you’ve never had a good feeling about Ethan. Sure, you were attracted to him, but not enough to throw Oliver over for him. Oliver is your man. And the only person who has been feeding you negative information about Oliver is his brother.” Lisa shook her head. “I just can’t believe that Oliver is as bad as Ethan said, and you wouldn’t have seen it a mile away.”

I thought about that. I knew, through my depression, that she was right. I looked at my phone. A minute later, I brought up Oliver’s number. Imagined myself dialing. Imagined him answering. Imagined us having a conversation. What would we talk about?

I was nervous… but I dialed the number anyway. When it began to ring, my stomach jerked nervously and my mouth suddenly became as dry as a desert. When I heard his voice on his voicemail, I closed my eyes and hung up.

Lisa stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “Did he answer?”

I shook my head.

“Get your purse,” she said. “I’m driving you over there.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue. Within a few minutes, we were back in the car and Lisa was driving me to Oliver’s mansion. I had no idea what I’d do if he wasn’t there. We were silent as we drove, my nerves working up to full blast.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” she asked. “I will, if you want.”

“No, that’s okay,” I said. We pulled into his circular driveway. There was a car near the front door, but that didn’t mean he was home; he had several cars.

“I can walk to the door with you?” she offered.

“Just wait until you see that he answers. If he’s not home, I don’t want to be stranded here alone.”

“Sure,” she said, and pulled up right behind the other car. “I’ll be right here until I’m sure you’re safe inside. If he answers and you decide you don’t want to stay, just wave at me and I’ll come get you.” She hugged me.

I got out of the car and walked slowly to the door. I knocked, looking back at Lisa. She smiled, encouraging me.

The door opened. Oliver stood before me. He looked at me, his eyes boring into me. I opened my mouth to speak, though I had no idea what I was going to say, and I burst into tears. He put his arms around me and brought me into the house, closing the door behind him.

He kissed me and I melted into him. I felt my anger both rise and fall; I didn’t know where to begin. I was so furious, but the sense of relief I felt at being in his arms battled that sense of fury into submission.

“I’m so pissed at you,” I said. “My research, you don’t know what you’ve done!” My anger made a resurgence and I pushed him away. My shove surprised us both, and he stepped back, nearly losing his balance.

“Honey, I watched the news and, of course, the cops and the media have been crawling around all over Neurotova. None of what they’re saying is true.”

“How can you say that?” I demanded. “You disappear every five minutes, and every time you leave, there’s Ethan right there telling me that you’re doing all of this stuff, that you stole my research, which is pretty believable considering you were at my house and then you were gone and so was my research, and you’re never there to contradict it!”

“It’s pretty convenient that Ethan is always right there to put everything on me,” he said bitterly.

“Well, where are you? Where are you every time I need you?” My tears came back, spilling down my cheeks.

“I’m right here,” he said. He stepped back toward me and put his arms around me. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.” I began to object, but he kept talking. “I know, I know, I’ve said that before. But, this is stopping right now. I have a plan.”

“A plan?” I asked.

“Ethan is going down for everything that he’s done. He’s not going to end up the hero in this, no way. I’ve been thinking about all of this, everything that’s happened going all the way back to the beginning, back before you and I met, back before Ethan and I even created Neurotova, before we were partners. I’ve been doing nothing but thinking for days, and I have a plan.

“I promise,” he said, looking into my eyes, “This plan will work. Everything will be okay. We just need to get things in motion. We’ll do that tomorrow. Right now, I want to take you upstairs and make love to you.”

I nodded, wiping my cheeks. “That sounds like the perfect plan,” I said. “Then, I want to know everything.”

He smiled and pulled me to him, lifting me up against him. I wrapped my legs around his hips and he carried me upstairs, kissing me. He set me gently on the bed.

His plan had better be a good one.