Richard watched the news on the flat-screen TV in his hotel suite, bouncing from one station to the next, stunned and dismayed as the destruction unfolded before his eyes.
A category five, epic fucking shitstorm.
First, he checked how exposed, or overexposed, Jaclyn’s clip was. It was all over the place. She was all over the place. Television. Online. Fucking everywhere, like she’d hired a publicist. He methodically clicked through all the stations again, then every internet clip, searching for any glimpses of his new blond hair.
He hadn’t been caught. At least, not at the moment. His time would definitely be up if he’d been captured on video. Others might be fooled by his average-guy disguise, but facial recognition software would rat him out in a heartbeat. And he wasn’t ready for the big reveal.
Not yet.
Phone in hand, he sent a text.
RICHARD: New idea. Need prototype ASAP.
PENNY: Lay it on me, Richie Rich.
RICHARD: The glasses I’m wearing. The B-2s. There’s a second prototype in my office. Retrofit them with a reflector for any pixel-based technology. Cell phones. Video feeds. I want it to auto-glare and distort the image. An anti-facial-recognition add-on.
He waited as the text bubbles bounced, then stopped, then bounced again.
PENNY: Um . . . totally genius. Seriously, do you just hang around until ideas turn to gold? You’re like some insane technology alchemist. Yes, we can target pixels. Film coating would be quickest and easiest application. Prototype when? A week?
RICHARD: You’ve got an hour. I’ll be by and need to take it with me.
PENNY: An HOUR?! Hang on. I’m making you a whole new type of technology, something that doesn’t exist in reality as we know it, going all-out Star Trek on your ass, and you want it in an hour?? What do I get?
RICHARD: You get to keep your job. 58 minutes.
PENNY: I get your car until the new satellite office is completely up and running. I’m already on it.
RICHARD: Which car? 57 minutes.
PENNY: Ash. And the formula is already being worked.
Is it me, or is everyone going out of their way to walk all over me lately?
RICHARD: How about a brand-new Jag instead? Big bow. All yours. 56 minutes.
PENNY: I want Ash. And I want him baaadddd.
RICHARD: Fine. Ash. I’ll bring him with me. 55 minutes.
PENNY: The test guys are drooling at the concept, so you’ll have your glasses, and I’ll have my way with your baby, starting tonight.
RICHARD: God help the rest of the drivers on the road. See you in 54 minutes. I’ll be the one rolling up in the terrified Aston Martin.
PENNY: Don’t be surprised if this place is in shambles. We focused on setting up the lab first for the satellite operation, but it’ll get there. Give me a teensy bit of time on that one.
RICHARD: Like, a week?
PENNY: More like six to eight weeks. Now get over here, get your glasses, sing everyone’s praises, and give me Ash!!! Ya feel me, boss man?
RICHARD: Yes, ma’am. On my way. Thanks.
He looked up. Between television and the world wide web, the video was jettisoning to viral status in record time. He hadn’t yet figured out exactly what to do, but knew he had to do something. Fast.
He slipped on his glasses and tapped the rim.
Two rings, and Margot picked up, audio only. Fair enough.
“Well, it’s about time, Richard. What the hell happened?”
“It’s too long to get into now,” he said, dismissing her. “I need your help.”
“Then start talking, because you’re not getting a lifeline without a detailed account of exactly what went on. And we both know between the two of us, I’m the patient one. So, are we talking now, or are you calling me back after you’ve thought it through?”
“Fine.” He fire-hosed her with all the harrowing events, while Margot continued to interrupt his rushed delivery with her high-class speed bumps of ugh, oh dear, and for the love of God.
“And that’s it. I dropped her off and woke up to all this.”
He ran his hand over his stubble and raced to a mirror. For the first time in his life, he completely cursed the machismo pushing from his pores.
“Where will she go?” he asked as he set up for a quick shave.
Margot silently contemplated the question. “Well, she’d already have been to the principal’s office. So, I’m not sure.”
“Don’t you have a way to check where she is? Like find her phone?”
“What am I, a psychic? I don’t know what sort of circles you run in, but mine are abundant with privacy freaks. And if I knew, and if I weren’t back in London, I’d probably beat you to her. This little trust exercise we have going is on thin ice, Richard.”
He changed his tone. “I’m sorry. Please, just let me fix this. Okay, so she’s probably already seen Everett. Where would she go next?”
“Again, how the hell would I—” Margot stopped short, leaving only silence on the line.
“Margot?” His glasses, equipped with a uniquely crafted form of heads-up display, still projected Margot Connected in the upper part of his vision. He could just make out her breathing.
“Oh God. I think I know where she is. But . . .” Margot’s voice lowered to a somber level. “You showing up there might be taking things a bit too far.”
He took in the gravity of her tone. This whole situation seemed to take everything too far. What would another step or two be? “I know you don’t want to trust me, but right now, you have to. Tell me. Where is she?”
The longer Margot took to answer, the more Richard second-guessed his own plan. If he hadn’t started this insane scheme, none of this would be all over the news. Just how much further would he go to get what he wanted?
Margot’s hesitation subsided, and she said, “I think she’s visiting her mother.”