Chapter Seventeen
Geekronym: MUD
Translation: Multi-user dungeon
Definition: A class of virtual reality experiment accessible via the internet; real-time chat forums with structure, which may have multiple locations and include combat, traps, puzzles, etc.
Bathed in the bright July morning sun that gilded the table in the Brunch Spot, Daniel felt too warm for the first time since arriving back in Portland. He toyed with his orange juice glass. Fidgeted with his fork. Refolded his napkin. He aimed a mental eye roll at himself. Christ, after one night with Charlie, just being separated from her while she was in the restroom threw off his equilibrium. He needed to see her smile, twine his fingers in her curls, listen to her riff on some obscure data theory, her eyes sparkling.
This was ludicrous. He’d managed well enough for the last decade or more. Maybe that was the problem. He had arrears to make up. Years of Charlie moments that he’d cheated himself out of because he’d been a teenage asshat.
To keep himself occupied, he pulled out his phone, frowning when he noticed the notification icon that identified important emails. Another message from rosserx, this time with an attachment.
Unease crept up his spine with a chill like spreading frost. Damn. Argonne wasn’t the only one out to make a buck off lonely men. Maybe he’d have that sensational story for Nelson after all, but, Christ, the poor guys.
“Excuse me, but aren’t you Daniel Shawn, the journalist?”
His fingers clenched around his phone. The news about an Argonne-inspired scam, coupled with his Trisha-honed instincts, fired his distrust of too-convenient encounters. He raised he gaze from the ominous email.
The dark-haired, highly-groomed woman standing next to his table was decked out in a yellow suit more appropriate to an upscale New York club than a restaurant in the Pearl. Warning bells clanged in his mind. She’s out of place and she knows my name.
She held out her hand, and he didn’t have much choice but to stand up and shake it.
“Shanna McAlister. I’m a big fan of your work.”
Okay then. A reader. He rustled up a little politeness. “Thanks.”
She gestured toward the empty third chair. “May I?”
He glanced toward the back of the restaurant. Still no Charlie. He pulled the chair out in invitation. “Of course.” As little as he wanted interference now, it never paid to piss off readers, especially since he had so few left. “Although I’m here with someone.”
Her gaze caught the multi-colored scarf draped over the back of the chair opposite hers and her face took on the same self-satisfied smirk he’d last seen on Trisha before she’d revealed her endgame. The last thing he needed intruding on his afterglow was someone with that kind of agenda, reader or no.
“I didn’t realize you were in town, although I’d heard a rumor. On the trail of another IT scandal?”
“No. Just got back to town. Settling into a new gig.”
He willed Charlie to take her time in the restroom until he could figure out Shanna’s game and get rid of her, but his luck was out, because she emerged, nearly running into a busboy carrying a stack of folded tablecloths.
A wry smile twisted her full mouth at the near miss as she skirted the room, so intent on dodging obstacles that she didn’t notice their uninvited guest. One table away, though, she slowed, smile fading. Her attention focused on Shanna, sitting relaxed at the table and sipping a glass of water delivered by an overzealous waiter.
He stood up, closed the distance between them, and took Charlie’s hand. “This is Ms. McAlister. She’s a reader who stopped by to chat.” He put extra emphasis on reader so Charlie would know Shanna wasn’t on his own personal radar. From the look on Charlie’s face, she needed some reassurance. He was sure he’d made it pretty damn obvious how he felt last night, but if she needed the words, he’d say it. “Ms. McAlister, this is Charlie Forrester. My girlfriend.”
Charlie’s hand jerked in his, and she tried to pull away, but he held on, adding a gentle thumb stroke to soothe her.
Shanna laughed, as cold and brittle as the ice in her glass. “You’re kidding me. It’s only the fifth of the month. You’re better than I gave you credit for.”
Daniel frowned. “I’m sorry. What?”
She balled up her napkin and tossed it onto the table. “You win, Dr. Forrester.”
Charlie’s mouth opened but nothing emerged.
Daniel’s chest tightened, and his brows snapped together. He hadn’t introduced Charlie by her title, had he? “You two know each other?”
“Let’s say we have a prior acquaintance.” Shanna pushed her chair back. “Incredible. From zero to score in less than a week. I didn’t believe it, despite Meredith’s glowing commendation.”
Charlie wouldn’t meet his gaze and Daniel released her hand, his palms suddenly damp. She dropped into her chair and leaned toward Shanna, hands clenched in her lap.
“Can we please discuss this tomorrow?” Her voice was low and fierce, but the glance she shot at Daniel was furtive, almost frightened. “This isn’t the time or place.”
“The sooner the better. Since I never dreamed I’d lose, I’ve already positioned another candidate for the job. I’ll submit your name tomorrow as an alternate, but if you want to stay in the running…” Shanna stood up, brushing off her skirt. “The more prepared you are, the better. Expect their call within the week.”
“I…all right.”
Shanna shot a hard glance from Charlie’s bent head to Daniel. “Before you gloat, though, Doctor, you might consider whether winning this bet was worth your self-respect.”
Shanna pivoted, the heel of her stiletto sandal skidding on the hardwood floor. She recovered, straightened her shoulders, and walked out of the restaurant.
Daniel turned back to Charlie, his orange juice an acid pool in his stomach, the familiar chill tingling in his chest. She hunched in her chair, twisting her scarf in her hands, her lips tucked in against her teeth in the antithesis of her smile.
“Charlie? What was she talking about?” The memory of Trisha’s betrayal caused his voice to roughen, but he didn’t care. He needed to know the truth and he needed it now. “What bet?”