chapter twenty-nine

What had Gabriel Lee hidden on the flash-dot? I snapped the dot into my own phablet and glove phone. When neither worked, I tried the car’s computer. The files were unreadable. Either the memory chip was damaged or encrypted. I punched the starter button on my Porsche and headed back south towards L.A.

By six that evening, I was pulling into the parking lot behind Vapor Time 3, the hookah lounge on Santa Monica Denver Lakshmi frequented after work. With any luck, the ex-Hacktavist could recover whaever information the scientist had squirreled away.

In the parking lot, I stepped on a playing card, the queen of hearts. There was another card ten feet away. The parking attendant, who’d apparently been playing solitaire, scurried after them. The remaining cards were scattered all over the lot like a giant fortune cast to the wind.

I made my way inside and headed past the low tables clustered in the front to the booths in the back. There was a digital sign announcing a special on Blue Lotus, the synthetic marijuana called spice. The air was heavy with the scent of cloves and cinnamon, and just enough of that telltale skunk underneath that told me I’d have a contact high if I stayed too long. A buzz of chatter mingled with the sound of water gurgling in the hookahs planted at each table. I spotted Denver’s hair first—big bubble gum pink stripes against the sea of black today.

“Hey Security Princess.” I moved aside an expresso cup and plunked the flash-dot memory disk down on Denver’s table as I took a seat. “Fuentes, Father Fuentes, 333-1110, or just father,” I said. “See if you can find a reference to any of them in the dot.”

“Father?” Denver said, grinning. “Like who’s your Daddy, or pervert priest?”

“You tell me.”

Denver was bubbling like a freshly uncorked bottle of champagne. Her pink streaked hair bobbed up and down.

“You vaping purple haze now?” I said. “What’s got you so damn happy?”

She held out her left hand with a flourish. The nails were painted to match her hair, and a blinding sparkler weighed down the third digit. It was at least two carats bigger than the two carat stone I’d given Jo.

“You recovered the iceberg that sank the Titanic?”

“Diamond Dog just gave it to me last night,” she squealed. “I met him on Heavenly Matches.”

“That psychic matchmaking site?”

“Yeah. D-Dog and I, we’re engaged!”

“Congratulations,” I said. “Diamond Dog, huh?” I pictured some skanky alternative rock geek with hair like a gel-spiked dandelion. “Did your fiancé rob somebody for the bling ring?” The sparkler was seriously massive.

“If he did, in three months I’ll make him an honest man. Clear your calendar. You’re giving me away.” Denver’s father had died of lung cancer five years ago.

“Rushing things a little, aren’t you?” I said.

“The heart wants what the heart wants.” Denver’s voice took on a dreamy air as she twirled a strand of fuchsia-colored hair on her finger. “Why wait?”

I stifled the twenty reasons that immediately popped into my head. “I always wanted to be a Daddy,” I said, smiling. “I just pictured a smaller bundle of joy my first time out.”

“Where’s my glove phone?” Denver searched through her bag and shoved aside a pile of napkins and the expresso cup and saucer on the table, looking for the phone. “I want your help.”

I lifted her phone out of the bag’s open outer pocket and handed it back to her.

She flipped me off as she took the phone and brought up a file displaying three wedding dresses in traditional white, Hindu red and Goth Black. “Which?” she said, holding each under her chin in turn so I could picture the bride.

“I like this one.” I pointed to the white gown. “But my wardrobe works with any of them.”

“It’s sick,” she said, beaming as she stared at the dress. “D-Dog and I have our blood test this week. I’m so happy I could puke.”

California didn’t require blood tests, but families like Denver’s often did. Full genetic scans to sniff out potential health problems down the pike.

“Let’s hold on our toast then,” I said. “Call me ASAP if you find anything on the flash-dot. When you’re not high.”

She flipped me off again, but with a big smile this time. Denver’s happy mood was infectious. I left the girl with a smile on my face too, and checked messages on the way to the car.

There was one from my mother that instantly killed the happy feeling. I didn’t have to hear it to know what it said. My father’s birthday was in a week. Every year my mother tried to broker peace. Every year marked another epic fail.

I could not face that prospect right now. And the reminder of other coming attractions drowned any remnants of my happy mood. The IAC disciplinary hearing awaited me Monday morning at ten.