No One to Trust Page 4

  “No wild party.” Xavier grinned at me. “Only a bit of a celebration for the two of us. Elvis finished designing a spectacular security program—probably the first and best of its kind.” No bragging here, just stating the truth and nothing but the truth. “Can’t say more about it but the suits were delirious with the results and sent us a half dozen pizzas and a case of beer as a reward.”

  The suits knew their geniuses well. I was pretty sure the twins had been quite pleased with the gesture. “Cool,” I said.

  “Got some pizza leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry,” Elvis said as he came into the room. His dark hair was damp and curling at the nape of his neck. I noticed with some surprise that he had dressed differently from Xavier today in a red-checked flannel shirt and jeans. Usually the twins dress alike, which is a real mystery because they are the most absent-minded people I know, myself included. Maybe as they approached their thirties they were beginning to be more comfortable with having separate identities.

  “No thanks, I’ll pass on the pizza. But congrats on the new program.”

  Elvis smiled and I could see he was in a really good mood. “It’s ace, Lexi. Wish I could show you, but corporate privacy and all that, you know.”

  “I know. I’ll take your word for it.”

  Elvis sat down in a chair next to me. “So, what’s up?”

  I sighed. “I’ve got a problem. Have you guys ever heard of a nanotech researcher named Darren Greening?”

  “He sounds familiar.” Elvis glanced over at his brother for confirmation.

  “I’ve done some digging of my own, but I wonder if there’s something I may have missed.”

  Xavier nodded. “Give me a minute, will you?”

  He sat down at a terminal and started to type as Elvis leaned toward me, speaking softly. “You’ve caught him on a good day. Did you hear he has a date with Basia tomorrow?”

  I just about fell out of my chair. Basia had gone out with Xavier a couple of months ago, but only because she owed me a big-time favor. She hadn’t said a word about the date and I’d presumed nothing had come from it. Now she had agreed to go out with him again and hadn’t told me. What was up with that?

  “Wow, that’s…great,” I whispered back. “Is he happy?”

  Elvis laughed. “Giddy is more like it.”

  Xavier threw a pencil at us over his shoulder. “I hear you guys talking about me. Knock it off. You’re interfering with my concentration.”

  Elvis rolled his eyes, picking up the pencil. “He’s just embarrassed.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  I held up my hands. “Jeez. What are you guys, four?”

  Elvis grinned. “All right then, tell us what’s up with this Darren Greening guy.”

  I gave him the brief version of the story, speaking just loud enough to clue in Xavier who was listening in. Elvis whistled in concern when I told him about being accosted in the garage. He reached out to take my hands when they started to tremble.

  “That is beyond uncool,” Elvis said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Better now,” I assured him. “Just wondering what’s the deal with this Darren Greening guy.”

  “Wait a minute, I think I know where I’ve heard of him.” Elvis suddenly swiveled around in his chair and began typing on the nearest keyboard.

  “Way ahead of you, bro.” Xavier tapped his monitor. “He’s a member of STRUT.”

  “STRUT?”

  “The Society for The Responsible Use of Technology,” Elvis explained, pulling up the group’s website on his terminal. “Xavier and I are members.”

  I blinked in surprise. “You are?”

  “Yeah, and so are about three thousand other people.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? We think it’s useful to be part of a group interested in keeping technology as ethical as possible,” Elvis said.

  The twins never cease to amaze me and that’s one of the things I like best about them. I glanced at STRUT’s web address and memorized it for a closer look later.

  “Do you know anything else about Darren other than he’s a member of STRUT?”

  “Well, a couple of months ago he posted a paper on the site about the dangers of nanotechnology,” Xavier said. “It stirred up quite a controversy.”

  “But he founded a nanotech company,” I protested.

  “Energy-related nanotechnology,” Elvis said.

  “Okay. So, what’s the big danger?”

  Elvis fixed his intense blue gaze on me. “Some people are worried that the nanotechnology Darren is trying to develop as an environmentally safe energy replacement could be used in more sinister ways.”

  “Sinister? How?”

  He leaned forward. “Nanobots, of course. If we aren’t careful, using sophisticated nanotechnology, we could one day create intelligent self-replicating molecular machines that would be able to reproduce unchecked and possibly convert most of the biosphere into copies of themselves, if they so desired.”

  It took a minute for that to sink in. “Okay, that’s pretty sinister. So, Darren wants to make sure that whatever he develops in the nanotechnology field will be used strictly for the good of mankind. It sounds reasonable. What’s so controversial about that?”

  Xavier swiveled slowly back and forth in his chair. “Well, some people read his paper and thought he was advocating a ban on all research and development of nanotechnology to avoid any adverse consequences from the science.”

  “Like that would ever happen. Since when has an approach of saying no to the progress of science been effective?”

  “Never,” Elvis said. “You can’t tell scientists not to explore nanotechnology when there are so many excellent possibilities and benefits to be gained from the research.”

  “Not to mention fortunes,” Xavier added.

  “So then what was Darren saying?” I asked.

  “I think he’s just trying to raise the bar,” Elvis explained. “Like encouraging us to address the ethical use of nanotechnology before we start designing things all willy-nilly.”

  “How can I get a copy of the article?”

  Xavier stood and walked over to a printer and pulled off some sheets for me. “Way ahead of you, Lexi.”

  “Thanks.” I stood. “Does STRUT have a chat room?”

  “Of course,” Xavier said.

  “You can hang out there if you join STRUT,” Elvis told me. “It’s a member-only section.”

  “How do I join?”

  “Just proclaim your ever-dying devotion to using technology responsibly.”

  I wasn’t sure I was well read enough on this topic to join, but it didn’t look like I had a lot of choice. Time was of the essence and I’d do what I’d have to do, especially if it helped me figure out why Darren Greening had fingered me in a weird cryptic note.

  “Well, I guess that means I’m your newest member.” I replaced the blanket on the chair. “Thanks, guys.”

  Elvis walked me to the door. “I’ll ask around about Darren. Maybe he has some connection to you that we’re all missing.”

  “You guys are the best,” I said and Elvis smiled.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said, even though I didn’t think Neck-Snapping Man would follow me around.

  When we got to my car, he reached out and twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. “You be careful, okay?”

  Xavier called out from the doorway, “Yeah, and don’t forget to tell Basia I’m looking forward to tomorrow night.”

  “He’s counting the nanoseconds.”

  Again I felt a flash of annoyance that Basia hadn’t told me about the forthcoming date, but I promised to give her Xavier’s message when I saw her later tonight.

  I turned up the heater in my car to offset the cold November air as I drove home to my cozy little one-bedroom apartment. Actually, it’s tiny more than cozy, but I had started trying to be more of a glass ha
lf-full type of person. I made a conscious decision to look on the bright side of things—like being alive, having a job and living in my own cozy apartment.

  I tossed my keys on the kitchen counter and went to the living room. I pulled out my Georgetown yearbook and lugged it back to the kitchen. Sitting at the small, round kitchen table, I opened a Diet Coke, and chugged it straight from the can. I flipped pages until I came to Darren Greening’s picture and spent some time gazing at it. In this photo he looked all of twelve years old, skinny with faded acne scars. But his gaze was intense, almost scary. I could see the genius lurking there.

  I scanned the rest of the yearbook, but there was nothing else of interest on Darren. No cocky phrases, famous quotes, and as far as I could tell, he hadn’t had any other extra-curricular activities at Georgetown. Just your everyday regular, geeky college kid.

  I shut the yearbook and stood. I was starving, but figured I’d just pick up something to eat in the food court at the mall. Finishing my Coke, I smashed the can flat because it made me feel powerful, and chucked it into the recycle bin.

  In the bedroom, I stripped off my work clothes and ripped what was left of my panty hose to shreds trying to get it unglued from my foot. Dumping the remains into the trash, I pulled on a pair of jeans and an oversized burgundy sweater. Since I was going to be trying on gowns, I pulled my hair back into a long ponytail and pinned it up, adding some lip balm for effect. Like that would really help me appear elegant as I tried on gowns.

  A bit depressed, I left my apartment, looked around carefully in the parking lot for strange men, and headed for Columbia Mall, which happens to be my and Basia’s favorite spot. It was Basia’s favorite hangout because they had a lot of clothes and shoe stores and she was the ultimate shopper. I liked it because they had not one, but two of the nifty stands that sell those fabulous hot cinnamon-sugar pretzels. I got to the mall before Basia for that very reason and was just licking the sugar off my fingers when she plopped down beside me on the bench.

  “Do you know how much saturated fat is contained in just one-third of that pretzel?” She looked at it in disgust.

  “If only that fat would go straight to my boobs.” I sighed.

  “I refuse to be jealous because I know you won’t be skinny forever. Do yourself a favor and come out of denial now. How many times have I told you that after reaching the big three-oh, your metabolism will slow down and you will get seriously fat if you keep eating like you do. That’s if you don’t have a heart attack first.”

  “Sticks and stones may break my bones.” Then I paused. “Speaking of breaking bones…” I quickly filled her in on what had happened to me in the garage.

  “Oh, my God. You’ve got to be kidding. It’s not safe anywhere these days. What the hell is going on with Darren Greening?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question. In return I might ask what the hell is going on with you and Xavier?”

  I clearly caught her off guard. Avoiding my pointed stare, she took off her hat and shrugged out of her coat. “How’d you find out?”

  “From Xavier, of course. Why all the secrecy?”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” I repeated incredulously. “Are you nuts? This is Xavier we’re talking about. You know, the geeky guy you’ve never looked twice at before.”

  “Need I remind you, we’ve already been on one date?”

  “Yeah, a date I set up. A date you didn’t say one word about.”

  “And from that you presumed what?”

  “That you had no interest in him.”

  “Well, you were wrong. I had fun.”

  My mouth dropped open. “So you like him?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Lexi, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you. You’re too emotionally involved. Xavier is like a brother to you. I’m going on another date with him, period. If it doesn’t work out, I don’t want any additional grief from you.”

  “But I thought you were dating Lars,” I protested.

  Lars Anderson was Basia’s one-time karate instructor. A tall, gorgeous Swedish-American with hands licensed as killing machines. He owns a small karate academy in Laurel, Maryland to which I now belong, and where I’m literally working my butt off in Tae Kwon Do. Typical for the course, Basia took one lesson, quit and is now happily dating the instructor. They have a complicated past history, but jeez, these days, who doesn’t?

  “I am dating Lars.”

  My eyes widened. “You’re going to date both of them? At the same time?”

  “Why not? I’m not under a mutually exclusive contract with either one of them.”

  “B-but…do they know that?”

  “Don’t worry, Lexi, I can handle them both.”

  “Wow.” I let it hang at that. What else could I say? In terms of dating etiquette, I knew less than diddly, whereas Basia was the master. Besides, I was secretly in awe that she could juggle two guys.

  For a few minutes we sat there in silence until I blurted out, “I’m not sure I know what I’m doing. Do you think Finn really likes me?”

  “Of course he does.”

  “Because?”

  “Because you’re you.”

  “That’s not providing the boost of confidence I was looking for.”

  “What do you want me to say? Are you the prettiest, savviest girl Finn has ever dated? Not likely. But that’s a good thing. He’s probably had his fill of that. A guy like him wants someone genuine. So I beg you to stop trying to analyze it to death. It’s not math, which means it’s neither linear nor logical. Now, I believe the reason we’re here is to get you an evening gown.”

  Before I could protest, she practically dragged me toward Nordstrom’s.

  “When you relax and are in your comfort zone, you’re actually quite pretty, Lexi. Having an inner glow is all about being self-confident, poised and comfortable with your body and sexuality. It would help to start practicing ways to exude your femininity in the real world.”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Do you want to impress Finn or not?”

  I let out a deep breath. “All right. Inner glow. Exude my femininity. How hard can that be?”

  “You can do it. You have lots of wonderful qualities.”

  “Such as?”

  “You’re loyal, intelligent and funny.”

  That didn’t sound very feminine to me, more like a beloved pet. I tried not to be more depressed. “Okay. And that affects my inner glow, how?”

  “You need to build on that so you can loosen up and go with the flow a bit more. Take more chances in life and love. Let’s decide right now that tomorrow night with Finn will be the start of a new, feminine, sexy you.”

  It was a hell of a pep talk, so I kept trying to imagine my element while we browsed around the gown section. Basia chose gown after gown for me to try on, and I attempted to keep a happy face as I donned one after the other. I didn’t like any of them, mostly because they were in girly colors like peach, luscious lemon and butter cream. Instead of feeling gorgeous or in touch with my feminine side, I felt ravenously hungry. But I gave it my best shot.

  Had I been alone, I would have picked a long-sleeved black sheath that I saw hanging on a fifty-percent-off rack. When I made one small suggestion about it, Basia nearly had apoplexy, saying that I needed color to stand out in a crowd and to brighten up my apparently lackluster complexion.

  After trying on gown number twelve, I no longer cared about my inner glow or whether or not I was feminine. I was seriously cranky, hungry and ready to kill someone with my bare hands. I decided I was pathologically unsuited to clothes shopping.

  “What the hell am I wearing now?” I snarled, parading around in a strapless gown.

  “It’s a Gucci in dark Victorian teal.” She fussed with some ties at my waist. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “No. Why can’t I buy a black gown?” I kept tugging on the bust. I didn’t have enough boobs to hold it up and i
t kept gapping open like a toothless fish every time I breathed or moved.

  “Do you want to look acceptable for Finn or do you want to look fabulous? Remember your new mantra—exude an inner glow.”

  She stepped back from me and squinted critically. “No, this one won’t work either. Try this one.” She grabbed another gown off the rack and handed me a sleeveless, greenish gown with spaghetti straps.

  Just the thought of spaghetti made my stomach growl and I tried to remember if any of the food-court restaurants sold pasta.

  “Remember the mantra,” she said, apparently seeing my upper lip form a snarl of protest.

  “Oh, all right, all right,” I snapped as I marched back to the dressing room. “I’m focusing on my damn inner glow. What the hell color is this gown? Pee-pee-green?”

  “English-yew-green,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s the rage in Paris this fall.”

  “I’m not wearing anything French. It goes against my politics.”

  “Lexi.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Trying to act like a team player, I tried on three more gowns and then decided I really couldn’t take it anymore. The next gown would be a winner, whether I liked it or not.

  “I think I’ve found the one.”

  I cracked open the dressing room door and Basia handed me a slinky, blood-red gown with a low-cut back and leg slits practically up to my butt. Then I turned it around and saw the plunging neckline.

  “Are you nuts?” I stared at the gown on the hanger.

  Basia laughed. “Lexi, you have a body that can carry this off. Just try it on. It’s Moroccan-red.”

  “I suppose that means this is the latest rage in Morocco.”

  “At least it’s not French.”

  I tried it on and the gown fit like a glove. That’s not a turn of phrase. It really fit like a glove. A tight glove. The tag said the material was silk and spandex, but I’d never heard of the two of them together in an evening gown. Then again, I’d never shopped for evening gowns before, so what did I know? Of course, I couldn’t breathe and walking was difficult, but there was no question my inner glow would be on display for all to see.