Part 7 (1/2)

”h.e.l.lo?” a man's voice, thick with an Indian accent, answered.

Still looking at his son, Ted said into the phone, ”Amit, this is Ted.

How are you doing today?”

Amit, the lead programmer for Gibly, sounded distracted. ”Mr. Bristol!

I'm-I'm fine, sir,” he muttered. ”What can I do for you, sir?”

”Just have a quick question for you, Amit,” Ted said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ”Did someone hack into Gibly last week?” Amit was silent on the other end. Ted and T. J. could hear commotion in the background, the voices of programmers yelling at each other in panicked voices. T. J. grinned. Ted blinked, listening intently for some rea.s.surance to come out of the speaker, then looked down at the phone.

”Amit? Amit, did you hear me?”

”Yes, sir. I heard you. We're working on it. We've been up for the past four nights and, well, we're-we'll figure out who it was, sir, and we'll get it patched.”

Ted stared at the phone, motionless, his eyes darting as his panic increased.

”Sir?” This time Amit was unnerved by the silence. ”Everything . . . everything will be okay, sir. The whole team is working on it.”

”How could you not have told me this?” His disbelief had given way to anger. ”What the f.u.c.k! Do you not realize that we're about to close a deal?

That this whole thing could f.u.c.king fall apart if . . . ” He trailed off; it was too much to process. ”I'm coming down there. Right now.” Ted hung up the phone so hard it almost fell off the desk and stood up. He reached for his briefcase.

T. J. remained seated, hands still neatly folded in his lap. ”Would it help if I told you who did it?”

Ted stopped and looked at his son. He'd almost forgotten he was sitting there. His voice was shaking. ”Yes, T. J. That would be helpful.”

”Will you get me the job at Fenway?”

Ted swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice steady. ”Yes, T. J. I'll call Tom and get you a place at Fenway.”

T. J. smiled. ”Thank you. Her name is Amelia Dory. She's a freshman at Stanford.”

”How the h.e.l.l could a freshman at Stanford hack into the most sophisticated . . . ” Ted started to speak but the smug look on his son's face stopped him. He knew his son was telling the truth.

Ted pulled out a notebook and said her name as he wrote it down.

”Amelia Dory. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into.”

Chapter 13.

Lady and the Tramp.

By the grace of G.o.d, Adam had been able to convince his RA to let him borrow her car for the evening. It was a 1999 Toyota Camry, which wasn't exactly a match to Lisa's Lexus SUV, but at least he didn't have to show up for his date on a bike.

Adam had sent Lisa a Facebook message asking if she wanted to have dinner at Salamanca Tapas Bar downtown. He'd never been on a real date or, for that matter, to a real restaurant in Palo Alto, but he'd gotten a Groupon for sixty percent off weekday dining at Salamanca, and hoped that, even if it wasn't quite as fancy as she was used to, it might be acceptable to Lisa. To his relief, she had agreed.

He'd pulled out his nicest pair of khakis and the b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt he'd bought for his Stanford interview. The s.h.i.+rt was light blue and he wasn't sure it totally matched the pants, but he thought the color accentuated his eyes and he figured his legs would be under the table during dinner anyway. He showered and shaved, stole hair gel from one of the cubbies in the hall bathroom, and looked at himself, satisfied, in the mirror. Until he realized he didn't have proper shoes. What shoes do you wear with khakis?

He slipped on his Converse sneakers. They didn't look too bad, and maybe she would think he was edgy?

He arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes early. When Lisa came through the door, looking like an angel in white jeans, heels, and a light-blue silk halter top, Adam smiled and stood up to greet his date. Lisa smiled back and gave him an unexpected hug. ”We match!” she said, noticing their s.h.i.+rt colors, and he blushed.

The hostess sat them at a small candlelit table. Adam panicked when he opened the menu; he didn't see a single thing that he could p.r.o.nounce.

Why hadn't he looked beforehand to figure out what to order? At the bottom of the menu, there were a few ”traditional Spanish rice dishes” listed. Okay, that sounded safe. Done. He closed the menu. ”Look okay?” He smiled at Lisa.

”Yes! I love this place. I did a summer program in Madrid last year and absolutely fell in love with Spanish food.” Adam smiled widely. Phew!

The waiter approached and Lisa spoke with him in flawless Spanish, giggling lightly at something he said. Adam smiled, allowing the glory of being out with such a beautiful, intelligent girl make him feel like the luckiest guy alive.

The waiter turned to Adam. ”And for you, sir?”

”I'll have the pay-ella,” Adam said.

The waiter gave a knowing glance at Lisa and corrected Adam's p.r.o.nunciation. ”The pi-yay-yah?”

Adam's face turned beet red. ”Uh, yes. Yes, the pi-yay-yah.” The waiter smiled at his improvement. Lisa rea.s.sured him. ”Don't worry; the Spaniards love making complicated words so they can mock us for misp.r.o.nouncing them.”

Adam was grateful for her humility.

The dinner pa.s.sed quickly, conversation never ceasing as Adam and Lisa talked about Stanford and Palo Alto and her favorite trips around the world. They talked about favorite TV shows and ice cream flavors and laughed at one another's favorite jokes. The paella, it turned out, was delicious, and Lisa insisted they order the house-made flan so Adam could try. But when it came time to pay the bill, Adam confronted a new dilemma: how to slip the waiter the Groupon without Lisa seeing. To his relief, she excused herself to use the restroom and Adam hurriedly beckoned the waiter over.

”I have to get the manager to approve it,” he explained. ”I'll be right back.” He walked away just as Lisa returned to the table. Just in time, he thought.

But then the manager came over to their table, holding the Groupon in his hand. Adam felt his hands sweat. ”Sir, this coupon-” The manager stopped when he noticed Lisa, ”Lisa! Lisa, my dear, how are you?”

”Sergio! It's so lovely to see you!” Lisa responded with a smile.

”How was everything tonight?”

Lisa grinned. ”Oh, it was all wonderful, Sergio. This is Adam.” She gestured to Adam who reached out his hand to shake Sergio's and started to stand up.

”No, no, don't stand up. A friend of Lisa's is a friend of mine. Marco, don't worry about that bill; the meal is on me.” Adam couldn't hide his surprise. ”Oh, thank you so much,” he stammered.

Lisa smiled. ”Thanks, Sergio. I can't wait to tell Dad how wonderful everything was.”

”Yes, please do! I'll leave you two to it. Have a lovely evening.” When he'd left the table, Lisa turned back to Adam. ”Sorry about that. My dad owns the property and loaned Sergio the money to open the restaurant.”

”No, I'm sorry. I bet you've been here a thousand times. I didn't mean to bring you somewhere your father invested in!”

”Honestly, Adam, it's hard to find a place in this town that Dad isn't somehow involved with. And I love this place. I would eat here every single night-if it meant hanging out with you.” She blushed. That came out a little too quickly and she worried it sounded too aggressive.

But Adam just smiled, his heart pounding, at a loss for words.