Crosstalk (4 page)

“No, I don't,” he called after her as she slammed the door. “It's already ten twenty.”

Oh, no, it was only forty minutes till the meeting, and she wouldn't get another chance all day to work out what to tell her family. And when she got home, they'd be camped outside her apartment building waiting for her. Or inside her apartment.

I need to get my locks changed,
she thought.
And decide once and for all how to break it to them.
And in spite of C.B.'s being down here, this was still the best place to do that. She went back down the hallway, past the elevator to the next hallway over, and began trying doors to find a storage room she could use.

After half a dozen tries she found one that wasn't locked, but it was crammed so full of boxes, she could hardly get the door open. But she didn't need room. She needed privacy, and—

“
There
you are!” Kathleen said. “I've been looking for you everywhere.”

“Kathleen!” Briddey said, backing guiltily against the door. “What are you doing here?”

“We got worried. You weren't answering any of our messages, and Aunt Oona called me and said she'd had a premonition that something bad had happened, so I came over to find out what was going on.”

“I didn't know you'd called,” Briddey lied. “I've been down here all morning, and there's no reception on this level. How did you know where I was?”

“Charla told me. She said you'd come down here to talk to the Hunchback of Notre Dame, who I assume is the disheveled guy over that way,” Kathleen said, pointing back toward C.B.'s lab, “though I'd call him the Abominable Snowman, it's so cold down here. He gave me these to give you to give to Trent, by the way.” She handed Briddey a memory stick and a folded note. “Do you know if he's dating anyone?”

“C.B.?”
Briddey said, unfolding the note. “You're kidding, right?”

The note said:

Sorry about the whole calling you an idiot thing. Here's a different proposal for the meeting. Don't worry, your boyfriend will love it. It's a communication addict's dream. Signed, C.B. P.S. I'm
not
sorry about what I said about the EED. It's a
terrible
idea. Promise me you won't do it without thinking about it first. P.P.S. Ask yourself, WWHLD?

WWHLD?
She didn't have time to worry about what that might stand for. She needed to get Kathleen out of here before she talked to anyone.
If I take her up to first and straight out to the parking garage,
she thought,
we might get lucky and not see anyone.

“I'm serious,” Kathleen was saying. “I thought he was kind of cute, or he would be if he'd comb his hair.”

Briddey led Kathleen briskly toward the elevator. “I thought you were dating Chad.”

“I am, but I don't know…” She sighed. “That's why I called you this morning. We had a fight last night.”

Surprise, surprise
. Of all the losers Kathleen had gone out with, Chad had to be the worst. But the priority now wasn't to do an intervention, it was to get Kathleen out of here, so Briddey kept walking.

“I caught him sexting some girl,” Kathleen said. “On
my
phone. And when I called him on it, he got mad and roared off and left me, and I didn't realize till he was gone that my phone was still in his car.”

They reached the elevator. Briddey pushed
UP
.

“So there I am in the middle of the night, trying to find a phone so I can call somebody to give me a ride.” The elevator arrived and they got in. “Did you know there aren't any payphones
anywhere
anymore?”

Briddey pushed the button for
FIRST
, and the elevator started up. “So what did you do?”

“I finally found one outside a 7-Eleven,” Kathleen said, “but then I didn't have any change, so I had to walk home, and the whole way I kept thinking,
I need to break up with him.
”

“Yes,” Briddey said. “You do.”

“I know. But the thing is, he really loves me.”

C.B. was right. People were masters of self-deception. The elevator pinged, the door opened, and, blessedly, there was no one there. “Have you talked to Mary Clare about this?” Briddey asked, leading Kathleen firmly toward the parking garage.

“I tried, but she was too worried about Maeve to really listen.”

“What's wrong with Maeve?”

“Nothing, but Mary Clare thinks she's been spending too much time online. She's afraid she's addicted or something.”

They reached the door. “Listen,” Briddey said, “I'd love to stay and talk, but I've got a meeting in half an hour, and I've got to review this proposal of C.B.'s first. So tell everybody I'm fine and I'll call them—and you—after work.” She opened the door for Kathleen. “Bye.”

“Wait,” Kathleen said. “I need to ask you something. Why didn't you tell us you'd decided to have an EED?”

What?
“I…it only happened last night,” Briddey stammered, “and then this morning I had to meet with C.B.”

“And you haven't had time
all
morning to send a simple text,” Kathleen said sarcastically, “or an email. Or return our calls.”

“I couldn't. I told you, there's no reception down there. I haven't had a chance to tell anyone.”

“Except apparently the Hunchback guy—what's his name again?”

Benedict Arnold,
Briddey thought bitterly. “His name's C.B.,” she said. “C.B. Schwartz. I suppose he's who told you about the EED. Or was it Charla?”

“Neither. Maeve told me.”

“Maeve?”
Briddey said. “How did she find out?”

“From Facebook or Twitter or something.”

She
does
spend too much time online,
Briddey thought. “Maeve didn't tell Aunt Oona, did she?”

“I don't know. I suppose. She posted it on her Facebook page.”

“But Aunt Oona's not on Facebook.”

“Yes, she is. Maeve set up an account for her.”

Oh, no,
Briddey thought despairingly.
Then they all know.
“What did Aunt Oona say?”

“About what you'd expect. ‘By the holy blood of Saint Patrick and all the saints of Ireland, what's that lass gone and done now?' ”

“I haven't gone and done anything,” Briddey said. “Trent asked me last night to have an EED done.”

“And you said yes? After only going out with him for six
weeks
?”

“You got engaged to Alex Mancuso after two dates, as I recall.”

“Yes, and that was a mistake.”

A mistake was putting it mildly. He'd had a wife. And three felony convictions.

Kathleen said, “I just don't want you to make the same mistake I did. You can't possibly know Trent well enough to make a commitment like—”

“But that's why we're having it done. To get to know each other better. The EED—”

“Save it,” Kathleen said. “You can tell me at supper. Aunt Oona's having the whole family over for Irish stew and crubeens.”

And a session of the Irish Inquisition,
Briddey thought. “I can't. Trent—”

“Is in meetings till ten tonight,” Kathleen said. “Aunt Oona already called his secretary, so you can't get out of it by claiming he's taking you to dinner. Supper's at six.”

She left, only to return a moment later to say plaintively, “I really should break up with Chad, shouldn't I?”

“Yes,” Briddey said.

“You're right. See you at Aunt Oona's. And may Saint Patrick protect ye on your journey, mavourneen,” Kathleen said gaily, and left.

It was ten fifty, and Briddey needed to check C.B.'s memory stick before the meeting to make sure it didn't have his Sanctuary phone proposal or some other crazy anti-communication thing on it. She started for her office, only to be waylaid by Lorraine from Marketing, who wanted to tell her how wonderful she thought it was that she and Trent were getting the EED. “How did you manage to talk him into it?” she asked.

“I didn't. It was Trent's idea.”

“You're kidding! How? Most guys won't even admit they
have
feelings, let alone let anyone else see them. Gina—you know, Rahul Deshnev's assistant?—had to practically blackmail Greg into getting theirs. She said it was worth it, though, that she's never been happier or more relaxed.”

That's because she doesn't have to be somewhere right now,
Briddey thought, and said, “I'm late for a meeting—”

“I'm going to it, too,” Lorraine said, steering her down toward the conference room. “Gina was afraid it might not work. She thought Greg might be cheating on her, and to tell you the truth, so did I. Suki told me—”

Briddey pulled back. “I just remembered, I need to run by my office and tell my assistant something.”

“You don't have time. We're already late,” Lorraine said, taking her arm. “So, anyway, we were wrong. Greg wasn't involved with someone else, because they connected, and she says things have never been more perfect. No more misunderstandings or misread cues or secrets. Oh, look, everyone's here already.”

They were, and the first order of business was C.B.'s proposal, so Briddey didn't have a chance to look at it before she gave it to Trent. Fortunately, it wasn't C.B.'s Sanctuary phone—or his Hook, Line, and Sinker app. It was a design for one called TalkPlus, which made it possible to carry on two phone conversations simultaneously. “No more having to put someone on hold or tell them you'll call them back, and no more saying, ‘Sorry, I have to take this call,' or ‘I'm afraid I can't talk right now.' With TalkPlus, you'll be able to communicate with everyone all the time.”

Very funny, C.B.,
Briddey thought, but everyone else loved the concept, including Trent, who texted her from across the table, “This is just what we need. Thanks for getting it out of him. Have you filled out Dr V forms yet?”

She texted him back, “I'll do it right after the meeting,” and he responded, “Better not wait. Meeting could take awhile.”

He was right. They immediately began making suggestions for how to adapt TalkPlus to make more than two conversations possible. The discussion lasted nearly two hours, resulting in them having lunch sent in and Briddey's being able to fill out Dr. Verrick's first questionnaire, even though it asked everything from her medical history to her food preferences, hair and eye color, and hobbies.

She finished the form and refocused on the meeting to find Art Sampson saying, “I like the TalkPlus, but will it be enough to compete with this phone of Apple's? I mean, we're a small company. If the new iPhone is the paradigm shift everybody says it is, being able to talk to multiple people at once isn't going to be enough,” and the meeting deteriorated into crosstalk as they speculated about what was on Apple's new phone and discussed possible ways of finding out.

Just send Suki over,
Briddey thought, and was about to text Trent that when he texted her, “Hamilton wants to see me. I'll call you after. Love you. Don't forget forms.,” and left her to listen to the speculations, which threatened to go on forever.

C.B. has the right idea refusing to go to meetings,
she thought. She pulled up the second questionnaire, even though she doubted getting it in quickly would have any effect. When she looked up Dr. Verrick online, his client list included not only Hollywood celebrities but sports figures, royalty—he'd reportedly done Prince William and Kate's—and the CEOs of a dozen Fortune 500 companies. She and Trent were lucky to have gotten on the waiting list at all, and Dr. Verrick wasn't likely to bump David Beckham or the Sultan of Brunei for them. Just in case, though, she started through the questionnaire, which turned out to be a full battery of tests designed to measure emotional sensitivity, empathy, and couple compatibility.

I'll never be able to finish this today,
Briddey thought, but by the time everyone at the meeting had finished discussing the likelihood that Apple was only bluffing and whether Apple was spying on them, how unethical that would be, and who they could get to spy on Apple, Briddey'd finished the tests, sent them off to Dr. Verrick's office, and started in on her email, ignoring the flood of messages from her family.

There were two from C.B., one headed, “What Would Hedy Lamarr Do?”

So that's what “WWHLD?” stands for
, she thought.
Of course.

His email was linked to a long article about Hedy Lamarr's accomplishments regarding frequency hopping, and his second one to a news story titled, “Iowa Man Dies from Hangnail Surgery Complications.”

When the meeting finally got out at four, she was surrounded with well-wishers telling her what a great catch Trent was and wanting to know how they'd been able to get on Dr. Verrick's waiting list. “We couldn't even get on the waiting list for the waiting list,” Lara from Accounting told her wistfully, and Beth from Quality Control enthused, “The EED's the best thing ever invented!”

Could you tell that to my family and C.B., please?
Briddey thought as she went back to her office, wondering what excuse she could give to get out of going to supper. A last-minute report due? A co-worker with a broken arm who she had to take to the emergency room? An outbreak of hantavirus?

Whatever she told them, she needed to do it soon. It was already four thirty, and she wouldn't put it past Aunt Oona to send Kathleen to Commspan after work to make sure she didn't back out.

Charla was standing at the door to her office. “These just came for you,” she said, pointing to a bouquet of pale pink camellias. “From Trent Worth.” She handed Briddey the card. “Longing for you,” it read, “and longing for the day when I won't have to tell you that because you'll already know. Trent.”