“Shut up, Bruce,” Duncan snapped.
“You’re acting unprofessional, Dunc,” Bruce murmured.
Nell knotted her hands together. “I’m glad you like my hair, Mr. Burke, but I’d rather talk about what you think of my ideas.”
“I don’t like them,” Duncan said abruptly.
Nell swallowed. “Ah,” she murmured. “I, uh, see.”
“I don’t want an interactive fairy tale. I want a fantasy quest. What you’re proposing would be impossible to reason your way through,” Duncan explained.
“But that’s just it! Reason isn’t the only tool people use when they’re problem solving,” Nell argued. “There’s an enchanted princess to be won! It should be romantic, surprising.”
“He hates surprises,” Bruce muttered.
“Shut up, Bruce,” Duncan snarled.
“Sheathe your claws, Dunc, you’re scaring her,” Bruce warned.
“Not at all,” Nell lied. “I don’t scare easily.”
Duncan got up with an abruptness that shot his chair against the wall with a bang. He stalked out of the room.
Nell watched the door fall shut behind him, alarmed. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Oh, not at all,” Bruce assured her. “He’s just that way. Don’t worry. He likes you. Your ideas are fascinating. It’s all good.”
“Uh, thank you,” she said, confused.
“Don’t mind him. Duncan’s just twitchy because there’s been so much change in his company since we started working on my game. Everything’s all shaken up. He’ll calm down.”
“But if he hates my—”
“Nah, he doesn’t hate anything. He’s just being a dickhead for the pure fun of it. Pay him no attention at all. He can’t help himself. He’s just programmed that way. He used to be a spy, you know that?”
Nell was startled. “Um, no. I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. Intelligence and analysis, for the NSA. Spent a lot of time in Afghanistan, and other nasty hot spots. I’d like to say being a spy was what made him such a tight-assed bastard, but the truth is, he’s been like that since we were kids. So don’t expect it to change.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything of the kind,” she murmured.
“He’s a genius when it comes to algorithms for intelligent database design,” Bruce went on. “His biggest client is the U.S. government. Everything’s always so damn serious. National security. Terrorist threats. Blood and guts. Something as frivolous as a computer game drives the poor guy nuts.” Bruce rolled his eyes. “But he’ll feel better about it when the money starts pouring in. He likes money just fine. You just keep coming up with ideas, and you’ll be golden.”
“Okay,” she said. “And you really can call me Nell.”
Bruce grinned. “You’ll do.” He got up, came around the table, and sat down next to her. “So, here’s where I think we should start.”
A half hour of intense concentration ensued, in which the two of them worked out a prioritized schedule of the texts she needed to churn out first. It looked like fun. She was actually getting excited about it, even if she was probably going to have to skip pesky little details like, say, sleep, in order to keep up with Bruce’s schedule. He needed twelve hours’ worth of work done by tomorrow evening, with a long waitressing shift cutting right into the middle of it. But hey. What else was new.
Just one thing still perplexed her. “But what about your brother?” she asked, hesitantly. “If he hates my ideas—”
“Ignore him,” Bruce advised. “Really. Suit yourself. But work fast, whatever you do, because I’ve got programmers and graphic artists working on the sixth level, and we need to catch up with the texts.” He looked over his shoulder with exaggerated caution, and dropped a gallant kiss on her hand. “Our unprofessional secret,” he whispered.
Nell was laughing at him when the door opened.
Duncan stood there, scowling. “What the hell is going on?”
Bruce looked guilty. “Uh, nothing.” He glanced from Nell to Duncan and back again. His face took on a thoughtful, calculating look. “Maybe you have the wrong idea,” he said. “I’m not…say, Duncan, did I tell you about the new girl I’m seeing?”
“No,” Duncan said icily. “Nor is it in any way relevant.”
“Her name’s Melissa,” Bruce went on, undaunted. “She’s a knockout. I’m totally in love. I’ve got to introduce you. She’s a poetry fan. The ultraromantic type. Speaking of which, I need some personal poetry advice.” Bruce slanted a sly smile toward his brother and winked at Nell.
Nell was bewildered. “You need what?”
“Melissa loves poetry, and I want to impress her. What would be a good poem for me to memorize? To, ah, you know, melt her?”
“That depends on her tastes. Before I recommend anything, though, there’s one thing I want to know. What’s your purpose?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Bruce said, with a roguish wink.
Nell frowned. “Not necessarily. If you mean to genuinely court this woman, then I caution you against presenting yourself as other than who you really are. She’ll just be disappointed when she realizes the truth. Which she will. Don’t fool yourself.”
“I’m not a total Neanderthal,” Bruce said indignantly.
“But if, on the other hand, you’re not serious, and mean to simply use this woman to, uh…”
“Slake his lust?” Duncan offered helpfully.
“To slake your lust, leaving her crushed and embittered, then you’re a dirty dog, and don’t deserve my help. Either way, I don’t want to participate. So forget it. Go read some poetry for real. Expand your horizons. Take a night class. Go to the public library. Good luck.”
She crossed her legs and looked at him sternly over the lenses of her glasses. Bruce stared down at her for a moment, bemused, and started to laugh. “You’ll do,” he said. “You’re perfect.”
“Thank you for sharing your opinion, Bruce,” Duncan said. “That’ll be all.”
Duncan’s voice cut through the laughter.
Bruce choked off his chuckling and nodded hastily. “Uh, yeah. I’m gone. I’ll let you guys, uh, work your stuff out, then. Bye.”
He left the room, still snorting with muffled laughter. The door clicked shut. The room was profoundly silent. Nell stared out at the cityscape without seeing it, tongue-tied and intensely nervous. Bruce was pleasant, and his enthusiasm heartening, but Duncan was a problem. She didn’t have the kind of brazen self-confidence necessary to simply ignore his disapproval. That took brash nerve, and she was coming up short on that commodity, with the Fiend at large. She needed all her brash nerve just to walk out her apartment door every morning. She didn’t have any left to spare for wrangling sexy, difficult men. For God’s sake. She didn’t even have the courage to talk to the guy.
Well, whatever. She sighed. If it didn’t work out, she would be no worse off than before. Time to go home, eat a TV dinner, and get to work writing epic poetry about goblins and demons and holy quests. God knows there were worse night jobs. At least it wasn’t telemarketing.
She got up, cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll just, um, be on my—”
“No. Don’t go yet. We need to talk.”
Nell’s heart thumped. “Okay,” she managed. “We do?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry I was rude. My brother was bugging me.”
“I could see that,” she offered tentatively.
“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he added.
“No, that’s true. You shouldn’t have,” Nell agreed.
A smile came and went on his face, so quickly, she wondered if she’d imagined it.
He smiled, briefly. “The situation makes me crazy.”
Nell cleared her throat delicately. “What situation?”
He shrugged. “This project. I design specialized data sorting and analysis programs. I’m good at that. I understand what they’re good for, whom to market them to, what they’re willing to pay. Then Bruce waltzes along, with his game idea. I couldn’t talk him out of it, and God knows where he would have gone for the money if I’d refused, so now—”