Page 62 of Technical Advances

“Anson, it’s just not possible.”

I shook my head vehemently, feeling the long bangs fall out from one side of my ponytail. As I tucked it behind my ear, I thought of Benji, running his fingers through my hair. Normally, I would have undone my hair tie and pulled my hair back tight, but I decided Benji might like it better this way if he saw me after the ceremony.

Beck stared at me like I’d just landed from another solar system.

“I know we need to talk to Erin,” I assured Beck. “We’ll have to work some things out about the project, and who he reports to. These are solvable equations, Beck.”

I smiled at my use of the metaphor, thinking again of the pro-and-con list I’d pulled from the wall and left on Benji’s bed a short while earlier.

“We? We! What exactly do we need to talk to Erin about? Goddamn it, Anson. What have you done?”

I reached my hand out. It wasn’t something I normally did, but I thought a reassuring grasp of Beck’s arm might calm him down. He jerked away from me as he saw it coming, staring at my hand like it might twist itself off my wrist, hop down, and walk away. I brought it up to my face, tucking hair behind my ear even though it didn’t need it.

“You don’t need to be so worked up,” I attempted to reassure him.

“I don’t like this, Anson.”

“We have a plan. We’ll work it out with Erin. It will be fine, Beck!”

“That’s not what I’m worried about! At least, that’s not all that I’m worried about.”

Silence hung between us, and I noticed Danny standing off to the side, carefully watching our exchange.

“I don’t trust him, Anson. I mean, when’s the last time you hooked up with someone who knew who you were, who didn’t want something from you in the end? What is it that he wants? What did he ask for? What things do you have to work out? Did he ask for more money? Is this about sharing the patent? You never really explained to me how the two of you happened to be working on the exact same project at the exact same time.”

I mumbled, “Serendipity,” and was formulating a more detailed response, but Beck wouldn’t let me continue.

“Fuck! How could this have happened?” he screamed, turning away from me like he couldn’t bear to look at me. “How could I have let this happen?”

Danny took a few steps toward me, but I waved him off while Beck continued to huff and puff. A text pinged my phone.

Ross: Sorry, boss. Beck asked where you were and then freaked out about the furniture. Seemed pissed. Possibly headed your way.

Ross: I think it might be homemade, bee-tee-dub. I can ask your hookup when I file the NDA. Do you need me to meet you?

Anson: No, thank you. All good. I can ask him myself.

I watched dots play out on my phone for a second, but then it was Beck’s phone that voiced an alert. Likely Ross reporting back on our conversation. It didn’t come as a surprise to me how much the two men were involved in my personal life. The surprise in that moment was my realization that I did not need them to be so involved any longer. Beck would just have to understand.

“Beck. I’m a grown man. You haven’t let anything happen. I’m my own person, and I make my own decisions.”

My friend opened and closed his mouth like a fish on dry land, his eyes wide. He sputtered a few sounds that were not words before landing on, “Bullshit!” He got up close to my face.

“Bull. Shit, Ani. You make complex machines and solve detailed problems. You program computers that could run the world and create apps in your spare time that have made the both of us wealthy men. But you do not make your own decisions. Until that fucking kid came along, you couldn’t even be counted on to decide what to have for lunch without me!

“But Anson, that’s not the point. The point is …” Beck centered himself and placed his hands around my biceps, giving them a small squeeze. “That kid clearly worships you. He wrote about it in his application. You were an inspiration to him. I’m sorry to say this, Anson, but what makes Benji Warren any different than any other young sycophant you’ve had in your bed or working for New Day?”

“You don’t trust him?” I said matter-of-factly. Benji and I had worked out that Beck would be one of the factors in our equation, so at least I wasn’t surprised by his concerns. I wanted Beck to be happy for me, but he couldn’t see past his issues. That he didn’t trust Benji was clear, but why wouldn’t he listen to me? Trust me?

“Ani. Listen. At best he’s young and fulfilling some hero-worship dream. At worst he sees the potential of Project Orthos, and he wants more than his fair share.”

“You don’t know him.”

“And you do? You only met him a few weeks ago.”

“I know,” I said. It wasn’t a response to his last comment. It was said emphatically, confidently, and with finality. I knew Benji, I understood my feelings, and I was looking forward to a future I’d never really allowed myself to imagine.

Beck, my best friend, should trust me, and I shouldn’t have had to defend myself or my actions. Beck clearly didn’t want to hear me anyway.