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“There was a time I rooted through alley garbage for food, without a thought. Things change.” He unwrapped the candy, took a bite. “But apparently not that much.”
She replaced the tool, then stood, hands on hips, studying the recycler for any signs of tampering. “Okay. Still good.”
“And a demonstration of true love if I ever saw one.” He brushed a hand over her tousled cap of brown hair, then tapped a finger on the dent of her chin before touching his lips to hers. “Better than chocolate.”
The shadows had lifted, she noted. Work could do that—focus and channel grief and regret. “Synch Entertainment.”
“Yes. About a year ago I looked into acquiring the corporation.”
“Naturally. It exists, so you want it.”
“On the contrary.” He sat in her shabby visitor’s chair. “After some research and vetting I decided I didn’t want it, or not at this time.”
“Because?”
“It’s in trouble. The sort I have no need or desire to take on. Better to wait until it’s either limping along then buy it cheap, or wait until they shake things out, fix the problems, and offer a good price for a healthy company.”
“What kind of problems? Other than they’ve closed two on-planet plants in the last sixteen months—small ones, outside the U.S. They have no plants or offices off-planet, so they’re either missing that market altogether, or the cost of distributing their products to that market would be prohibitive.”
He arched his brows. “Well now, my heart swells with pride. Listen to the business acumen.”
“Be a smartass, lose the candy.”
“Why don’t you come over here and try to take it?” Smiling now, he patted his knee in invitation.
Oh yeah, he was feeling better.
“I don’t know anything about the game market, except it has to be almost no-fail. People want to play, all the damn time. In arcades, at home, at parties, in the office. So why can’t a company that’s been in the game of games for over half a century make it work?”
“Because they’ve invested more, at least in the last decade, in marketing and execs than in creative minds and new technology, and they’ve continued to ignore the off-planet market, considering it too small and cost prohibitive.” He shrugged as he took another bite of the candy bar. “They’re stuck in a certain mind-set, and if it doesn’t change, and soon, they’ll shortly be a generation behind.”
“Okay, so they overpay the suits and figure if it was good enough ten years ago, it’s good enough now.”
“Basically. The two people who founded it fifty-odd years ago sold it off during its prime. It’s had its ups and downs since, as companies will. At this point it’s in a slow but steady downswing.”
“Something like U-Play’s Fantastical would change the swing.”
“It could, absolutely, if developed and marketed well. Is this your motive?”
“Might be. DuVaugne paid a source nearly a hundred and fifty thousand, so far, for data on the program. He’s a VP at Synch.”
“In Development,” Roarke added. “I looked him up on the way down. He’d be a hero if he brought the company this idea, and the means to create it. I imagine his contract with them includes bonus clauses. He’d rake in quite a bit, and for a very small investment.”
“Which is a very nice motive for murder, or for making another investment and hiring it out. He’s also got a fairly new and very young second wife. I bet she likes the high life.”
He smiled at her. “Most do.”
“Uh-huh. So, when down the road a couple decades if you think about ditching me for fresh? Remember who carries a weapon.”
“Something I never forget. Or fail to appreciate.”
“Okay. I need to have a little chat with DuVaugne.”
“I’d be interested in chatting with him myself.”
“Can’t do it. Can’t,” she repeated, shaking her head. “You’re a competitor, and it could sour my chances of shaking him out. Complicate them anyway.”
“Fair enough.”
