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She pounces with that question. It is the one she’s absolutely wanted to ask since the minute I introduced him, and I knew very well she would remember his name. CeCe forgets nothing except the year she was born. That always changes. Still, I feel like teasing her. “I thought you weren’t going to remember his name.”
“You know me better,” she chides. “I’ll not only remember his name, I’ll have a dossier on him by morning. Benjamin has likely already submitted his name to Private Investigator.”
This is a surprise. I have not heard of this PI who almost certainly has a name that CeCe remembers but will not use. “You have a private investigator?”
“Of course. My staff is wide and varied, and despite being very lovely, they’re also excellent at their jobs. Well, the little one who cleans is not that good, but he’s got the bluest eyes, you see.” She frowns. “I genuinely don’t remember his name. But I do remember the name of the new man in your life. He looks like a gamer boy.”
“But I put him in a suit.” I was trying to avoid the gamer boy look.
She shakes her head. “You can put a gamer in a suit, but you can’t make him comfortable in it. That young man owns a gaming laptop and one of those headsets I despise, and likely one of those chairs that has speakers in it.” She shudders in distaste. “Please tell me you’re not going into game development. I know it was your first love, but…”
If there’s one space in our world that CeCe can’t stand, it’s gaming. She’s the one who taught me my creativity could work past MMORPGs. “He’s working on an AI.”
CeCe snorts, but it’s an oddly elegant sound. “Well isn’t everyone?”
She has a point. In the last decade AI has taken off in multiple directions, but I still think Heath might have something. “He’s got some interesting protocols, and there’s a great deal of innovation in how he’s attempting to train the AI. I want to see how it works.”
“If you’re interested, I’m interested,” she says. “Is there money to be made?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” She always seems to know.
I think about hedging, but she’ll find out. “He thinks he’s working on a matchmaking app.”
She throws her head back, throaty laughter filling the garden. Then it stops. “Oh, dear. You’re serious.”
“His grandmother was something of a matchmaker in Little Italy, and he thinks he can make it work for him, too. But it’s not the app I’m interested in. I’ve played around with the AI, and I think it’s got a lot going for it. I think it’s a starting point for any number of applications,” I explain.
“Does he know that’s what you’re interested in?”
This is the part that makes me feel a bit queasy. I’d been clear with him that I didn’t think a matchmaking app is the best idea. He wants the chance to prove to me it is. Still, I don’t think he understands how much I hate the idea. “I need some time to work on him.”
She considers me for a moment, her eyes narrowing in the soft glow from the twinkle lights above. They function much the same way a filter on a social media app works. They give her softness she doesn’t have in the harsh daylight. “You like him.”
“Yes, but we don’t have anything serious. This is not the same in any way.” I need her to understand I won’t make the same mistakes I made with Nick. I should tell her we only met today and the only kiss we’ve shared was meant to spare me the embarrassment of being single—which shouldn’t be an embarrassment at all. “The truth is I think he’s an overgrown golden retriever with some very good ideas. He’ll be incredibly loyal, and I won’t have to worry about him making huge mistakes because all I intend to trust him with is the product.”
“Excellent. Then you learned something in California, and it was worth it.” CeCe nods approvingly. “You need to figure out why he’s working on this particular project. If he’s in it for the money, you’ll be able to steer him in the right direction fairly easily once he sees the potential cash.”
“And if he’s not?” I worry this is some way to connect with his grandmother, and I have zero idea how to deal with that.
“Then you’ll need leverage, and I can give that to you in the form of cash. How much do you need to get started?”
The offer threatens to floor me. I thought I would have to talk more, have to beg a little maybe. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you give me money again? Without a single meeting about the concept.”
