Erotic Refugees Page 11

  “Yeah, well, it's because it’s obvious that we know it's good, see? We are the first, so we get loads of free attention and then sell the thing as soon as anybody makes a decent offer. Plus we get a shit-load of free publicity as those smart guys who came up with the idea and so get people interested in funding our next project.”

  “Which is?”

  Rob chewed happily on his sandwich. “Dunno, something equally good. Ideas there are no shortage of.”

  “No, there's never any shortage of ideas, just time. I'm busy all day every day, and I don't even have a job yet. God knows where I'm going to squeeze that in, when it happens! Oh, the sun, fantastic!”

  Milly flipped her sunglasses down and turned her face to the sky, with her hands clasped behind her head. An odd sound was coming from her and Rob realised she was drumming her fingers on the back of her head. He hoped that meant she was considering things.

  “Well I happen to have a login and registration structure I can just copy from an old project. What else do you need from me on this?”

  Rob grinned. “Well, since ye ask, maybe some graphics…?”

  She reached for her sandwich. “No, not me, I don't do graphics. I've got a programmer's mind, it all ends up as grey boxes and big ugly buttons. But it shouldn't be so hard to find someone to make a few graphics when you've already got them sketched out, right?”

  Rob looked down in shame. “Well…”

  “But you don't have any sketches, do you? So how much have you actually done on this?”

  Rob realised the answer to that question was “very little” but he needed to find a better way to put it. He reached for his latte glass, found it empty, and proceeded to scrape out the clinging foam with a spoon.

  “We've got lots of sketches, boxes, flowcharts, menus and all. Everything's worked out functionally on paper. Loads of paper.”

  “So not much, is what you're saying? But you've got the domain, and a web hotel, so we can get the database up, try some logins?”

  Rob's look told Milly everything she wanted to know. She gaped at him, displaying the gap in her upper front teeth. “No, I won’t believe it, I can't! You're telling me that you haven't even registered the domain yet?”

  Rob, if he had a cap, would have now been twisting it in his hands. “I think Eoin might have done it…”

  Milly dropped her head to the table, where it rested for a moment on her hands as she groaned. She took a deep breath and sat up.

  “Look. If you want my help you go home tonight and you register the domain. Then you say exactly what information needs to be saved for each user, and exactly how the login is to work. Then you get somebody working on the graphics, fast. When you get all that over to me, I'll get your login in place and set up the database. Understood?”

  Rob nodded, shamefully aware that how much he'd done on the site and how much he thought he'd done were further apart than anyone could have suspected (except for maybe his mother).

  “Then,” Milly went on, “we discuss how you pay me.”

  Rob shook his head. “There won't be any money until we get the prototype and the—”

  “Oh I know that, but I'll wait. I'll settle for a twenty percent stake in the project, and that's not a bad deal for you. That's future payment though, and I'm talking about here-and-now payment.”

  Rob studied her. “Like what?” he said, with a creeping suspicion. Normally when it came to doing favours for women, it never went further than drilling, carrying or installing something. Rob had the feeling that Milly was way ahead of him in all those areas.

  “Well, let's just say you'll owe me a favour. Maybe you can paint a wall or two for me, we'll have to see. For the moment, you shall just be in my thrall.”

  Rob, although still suspicious, shook hands with her, since that's what you did to close deals. He wondered how Eoin would react to the news that he'd just given away twenty percent of their project and had also promised to lend them both out as slave labour to an almost-Australian redhead.

  It was a good thing Eoin was going away to Ireland in two days. That meant he could avoid telling him at all until he came back, and that would fix it for a while. For a good while, maybe.

  And, as Rob saw it, a good while was as good as forever.

  Chapter 17

  “So who's up for a beer then?”

  A few of Rob's classmates glanced at him and a few murmured their replies. None of them sounded very much like “yes please”. Milly came up and whispered in his ear.

  “Where do you think you are, Irish boy? You can't invite a bunch of Swedes you just met out for beers. They'll think you're insane. Look at them, the poor things, they don't know which way to turn!” She hoisted up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “But I'll come along for a little while. There's a friend I want to bring too, if that's okay. She won't be staying long though, we're both off to a dinner later.”

  Rob looked around at the others and saw they were clearly avoiding his eye. He shrugged. “Sounds great, more the merrier!”

  He sent off a text message to Andy. It was Saturday and they were all playing indoor hockey so getting them to come out for beers wouldn't be too difficult. If there was any dissent, the promise of two new women to meet would surely swing it.

  As Milly chatted non-stop about anything and everything, Rob led the way to his bar of choice. Medborgarplatsen was one ugly square but it did have lots of outdoor seating and plenty in the way of females to look at. The rest of Stockholm clearly thought the same and the place was jammed with people. With some gymnastics they managed to find a table and scrounged six chairs to put around it.

  By the time Rob returned from the bar with two bottles of strong beer (as the Swedes liked to call normal beer), Milly's friend had shown up. Rob couldn't help gazing helplessly at her as he sat down. Ellinor was a chocolate-skinned girl with sharp features and big brown eyes that never seemed to blink. He suspected he'd have to listen carefully to what she said and work out if she was single.

  Although that didn't mean he couldn't talk too. So he sat back and really turned on the charm. An hour later he was exhausted from all the smiling and very grateful when Eamonn, Andy and Brian eventually showed up. They had their sports bags slung over their shoulders and were fresh and scrubbed from their showers. Andy glanced at the ladies and winked to Rob with a look of approval. They all sat down and introductions were repeated for their benefit.

  “Oh that's right, your course,” Andy said as he arranged his muscular limbs on the narrow wicker chair. “I wondered why you skipped bandy. And these are, I take it, your course mates?”

  “I am,” Milly said. She patted her friend on the knee. “But Ellinor's one of that strange species who already have jobs.”

  Eamonn was dispatched to the bar and Rob went with him, carrying money from Andy and instructions to buy drinks. When they returned and had re-seated themselves, Andy reached out to Rob's cigarettes and took one with a nod of thanks.

  “So did you learn anything on the course, Rob? Ready to start your company and take over the online calendar world?”

  Rod glared. “It's not a calendar—”

  “You know about his project too?” Milly broke in.

  “Why sure I do,” Andy said and exhaled a stream of smoke. “I think Rob there has hired an aeroplane and banner to fly over the city next week, for the benefit of the few who haven't heard about it yet.”

  Milly turned to Rob and was about to say something, but Rob waved her away. “Yeah I know, I know! I'll stop talking, I'll register the domain and I'll get the best bloody graphics designer the world has ever seen. Alright?”

  Ellinor turned to Milly. She pushed the hair from over her ear and whispered something. Milly grinned and patted her friend's hand. Rob leaned closer, trying to hear what they were saying, wondering if she was talking about him. It was looking good, he just might be in there!

  Andy shifted his gaze from Rob to Milly with interest. “So he's dragged you in too, has he
? Fast work, gotta give him that. What do you think about it?”

  “Sure, it could work,” Milly said. “We'll need a Facebook app though, that’s where the action will be. And maybe one for the iPhone. The site itself might be a good start, but it won't be enough.”

  “Well,” Andy said, “luckily this time we have the target group right here! Brian's the perfect single dad with a bohemian lifestyle. Care to share your thoughts, Brian? And anything you say will be taken down and used to make Rob rich.”

  Brian shook his head. “Can't say I'd use it. A diary works for me. Anyway, I'm partial here, since this decides the future of my sandwich board. It's not ethical for me to comment.”

  “I think the problem,” Rob said, “is some people don't recognise genius when they see it. I am surrounded by idiots.” He nodded to Milly and Ellinor. “With some exceptions. I mean, maybe you’re idiots too, I just don't know ye ladies well enough to be sure.”

  “That’s good aggressive marketing Rob,” Milly said, checking the time on her mobile. “Keep it up and we'll all be rich. But we can't be late for dinner, so we're off. Nice to meet you all, and see you tomorrow Rob!”

  They gathered up their things and moved off to the sound of wine bottles clinking together in a plastic bag. Rob watched them depart with his arms crossed, grinning with satisfaction.

  “Not bad, right? Her friend? I'd say I have a chance there. Milly's too old but that Ellinor, eh?”

  Andy was smiling. He shared a look with Brian, who was grinning too, as if they were both sitting on some vital fact that they'd force Rob to ferret out of them. Eamonn was avoiding Rob's gaze entirely and seemed to be looking for an invisible fly that had drowned in his beer.

  Rob frowned. Something was going on.

  “So,” Andy said delicately. “This Ellinor. What does she think about you Rob, wouldya say? What are those sharp instincts telling you?”

  Rob noticed that all three of them were paying close attention as he struggled with an answer. Maybe they had picked up that Ellinor did actually fancy him and were just waiting to spring it on him?

  “Hard to say, ye know? But I think she liked me, and I'm sure I could present myself better next time I see her.”

  “So you're in with a chance then?”

  Rob nodded confidently. “Sure, why not?”

  There was a moment of silence before Andy burst into laughter. Brian was grinning ear to ear and Eamonn was holding his hand over his mouth as he also sniggered uncontrollably. Andy wiped away a tear and shook his head.

  “Oh Rob man, I'm sorry, but you just couldn't make up stuff like this. Wait, give me a second.” He took a deep breath, looking at Rob, and then started to laugh all over again. Rob put up with it for a minute, forcing a good-natured smile, until his patience ran out.

  “Alright, fuck it Andy, tell me, will ye? What's so fuckin' funny?”

  Andy’s eyes glittered with delight. “It's just you getting all smoochy about a girl when she's sitting in front of you, with her girlfriend!”

  The three of them burst into laughter, causing the people at the next table to pause their conversation and look over to see what was happening. Rob wasn't fazed. He fixed his gaze somewhere in the distance, thinking fiercely. After a while he nodded. They had indeed been touching each other a bit more than average, but he'd been gaping at Ellinor too much for it to register.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I suppose it makes sense. But are ye sure?”

  “I asked them, man!” Andy said. “When you were at the bar!”

  “You know what you are, Rob?” Eamonn said. “You're a fag-hag! But, you know, a man…”

  Andy jumped in. “I think what our friend Eamonn is fishing for here is the male equivalent of fag-hag, which is … actually, I don't know what it is. A dyke-dude? Dyke-dick maybe?”

  “Yeah!” spluttered Eamonn in rapturous joy. “A dyke-dick!” He exploded with laughter again. Clearly this was the funniest thing he'd ever come up with, or believed he'd come up with. Brian laughed, Andy laughed, and Rob sat there with his arms folded and watched them.

  “Well,” he said after a while, “I see yer all easily amused, so I'll leave ye to it. I'm off for drinks.” He pushed back his chair with a scrape and excused-me'd his way through the crowd until he reached the bar. He stood there, waiting for the attention of a staff member, with a bemused look on his face.

  So Milly was gay? That might be good. It meant there'd be no distracting thoughts passing between them, and that her expressing an interest in the project was not just a veiled attempt to get into his underwear.

  Rob texted Eoin, to check what he was up to. He waited a bit, and received his drink, but no reply. That was odd since Eoin always replied promptly. No problem though, they'd anyway see each other on Sunday to discuss progress on the project before Eoin headed off to Ireland. He could fill him in on the Milly news then.

  He lifted his bottle and headed back for the table. He wondered if the boys were still chuckling or if they'd found something else to amuse them, like a funny looking man, or a pretty stone, or maybe a ladybird.

  Well let them have their laughs. Once this project was up and running, the last laugh would be his. Plus he'd have his very own sandwich, and how many people could say that?

  When Rob rolled in the door at quarter past two in the morning, he sat down and composed a mail to Karen. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Karen would be perfect for doing the graphics! She'd been building her own websites since she was eleven, and she happily fixed blogs, photos and layouts for her friends. The girl was a natural and if she ever dragged her arse into a university, she'd have a great future. Plus—and this was a big plus—she'd work for cheap or free.

  He wrote quickly, outlining the project in a few hundred words, and sent her all the material they had, documents as well as scanned-in scrawls and sketches. For good measure he also sent her the sketches for the other sites he’d been thinking about before they'd settled on the current one. Maybe it would give her a feeling for the kind of thing they had in mind, the right sort of vibe, or something. Plus it meant he didn't have to sort through it, so off it all went.

  Next he pulled out his credit card and bought the domain. Then he collapsed into bed, feeling very efficient. He snatched up his mobile and, out of pure drunken habit, scrolled to Kajsa's name. His finger was hovering over the green button before the conscious part of his mind caught up with the rest was doing. With an irritated grunt he turned the mobile off and allowed it to clatter to the floor. He kicked off his shoes and, with his clothes still on, climbed under the covers.

  He fell asleep with a strange and novel feeling—the sensation of having got something useful done. And as weird as it was, Rob found he quite liked it.

  Chapter 18

  Eoin gave Anja a quick hug-kiss and hurried down the stairs. He heard the door close behind him with a soft click. Despite having the useful excuse of packing for his trip to Ireland, he still felt the shame burning at his ears.

  All the way home on the bus he kept his mobile off. Honestly, what was he doing? He couldn't just be sneaking into Anja's for Saturday evening sex, when he was really more into her friend. What kind of arsehole was he? He should be giving her a wide berth, and working on Middle Mum because that was, well, The New Plan.

  Anja, though, was nice. She smelled all sweet and flowery and had great curves on her thin frame, plus muscles in all the right places. Then she did that thing with her hips, and that other thing with her teeth…

  Eoin groaned piteously. How was it that he could turn uncomplicated sex into something to fret over? Anja wasn't nasty or pushy in any way. She had screwed him hungrily, and then made tea and brought him an extra pillow. She wasn't forcing him to do any of it either. In fact he'd contacted her earlier in the day to “go for a walk” in the nice weather although both of them understood that any walking would be done strictly within the confines of her bedroom.

  He stepped off the bus, picked up some m
ilk at the local shop, and stomped gloomily up the steps to his apartment. First stop was the kettle and then he pulled out his phone and turned it back on, figuring he was safe from further temptation. Anja wouldn't be able to lure him back, protected as he was inside his own walls, and she couldn't come in without being invited. Even if she did, he had garlic ready.

  There was a text message waiting for him and that made his heart jump. But it was just Rob who was out and wondered what Eoin was up to. It was sent a couple of hours earlier so there was really no point in replying now. And if he did, Rob would only convince him to come out and waste the whole evening. After which he might very well end up at Anja's place again, if his current record of shallow resolve was anything to go by.

  No, he had better plans for the evening. There was much to be done, and none of it had anything to do with packing. He moved his finger to the button that would close the text but just then, with a startling sound, the phone started to ring. He gave a yelp and dropped it like a hot brick. It spun away, avoiding his grasping hands, but luckily struck the mat and not the hard wooden floor. All he had to do was slide the shell back on and turn it over, still ringing.

  It wasn't Anja calling. It was Jenny.

  Eoin felt annoyance mixed with panic, as unscheduled phone calls from Jenny were rarely good news. He took a breath, shook his head to loosen a few shoulder muscles, and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Eoin,” Jenny said. It was at this point that people usually asked how the other person was, but Jenny skipped that part, and Eoin skipped it too. She was silent for a while and Eoin could hear her breathing and the sound of a TV program Damien was watching in the background. It felt like she was deciding what to say next, and that could only be bad.

  “Eoin,” she said again. “You are bringing Damien back from Ireland. Because if you don't—”

  “What? Of course we're coming back, what the hell?” Eoin couldn't help raising his voice at this ridiculous idea. “What do you think we'd do over in Ireland? Run off and, and start a bakery—”