The investors were pleased with what they saw. Words like, 'ground breaking' and 'innovative' were being thrown around, mixing with the consistent chatter of the attendants.
Sylvia handled herself expertly during the presentation and the demonstration itself left the room in awe. Upon the request of the crowd the blank model on stage downloaded the visual of an English Sheepdog. The audience applauded after seeing the exo-skeleton shrouded in pixelated thick gray and white fur, which became tangible. Immediately a line had formed to pet the beautiful fluffy beast.
Pierce had met with the same five shareholders he went to lunch with the afternoon before. There was a silent exchange of 'atta boy's. After the minimal secretive praise Pierce was quickly pushed aside, the group of men started conversating about him in front of him. The topic slowly moved to non-him related stuff as well. This side of the business was draining. Thankful a curly haired woman came to retrieve him as he was falling further and further into the background. "Hey." She called lowly behind him.
Unlike Sylvia's flowing blue mesh gown the woman in front of him had on a slim dress. The champagne color pairs well with her complexion. The fabric was smooth and the cut of her dress left one shoulder completely bare.
"You ever try something more right brained?" She questions looking around the hotel ballroom, at all the brilliant minds in stuffy attire. She was noticeably out of her element. How had he not seen her last year? "How often do you paint?" She asks turning back to him. Her small diamond hairpins moved out of his vision.
"None at all."
"You should come by my studio."
"So, you're a painting barista."
"What?" She laughs, "no." She points to a flirty woman at the bar along the wall. " That's Rebecca. I cover for her, sometimes." She didn't give him time to register what she had just said. "I'm her date because the invitation was made out to her. Took a lot to convince her the tickets weren't given to her out of the blue." She muttered.
"Your name 's not Rebecca?"
"No," she looks to the ceiling for a minute, "but it is close to R in the alphabet." Before he can ask her name, he finds that they are now at the table where the English sheepdog sat wagging its tail. The sea of people had slowly pushed the two to the other side of the wide room. "Hi boy." The unknown woman cooed as she scratched behind his ears. Pierce himself pet the dog for several minutes.
"You look like a Wellington." He remarks avoiding getting licked in the face.
"It that so? Wellington is my middle name, thank you very much." They move on to let others admire and pet 'Wellington'.
The clutter of people continued to hang on either side of the two, the young intelligent engineer who happened to have a cybernetic implant, and the energetic non-barista who owned her own art studio and knew more about her acquaintance's identity.
Sylvia was receiving her fair share of attention like the unnamed woman's friend Rebecca, who they made their way to. Rebecca had a laugh that was borderline obnoxious. The bartender wasn't particularly warm either.
"This bar is a little stuffy, you want to get out of here?" Though he didn't know her name to call her out specifically they were shoulder to shoulder.
"Did you have somewhere in mind?" She turns to him.
"No, but I hope you do."
It took ten minutes for them to fight against the current of people. Now they wait on the outside steps as the valet gets the woman's car. He doesn't get a car. The hired help pulls up in a white angular motorcycle. A 2005 Honda cbr 600rr to be exact. Our guest of honor is astounded the entire time his companion is rummaging through the contents of her bag.
"Give me two minutes." She says holding up three fingers.
...
She comes back in high brown leather boots, dark jeans, and a black jacket. She puts her dress in the bag before locking it up again. "Okay. We're taking your ride, right?"
It was her turn for her jaw to drop. The valet pulled up to the curb in a beautiful -seamless- brown-gray Lamborghini Aventador. The headlights were the same fluid rainbow as glossy bubble soap. The lady next to him swears. "You mean I get to ride in a lambo?"
Pierce has already made it to the passenger side door, opening it wide, "one condition, tell me your name."
...
The bar is blanketed in honey gold light apart from one single strip of neon purple LED outlining the counter. The bartender gives Mísol July a friendly nod as he continues to pour drinks. The bartender looks back at her then to her overly dressed friend. She offers a light wave before taking the seat nearest to the door.
As they sit down one poppy song exchanges for something a little heavier on synthesizers. Pierce recognizes it as Midnight City by M83. The bartender is hospitable as he greets Mísol. They have a moment of small talk before she looks at the drink list. He then looks to the man she's brought in with her.
"Fancy get up." He comments.
"Fancy party," she interjects without looking up from the menu.
Waiting in a car
Waiting for a ride in the dark
The night city grows
Look and see her eyes, they glow
She's made up her mind and places two orders. "I'll have the usual and something unexpected for my friend, James." The man quickly gets to work pulling bottles of alcohol off the shelve only to put them back seconds later.
"And the usual is," Pierce asked leaning into the bar and closer to the girl whose name he just learned.
"Dirty martini, and all the olives Michael's willing to part with." Which was apparently was a tiny saucer full.
Waiting in a car
Waiting for a ride in the dark
Drinking in the lounge
Following the neon signs
Michael sets the drinks down. Pierce's is orange in a short glass with a lemon, dark cherry, and ice. "What is this?"
Mísol dips her index finger in his rocks glass, picking out the black cherry from the crushed ice. "That would be an amaretto sour." She tells him after flicking the small fruit in her mouth.
The city is my church
It wraps me in the sparkling twilight
Waiting in a car
Waiting for the right time
Waiting in a car
"-you ever done that?"
"Done what?" He asks with a side glace.
She clarifies, "hitchhike. Hitchhike at night."
"No. You?"
"Sure." She begins to tell him about her bouts of cabin fever and 'going stir crazy'. Pierce tells her about the spontaneous things he's done; trespassed, explored abandoned warehouses, ventured around. Then the conversation turns into something else entirely. Between sips of her martini and gulps of his own drink they hash out the recent UFO sighting about thirteen miles outside city limits. They talk about venturing out there. And alien life. And not about any of his AI work.
Waiting for the right time
Waiting in a car
Waiting for a ride in the dark
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