Hearts Collide Page 7

  “You don’t have sensors on your foot.” Forest came over and picked up a drumstick. A light tap on the cymbals brought forth a low, slowly developing warm hum. Forest smacked the cymbal harder and a loud crash issued forth.

  “How the fuck do you do all this? Do you have an army of programmers hidden somewhere we don’t know about?” The computing power had to be astronomical.

  “Nah, just me.”

  “You did all this?”

  “Well, I had to learn the framework, but yeah.”

  Forest’s computing skills were nothing to joke about. The man suffered from Asperger Syndrome. Socially awkward, he had a brilliant mind. His sister, Skye, said Forest didn’t operate in the same universe as the rest of humanity.

  Bent often thought that was true. Forest was a guy you had to learn to like and tolerate his oddities. He could come off too abrupt, or distant and cold-hearted. Suffered might not be the right word in describing Forest’s affliction, because he had used his mad programming and hacking skills to run the markets, build a fortune, and had developed a business enterprise spanning the globe.

  Forest had more money than he could spend in a hundred lifetimes. He gave generously to his foundations and charities, but didn’t give out freebies. He’d worked for what he’d achieved and expected nothing less from those around him. Bent had heard horror stories about Forest’s corporate life. The man was said to be a terror and very difficult to work with.

  Fortunately, Forest wasn’t Bent’s boss. The power exchange worked differently between them. Forest managed the band. That gave him leeway in certain things, like the hiring and firing of personal assistants and even physical therapists, but at the end of the day, Forest worked for Angel Fire.

  “So, you’re our pyro guy now?”

  “I’m just setting up the interface for the contractors. I’m not interested in the details. Smiley will handle all that, but I thought this would save a ton of time, and it has other advantages.”

  Smiley was their chief in charge of the roadies. Anything and everything associated with Angel Fire’s stage production came under Smiley’s purview.

  “What kind of advantages?”

  “I’m working on getting all your equipment working. The sensors on the gloves aren’t sophisticated enough to allow for real playing. I’m improving the interface. And, like you saw, I need something for Bash’s drum kit and the pedals on Noodles’s keyboard. There’s still stuff to work out, but once I do, you guys can meet up anytime, anyplace, no matter where in the world you are, and practice your set, cut up new songs. Hell, it would be cool if Angel Fire produced the first VR concert. That’s what I’m aiming at. A whole new reach that will blow the lid off everything.”

  The man certainly didn’t have a problem thinking big. But a VR concert? Was such a thing possible? How would that work? If Forest had already thought and conceived of such a thing, it would happen. There was only one problem.

  Bent couldn’t play anymore.

  He ripped the VR goggles off his head.

  “Where’s the fucking food?”

  Stripping off the gloves, he groaned when he noticed the staff had brought out chili-mac.

  Forest had developed an obsession with chili-mac after he’d had some at the Bagram Air Base’s chow hall during their USO tour. That tour put Bent in the back of a bus, a bus that had driven over a roadside bomb. The explosion had shattered Bent’s arm and left him a pathetic cripple.

  His stomach rumbled, but his appetite fled. Nothing looked edible.

  “I’m going to head to the kitchens, see what else they’ve got.”

  Forest tugged off his headset. “You should try the chili-mac. It’s really good.”

  He had no doubt it would be good, but the food brought back memories he didn’t want to travel down. If he was getting tired of his sad-sack routine, then he had to have been on everyone else’s nerves far longer. This wasn’t the kind of man he wanted to be. He wasn’t this weak thing.

  “I’m feeling something lighter. Cereal sounds good.”

  “Shit, you don’t need to be eating that kiddie stuff. You need protein and carbs. Time to head back to the gym and regain some of your bulk.”

  He’d tried that. All it had done was accentuate the differences between the right and left side of his body.

  “I’ll catch you later.”

  With a wave, he stalked off, not headed to the kitchens, but to the Toy Box.

  Bash had named the lower garage when the guys car collection grew. In this, they had pooled their assets, corralling over twenty exotics and supercars into the highly specialized garage. Bent walked past the Lamborghinis and Forest’s pair of rare Daytonas, pausing a moment to admire their rarity.

  In the past couple years, in addition to his programming, Forest had taken to tinkering on classic cars. He’d received a special invite to an auction and came home with a 70 Ferrari Daytona first, then he’d brought home a 69 Dodge Daytona. Rare classics, they were both named after the famous Daytona races and were iconic cars. The Daytonas were the only cars in the Toy Box nobody but Forest was allowed to drive.

  Forest could have his Daytonas, Bent didn’t want to drive an older car. Instead, he headed to the row of Porsches. If he couldn’t take the edge off by fucking a woman, he’d take his favorite fast car for a spin on the twisting curves hugging the rugged California coastline.

  He paused by their newest acquisition, a Dodge Demon with a hellacious 808 horsepower engine. Street legal, it was an insane car. He’d picked out the HEL-YA license plate. The choice of what to drive was a toss-up between the black Porsche and black Demon. Both tore up the road, but in slightly different ways. In the end, he slipped into the sleek Porsche 911 Turbo S. Black as silk, its powerful engine came to life with a deep purr which turned into a throaty growl as he pressed on the gas. Maybe he’d keep on driving and head south to Los Angeles or aim north and hit the Bay Area. Maybe he simply needed to get away and forget this life?

  With the press of a button, he opened a garage bay door. Bent peeled out and opened the pipes, letting the engine roar. He needed to roll.

  Forest

  Piper

  Piper searched Insanity not finding her wayward client. Her exploration brought her back to the suspension pool perched precariously over a hundred foot drop. A shiver worked its way down her spine and she kept a good four-foot distance between her and the treacherous waters.

  Right where he’d been all day, Forest had his VR gear on, doing God only knew what in his VR world. How he managed not to inadvertently fall into the pool remained a mystery.

  She cleared her throat, announcing herself, and waited patiently for Forest to acknowledge her presence.

  He pulled off the headset and gave her a grin. Smiles on Forest’s face were infectious things. Without really realizing it, her cheeks filled with the mirror of his smile.

  “Whatcha doing here?”

  He glanced at his watch and his gaze flicked over her shoulder. The angle of his eyes arrowed directly to Bent’s suite of rooms at the far edge of the estate’s massive expanse.

  “Looking for Bent.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Where did he go after I left him here?”

  Forest yanked off his headset and peeled off the gloves. “Please don’t tell me he stood you up.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it standing me up, but he certainly ditched me.” Her smile collapsed into a frown. “Am I fired?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because my therapy bag is sitting by the door, neatly packed, and there’s no sign of him.” She gave a shrug. “I was wondering if you’d sent someone to pack my stuff.”

  “Hun, if I wanted you gone, I would’ve said something direct. That’s not my style.”

  “Really?” She cocked a hand on her hip. Forest may not think that was his style, but he could be quite abrupt and insensitive.

  “Okay.” He gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “But, I’m only like that with p
eople I don’t know. You’re family and I didn’t fire you. Maybe Bent packed your stuff?”

  “Bent?” She forced out a laugh, wound up coughing instead. “Not likely. If he’d done it, he would’ve just shoved everything in, or chucked it over the edge. He can’t wait to get rid of me. I think he’s overly mean and irritable on purpose. I don’t think he understands I’m not in a rush to go anywhere.”

  “I am working hard on that.” Forest referenced the search for her brother. “It’s going to take time.”

  “I know finding Paul isn’t going to be easy, and I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t looking.” She came to him and clasped his hands in hers. “Believe me, I know. But if you didn’t fire me, or have my bags packed, then where is Bent? I’ve looked everywhere for him.”

  “I don’t know, but he was kind of acting off after I showed him the concert mockup.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I needed to talk through the pyro I’m planning for the tour. I took Bent into VR to get his opinion. He was actually quite helpful and helped me iron out a few things.”

  “You can do that?”

  Forest huffed a laugh. “That’s funny. He said almost exactly the same thing. Not only can I do it, but I’ve done it. It’s really cool. Do you want to see?”

  “I’m supposed to be working with Bent.”

  “Well, let me see where he is.” Forest pulled out his cell and stabbed at the screen.

  “Are you tracking him?” She’d heard of tracking apps on phones, but didn’t think Bent would consent to his whereabouts being tracked.

  Forest gave her a sheepish look. “Yes, but don’t tell him.”

  “He doesn’t know?”

  “Well, he should know, but I’m betting he doesn’t.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means I’ve warned all of them to read the fine print in the contracts they sign. None of them have. I know Skye read all of the fine print, but I don’t think she told Ash.”

  “Sorry, confused here. Can you speak in plain English a mere human can understand?”

  “It’s in their contract with me. As manager of the band, I wrote in a clause that allows me to keep tabs on them. It’s actually quite useful, especially on tour. Makes sure that if any of them gets in a sticky situation I can have help to them ASAP.”

  “Of course you do.” She laughed. “And I’m certain none of them have a clue.”

  No way would Bent agree to something like that.

  She lifted on tiptoe and tried to look at the screen of Forest’s cellphone. It had one of those dark glass privacy coatings on it, making it impossible to see.

  “Ah, I found Lover Boy.” He turned the screen around where she had a direct view. A map showed with a little blue dot on it.

  “That’s Bent?”

  “Yup. Looks like he flew the coop.”

  She stomped her foot. “He’s playing games with me.” No doubt, Bent had packed her bag. Another, not so subtle, hint that he wanted her gone.

  “I would agree with that statement.” Forest’s brow lifted. “What exactly happened down on the beach?”

  “Nothing.” Her cheeks heated and she glanced down.

  Forest was astute enough to notice her reaction, but he didn’t comment on it.

  “Maybe it was something you did?” She turned the question back to him.

  “Me?”

  “Yes. What was in that VR sim you showed him?”

  “It’s not technically a simulation. It’s an interactive world. You want to see?”

  That was the second time he’d asked. She twisted her lips, but what else was she going to do? Bent was miles down the road, still heading north. Who knew if he would come back anytime soon?

  “Sure. Maybe you’re the reason he ran off.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think it has anything to do with me.” His eyes lit up. “Hey! Maybe it was the chili-mac.”

  “The what?”

  “Chili-mac. I had it brought for lunch after you left. I’m thinking Bent isn’t a fan.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think he was running from chili-mac.” There had to be something in the VR world which had triggered Bent. If Forest had shown Bent a concert, she had a pretty good idea what might have set Bent off.

  Forest grabbed her a VR set and showed her how to adjust the headset.

  “The fabric of these gloves is weird.” She twisted her hands and wriggled her fingers. “Is it one size fits all?” How had Bent managed to get his hands inside the gloves? But that question was answered when Forest stretched the ridiculously tiny looking gloves over his massive hands.

  “It’s a special fabric embedded with sensors.”

  “It’s kind of cool.”

  “Just wait until you enter VR.”

  He gave her a quick lesson, then took her to the concert mockup.

  “This is amazing. It’s like I’m there.”

  “Funny.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what everyone says.”

  “It’s not what I expected. I was thinking blocky and cartoonish.” She waved her virtual hands in front of her face, turning them back and forth. A wiggle of her fingers, made the fake ones move. After a little bit, the fake hands started to feel real. “This is so weird…”

  Forest’s avatar grinned. The expressions looked stereotypical and not natural at all.

  “Take a moment and walk around.” He gave an expansive gesture. “You get the best impression the more you immerse yourself. And try interacting with the objects.”

  “Objects?”

  “Yes, everything here is something you can touch, move, pick up and handle, but only with your hands. The sensors in the gloves take the actions of your hands and translate it into the virtual world. I’m working on foot sensors for Bash and Noodles. I want Angel Fire to be the first band to play a VR concert.”

  She wandered over to a guitar sitting on a stand and plucked one of the strings. A sharp buzz filled her senses.

  “It works!”

  “Pretty amazing, right?”

  She glanced around, following Forest’s movements. Thick bundles of wires stretched across the stage, presumably what they would look like in real life.

  “How did you get this to look so lifelike?”

  “I’ve been filming their stage setups for a while. I take 360 cameras and place them around stage. I’ve been building up this scene for quite some time.”

  “It’s a little disconcerting.”

  “How so?”

  She toed one of the thick bundles of wires. “My eyes tell me it’s real, but I feel like a ghost.” Indeed her foot passed right through the thick wires.

  “I’ve got a design team working on the sensors. To really make this work, it’s going to take full body suits. And I have to figure out the feedback too, but the guitars are functional. Just need hand sensors for those.”

  He picked up Bent’s bass guitar and lifted the strap to sling over his shoulder. Her eyes crossed with a delay in the movement of his hand and the strap. When he did sling the strap over his body, it settled over his shoulders, but hovered a bit out of place.

  “The delay in what I do, and how the objects in here respond, is something I’m working on.” He plucked at the strings. A thrum filled her ears again. “I’m really excited about the feedback I’ve incorporated into the gloves.”

  “How so?”

  He lifted the guitar off his shoulders and came to her. “Best if you experience it for yourself.” They juggled a moment while he handed her the guitar, unslung the strap, and settled the whole thing in her hands.

  “It’s weird. I can’t feel the weight of the guitar on me, but I feel it in my hands.”

  “Exactly. There’s so much to make VR really work, combinations of sight, sound, touch, and psychological trickery. If you had a bodysuit on, you’d feel the strap across your neck and shoulder. That’s going to be some time away, but you can grip the guitar in your hands and feel
the strings.”

  She flexed her fingers and there was a sensation of something pushing back. “This makes it feel real.” She brushed her fingers across the virtual strings. There was the distinct impression something rigid was under the pads of her fingers.

  Like Forest had done, she plucked at the string. A dissonant tone rolled across the stage.

  “Forest,” she said, her breath light as an idea crystalized. “You need to tell me more about these gloves.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  She lifted the guitar off her neck and set it in the stand, paying attention to the feedback returned through the gloves. “How responsive are these gloves? And can you adjust them?”

  “I can tweak them for different users. Much like a person might adjust the tracking of the mouse for their computer, there are adjustments that can be made for individuals.”

  “Can you show me?”

  Excitement bubbled up inside and had her stomach fluttering. If Forest could make what she was thinking possible, she might finally have found a way to get through to Bent.

  First, she had to track him down. Then she needed to make certain he didn’t run.

  Ruby Red

  Piper

  Unfortunately, once Piper convinced Forest she had other things to do, and disengaged from his VR world, Bent had driven hours up the coastline. Where he was headed, and when he would return, remained a mystery. Her calls went unanswered, not even passed through to voicemail. He must have his phone off, which made her curious how Forest managed to track Bent.

  Three days later, Forest gave her a heads up that Bent was thirty-minutes out. She tugged on a pair of stretch leggings, an oversized shirt, and headed to Bent’s rooms.

  To lay in wait for him.

  To corral him.

  To pin him down.

  To give him a piece of her mind.

  Spout every profanity she knew at him.