“It’s a rental. I figured go big or go home.”
“You don’t go big when at home?”
“Of course.”
He pulled out and turned on the street. The buildings passed by in a blur. The streetlights were just coming on as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
“Don’t take 635,” I said. “It’s under perpetual construction.”
“I was just going to Toll it up,” he said.
He merged on the highway and sped up, passing the slowpokes as he switched lanes. I tapped my fingers against my knee and bit the inside of my cheek. I had so many questions struggling to be free. I had to wait, but I needed something to fill the silence.
“What music do you like?” I rested my hand on the dial.
“Whatever you want,” he said. “I doubt you like classical.”
I raised a brow. “That wasn’t what I was expecting.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Most of the popular stuff takes away from the best part.”
“What is that?”
“The instruments.”
“So, what, you like harps and violins?”
“Among other things. Though, I have to say that electronic music is interesting.”
I switched the radio onto the classical station. “You’re not going to get a lot of electronica here, just remixed club stuff.”
“I don’t mind the other stations,” he said.
“This is fine. Soothing.” I stared out the window. “Where are we going?”
“There’s this restaurant I want to try in one of the Suburbs. Plano, I believe.”
We zoomed by a large mall with a line of traffic going into it. Somehow, it had managed to survive the technological age and hadn’t fallen like its siblings. However, it offered other amenities besides just stores. A hotel was connected, along with several rich restaurants and a skating rink. What else would become obsolete with Proprius? If people could experience the internet like they do reality, what would be the use of console games? Or even real sports? Many people preferred to live their fantasies than watch others live them out.
He pulled off the highway and traveled down a four lane street. We turned into a parking lot with several restaurants and an ice cream shop. He parked in front of a tiny eatery with a dark green fence around a couple of patio tables. The sign was lit up above the door.
“Zorbas,” I said. “You’re taking me for Greek food.”
He gave a half-shoulder shrug. “I have a craving for some spiced lamb and feta cheese.”
I snorted and got out of the car. Of all the places he could have chosen, he went with Greek. He had to be playing with me because of my name.
As a family exited the restaurant, the scent of spiced meat drifted to my nose, and my stomach rumbled. We stepped inside the greeting of upbeat folk music. The girl at the counter smiled at us and led the way to a small table in the corner. Her gaze lingered on Mercer for several moments and she opened her mouth to say something, but someone called her from the front, and she reluctantly turned away. A waiter came by, took our drink orders, and hurried off. I picked up my menu and scanned over the list of exotic names, trying to keep my hand steady and my nervousness off of my face. My cousin Madison had made most of these dishes. He was brilliant with a pan.
Mercer glanced at me from over the menu. “So, I guess you’re ready to get this started.”
“Maybe,” I tried to sound nonchalant. I might have failed.
“How about we play a little game?” he asked.
“What sort of game?”
“A question for a question.”
“You’re really trying for the mutual interview.”
“What not? Normal interviews are so boring. Trust me, I’ve done hundreds.” He lifted his eyebrows. “So let’s keep the questions fresh and interesting.”
“All right,” I said. “But I go first.”
He waved his hand at me. “Feel free.”
“Why did you choose Nerida University for the Proprius project? I mean, we aren’t rated high in technology, or anything else for that matter. Wouldn’t MIT have been better?”
“Maybe, but everyone turns to MIT. I wanted an underdog.” He smiled. “Besides, I know a programmer here that can run with the best.”
“Serenity,” I said. “You’re not here to outdo her, are you? Because you’ve already made a name for yourself? Family doesn’t do that to one another.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “If anything, I think one day she might outdo me.”
The waiter came back and looked at the both of us expectantly. We placed our order, and he scuttled off to the kitchens. I took a deep drink of my wine.
“It’s my turn now,” he said. “Your accent, which you’re very good at covering, isn’t from Texas. Where are you from?”
I sat back and blinked. “Georgia.”
“Interesting.”
“Are you seriously counting on one programmer to carry your entire project? She’d hate that.”