“C’mon in, mate,” she said, throwing the door wide open for him, then bringing her laptop over to a desk and plugging it in for recharging. Inside, Brad found a small but comfortable one-bedroom apartment with a bar surrounding a small but functional kitchen, and a combination living room/breakfast nook/dining area. The living room also served as Jodie’s office and computer room; Brad was not surprised that she had no television. Through a sliding-glass door, a small patio overlooked the common area, and there was even a peek of the city of San Luis Obispo off in the distance.
“These apartments are very nice,” Brad commented.
“Except when the west breeze kicks up and you get a whiff of the university stockyards,” Jodie said. “We might do a lot of engineering work here, but you can always tell what Cal Poly’s roots were: agriculture and livestock.” She poured two glasses of Chardonnay from a bottle in her refrigerator and offered one to him. “Weren’t you thinking of moving up here next year? Lots of engineering students stay at Poly Canyon.”
“I have an application in for here and Cerro Vista, but everyone wants up here, so I’m probably way down on the list, and it is a longer bike ride,” Brad said. “I haven’t heard either way.”
“Not going to get a car anytime soon?”
“I’ve been too busy to even think about it,” Brad said. “And with the bike I get a little exercise in every day.”
“Where do you live?” she asked. “It’s funny; we’ve been working together for months, but we don’t see each other except on campus.”
“Not far. Down Foothill across Highway One, past Foothill Plaza.”
“That’s a long ride, I think,” Jodie said. “How do you like it?”
Brad shrugged. “It’s not bad. It’s a little rancherito, about an acre fenced off from the rest of the neighborhood. The surrounding neighborhoods are a little wild sometimes. It belongs to a friend of my dad. He’s retired from the Marine Corps, I think, but he’s always traveling, so I stay in his house and take care of the place. I’ve never even met the guy—we just correspond by e-mails. It’s quiet most of the time, I never see the owner, and it’s fixed up nice.”
“A bohemian bachelor-party pad, then?” Jodie asked with a smile.
“I don’t know the owner, but I know he used to be a drill instructor or something,” Brad said. “I don’t do parties in his place. Just my luck he’d blow into town during a party and he’d kick my ass. I’m not a partying guy anyway. I don’t know how any of these freshmen can have all these crazy parties, especially during the week. I’d never get anything done.”
“You’re at Cal Poly, mate,” Jodie said. “We are an amateur party school compared to the UCs or USC.”
“What about Australian universities?”
“Without doubt, you blokes are amateur partiers compared to even our most stately schools,” Jodie replied. “We Aussies work our brains out to get into the best schools with the best scholarships, then do nothing but rage on once we’re out of the house and away to uni.”
“So you turned into a party girl too?”
“Not me, mate,” Jodie said. “I actually went to uni to get an education. I had to get out of there and go to a regular American school so I could get some work done.”
“But you go back pretty soon, don’t you?”
“Right before Christmas,” Jodie replied with a sigh and a sip of wine. “Our first semester back home starts in February.”
“That’s too bad. Starfire should be just heating up then, if our project goes forward.”
“I know,” Jodie said. “I’ll still help via the Internet, and I want to be there when we flip the switch and beam the first watts to Earth, but I really want to stay to see the project launched. I’ve applied for grants and scholarships to extend, but nothing’s come through yet.”
“You’d have to pay your own tuition, room, board, and books?” Brad asked.
“Yes, and American universities are big bikkies compared to Aussie schools, especially for out-of-staters,” Jodie said. “My parents are battlers, but I’ve got five brothers and sisters all younger than me. I had to get scholarships or not go to uni at all.”
“Maybe I could help,” Brad said.
Jodie fixed her eyes on Brad over the rim of her wineglass. “Why, Mr. McLanahan, are you cracking up to me?” she asked after taking a sip.
“What?”
“No worries, Brad,” Jodie replied. “I would never borrow money from anyone, especially from a cobber. It’s just not in me.” Brad’s eyes narrowed for about the sixteen-millionth time. “From a friend, you mug. I’d never borrow money from a friend.”
“Oh.” He hesitated for a moment; then: “But if it was to keep you here to finish Starfire, then it would be an investment in the project, not a loan, right?”
She smiled at him again, trying to discern any hidden intent in his words, but finally shook her head. “Let’s see what happens with all my applications and with the project, mate,” Jodie said. “But you’re lollies to offer. More wine?”
“Just a little, and then I need to go back to Reinhold to get my bike and head home.”