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  Gardener

  Jacob Mesmer

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  ©Jacob Mesmer

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  Mine

  One

  “All right, Monte Cristo here, extra mustard, and an onion soup for you,” Tommy said pleasantly as he carefully put their orders down before them. The two older women looked up at him and beamed two happy smiles. “If there’s anything else, just let me know,” he said and made his way back to the kitchen while scanning the rest of his tables. Based on this quick look, he guessed he’d have about two or three minutes to relax.

  “If you would switch to nights, you’d double the amount of tips you’d make,” Mallory said as she came up next to him.

  “Yeah, that’s what you keep telling me. But it’s not a habit I want to get into. I start working late, I start sleeping late, and I’ll never get out of here,” he replied. Mallory was his supervisor, whom he’d also known casually in high school.

  “I’m telling you, you’re a natural. You can easily make sixty, seventy a year you get into the right place. Move to a bigger city, you never know where it might lead,” she said. She knew that Tommy would never agree to a career as a waiter. And he knew that Mallory was in much better financial shape than he was. She earned more and she owed less.

  “Yeah, I know. I keep telling myself after six months I need to make a hard decision,” he said, glancing out at the tables.

  “And it’s been two? Three?” she teased.

  “Five, c’mon, you know what’s up.” He grinned back at her. They both perked up instinctively as the small bell in back chimed, indicating another customer had come in.

  “Wow, she’s pretty,” Mallory noted.

  “Look how she’s dressed, I’ll bet she tips well,” Tommy noted. Both watched her expectantly as she was seated by the hostess.

  “Dude, you’re lucky. Your first mission is to see if she’s wearing a ring or not,” Mallory teased, making Tommy blush slightly. He gave her a few moments to check over the drink selection before bringing her a glass of ice water.

  “Hi there, welcome to Benny’s, I’m Tommy, I’ll be taking care of you today,” he said. He couldn’t help notice how stunning she was. Black hair, just a slight bit of makeup, and gorgeous green eyes. “Can I start you off with something to drink?” he asked, while simultaneously looking for a way to extend the conversation.

  “Yes, Tommy, I’ll have an ice tea, and by the time you get back, I’ll be ready,” she said, flashing him a warm smile.

  “Well?” Mallory asked when he returned to the kitchen.

  “Well what?”

  “Duh! Ring?” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

  “Oh, uh, I don’t know, I’ll check,” Tommy said. Mallory held up her left hand, pointed at her ring finger, and shook her head slowly.

  “Really?” Tommy strained to see across the restaurant. “How can you tell?” he asked, looking back at her incredulously. She rolled her eyes and turned away.

  “Ice tea, and…?” he asked, placing it down off to her right.

  “I’ll take the Cobb salad, dressing on the side,” she said without looking at the menu. She’d opened her briefcase and had some documents out in front of her.

  “Those wouldn’t be differential equations, would they?” he asked, glancing at her paperwork.

  “Why yes, they are,” she said, smiling. “What do you know about these?”

  “Only that I don’t understand them. I had to take two semesters of business calculus, and we only learned what those are, not how to solve them,” he explained, trying to remember what all the Greek symbols meant.

  “Two semesters, so you studied business?” she asked.

  Tommy sensed she was being genuinely curious. “Yep. Dual major in business and marketing, and just last spring I got my MBA,” he said.

  “Oh, OK. So your angle is finance, liquidity flows, things like that?” she asked, apparently trying to remember.

  “Yeah, that’s about right. What about you, what’s your angle?” he asked, still puzzling over her document.

  “Molecular genetics. I just started at GenSpan, up in Ridgecrest?” she said, her voice tone trailing up a bit.

  “Oh yeah, that’s where they have that new office park. GenSpan, huh? That a startup?”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “The money behind this hopes we’ll be this close to solving the aging problem,” she said a little dramatically.

  “This close, eh?” Tommy said, mimicking how she’d held her thumb and forefinger together.

  “Well, that’s the story they tell to all the venture capitalists who are throwing their money around.”

  “So are you really close to some kind of anti-aging thing? I’ve read a few things about that online, but it seems they’re always talking about the vague future,” he said.

  “Well, that’s kind of the story, but to be honest, it’s mostly theory,” she said.

  “But you’re the expert, though, right?” he asked. “One doesn’t simply get a bachelor’s degree in Molecular Genetics, do they?” he asked in mock seriousness.

  She grinned, slightly embarrassed, and reached into her purse next to her and pulled out a business card.

  “Dr. Viviana Berg, at your service,” she said officially.

  “Wow, and I’m, uh, Tommy,” he said self-deprecatingly. He made a point to pat his pockets, ostensibly looking for his business card, and shook his head with a goofy grin. “I’ll go and get your salad,” he said and turned away.

  “Well?” Mallory asked when he was back in the kitchen.

  “Dude! She’s got a PhD! I can’t compete with that!” he said, despite his huge grin.

  “Yeah, and what were you two talking about, I saw you all leaning over in her space. She didn’t pull back or anything,” Mallory chastised.

  “What do you mean?” Tommy asked.

  “Ugh! Why are men so stupid? If you leaned into her space and she doesn’t pull back, she’s into you, man! You got to jump on that!” She turned and took the Cobb salad from the chef, handing it to Tommy.

  “Wait, how did you…” he started to ask. He hadn’t yet put the order ticket up.

  “If you don’t get her number, you’re fired!” Mallory said playfully.

  Tommy took the plate from her and quickly glanced out into the restaurant.

  “OK, but not till she’s done eating,” he said.

  “Oh brother,” Mallory said, turning away.

  “So how exactly does one cure the aging process?” Tommy asked as he put down her check.

  “Tell you the truth? Right now I think they just want somebody to talk a lot of science at the guys with the money. Right now we don’t even have enough equipment to answer that question,” she said, leaning back.

  “I get it. You got barely enough for salaries and overhead, maybe for a couple of years, so half your time is go
ing to be getting other investors,” Tommy answered.

  “Exactly,” she said, nodding. “It’s nice to finally talk to somebody who understands the business side of it. So, are you, uh, from here?” she asked. She hadn’t even glanced at the check yet.

  Tommy quickly looked around to make sure there weren’t any other customers waiting for him.

  “Yep. Left town to go to UC Davis. Been sending out resumes since I had six months left on my MBA. Nothing yet. You just move here?” he asked, wanting to get off the subject of his underemployment as quickly as possible.

  “Yeah, I was recruited from San Francisco, where I got my doctorate. Now I have to come up with Star Trek–sounding ideas to get more money,” she said, shaking her head. “That reminds me, I’ve got a couple potential investors coming later this afternoon, I need to go rehearse my lines,” she said, standing. She quickly left more than enough to cover the bill. Then she paused, looking at Tommy. “I’ll uh, maybe see you around?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Tommy said. He walked back to the kitchen feeling pretty good. Until he saw the flabbergasted expressions on both Mallory and Selena.

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “Dude, that’s about as obvious of an opening as you are going to get! What the hell, Tommy!” Selena said, and then looked at Mallory and shook her head.

  Two

  Viviana pulled into her space near the front. Nodded to the guard as she walked in. GenSpan had been around for a few years, but this was the first time they’d had their own building. This area was much cheaper than the Bay Area, and Bradley Pena, the CEO, was scarcely able to make the payroll as it was. Viviana had been unsure about this particular company and its future, but when he’d offered a sizeable bonus equal to her first year’s salary, it was something she couldn’t refuse.

  “Ready for the big show?” Paul, one of her coworkers, asked her as she passed him on the way to her office.

  “Think so,” she replied, smiling. She sat at her desk, and the first thing she did was review the backgrounds of the two venture capitalists coming to see her. They represented a very large and very secretive organization on the West Coast. Most large VC firms kept their interests close to the chest, as finding a hidden gem, especially something as lucrative as a legitimate anti-aging solution, was worth at least a thousand times their original investment. If any of their competitors even knew they were here, it might kick off a bidding war. As such, just showing up required a non-disclosure agreement.

  Viviana read through some of the successful companies they’d purchased and then quickly spun off in the past, all tech companies but nothing medical or biological. Next she reviewed her presentation and tried to anticipate what questions they might have.

  When she entered the University of San Francisco, she only knew that she loved science, particularly biology. Her father had convinced her to avoid medical school, so she’d pursued research instead. But the closer she got to graduation the more she realized there were really only three career paths. Work for the government, become a professor, or work for a private startup. And more often than not, private startups were much more flash and promise than actual science. But a job was a job. And like the VC coming to meet with her in just under an hour, if there was an outside chance that she could indeed uncover a realistic anti-aging process, it would be the discovery of a lifetime.

  “Hey, how you feeling?” Bradley asked, popping his head into her office. Her door was always kept open, but she was usually in the lab.

  “So far so good, seems like these guys are just like any other VC, looking for a good deal. How do you want to handle this?” she asked.

  He came in and sat in front of her, put his hands behind his head, and looked up at the ceiling.

  “How about if you talk over their heads by ten percent or so, say something, then repeat it a little bit simpler, and we’ll kind of tag-team. Whenever I see them looking like they agree or understand, I’ll tell them about our expansion plans, some of the first products in the pipeline. You can riff off that, right?” he asked.

  “You mean back you up, scientifically, in whatever direction you go,” she said, nodding. It was a good strategy.

  He nodded. “Well, I’ll see you in there,” he said and left.

  She’d been in the lab for twenty minutes, making sure her laptop was set up with the remote mouse. There was a large screen that would be visible from all areas, and she planned to do a lot of walking around. There were only two of them coming in, and she suspected they would like a much more hands-on tour than to sit in a meeting looking at slides. Right at two, Bradley led them into the lab.

  “And here’s our resident genius, Dr. Berg,” he said deferentially.

  “Please, call my Vivi,” she said, extending her hand.

  They introduced themselves by their first names only, Matt and Virgil. Both appeared to be only slightly older than her, making her feel a little intimidated. Venture capitalists thought nothing of throwing around a few million, or even a billion dollars occasionally, only in hopes of making a return.

  “Bradley tells us you’re going to make us live forever,” Matt said.

  “That’s the plan,” she said, “and as far-fetched as it sounds, it may not be that far off,” she said.

  “What is your approach, Doctor? We’ve been hearing a lot about nanotechnology and tissue rejuvenation at the molecular level, what’s your feeling on that?” Matt asked.

  She was impressed. “Well, that’s certainly an option, but best case, it would still be a very expensive and ongoing treatment,” she said.

  “There’s also the issue of patent protection with nanotechnology. That might eat up a lot of our research,” Bradley mentioned.

  “That’s a good point,” Virgil said. “Our own attorneys have warned us that might turn out to be a litigation nightmare. Nanobots themselves may become as generic as aspirin,” he said.

  “There’s also the very real possibility that the Department of Defense would hold all nanotechnology patents, which is why we’re more focused on genetic resequencing,” Viviana explained. She turned toward the laptop and flipped about halfway through her presentation to find the appropriate slide.

  “There’s already been a lot of research done in this area, and there is a general consensus that aging is due to a genetic trigger that we don’t quite understand,” she said. “However, the equipment needed just to do the research is so advanced it needs to be custom built,” she added, and flipped through another half dozen slides.

  “The upside is,” Bradley said, “that any gene resequencing is very easy to patent.”

  “And,” Viviana added, “there is a lot more promise with resequencing. I mean once the actual process is understood, we’re talking about cancer therapies.”

  “And every other disease that is genetic,” Virgil put in. “You covered that in your doctoral thesis as well, correct, Doctor?” She nodded, smiling. “I think I understood the title, but that’s about it,” he said, giving everybody a chuckle.

  “I’m fairly certain that with the right equipment and a significant head start on anybody else who’s looking at this, we can really make a name for ourselves,” Viviana said.

  “Just the patents we can generate alone, not only in various resequencing techniques, but in any other genetic-based treatments,” Bradley started, but Matt held up his hand.

  “Based on the research we’ve read, and what you guys are doing, we’re pretty convinced. We just wanted to verify that firsthand,” he said, looking over at his partner.

  “Excellent. Well, let’s leave Dr. Berg to her science and we’ll go and see what kind of numbers make sense,” Bradley said. He led them out of the lab, but just before shutting the door behind him, he gave Viviana two big thumbs up.

  Three

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Ayres,” the receptionist said as Arnold entered the hotel lobby. He’d been staying here for a week, and they’d all gotten accustomed to him. Mid-fifties, very friend
ly, and a huge tipper. He usually ate very lightly, but was very generous with the servers. He was leaving for his date, one he’d carefully spent the last month setting up. One of many, it was a very invigorating hobby of his. They’d sent emails back and forth, she talking about the difficulties of campus life, her business classes, and how competitive the job market was. He’d responded with sympathy and generous payments of her tuition and several unexpected gifts. He always liked to overdeliver.

  This was the fourth time he’d set up a meeting in as many months. They always went beautifully. He had his driver pick him up in front of the hotel. Even though he lived nearby, he’d learned long ago that it was best not to let them see where you lived. He’d told Addie, the girl he was seeing today, that he was from back east and he’d only be in town for this weekend. That would preclude her from visiting him unexpectedly, something he was very wary of.

  His driver pulled up in front of her apartment complex. He called her and said he was waiting. He refused to use a text message. He looked up just in time to see her coming down the stairs, wearing the skirt he’d sent her just for this occasion. It highlighted her long thin legs and fantastic behind. He exited the car and stood waiting for her. She nearly knocked him over, leaping into his arms. Seeing as how he’d spent nearly fifty thousand dollars on her in the past month, this was not unexpected.

  “Did you find it OK?” she asked, pressing her breasts up against him.

  “Just like you said. Please,” he said and motioned for her to get into the back seat.

  “How do you have your own car, I thought you were just visiting?” she asked, looking around in the back seat.

  “Well, there are several services like this,” he explained.

  “Oh,” she said, nodding her head. She sat close to him, interlocking her fingers with his.

  “I thought we might have a picnic,” he said.