CHAPTER FOUR
While giving an admittedly boring speech at the Fifteenth Annual Media Delivery Summit Awards Ceremony, Brad noticed a few guys smacking their Blue Root controllers. That didn’t surprise him, and it certainly didn’t encourage him, either.
Speeches were already the bane of his existence. He didn’t need to know that some jerk-offs were getting exactly that while he spoke about the year’s best in media delivery components and systems. Hell, maybe he was jealous. Nah, speaking in public while masturbating wasn’t something Brad could do. At least not with any credibility or linearity.
When the emcee took over, Brad was thankful. He needed to find the mens quarter before he started doing the pee-pee dance in front of the five-hundred-person audience.
“Hey Brad. Not a bad speech. Only half the crowd fell asleep this time.” Mike Moffat, Brad’s former boss and now business partner of sorts–the guy who told Brad he needed to start his own company–greeted him with a handshake. Where the hell did Mike come from? He hadn’t been in the audience, had he?
Brad shook Mike’s hand. “I didn’t think you were gonna be here. Did I miss a memo?”
Mike shrugged. “I’m slumming, I guess. Goddamn networking shit to do. At least the yawnfest is over.”
Behind the string of tradeshow curtains, Brad couldn’t put a location on the mens quarter so he started walking toward the outer edge of the ballroom, hoping Mike would follow. “Yeah, but at least it’s quality if not quantity at this thing.”
Lumbering along next to Brad, Mike craned his head. “You know where the piss wall is in this place?”
“Nah, but I had the same idea. I’m thinking lobby.”
“Hmmm…yeah.” Mike nodded.
Brad kept his voice low so as not to attract too much attention as they made their way along the ballroom wall toward the main doors. “When are you gonna give me that new Theatris module to try out? Is the Odeon transition getting in your way?”
“Yes and no.”
“Dammit. I tried to make it a clean switch. Are the guys hating you or something?” Brad held the door for Mike. The mens quarter was just across the way, near the end of the bar.
Mike gave a dismissing wave of his hand. “The techs are a little grumpy, but don’t worry about it.”
There were some guys milling about in the mens quarter, but a few urinals were free. Brad went straight to one and started unzipping his pants. “Okay. Sorry. I just never planned on it being anything bigger than a backdeck operation.”
Mike stepped up next to Brad and got himself prepared. “I’ll be passing along a Theatris box or two in due time.”
It was on the tip of Brad’s tongue to mention the Blue Root, but because of the nature of that beast, he held back. You don’t start talking about a sex toy in public, especially while taking a whiz.
“Hey,” Mike looked at Brad, “have you tried out the Blue Root?”
Nice. Brad nearly dropped his dick mid-stream. Fumbling, he managed to keep control, but his hands would need a good washing. Didn’t Mike know proper pissing protocol?
One of the other guys cleared his throat and two more headed out of the quarter as Mike enthusiastically continued much to Brad’s dismay. “That thing is incredible. It’s got all sorts of attachments and programming. Whoever came up with it is probably raking in zillions by now.”
“No doubt.” Brad kept his eyes focused on the blue zolatone wall in front of him. He didn’t want to think about how many guys recognized him from his speech. He didn’t want to think about whether or not his pants were splashed. He didn’t want to think about anything other than pissing and getting the hell out of there before Mike started talking about Blue Root escapades or some other thing Brad didn’t want to know.
“Rose got me one a couple weeks ago. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell me until I tried it out with her while I was in Chicago for the CEDIA show. Even through a network, that thing had incredible response.”
“Really?” Brad gritted his teeth, prepared for the worst. The whole quarter filed out–likely in fear of what was to come.
But Mike didn’t go into detail. “I’m already looking for a way to provide vids and audio to match the programs. Give it another month or two and that’ll be in your ‘to be reviewed’ pile as well.” He seemed to know what he was doing. But sex toys and media delivery? When did they ever go hand in hand?
Finished draining, Brad put himself back together and headed for the sinks. “Actually, maybe I should review the Blue Root now so that when your stuff comes out, I’ll be able to tie it together easier on my site.” It wasn’t his normal fare, but the thing did warrant a kudo or two.
“You should.” Mike started washing his hands. “No one has used Bluetooth technology like this. And if this thing hits as big as I think it will, by the time I get our Theatris and Odeon support out for it, we won’t know where to hide all the revenue.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something, Mike. Rosemary can always use another schoolhouse or two.” Brad chuckled. Mike’s wife was always volunteering to help the kids who fell through the cracks. Make education more accessible and a hell of a lot more fun in hopes of getting the kids motivated to succeed.
Hell, his last year in high school, Brad’s motivation was the big boot print in his ass. Once he’d started working for Mike that year, Brad made more money than his father. Something his dad should have been proud of, but couldn’t look beyond his own shortcomings to realize. He flat kicked his kid out of the house, leaving Mike as Brad’s sort of surrogate dad for the next few years.
“Hey, speaking of significant others, you haven’t mentioned a squeeze lately. Last I heard, you were buying expensive baubles for yet another bubblehead.”
Brad shut off the water and started drying his hands. “I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”
“I tell ya. Ignore the ones who want money. Find one who’ll settle for a cup of tea and conversation.”
Brad shook his head. “I’d rather have tea and talk than filet mignon.”
“I’ll be your date police. Next time you think you wanna date a woman, run her by me first.”
“I might take you up on that.”
“Do it.” Mike grinned as he finished drying his hands, but then his expression changed as he pointed toward Brad. “What’s wrong? Without a Blue Root, you can’t get a hold on your own dick?”
Oh no. Brad looked down at his pants. There was a dribble from his crotch to his knee. Oh no, no, no, no.
“Use the dryer.” Mike chuckled. “I hope it doesn’t stain.”
Brad was utterly mortified. He awkwardly shuffled and lifted his leg to get it near the dryer mouth, but the angle was wrong. The hot air was…well…hot and threatening to blister his skin. How did one gracefully get out of this? At least no one else had walked in.
As though nothing unusual was going on, Mike went on with the conversation. “As soon as I’ve got a beta version ready, I’ll let you know.”
Brad’s pants dried nicely, restoring the rest of his confidence. “Sounds good. I’ll do up a review for the Blue Root tonight. Look for it in the morning.”
“Will do.” Mike led the way out of the mens quarter as Brad did yet another satisfactory visual check of his pants.
“See you later, then.” Brad was so very ready to go home. “Say hi to Rose for me.”
A horde of mediaphiles burst into the lobby. Some headed for the doors, others for the bar.
“Sure.” Mike nodded once, his universal “goodbye”.
After wading through the crowd, Brad headed home, the Blue Root review already percolating.
