LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER FOUR

      KYLE FINISHED A direct deposit into Penny’s Place bank account to cover the shelter’s expenses for the month, submitted Callie’s tuition payment early and logged out of his banking website. His ringing cell phone disrupted the silence that had blanketed the suite the past week. The heavy quiet draped like sheets over the furniture of an abandoned house.

      Or perhaps the real damage had come from Ava, Dan and Ben last weekend. Their laughter no longer lingered and that amplified the stillness surrounding him. He’d never have noticed if he hadn’t opened the door that day. Even more disturbing was that he wanted to invite them back. He needed an idea, though, not friends.

      He pressed Answer on the phone screen.

      Over the speakerphone, the brusque voice of Terri Stanton, VP of Tech Realized, Inc., disrupted the still, sterile air in the development lab. “Kyle, you can help as many amateur inventors as you want with your contest, as long as you submit your proposal as outlined in the contract you signed.”

      “You’ll have a proposal by the due date.” Kyle double-checked the time line on the dry-erase board. The contest ended two days before his idea was due. Late last night, he’d added the last judge to the panel. The official contest open house happened tomorrow afternoon. Everything was proceeding as planned.

      Everything but creating his own original idea. That wasn’t proceeding at all.

      He’d spent the entire week inside the lab. The result: a 3-D printed chess game board, complete with all the individual chess pieces. And a growing list of ideas he’d thought were original until a quick search on the patent website proved him wrong. It seemed everyone had gotten to his ideas first.

      The contest was quickly becoming his plan A.

      “Hey, I like an altruistic streak as much as the next person,” Terri added. The graciousness in her voice was cut by the bluntness in her tone. “Just not at the expense of your commitments.”

      “And the bottom line,” Kyle said before he could shut his mouth.

      There was a pause in the air over the speakerphone. Then Terri cleared her throat as if strengthening the firmness in her voice. “We’ve all enjoyed the Medi-Spy profits, even you, Kyle. You can’t deny it. That doesn’t make us bad people.”

      No, bad people stole others’ ideas and passed them off as their own. Kyle ran his hands through his hair. He wasn’t really stealing an idea. Every part of the contest had been vetted and approved by his legal team at Thornton, Davies and Associates. Every contestant had to sign an agreement and a waiver. No one was being duped. No one was being forced to submit an entry.

      Besides, he wasn’t taking every idea. Only the winner’s. The winner received a monetary prize. A quite nice reward. Maybe if he increased the payout, he’d decrease his guilt.

      This was for his family, after all. That didn’t make him a bad guy. A bad guy wanted to line his own pockets. “These inventions have to be about more than money.”

      “Do they?” Terri laughed as if his innocence amused her. “Money opens doors.”

      And was supposed to solve any problem, wasn’t it? “It really is all about the money.”

      “It’s about making more money. With your new invention.” Terri’s voice increased, as if she picked up the phone and spoke directly into the receiver to get her point across. “Then we can do whatever we want. Even sit around and philosophize about the dangers of money if we choose to.”

      Several clunks echoed down the hallway, followed by the clatter of bells. Kyle was supposed to be alone. Like he wanted. Like he chose to be. “I’ll have my proposal to you on time, Terri. I need to get to a meeting.”

      “Make it a profitable one. I promise you won’t regret it.” Terri laughed and clicked off.

      Kyle stood up, stuffed his phone into the pocket of his jeans and walked into his inspiration area. A curly-haired petite woman in four-inch red heels and a charcoal-gray business suit picked a ball out of the Skee-Ball queue. One underhand toss and the ball flipped up the ramp, landing in the forty-point circle. The points flashed in red lights across the digital screen on the top.

      Kyle walked up to the second Skee-Ball lane, pressed the start button and switched his greeting for his older sister into a question. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

      Specifically, his older sister should be at the job he’d secured for her last week at the Zenith Law Firm.

      “Who’s Ava?” Iris threw her second ball, garnered another forty points and never glanced at him.

      “Ava is Ben’s aunt.” Kyle faced his lane and aimed a ball at the white rings. “What about your job?”

      “Things weren’t going to work out at Zenith.” She kicked off her heels and adjusted her stance as if her future was riding on the next toss. “Who is Ben?”

      “Ben is Dan’s son.” Kyle landed a ball in the fifty-point ring. “What happened at Zenith?”

      Thanks to a connection through his own legal team, he’d found his sister a position as a receptionist at the Zenith Law Firm. The position was perfect for Iris; between her pleasant voice and animated disposition, she’d been ideal to answer calls and greet clients in the reception area. The position paid well, offered benefits and had no mandatory overtime.

      “Besides the requirement of having to be seated at my desk at precisely 8:00 a.m., there were other unrealistic expectations.” Her ball failed to make it into the scoring range. “Who is Dan?”

      “They’re friends.” Kyle grabbed another ball and glanced at his older sister. “Tell me why you got fired.”

      This was Iris’s sixteenth job in the past twelve months. That had to be some sort of employment record. His sister was quickly becoming a serial job-hopper.

      “You don’t have friends.” She tossed her last ball from one hand to the other and looked at him. Nothing sparked in her blue eyes, as if she guarded herself from Kyle.

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