Benjamin sniffed his helmet, gave it a lick, then woofed and backed away, unimpressed with the taste.
“Helmets are for function, not flavor,” I informed him.
He headbutted my side and looked off into the distance, telling me he had places to be. As if he wasn’t partially responsible for the chaos around us. Then again, it was impossible to blame Benjaminfor anything, even if he was frequently the cause. Just a few months ago, he’d made a pizza delivery guy on a moped crash into a parked car. Pizza had gone flying, and Benjamin had obviously helped himself.
The only thing that would have completed this scene was the mysterious billionaire in a limo who always seemed to be around when chaos happened, but I didn’t see him anywhere today.
My mother had told me I’d been a magnet for the strange and unusual as a kid, and that hadn’t changed.
“What’s your name?” Christoph asked.
I didn’t have a chance to answer him. The car’s driver came running over with a few other concerned bystanders, and I straightened, pulling Benjamin to my side.
This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Not the second or third either. I seemed to always end up in the center of disasters. Not my own, fortunately. There was something about me that caused men to make stupid, destructive decisions, like pedaling into traffic without looking.
It wasn’t flattering when it often ended in bloodshed.
Thankfully, Christoph got up on his own, only looking a little off-kilter. Once I was sure he didn’t need medical attention, I turned to leave, right after he’d asked for my number.
I declined, obviously.
“We always look both ways before crossing, right, Benjamin?”
My dog woofed, merrily agreeing.
At our favorite park, Benjamin did his thing while I trailed behind, tapping on theAt Your Serviceapp I’d been beta testing the last couple years. I still didn’t know how I’d been chosen or when the app would go live to the public, but I wasn’t about to look a gifthorse in the mouth. My personal AI concierge, Anthony, took care of my every need. I’d even trained him to chat with me. He could be a little uptight, but I kind of liked it.
Me:Hey, Ant. What can you tell me about Nox Cyber?
Sometimes the app lagged, making it take a while for me to get a reply. This time, though, I got one right away.
Anthony:Good evening, Bea. What would you like to know about Nox Cyber?
Me:Who owns it?
Anthony:The founder and CEO is Salvatore Gallo. Alongside his partner, COO Sam Patel, they started Nox five years ago in Los Angeles and relocated to Denver two years ago after securing a contract with the Department of Defense.
Whoa. That wasn’t what I’d expected to read. Tore was the CEO and founder? That meant… Well, I didn’t have the first clue how much a company like Nox was worth, but it had to be millions. Maybe billions.
Billions.
Me:It’s no wonder he forgot who I was.
Anthony:I find it hard to believe anyone would forgetyou, Bea.
Me:Oh, you flatterer, you. Always saying the sweetest things.
Anthony:My algorithm only allows me to tell the truth.
Me:Well, tell your algorithm itispossible for someone to forget me, since it happened today.
Anthony:Is there a chance you may have misinterpreted the circumstances?
Me:Are you accusing me of being less than perfect?
Anthony:Never, Bea. I’m only offering another perspective. Who was the person you think forgot you? I can look into them if you would like.
Me:Okay. Let’s do that. What’s the deal with Gallo? Is he married?
