Love Hacked (Knitting in the City #3)(23)
Author: Penny Reid

“Or stolen computing power,” Fiona added under her breath, and I was the only one to hear the comment. I didn’t get a chance to ask her what she meant because the conversation continued, and I was invested in learning more.

“Why would they do that? Why would anyone sacrifice their own computing power to help support the public log of bitcoin owners?” Elizabeth was no longer knitting. In fact, all knitting needles had ceased clicking.

“If you support the blockchain then you get a percentage—or you can get a percentage, I should clarify—of each new bitcoin mined. It’s a self-sustaining system. No one needs to run it, no one is ultimately responsible for it, and it’s not tied to any country or government. It’s quite a superb example of a global computing cooperative utopia, actually.”

She continued, trying her best to explain about bitcoin mining and supercomputers. I reflected how nice it was to have Janie in my life. Not only was she a fantastic human being, she was also my own personal walking, talking Wikipedia—but with better citations.

When she finished, we all sat silently for a long moment, staring into space, absorbing the remarkably strange information—everyone that is, but Fiona, who was very pointedly not engaged in the conversation.

Ashley was the one to interrupt our information absorption hush. “This is all completely fascinating. I tell you, nerds rule the world. We might think it’s the beautiful people, but it’s not. It’s the geeks who invent a currency out of thin air, based on math of all things, thereby convincing the king he has clothes on.”

Marie was the next to stir. “I’m sorry, Sandra. I’ve been holding your hot toddy for the last few minutes and forgot to give it to you.”

“Oh, thank you.” I received the cup from her with reverence. She was a cocktail culinary genius; therefore, she’d sprinkled the top with cinnamon and used rum instead of brandy.

Nestled in place, hot toddy in hand, I retreated into my own mind and muddled over the afternoon’s revelations and lingering questions.

I still comprehended and accepted that Alex, due to all the factors I’d previously self-enumerated, was not an ideal life partner—youth, criminality, strangeness, prone to apartment-destroying temper tantrums, et cetera.

However….

If Alex wasn’t a gifted liar, then that meant—to him—that I actually was exquisitely beautiful. I was also sweet like honey and had a great personality. That would make his actions adoring and genuine and based on months—nay, years—of observation. He’d made himself vulnerable because he liked a girl, and that girl was me.

And I liked him.

Yes, he was young. But his youth only made his strangeness more significant and alluring.

He was also tremendously, yet unassumingly, smart, and stealth smarts were devastatingly sexy. Nothing was worse than a handsome guy who became an ignorant toad when he spoke. Or, a smart guy whose intelligence was made obnoxious by the need to be acknowledged and lauded for his brain.

These men were like gold-plated poop; value on the outside, excrement on the inside.

But what does Alex have to do with bitcoins? I mused inwardly, my mind wandering far from the knitting group.

“Sandra?”

My lashes fluttered as I searched for the source of my name. I was greeted by Ashley’s expectant eyebrows, though the rest of her expression was that of concentrated aggravation.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

Ashley tsked then pursed her lips. “What do you think of Marie’s decision not to press charges?”

“Against whom?”

“Against the threatening, douch-kanoosh idiot bouncer from last week. Haven’t you been listening?”

My attention shifted to Marie. “You’re not pressing charges?”

She shook her head, wouldn’t meet my eyes. Her gaze and attention were seemingly focused on the gray lap blanket she was knitting.

“Are you crazy?” I said the words at the same time I thought them. “He was about to show us his penis…all of it…right there…on the sidewalk.”

Marie grimaced. “He was angry with me because of the article I wrote.”

“How did you get him to show you his penis in the first place?” Janie asked. “And I also don’t understand what he thought he was going to prove by whipping it out last Tuesday. It was cold outside. A small penis plus a snowy day necessitates a magnifying glass, and I don’t carry one with me anymore.”

“Are you kidding?” Marie snorted. “For that article all I had to do was ask the guys to show me. Men love showing off their junk. It’s why urinals still exist.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t care about his penis,” I said, and chose to ignore someone’s subdued chuckle. “I care about you. And I’m concerned about your decision against pressing charges.” I narrowed my eyes at her to show her I meant business.

“He’s not dangerous….”

“He came after you,” Fiona pressed. She also appeared aggravated.

“Yes. He did.” Marie cleared her throat. “And I’m not excusing what he did. His bark is worse than his bite, believe me.”

“What makes you so certain?” Janie asked with unassuming curiosity. “It seems to me that a man who threatens another human being is, by definition, dangerous.”

Marie’s jaw tensed. “He won’t be coming after me again.”

“But how do you know?” Elizabeth pressed.

“Because I know.”

“But….”

Marie abruptly set her work in progress aside and semi-shouted at Elizabeth, “Because he’s already had his revenge, okay? He’s already done his damage, and it was enough to satisfy his douche-kanoosh, tiny prick, jerk-face need for retaliation!”

We all sat in wide-eyed silence for a long moment. The only sound in the room was Marie’s audible inhale and exhale. She appeared deflated and exasperated by her own outburst. But then her eyes watered and her chin wobbled.

And everyone looked at me.

I cleared my throat before I asked, “What happened, Marie?”

She huffed a watery laugh and answered as though compelled. “David and I split up.”

This revelation was met with another stunned silence. David was Marie’s long-time partner of six years. He was sweet and docile and a nice guy. We all liked him, mostly because he was a chef and often cooked for us.

“What happened?” I asked again, and leaned forward and placed my hand over hers.

Marie closed her eyes. “It didn’t take much, actually.” She laughed again. “The article I wrote was the last straw, I think. Stan—the tiny-penis-wielding bouncer—sent David a note, told him we’d had an affair. David believed Stan and not me. And that’s that.” She shrugged, though her shoulders appeared tense and burdened.

“Oh, Marie….” Kat crossed the room and engulfed Marie in a hug.

“When did this happen?” Fiona asked.

“Three days ago. But I’ll be fine.” Marie rested her head against Kat’s chest for a brief moment then gave us all a brave smile, though a tear rolled down her cheek. “I will. It’s only been a few days, but part of me knows it was for the best. We were never….” she sighed and looked down at her hands then at her lap blanket. “David has never been very surprising.”

“But that’s to be expected, after being together so long.” Fiona’s eyes were softly searching. “I know you loved him, Marie.”

“I did. I do. I love him. However, Fiona, you and I may have strong personalities, but David isn’t like your Greg. You have a partnership. You argue and it’s okay to disagree. With David and me, I pushed and he gave in. He never wanted to argue about anything, and I think that’s why we ultimately kept separate apartments. I wanted him to change and he did—poof, he was always ready to surrender. Do you know how exhausting that is? How lonely?

“For a long time I considered him safe and easy, but after a while, I realized he was a doormat. He didn’t want the responsibility that came with having conviction.” Marie sighed, and more tears slipped past her lashes. “I just wanted him to push back sometimes, you know? I tried to talk to him about it. I tried encouraging him to take the lead, but that just made everything worse.”

Sounds of Marie’s soft crying filled the diminutive space, and I could feel my friends struggle with their helplessness.

I felt sympathy for my friend, but my thoughts were also of Alex—.

Alex, who didn’t seem capable of giving in or making things easy for anyone. My longing for him spiked; I wanted his stubborn evasion of my questions; his Alex swagger and sweetness; his zing-inducing kisses; and the concentrated, challenging burn of his cobalt eyes.

I understood why Marie felt dually melancholy and relieved. She missed David because she loved him. But she knew they were never going to work. She needed someone who would challenge her.

Though Fiona, Janie, and Elizabeth seemed to have found partners who were capable of matching or complementing their robust temperaments and personalities, capable of holding their own, and maintaining conviction without becoming entirely overbearing, I feared that these kinds of men were rarer than a three-horned bull.