Friend Me Read Free Page B

conditioned on how this evening turned out?
    â€œOh,” said Getz. “Nothing to worry about.” He kept his eyes on the road ahead, avoiding her gaze. He moved his right hand to her knee, stroked it lightly, and returned it to the steering wheel. “Dan simply wants to know we’re going to work well together.”
    Melissa cocked her head to one side. “Do you hear that?”
    â€œHear what?”
    â€œI think I hear a thumping sound coming from one of your tires. Don’t you hear it?”
    He tipped his head toward the driver window. “No, I don’t hear anything. Are you sure?”
    She put on her best concentrating face. “I’m sure of it. You’d better do a walkaround as soon as you can and check it out.”
    Getz pulled the SUV up in front of the restaurant. As soon as the tires stopped rolling, Melissa jumped out. “You can check your tires. I’ll get a table and meet you inside.”
    The Tuscan Villa was a storefront with a deep interior. It was built with an abundance of wood, both on the floors and in the walls. The right-hand side of the large room had an oil painting of an Italian street scene.
    Melissa chose a table in the back of the restaurant, away from the window. She sat with her back to the door. A candle in a fishnet-wrapped globe burned in the center of the thick, crisp, white tablecloth. She bent close and blew the candle out.
    Getz arrived at the table, exhaled loudly. “The tires looked okay; I don’t know what you were hearing.”
    Melissa shrugged. “Maybe just road noise. Never hurts to be careful.”
    After he was seated, he ordered a seafood plate. He tried to get Melissa to do the same, but she demurred. She kept her back turned to the server and ordered only salad and bread sticks.
    She wondered what Aaron Getz had in mind. No, correct that. She knew what Aaron Getz had in mind. What was in doubt was how the evening would turn out for Mr. Getz, not for her. Either way, it was not going to be what he expected.
    Dinner arrived. Melissa reached down for her purse on the floor as the server put the plates on the table, keeping her face from view.
    â€œI had another thought,” said Melissa. “For the virtual friend concept. Have you considered having living people do virtual clones of themselves?”
    Getz raised an eyebrow in query as he lifted a bread stick to his mouth.
    â€œSuppose a person wants to come up with a virtual representation of himself. A virtual clone. He works through a battery of questions. We get his or her history, psych profile, everything. We do it all on a secure website so the person’s privacy is protected. When it’s all complete, the person can put it to work on Facebook or any other venue he chooses.”
    He put his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Hmmm, maybe, I see what you mean. Instead of us building out celebrities on our own, the celeb himself may wish to take ownership of his virtual clone for his own purposes? Frankly, we had not considered that. Well done!”
    â€œNot just that. Not just celebrities. I’m thinking far out now. You tell me if I’m going too far. What about a father? He’s got cancer, and he wants to leave something of himself for his family. Someone who’ll be here when he is actually gone? And maybe a mother wants a clone of her sixteen-year-old daughter, so she’ll always have her the way she remembers her?”
    â€œHey, you are thinking.” He tapped his finger against the tabletop. “I knew hiring you was going to be a good move for us.” He sat back, turned his head and waved toward the server, who was setting up a nearby table. “Hey, can we get a couple of cappuccinos?”
    Minutes later, two of the Italian coffees arrived with a small biscotto on the side. When the dinner plates were cleared away, he gave her that look again. Familiar, conspiratorial. “We anticipate there