The Blue Nowhere Excerpt The battered white van had made her uneasy. She looked outside again, into the overcast drizzle, and saw no sign of the windowless Econoline that, she believed, had followed her from her house, a few miles away, to the restaurant. Lara slid off the barstool and walked to the window, glanced outside. Nor was it across the street in the Apple Computer lot or the one next to it, belonging to Sun Microsystems.
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The Blue Nowhere Excerpt The battered white van had made her uneasy. She looked outside again, into the overcast drizzle, and saw no sign of the windowless Econoline that, she believed, had followed her from her house, a few miles away, to the restaurant. Lara slid off the barstool and walked to the window, glanced outside. Nor was it across the street in the Apple Computer lot or the one next to it, belonging to Sun Microsystems. A coincidence, she decided — a coincidence aggravated by a splinter of paranoia.
She returned to the bar and glanced at the two young men who were alternately ignoring her and offering subtle smiles. Like nearly all the young men here for happy hour they were in casual slacks and tie-less dress shirts and wore the ubiquitous insignia of Silicon Valley — corporate identification badges on thin canvas cords around their necks.
These two sported the blue of Sun Microsystems. Other squadrons here represented were Compaq, Hewlett Packard and Apple, not to mention a slew of new kids on the block, startup Internet companies, which were held in some disdain by the venerable Valley regulars. At thirty-two, Lara Gibson was probably five years older than her two admirers. She figured that it would be two minutes before one of these boys approached her and she missed that estimate by only ten seconds.
But those would be women weaker than she. End of conversation. He blinked at her frankness, avoided her staunch eyes and returned to his friend. She sipped her drink. It had been driven by some kid. He was white but his hair was knotted into messy dreadlocks. He wore combat fatigues and, despite the overcast and misty rain, sunglasses.
Still, the driver had seemed to stare at her with an eerie hostility. Lara found herself absently fondling the can of pepper spray she kept in her purse. Another glance out the window. Only fancy cars bought with dot-com money.
A look around the room. Only harmless geeks. Relax, she told herself and sipped her potent martini. She glanced at the wall clock. Quarter after seven. Sandy was fifteen minutes late. Not like her. She was about to find the pay phone when she glanced up and saw a young man enter the bar and wave at her. His trim but long blonde hair and the goatee had stuck in her mind. He wore white jeans and a rumpled blue work shirt. He and his pregnant wife sat at the same table with her and her boyfriend, Hank.
How you doing? She was impressed. Will flagged down the bartender and ordered a light beer. Lara looked toward it quickly, alarmed. But the vehicle turned out to be a white Ford Explorer with a young couple in the front seats. In Mountain View. She made a reservation at eight.
He pulled his wallet out and flipped it open to a picture of himself, his wife and a very tiny, ruddy baby. Well, never mind that. The dreadlocks. The rusty smear on the battered door. Will gestured for the check and paid. Then he stood. It was just paranoia, she told herself. She thought momentarily, as she did from time to time, that she should get a real job, like all of these people in the bar had.
Sure, just paranoia. Will stepped outside and opened his umbrella. He held it up for both of them to use. Here he was a husband and new father, with other people to depend on him.
He was born from a mother who was a homemaker, and a father that worked as an advertising copywriter, which seems a bit of foreshadowing. He has one younger sister named Julie Deaver. A very interesting fact is that he actually completed his first two chapter book when he was as young as eleven years old. When he grew up, he chose to attend the University of Missouri in order to gain an education in his preferred field of study. After graduation he worked in the field for a few years as a magazine writer. However, he aspired to work for The New York Times as a legal consultant, but would not be taken seriously without an applicable degree. So, he enrolled in the Fordham Law School to study legal review.
The Blue Nowhere (2001)