Chapter 1 of Entangled

Chapter 1

There was nothing ceremonious in the way Sheri Forrester slid from under the covers, tossing the sheet aside, and sitting at the edge of the bed. She took a few moments to catch her breath before rising to fetch the robe she left draped over the hotel room's desk chair. Reminding herself that Steven was at least a decent lover - not the best she'd had, but eager - she slipped quietly into the robe.

As she sauntered toward the bathroom, Steven watched her casually, savoring the view of her legs to help soothe his soul after the storm of a great woman's body. Eyes closed, he let a few minutes pass to daydream the episode before opening his eyes and spotting the marketing report on the nightstand.

He stirred under the sheets, reaching out for that report he grabbed earlier in the day during the Wireless Expo nearby in San Francisco’s Moscone Center. This generic wireless report he had picked up between his customer meetings and his speech. For him, there was probably nothing he hadn't already seen, but maybe the author's different perspective would provide some amusement. Sometimes a different view would complement his strategies, sometimes it would point out a weakness that he could exploit in his competitors, and sometimes it would crucify his company. In Steven's mind, all information was to be used opportunistically.

Sheri, meanwhile, emerged from the bathroom, strode to the desk, and drew out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse. “You want one?” she teased out of habit. He would say no, as usual, but maybe one day she would entice him into one long drag, just for her. Making men do anything they didn't want to do was a fun challenge. She turned and held out the pack to him.

“No, my little minx. You know better than that,” Steven replied in his practiced, patronizing voice.

Shrugging, Sheri pulled a single cigarette from the box with her lips. “Your loss,” she said, making the stick waggle. She tossed the pack on the desk and lit up, taking a long, slow inhale. She could always count on smoking afterward to give her some satisfaction no matter who she was with.

“Though,” Steven interjected into the silence, “you might get me that scotch you offered me earlier.” He had skipped the scotch when he entered the room, going straight for her; now, he figured she was up anyway.

“Sure, okay. Just-” she took another long drag, “gimme a minute.”

For a few more moments, Steven watched her pace and puff, staring out the big bay window into the East Bay like a panther. He watched how positively feline Sheri could be; disappearing like a house cat to preen one moment, prowling like a huntress the next. At 38, her body was lithe and toned as if she exercised constantly to keep herself fit and tight.

Once she stamped the half-smoked cigarette out, Sheri strode to the mini-bar and pulled two baby bottles of Scotch from the rack. Two ice cubes for Steven, she recalled. After pouring, she brought both glasses to the mattress beside him.

“These rooms here remind me of my grandparents who lived in Daly City back in the sixties and seventies. Something about the teak furniture, I think,” Steven commented, recalling his childhood visits to San Francisco.

“It’s a little out of style, don’t you think?” Sheri said without much care.

“But that’s its charm, and the view here is spectacular,” he said cheerily as his eyes moved from the furniture to the big bay window looking out into the Bay. In all his travels, he could not really appreciate decor or style even though most of the rooms he stayed in were top notch. No, he was much more taken with the windows, the most interesting feature of any hotel room. The views from the window said a lot about the hotel, whether it was a good view from a half-rate hotel, or if you watched trash bins from above. A window showed the living city, cars and people in a symphony of movement. A picture or painting on a wall was so static, like his life lately.

“So what’s new at T.W.P?” Steven asked. “You never said you'd be at the Expo and surprised me with your message this morning.”

Sheri smiled before delivering, “Ah, well, I have been busy, but if you have to know, I've got this new project idea. If I told you anything else I'd need to kill you.” Actually, as Vice President of Research and Development at Terra Wireless Products her schedule demanded constant travel between TWP's design facilities in San Diego, Colorado, and New Jersey, their headquarters. Her job had grown beyond the convenience of video conferencing, especially with Asian companies who had very different views on business relationships than U.S. companies. Besides, she figured out long ago, why bother with a conference call when she could traverse the world in TWP-sponsored style, a perk she had earned?

Her mind vectored to the new project. She still struggled with the implications of its fantastic possibilities.

The radio section of a satellite, and even of mobile phones, consisted of a complex and sensitive array of integrated circuits and discrete resistors and capacitors, the guts of modern radios. The integrated circuits were a specialized process technology different and more costly than their counterparts in computers. This entire radio section was commonly the most sensitive and problematic of all sections of a satellite's payload. With this new technology, the issues associated with the radio design complexity and sensitivity to manufacturing the boards would be radically reduced, maybe even eliminated entirely, slashing manufacturing costs while also enhancing reliability through the hazardous launch stage.

“Perhaps,” Sheri continued teasingly, “I can tell you it promises to revolutionize satellite radio design and resolve all those nasty satellite production problems, if you promise not to tell.”

“Sounds very interesting. Won't that end up disrupting...” Steven almost continued, but he realized he would jeopardize losing Sheri's focus to her corporate quest for promotion again. “I'll just leave that to you.”

“Well, sure. Someday the supply chain will break, but the project is still in research mode and won’t be ready for production for at least three years. Nothing to worry about for a long time.”

Silence pressed in for a minute as their thoughts diverged, so Steven took Sheri's glass and set both on the nightstand and motioned for her to sit.

He began, “I’ve got to catch an early flight tomorrow. How much longer before you get home?”

“I'm in Korea for another week. But I am here for one more night.”

“So,” Steven smiled as his hand slid under the sheets, searching for the smooth skin of her thigh, “let's merger again, shall we?”