“Every site has at least two authoritative nameservers. The DNS sends you the IP address of the website’s content. Basically, it connects your computer with the computer where the website is.”
The brewery's little slit windows shot warm light eastwards. My computer screen antiqued as the clock turned over to 7:00 PM. Keiko stood behind me, leaning on the back of my chair to see the on-screen DNS diagram.
Dario rolled up the blueprints, tucking them one by one into a black plastic tube, while Lear wiped a crude HVAC diagram off the whiteboard. He asked us to lock up and left for the day. Dario retrieved his cane and exited with him, bidding us a goodnight. I muttered a response. The warmth of Keiko’s body slowly crept up the back of my neck, her shadow looming over my head. A soft, steady breath tickled my shoulder, a nasal wheeze in my ear.
“Are you asleep?”
Her lack of response answered my question. How’d she even do that standing up?
U.H. and Cat returned in grease-stained coveralls to retrieve their bags. “Yo, D. We’re headin’ out, you wanna come? Looks like Koko’s already clocked out.”
Scowling, I snapped my fingers in front of Keiko’s face. She snuffled awake. “Wearing a webba dress, got it.”
“We’re going to have to revisit a few key topics, unfortunately,” I told them. “You two have fun.”
U.H. clicked their teeth. “Man, I’m glad I’m not you, D,” they said, then nodded back towards the door. Cat shot Keiko a customary warning glare, then the pair left where they came.
“What was that about?” Keiko yawned.
“They’re having some party at Cat’s place. Imbibing a… variety of concoctions.”
“Sounds fun. We should go.”
“No.”
“I’ll go, then,” Keiko said, stretching her arms above her head. “You can stay here and google yourself.”
“No, K, we still have more to cover since you slept through the Domain Name System. Besides, if you go, they’ll make me go.”
“So?”
“So, I…” It’s not that I didn’t want to, exactly. “I just don’t.”
“Why?”
Being vague was the best I could muster. “I guess… I’m worried I’ll slip up and give up too much information. Misspeak, like when we met, remember? I can’t be as careful in real life as I am on the computer.”
“Oh. I get it. They’re Google.”
“What?”
“They’ll remember stuff about you. So it’s better to just not go there at all.”
“I guess so, yeah.” I smiled. “Look at you. You catch more than I give you credit for.”
After a self-satisfied flourish, Keiko retreated to the bathroom. Being alone in the brewery felt odd, especially as the sun went down, like a lock-in in middle school. Normally, I’d be safe in my mouse hole apartment by now, soothed by the sounds of Paula’s kitchen.
Should I go to Cat’s? Saying no had become automatic, not that they asked me out much anymore. I mulled over Keiko’s metaphor, that they were like Google. The thing was, Cat and U.H. were on my side, the closest thing I had to friends. They had no ulterior motives. If tomorrow they knew everything, it wouldn’t change our relationship.
But U.H. can’t keep their mouth shut unless they’re talking to a cop. Like a worm, the information would steadily spread until it hit the wrong desk. Better to keep that gap between us. Safer that way, for me, and for them.
Keiko returned, tucking her patterned shirt back into her slacks. We went over DNS again. When I checked if she was paying attention, she was—to my legs again. I tried to get mad about it; to pretend that the way her eyes traced over me with appreciation—the way her lips definitely were parted now—didn’t send electrical thrills through me.
She looked privately contrite for an instant, then looked up at me. It startled my gaze back down to my computer screen. “I think,” I said, swallowing to wet my dry throat, “that’s enough for today.”
K stood with me, pointedly not looking now, and we exited through the loading bay. After leaping off the dock, Keiko offered a hand to help me down in what was becoming a routine.
“Hold on.” I dug through my bag. “I have to lock up.”
K leaned against the concrete platform, staring out at the street instead of at me four feet above her in a short dress, which I appreciated. She fired up a cigarette, asking for Cat’s address.
“I don't remember,” I muttered, distracted. “It’s in my texts, I’ll check in a second.” Where were the keys? There was too much shit in this bag. I crouched down, taking items out one by one, hoping to locate the keychain through process of elimination. My laptop, my triple-encrypted smartphone, my pipe, my headphones, a green bic lighter, a makeup case… Did I leave them inside?
“What’s that?” Keiko was looking down over her shoulder, finger tracing textured glass.
“A pipe,” I said.
K snatched her hand away. “You mean like a crack pipe?!” she exclaimed in a harsh whisper, her body closing in as if to block me from sight.
Her bug-eyed expression baffled me. “No, it’s for weed.”
“Uoh! So it’s really for drugs?”
“Weed, yeah. You’re a total criminal, don’t tell me you’ve never smoked weed before.”
“No!” It was a shocked, indignant protest. “I mean, thinner when I was a shitty brat, sure, but never-” she leaned in and lowered her voice- “drugs.”
“Oh my God, it’s just weed,” I snapped—annoyed, amused. “It’s legal in like ten states, please relax.”
“Crazy. Cops nail you to the wall for this shit in Japan. You an addict?” Keiko was such a slick customer; hearing her talk like a middle-schooler fresh out of the D.A.R.E. program was utterly bizarre.
“Nicotine is addictive.” I bent forward, plucking the cigarette from her mouth, taking a drag, then handing it back to her. “Cannabis isn’t.”
Keiko stared at the cigarette in her hand, frowning. “What does it do?”
“Here, I’ll bring up the Wikipedia page and you can read about it.” I tapped out, “effects of mari-“ before Keiko’s long fingers touched the top of my phone, gently lowering it out of my attention.
“It really doesn’t mess you up?” It was shy, an earnest appeal, a question asked in trust. We only just began working together. I’d stolen her money, and tried my damndest to track down every dark secret she had. How could a hardened criminal like her trust me so implicitly?
“K, I’m not asking you to try it.”
“Should I?”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, then no, you shouldn’t.” Keiko’s cigarette hesitated an inch from her lips before she took a drag. I retreated to my phone screen. “Really, you should do some research and make an informed-“
“Fuck it!” K stepped back, clapped her hands once. “I do my own research. Where you staying?”
“I am not telling you where I live.”
“My place, then. You wanna drive the bike this time?”
I went back to digging through my bag instead of answering. Keiko having her hands free at forty miles an hour seemed like a bad idea.
“I’ll help,” she said.
“I’m sure. Ah! Here they are.” My hand closed around the jingling key-ring, trapped inside my bag’s torn lining. I locked the bay doors before walking back to the lip and waiting. When I realized I was waiting, I sank down to climb off.
“Shit, sorry,” K hustled over to help me down. Her hand buzzed with nervous energy.
“K, really, you don’t have to do this.” I leaned against her more than usual, worried about breaking a heel or an ankle. “I’m not asking you to.”
“No, I want to,” she said, too fast, still holding my hand. I remembered the palpable feel of her eyes on me. Maybe smoking wasn’t what she was nervous about. But how could that be? She hit on any woman with a pulse. Then again, if you’d told me five minutes ago that she’d never done drugs before, I wouldn’t have believed you. Teetering on my heels, I fell forward into her and stumbled, but didn’t break anything. Her hand left my hip.
Flush under my chin, I pushed past Keiko; pushed my hat back; pulled my helmet from the seat. After straddling the bike, I stabbed the key into the ignition. Keiko slithered on behind me like a constrictor.
“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”
“Where do you want my hands?” she purred in my ear. Back to normal. It was almost comforting.
“Nowhere,” I groused, booting back the kickstand.
“Ya want me to fall off? I’m crushed.”
“I should make you walk,” I said as she reached for me. “Not there,” I muttered, pulling my helmet on. “Definitely not there.”
“What, you want my to hold on by those fucking cat ears?”
“Fine. Just don’t paw around.”
“You got it, Master,” she teased.
“Don’t.”
“What, that one on the list along with ‘baby’?”
“Definitely.”
“Back it up first, you wanna get it off the gravel before you hit the throttle.”
“I know, I got it here on my own this morning.” I rolled the bike back like exhibit A. “Just point me where to go.”