Free The Anti Social Network by Sadie Hayes Page A

names. “Meet the girls,” he said. They giggled and smiled at Henry.
    “Want a hit?” one of the girls asked Adam.
    “No, thanks,” Adam answered, stumbling to the door of his inner room. “I’ve got to make a phone call.”
    “Adam!” Henry shouted. “Who are you calling at three-thirty in the morning? Unless it’s a pizza boy, I suggest you restrain yourself.”
    “Ooh, pizza! Can we get pizza?” one of the girls squealed.
    Adam shouted from the other room. “It’s not pizza!”
    “Don’t do it, Adam.” Henry was standing in the doorway now, looking at Adam perched on his bed with his phone in hand. “How many times have you called her tonight?”
    Adam tried to downplay it. “I only left one message—”
    “How many times, Adam?”
    “Four.”
    “Come on, mate. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
    “It’s none of your business,” Adam said. “Go back to your girls.”
    “No more calls tonight, Adam. You’ll regret it. Mark my words.” Adam motioned for Henry to leave the room. As he shut the door, he dialed Lisa’s number.
    He heard a sleepy voice pick up on the other end. “Hello?”
    “Lisa! Lisa, Lisa. Where are you?”
    “I’m in bed, Adam. It’s almost four in the morning.”
    “Do you want to come over?”
    “Now? I have class at nine.”
    “Oh, okay. Well, sweet dreams then.”
    “Goodnight, Adam.”
    “I love you,” he said, but she had already hung up.

Chapter XXI
No Simple Highway
    A melia sat across from Tom at Juniper Café, a fancy Greek restaurant in Menlo Park, nibbling at the hummus plate he’d ordered as an appetizer. When she’d googled the restaurant and seen the prices on the menu, she’d realized she probably needed to dress up. She’d stopped by the Gap on the way home from the incubator and bought a simple, navy linen dress with spaghetti straps and a pair of gold braided sandals. She paid seventy dollars for the outfit—more than she could remember ever having spent on clothes—but the girl in the dressing room had told her she
had
to get it because it fit her perfectly. Still, she felt like an imposter wearing something other than her normal jean shorts and plaid shirt.
    That morning, they had made the decision to bring Amit, a shy sophomore from Bangalore, and Marcus, a precocious redheaded junior from Chicago, onto the engineering team. Amit had worked as a programmer in India throughout high school and was a machine at developing and replicating code; Marcus was an expert on iPhone application software and had interned at Cisco the summer before, giving him exposure to a range of products relevant to Doreye.
    They were quirky in their own ways, but Amelia liked them both very much. They would each work fifteen hours a week on tasks that Amelia would assign every Monday.
    Tom had brought her to dinner to celebrate the first hires. The restaurant was small and intimate, with only a dozen or so tables covered in white tablecloths. The dining room was dimly lit by candles and stained-glass lanterns mounted on the dark wooden walls.
    “Can I tempt you with a glass of champagne?” Tom asked.
    “Sure,” she said. Since playing ZOSTRA at the Lair last Wednesday, she had been more open to alcohol. She had never had champagne before; what was the harm in trying?
    “Excellent,” he said, motioning over the waiter.
    They toasted. “To expanding your team,” Tom said as he clinked her glass. Amelia winced at the sour flavor of the champagne, and Tom noticed.
    “It’s an acquired taste. Talk to me in five years and you’ll love it.” Over lamb moussaka and grilled halibut, they chatted about Doreye, the team, their progress and next steps. After the waiter had cleared their plates, Tom leaned forward and placed his hands on the table.
    “So, Amelia, I wanted to bring you to dinner tonight in part to celebrate, and in part to make a suggestion.” She took a sip of her champagne. She was on her second glass and was feeling open to ideas, but this