Page 32 of Starrily
“What’s the email you sent me?”
Simon thought for a moment. “Oh, that one. I thought the subject line ‘future projects to fund’ was pretty clear.”
“Astronomy non-profits. Courses to teach science to less privileged kids. And—” Everett checked his phone. “A foundation to support efforts in space exploration and observation?”
Simon shrugged. “Anything wrong with those?”
“They’re not exactly profitable.”
“The ‘non-profit’ is right there in the name—”
“Don’t you sass me, boy.”
When Everett got to “boy,” Simon knew it was serious. So he put his earbuds down and stood. “You’re always looking for things to invest in. Since we’re supporting QueLabs and the Selene mission, I thought this would fit.”
“Yes, but why these?”
“Because they’re important.”
“To whom?”
Simon paused, getting a strange feeling of embarrassment from Everett’s look. “Me.”
Everett slowly approached, clearly calculating something behind his narrowed eyes. “Actually, it might work out in our favor. We could qualify for income tax exemptions, but we’ll have to work the numbers—” He leaned toward the computer screen.
“Uh—yeah, sure, you can do that.” Simon moved in front of it but didn’t conceal it in time.
“What is that?”
“An online astronomy course.” Simon folded his arms, then released them when he realized it made him look like a teenager trying to defend his transgressions to his parents.
“Ah. Now I see. Clever.”
Wait, what?
“You’re doing this to impress the doctor. Good.” Everett nodded.
Simon looked from him to the monitor. “Right,” he said slowly. If Everett came to that conclusion, he wasn’t going to oppose it, even if it was wrong. For once, he’d outwitted Everett. Inadvertently, but it still counted. “So, you’ll take care of the new projects?”
Everett sighed and headed for the door. “Yes,” he drew out and left the office.
***
“I strictly forbade ABBA while I’m coding.” Callie reached for Simon’s phone, but he was faster and grabbed it and swung away on his chair.
“You’re no fun.”
“We’ve established that. Now please, stop it with the funky music.”
“All right, all right.” He quieted the phone, got up, and walked to the window.
“Many things help scientists focus during their hard work. For Dr. Guidry, disco music isnotone of them,” Jessica narrated to no one in particular, blinked a couple of times, then started typing into her phone.
“Correct that to any type of fun music,” Simon said.
“That would imply there’s such a thing as unfun music—” Callie objected.
“And if there is, you’d surely know.”
