Dirty Dining (26 page)

He ran the whole way home to burn off excess energy and tossed his book bag on the couch. He opened the refrigerator and spotted the container of leftovers from dinner with Brice a few days earlier. They were meeting again tonight, but Jeremy still had most of the day to kill.

In the bedroom he stripped and pulled on his cycling shorts and a black-and-green jersey and filled up a few water bottles. Then he carried his bike down the stairs and headed up the street. A few turns and he hit a steep uphill grade. He switched gears smoothly and had to stand on his pedals to make any progress. His thighs burned, and his throat was raw from pulling enough air. He recovered on a flatter patch but kept pushing himself higher and higher into the Berkeley hills, pushing his body to its limits.

He hadn’t been on these hills in months, and his fitness had deteriorated. At least now he had plenty of time to get back in shape. He took breaks for snacks or hydration, but kept climbing until he’d nearly hit exhaustion. He still had to make it back home.

From the top of Grizzly Peak, he had one of the most amazing views of the San Francisco Bay, with the city dissolving into a foggy haze across the choppy, gray expanse of water. Cyclists know there are two good reasons to keep climbing any hill. First, the view, which he took time to appreciate. He watched sailboats skimming the surface of the bay and the traffic crawling along Highway 80 until his breathing returned to normal. The second reason to climb was the amazing ride down. On a good hill, you never needed to pedal until you hit the bottom. And Grizzly wasn’t just a good hill; it was a great hill.

When he’d recovered enough to feel almost like himself again, he tightened his helmet strap, clipped his shoes into the pedals, and headed down, shifting into the highest gear. The road was narrow and winding, and around the next bend, he might encounter a car or a cliff. It kept a cyclist on his toes. Jeremy sped down the hill, zigging and zagging around parked cars and oncoming traffic. Wind rustled in his ears, and the breeze cooled his overheated body.

A block from home, he made the final turn onto Spruce. A car coming from a side street turned directly into him, and before he could react, he found himself sliding across the car’s hood and onto the pavement on the other side.

“Oh my God. Are you okay? I am so sorry. I saw you, but I didn’t think you were going so fast. Are you hurt? Oh my God!” The driver, a woman, hovered over him. From inside her car, he heard a baby’s panicky cries.

Slowly he examined himself, testing every joint before he tried to stand. Nothing was broken. His head felt a little thick, and he’d ripped the jersey, leaving bloody streaks where the skin had been scraped raw by the asphalt. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m okay. It’s okay.”

The woman seemed ready to hyperventilate. Traffic swerved around them, a few people stopped to ask if he needed help or an ambulance. He waved the assistance away.

“Let’s go to the hospital. I want to make sure you’re okay. We need to call the cops.”

“I’m really okay. Just a little scraped, and I might—will— need a new jersey.” He glanced at the bike. It would need some minor repairs. Again. It was better than the alternative.

The crying baby raised its voice an octave.

“Look, ma’am, I’m okay. Don’t worry. Your baby—”

“Here’s my information.” She handed him a business card, and he stuffed it into a pocket in his jersey. “Send me any medical bills or bike repair costs. I live nearby. My home address is on here too.”

“I will. Thanks.”

She reluctantly got back in the car and drove off, still watching him.

Jeremy retrieved the bike. It was too damaged to ride, so he hoisted it over his shoulder. Ouch, better use the other. It was a short walk home. He just needed a hot shower and some ibuprofen.

A
FEW
hours later, he felt stiff and achy, but he was sure nothing was broken. He was supposed to meet Brice in the city, and even though he couldn’t wait to see Brice, his body already resisted. He dialed Brice.

“Hiya.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“You never call when I’m at work.”

“I had a little accident today.”

“Accident.” Worry infused Brice’s words. “Are you okay?”

“A little achy. I fell off my bike.” He laughed so it sounded like nothing. He would not tell Brice about the car or risk freaking him out too much.

“Are you at home? Hospital?”

“Home. It wasn’t that bad, but I’m kind of….”

“I’ll go over to your place tonight. Get some rest till I get there.”

“You sure?” Jeremy loved how Brice’s first thought was to come here. Doug had a break in his lab work and had taken the opportunity to go skiing in Tahoe with some friends. They would have plenty of privacy.

“Don’t argue. Do you need me to bring something?”

“Yeah. I’m out of condoms.”

“That’s the first thing you think of?”

“And some ice cream?”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Go back to work and don’t worry about me.”

“I will worry, until I see you.” Brice made a kissy noise and hung up.

Jeremy laughed, but it hurt, so he tried to stop and couldn’t. When they’d met, Brice was not the sort of guy to make kissy noises over the phone. Jeremy chuckled again, then swallowed a few more pills and lay down on the couch.

He woke to the sound of knocking.

“It’s open.”

Brice came in carrying several white paper bags.

“You didn’t even ask who it was.”

“Okay. Who is it?”

“Land shark.”

“I don’t get it.”

With an exaggerated headshake, Brice put the bags down on the table, then planted a kiss on Jeremy’s head. “Never mind.” Brice sat on the couch next Jeremy and brushed hair out of his face before giving him a visual once-over. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore.” He shrugged and wished he hadn’t. His arm and shoulder stung.

“You need a bandage on that shoulder. Or do you want to eat first?”

“Food. Please. Thanks.”

Brice had stopped at the Thai place Jeremy liked over on Hearst, and he’d also gotten a pint of his favorite ice cream at the shop around the corner. Pistachio. He couldn’t believe Brice had remembered. They’d only been there once before.

“Anything else in your bag of tricks, Mary Poppins?”

“Right.” Brice dug into the bag, pulled out a 12-pack of condoms, and tossed them to Jeremy.

“Twelve? Did you invite someone else over? Like a football team?”

“I’m making an investment in our future.”

All Jeremy could do was smile. He’d probably say something sappy if he spoke.

It was nice having Brice fuss over him, helping him eat and then putting the bandage on Jeremy’s shoulder. Once he had assured himself Jeremy really had only suffered a few scrapes and bruises, he gave Jeremy a special “healing” blowjob and refused to let him reciprocate.

Jeremy yawned and stretched his legs out over Brice’s on the couch. “Why am I lying here naked while you’re still fully clothed?”

“You said you liked that.”

“Maybe not every single time.”

“You’re right.” Brice carefully moved Jeremy’s legs off his lap and got up, then proceeded to strip down. “Better?”

“Yes.” At least the view was better. With the crash, Jeremy had put the morning’s bad news out of his brain. But now it nagged at him. Hearing it would probably upset Brice as much as the accident had, so Jeremy decided to wait until another time to share the news.

They snuggled on the couch and watched a film on Netflix. It was something French Jeremy had wanted to see, but his head was too foggy for the subtitles, so they turned it off.

“Brice?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a lawyer for a VC, but you must know something about the investment side, right?”

“A little. What did you want to know?”

“How does it work? I mean, what’s the process when the VC invests in companies?”

“It depends on the company. Did you have a specific question?”

“How does it work in biotech? How much control does the VC have over how the company uses the money?”

“Sometimes the VC buys an ownership share, and the company uses the capital as they see fit. Other times, they fund specific projects and offer management advice. Usually it’s somewhere in between. Depends on the company, the product, stage of development…. It gets kind of complicated.”

Jeremy was already aware of the complications. “Can they just pull out their money?”

“That’s more in my line of expertise. It depends on the contract. Whether there are specific targets the portfolio company has to meet, for example.”

“This is good information. Let me take some notes. I won’t remember everything.” He started to get up.

“What do you need?”

“A notebook from my bag.”

“There’s one in mine, right behind you.” Brice started to get up.

“I can reach.” Jeremy sat up and leaned over the arm of the couch to grab Brice’s bag.

“Help yourself,” Brice said.

Jeremy fished around and spotted a legal pad. When he pulled it out, a binder got stuck in the pages and caught his attention. His mind must be playing tricks on him from the meds and the crash. He took the binder out. The front cover read in big letters:

PHARMATEK

3
RD
Q
UARTER
R
EPORT
2014

What connection did Brice have to PharmaTek? Jeremy had never mentioned them by name before so Brice couldn’t already have heard about Jeremy’s connection with them. He felt quicksand in his core, and he looked up at Brice.

T
HE
LOOK
on Jeremy’s face when he pulled the PharmaTek binder out of his bag worried Brice. Jeremy had gone deathly pale. Probably just a delayed reaction from the fall, which appeared to be more serious than Jeremy believed.

“What’s this?”

“A report from a company in our portfolio. Technically it’s confidential, but if you want to take a look, go ahead. I can explain some of the terms in this particular contract.”

“Brice….” Jeremy’s voice shook. “Brice, this is the company sponsoring my research. Do you work for the VC that finances PharmaTek?”

Pieces clicked into place, and Brice understood why Jeremy was asking questions. PharmaTek must have told him their funding was being reviewed. No wonder he wanted to know whether they could pull out of sponsoring him. But if they had told Jeremy the worst of it, he would have let Brice know.

“My firm owns the majority stake in PharmaTek.” That was public information, though the news that they were about to dump their share was not yet public.

“Oh. Interesting.” Jeremy didn’t say more, and Brice thought he might drop the subject. He saw Jeremy bite his lip for a moment, thinking, then he put the binder back in the bag.

Disaster averted? He wouldn’t have to be the one to break the news to Jeremy about his research. Brice took a tentative breath, but his chest still hurt. It was the first time he’d had specific insider information someone else needed to know. Even though PharmaTek wasn’t publicly traded, Brice was not free to discuss their financials yet.

He remembered how excited Jeremy had been the past week, talking about his research, his confidence that the latest successes would make a difference. Brice already knew the results hadn’t changed a thing as far as Christie, Parker, and Lane were concerned. But how could he let Jeremy get blindsided?

Because it was his job to keep his client’s information confidential.

There wasn’t supposed to be any gray area on what was legal. But for Brice, everything about his relationship with Jeremy was gray area from the moment they’d met.

“Jeremy?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not public knowledge, but…. But the firm voted to discontinue funding to PharmaTek. Last week. The details are still being finalized, but I’m sure you’ll be hearing from them soon. I’m really sorry.”

“I know. I already heard.” Jeremy’s voice had gone flat. “Did you vote?”

Brice considered lying and rejected the option. “Yes.”

“For or against?”

Brice had insisted on honesty from Jeremy, and despite the unpleasantness, Jeremy deserved the same. “Against.”

“Why? Did you see the latest data? We’re really close to making everything work. Really close.”

“I didn’t have the new data at the time. If I had, I would have voted differently. The senior partners reconsidered their decision when they heard about the new results, but I wasn’t part of the final decision to sell.” He paused, hating himself for not having fought harder before that last-ditch effort from PharmaTek. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry it’s affected you and your work.”

“Not just me. Not just the PharmaTek people. Everyone who contracts HIV because of the delay while they find new funding and we get the research started again will be affected. A change in process or a gap in the data could slow down any eventual FDA approval.”

It was a heavy burden to lay on anyone, and it hadn’t been Brice’s vote that sealed PharmaTek’s fate. But Jeremy wouldn’t want to hear Brice’s excuses.

“If the latest results show the vaccine worked, wouldn’t CPL have voted differently?” Brice needed to believe the system worked.

“It’s not a question of works or doesn’t work. The vaccine works. We’re fine-tuning how it gets administered to the patient. We’re much closer than ever before.”

“Closer. So no one knows it would work, or get approved, or a dozen other things. There is still a lot of uncertainty for the investors.”

“You know there’s more to it than money. There are millions of lives at risk. Not just gay and bisexual men, but men and women in Africa and Asia, where—” Jeremy paused for breath, face flushed, eyes angry. “And as for defining success, Brice, the thing that keeps scientists trying new things every day, the reason people like the PharmaTek guys started their company, is even though every single thing up till today failed,
today
could be the day we get it right. If we didn’t believe we could succeed every day, why bother to go into the lab? We can’t play probabilities that the next thing won’t work simply because the probability is so small.”