Chapter 93: Put the Phone Down

Alexandra had already removed the cover when Liam reached the workshop. The two recorders lay beside each other beneath the lamp, their wires exposed, while a student sat near the door with his backpack between his shoes. Liam put his bag down and pulled out the empty chair. After the message, he had expected something more elaborate than a badly fitted plastic case and a label printed slightly crooked. Looking at it now, he felt more annoyed than threatened. They hadn’t even finished correcting their own mistake before someone decided it was worth repeating.

"This is yours?"

The student nodded.

"I bought one from her before. This was for my roommate."

"Where did you get it?"

"Someone posted it in a student group. Said it was the same design for less."

He handed over his phone. Liam read the short conversation while Alexandra turned the second recorder toward him. The seller had claimed better value, immediate availability, and the same performance as the ones being sold around campus. There was no mention of Liam or Alexandra having approved it, though the photograph made the connection easy enough to assume. Liam asked the student to send them the listing and messages, then returned the phone before examining the device itself.

Material Analysis confirmed the damaged insulation Alexandra had already found. The wire had been pressed hard enough to leave a mark, and one soldered connection moved when she touched it with the tip of her tool. Liam watched her demonstrate the problem, then glanced at the original beside it. Whoever had assembled the copy had understood where the parts belonged without understanding why they needed more room.

"Can you return it?"

"He said he’d meet me tomorrow."

"Then take the refund. Tell him what we found."

The student looked toward Alexandra.

"You’re not going to fix it?"

She stopped reaching for the wire. Liam could almost see the answer forming out of habit, the same willingness that had kept her working when she should have been eating or attending to her own assignments. Then she put the tool down and shook her head.

"I can explain the fault. The person who sold it needs to deal with the return."

Liam leaned back without adding anything. She photographed the damaged section, replaced the cover, and wrote a short description for the student to show the seller. Once he left, she remained standing beside the bench with both hands pressed against its edge. Liam waited until she looked at him before moving the original recorder out of the way.

"How many copies?"

"Three sold, according to the listing."

"Then send him the warning. Keep the pictures."

"That’s it?"

"For tonight."

Alexandra folded her arms. She wasn’t satisfied, and he understood why. She had spent evenings assembling the things, answered questions from buyers, and then brought them back when something went wrong. Seeing someone offer the same work at almost half the price would have irritated her even without the copied defect. Liam reached for the listing again, but this time he read it as someone deciding whether he would buy the product.

There wasn’t much there.

’Record lectures. Save files. Carry it in your bag. A phone already does most of that.’

"Why would someone choose ours?"

Alexandra looked at him.

"The sound is better than some phones."

"Enough that you’d spend a hundred and fifty dollars?"

She started to answer, then glanced toward the revised casing. Liam let the silence sit. They had sold ten, which proved that ten people had been willing to buy them. He had somehow allowed that to become proof that they should keep building more, redesigning them, and planning around them without asking how far the idea deserved to go.

"We can improve it," she said.

"I know. Do you want to?"

Her expression changed slightly. She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat, looking at the drawers of components before answering.

"I wanted to finish something that worked."

"You did."

"It broke."

"And you found out why. You fixed the design."

"That doesn’t mean we should abandon everyone who bought one."

"We won’t."

They went through the remaining inspection list and agreed to finish every promised repair or refund. The prototype would stay on the shelf, and the revised design would remain in Alexandra’s notebook. There would be no second batch for now. Liam expected her to argue when he said it, but she only rubbed her eyes and nodded. The decision seemed to disappoint her and relieve her at the same time.

"I thought you’d want to make it bigger."

"I wanted to work with you. I didn’t promise to spend the rest of my life selling these."

She laughed quietly, then looked toward his bag.

"And the power cell?"

"We study it properly. We don’t announce a product because we’re excited."

Alexandra reached for a fresh page. This time, she wrote the unanswered questions first, leaving the space beneath them empty instead of filling it with deadlines. Liam helped her put away the recorders, then called Clara before leaving. He was late, hungry, and beginning to feel the training in his shoulders. When she asked whether anything had exploded, he looked back through the workshop door.

"No. We decided to stop making something."

"That sounds cheaper."

"For once."

By Wednesday afternoon, the student had his eighty dollars back. The seller removed the listing after Alexandra sent photographs of the fault and said he would contact the other two buyers. She saved the exchange, told Liam, and returned to her coursework. Liam read the message between classes and put his phone away. There was no reason to turn three badly made recorders into a personal war.

Thursday’s meeting lasted longer than he wanted, but it produced something useful. Alexandra arrived with notes from her own adviser and corrected Liam twice before the introductions were finished. The first correction concerned how much time she could commit during the semester. The second concerned who would own work she had already done. Liam listened, changed his notes, and discovered that saying he wanted her to be a partner was considerably easier than answering every question that followed.

By the end, they had agreed to have an arrangement drafted around joint ownership, paid work, and decisions requiring both of them. The power cell remained a separate matter until they understood it. Nothing was signed, but Alexandra left with a copy of the notes instead of a vague promise.

Outside, she stopped beside the Bentley.

"You didn’t say much when I disagreed with you."

"You were answering the question."

"I thought you’d be annoyed."

"I was. Apparently, I can be annoyed and still listen."

She smiled, holding the folder against her chest.

"That must be new."

"Very recent."

He dropped her off, then went straight to the final rehearsal with Megan. She had finished the second song, changed the order again, and decided the older piece should open the set. Liam listened to her explanation while taking out the guitar, then asked her to play through all three without stopping. They made it to the end with one missed entrance and a transition that left both of them waiting for the other. They fixed those, repeated the set, and finished before the room booking expired.

Megan checked the time on the recording.

"Fourteen minutes."

"That gives you time to say hello."

"What if nobody answers?"

"Then we leave immediately. Very mysterious."

She pushed his shoulder, laughing, and he caught the guitar before it slipped against the chair. For the first time that evening, the stiffness left her face. Liam packed up while she listened to the opening again, then took the phone from her when she started a third replay.

"It’s ready."

"I’m checking."

"You’re looking for something to worry about."

She held out her hand until he returned it, but she didn’t restart the recording. Instead, she sent the organizer their final song order and put the phone inside her bag.

Friday arrived without another emergency.

Liam considered that suspicious enough to check his messages twice before Clara told him to stop. She was standing beside the bedroom mirror, fastening an earring while he changed his shirt for the second time. The first had been fine until she pointed out that he would be sitting under lights with a guitar pressed against him. Now he wore something lighter, and she looked pleased with herself as he reached for his watch.

"You’re coming with me?"

"Megan asked me to help her get ready. I’m meeting her first."

"So I’m carrying everything."

"You have very useful arms."

Liam looked at her reflection. She smiled, came over to straighten his collar, and kissed him before he could complain again. He caught her around the waist for a moment, keeping her close while she checked the result of her work.

"Better?"

"You’ll do."

"High praise."

"Try singing."

He laughed and let her go.

The venue was a small café with the tables moved close enough together that Liam had to turn sideways while carrying the guitar through. A low platform occupied one corner, with two microphones, a stool, and cables running toward a table near the wall. People were still arriving when he introduced himself to the organizer. She checked his name, showed him where to leave the case, and handed him an envelope.

"For both of you. Thanks for being on time."

Liam looked inside after stepping away. Two hundred dollars. He had spent more than that without noticing on meals he barely remembered, but he closed the envelope carefully and placed it inside the guitar case. This money had come with an arrival time, a set length, and people expecting him to do something properly.

A green panel appeared when he thought about the mission.

[Side Mission: Complete a paid live performance with Megan using an original song.] [Incomplete.]

’I know. Getting paid to stand here would have been too easy.’

Megan arrived with Clara while he was checking the sound. Her hair was loose, and she wore a dark dress beneath the coat she immediately handed over. Clara took it without complaint, then pointed toward a table where Diane was already waiting. Liam lifted a hand in greeting before turning back to Megan. She looked at the microphone, the stool, and the people near the counter before coming closer.

"More people than I expected."

"They’ve got coffee. We’re competing with the machine."

"That isn’t helping."

He passed her the microphone and let her check the height herself. The first few words came out too softly, so the organizer adjusted the sound and asked her to try again. This time, Megan’s voice reached the back of the room clearly enough that somebody turned. She noticed and stopped.

Liam plucked a quiet chord.

"Keep going."

She looked toward him, then sang the opening line.

By the time the organizer nodded, Megan had stopped watching the room. Liam let the final note fade, set the guitar down, and stepped off the platform with her. They had fifteen minutes before the first introduction. Clara came over long enough to squeeze Megan’s hand and tell Liam his chair looked too small, then returned to Diane while the organizer checked the next performer’s equipment.

Megan took out her phone.

Liam expected another look at the song order. Instead, she opened their rehearsal recording and moved her thumb toward the middle. He caught her wrist gently before she pressed play.

"We checked it yesterday."

"I know."

"And Tuesday."

"I know."

She lowered the phone, but her fingers remained tight around it. Liam glanced toward the stage, then back at her. There was nothing he could fix by explaining that they were prepared. She already knew the words, the entrances, and the places where she wanted him to leave space. What worried her was sitting beyond the microphone, waiting to hear them.

"You told me to sound like I was here."

Megan looked up.

"So be here with me."

For a moment, she said nothing. Then she locked the phone and placed it in her bag. Liam offered his hand, and she took it, holding on until the organizer approached with a quick smile and pointed toward the platform.

"Ready?"

Megan answered before he could.

"Yes."

Liam picked up the guitar and followed her onto the stage.