Page 12 of Engineering a Love Story

“What Manish is not telling you,” Seth says in a low voice from the back. “Is that we drove this car here directly from the tow lot, where it spends most of its time.”

“Ooh, Seth’s outing me,” Manish says with a smirk as he leans forward, looking past me to take a steep right turn. “My car sits and I forget where I’ve parked it. Then the street cleaners come …” He trails off. “I shouldn’t have a car. Though Seth is hardly one to speak of losing things. He seems to repel items and at an alarming rate.” Manish lifts a hand and moves it in a circular motion. “Chaos ensues.”

“True enough,” Seth says with a resigned chuckle. “I’ll admit that my phone took a walk at some point today.”

Manish releases a knowing blast. “You see? The whole time I’ve known him. His term papers, his Trapper Keeper. When we were small, he’d lose his lunch box and we’d have to share the thermos of chicken boti my mother—”

“Your mother’s chicken malai boti is delicious. Maybe I intentionally left my lunch.”

Manish tips his head to catch Seth in the rearview mirror. “That’s sweet. But not true.”

Surprised by their banter, I ask how long they’ve known each other.

“Always,” Manish says with a dip of his chin.

“Well. Not actually always,” Seth counters.

Manish waves off this qualification. “First grade then. Basically always.” He begins maneuvering the Honda into a parking space that seems entirely too small for the car, his head turned to peer out the rear window and one hand pressed against the headrest behind me. “It’s great timing we’re seeing you tonight,” he says. “We’ve had big news today.”

“Manish,” Seth says, sounding startled. “It’s only verbal.”

Manish’s gaze swings forward as he shifts the car into park. “What? It’s fine.” He removes the keys from the ignition and turns to me. “We signed Chase. An enterprise license. They’ll take our full suite, including our new PayNow product.” He tilts his head toward the back. “Our Seth here is a wonder.”

I’m impressed they’ve already begun the hard sell and we haven’t even exited the car. Still, I congratulate them, knowing that an enterprise deal with a bank like Chase might equal a million dollars in new revenue for Aurelian. And it’s a notable development in the market, particularly if Chase plans to use their new product. “Can you tell me what other vendors Chase evaluated?” I ask.

Before Manish can answer, Seth leans forward. “We can’t. I apologize. Sagacity requires our discretion at the moment.”

My head twitches toward the back seat as I try to figure out what Seth means. Did he say sagacity? But then they’re opening doors and we’re out of the car, moving toward the restaurant, and neither of them says anything more.

***

A hostess leads us across the crowded, noisy eatery, and we’re seated at a small table that is semi-private, enclosed on three sides by opaque panels decorated with bamboo stalks. Seth sits across from me, and Manish is on my left, where he immediately begins complaining of extreme hunger. He wonders if the waitress might bring us some bread.

“Dude. It’s a sushi restaurant,” Seth says.

Manish strategizes about the enormous amount of food he thinks we should order. “Six of everything? Or maybe eight.” He looks at Seth with what seems genuine concern.

Seth shakes his head and lifts his eyes to meet mine over his menu, smiling as if he wants to loop me into his amusement at Manish. And I’m startled to see his whole face change with the smile. Dimples push deep into his cheeks, causing him to look almost boyish, though there’s a dusting of dark stubble along his chin. Did he look like this outside? If so, I didn’t notice. There’s no tie, his suit coat came off when he sat down, and his white dress shirt makes him handsome in a way that seems photogenic—as in, someone should really take this man’s picture. But then, I imagine lots of people have.

I inhale and look down, trying for nonchalance, worried he might have heard my quick intake of breath. But then I figure you don’t look like that and not know the impact you have on people. No wonder he’s in sales. I concentrate on my menu.

Though, the menu. I have no idea what to do with that. I’ve had sushi a few times but am unfamiliar with most of the words in front of me. I’m relieved when Seth offers to order for all of us. As he does, I close the menu and lay it on the table, trying to find somewhere to look that isn’t at Seth.

After the waitress leaves, I pull a notebook from my bag. I wait for Seth and Manish to continue the pitch they started in the car, but they speak of an upcoming tennis match until the first platters of sushi arrive. Then, as we maneuver plates and chopsticks, Manish asks what brought me to town this week. When I mention IBM, his face moves into what seems an artificial ambivalence. “Yeah? How’s their online banking product coming?”

IBM doesn’t yet have an online banking product, a detail Russ Boyer made sure I can’t share by having Evan and me sign an NDA before our session today. I explain this to Manish. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” Manish says, though I can tell he’s annoyed. When I ask directly about the new Aurelian product, PayNow, Manish explains the interface they’ve built and how they’re handling interbank data transfers—something that’s based on the tech Manish himself built years ago. I take a few notes, but Manish is stingy with details. Then he veers off again, meandering into a story about Vitalik Orlov, the product’s lead engineer. “Our CTO, you’ll have to meet him. He roomed next to me at Stanford and never said more than two words to anyone. I realized later he didn’t speak much English, but he got the hang of it eventually. And he’s a fantastic engineer.”

Seth is quiet. He doesn’t interrupt to insist how great Aurelian is or brag about the company’s success in the market. He lets Manish take the reins, though I also get the sense he’s watching over Manish too, being somehow both caring and careful. I sneak a few glances, taking in the dark hair on Seth’s forearms and how it stands out against the tidy line of his folded shirt cuff. A few curls creep past his shirt’s top button, though my stomach flips so forcefully when I look there, it’s better if I avoid it.

“Any other banks signed on with PayNow?” I ask. My chopsticks perch precariously in my right hand, and I’m trying to figure out how to eat a roll. It’s too big to fit in my mouth in one go, but if I bite it in half, it falls apart all over my plate. There’s no graceful way, I decide.

“None we can discuss publicly,” Manish says.

While Manish doesn’t appear eager to discuss his new product, he does want to talk about the downturn in the stock market, wanting to know how this is impacting Gilroy’s banking clients. “Are they still going forward with their online projects?”

“They seem to be.” I recall how one of the State Street guys cackled during that session a couple weeks ago when this topic came up. “The brick-and-mortar banks are happy the dot-coms are failing. They think it’s their turn now.”