PLAY (3 page)

Chapter 4

PLAY

“Mail for you, Payton.” Charlie skipped into my office wearing a tight orange skirt, green pumps, and a pink blouse. Through some dark magic only she could channel, the look was more “resort collection” than “color-blind call girl.”

I reluctantly set the cup holding my morning caffeine fix down to reach for the envelope.

Inside was something square and about the size of a paperback. On top was a neon pink sticky note. The word
PLAY
leapt out at me.

Charlie peered over my shoulder. “What is it?”

“I have no idea.” I pulled off the sticky note and held up the case. The metallic green cover featured some jacked guy carrying a bow and arrows and looming over a city.

“Oh! It’s Oasis,” Charlie exclaimed. “Did Max Donovan send you that?”

“Maybe?” I turned it over in my hand, inspecting it.

“You know, I looked him up yesterday. Apparently he’s some super genius, but it’s nearly impossible to find a picture of this guy. Is he so hideous he breaks camera lenses or something?”

“Huh? Oh. Not exactly.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, wondering how to describe him. Before I could say anything, Charlie had leaned across my desk to type an image search into the computer. “Hey! Doesn’t IT watch our internet searches?”

“I bet ten-year-old-Payton refused to go to school if she didn’t have matching socks. Am I right?”

“No!”

“Sure, sure.” She winked before returning to her task.

The computer whirred, like even Google was having a hard time getting a handle on this guy. A few minutes later a short list of images came up. Most weren’t even him. Some school pictures. A male model.

“There,” I murmured, pointing to one of the thumbnails. Charlie clicked it and the enlarged version loaded on my screen.

The image showed Max standing with three other guys at what looked like some press event. His hair was spiked at the front, his eyes trained on the camera like he wanted to be anywhere else.

That mouth…I definitely liked it better when it wasn’t dripping insults.

His button down shirt was more polished than today’s tee, but did nothing to hide the “go fuck yourself” attitude.

Apparently that went everywhere with him.

“Payton,” Charlie chastised. “You, lovely, have been holding out on me. He is at
least
second cousins hot.”

“Huh?”

“It means even if he was your second cousin you’d still do him. He might be first cousins hot, but with the lighting it’s hard to tell.” She hit some buttons on my keyboard, trying to get the monitor to brighten.

My stomach tightened. It was easier to look at him in the picture than real life, when I felt like he could see through me. Here in my office, half a city away, I could admit Max Donovan had a certain appeal. Teenage Payton definitely would’ve looked up whether our star signs were compatible.

I quickly clicked the “x” in the corner of the browser and Donovan vanished, pierced eyebrow and all. I looked back at the package in front of me, tapping the case on the desk. “If he wants me to play his game, then what—he’ll do business with Alliance?”

“Fuck if I know.”

I opened the case, which was empty except for the cover insert. “But how do I play it? Don’t I need a disc or something?”

She rolled her eyes. “What are you, eighty? Good thing you’re hot. Look for the download code.” Charlie pointed to a long number on the booklet inside. Apparently Donovan was right on one count: I had a lot to learn.

“OK. So what do I play it
on
?” We both look at the computer system on my desk. It’d probably been christened the same year I had.

“Do you have a notebook at home?” she asked hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Spend your bonus yet?”

The dress I’d just bought at Macy’s was my once-a-year splurge, but I hadn’t worn it yet. I felt a physical pang at the thought of letting it go. “Shit.”

That night, instead of catching up on the news over a glass of pinot, I was standing in the checkout at Best Buy after returning a violet pencil dress that was made for me.

The cute guy standing in the next line sent me flirty eyes. His light brown hair was messy-on-purpose and his sexy smile promised plenty of good times ahead.

When was the last time you went on a date?
I wondered. I did the math while gazing at a tired mom with two jumping kids waiting to check out before me.

My fingers tightened on the box in my hands.

Oh God.
Was it really six months?

I wanted to date. Get married. Have a family.

But it was hard to remember that when the pool of candidates was shallower than the discount goldfish tank at the pet store across the street.

Two dates with Leo, the last guy Charlie’d set me up with, had been enough to figure out that we were not destined for a happily ever after. He’d spent an hour singlehandedly debating the merits of some foreign filmmaker I’d never heard of. Another course was spent complaining about fare hikes on the subway in the same voice my narcoleptic Uncle Wilton used to say grace on Thanksgiving.

Thankfully, I’d never given Leo a free ticket for the Payton Express.

But that would mean—
No.

The guy in the next lane was forgotten as I ducked my head and opened the calendar app on my phone.

“Miss? Excuse me?” The mother and her kids were on their way to the door with their bags and the cashier was waiting to ring me through. “Are you all right?” The girl frowned as she scanned my purchase.

“Fine.” I braced myself on the checkout counter, ignoring the cold sweat running down my face.

I stumbled back to my car like a villain fleeing a crime scene.

A twenty-six-year-old woman could go a year without sex. Your body didn’t stop working if you didn’t service it regularly. Right?

Besides, I had Jorge, the vibrator affectionately named by Charlie when she’d presented me with the thing for my birthday last year. It was the size of a corn cob and had more functions than my iPhone.

None of this is important
, I insisted as I navigated the now-quiet streets on my way home. Orphans were hungry. Social injustice was rampant. My lack of orgasms was hardly a global crisis.

I shoved the thoughts away and carried my prize up to my modest one-bedroom apartment on the second floor of an old brownstone.

The space was decorated in simple neutrals, accented with knick-knacks from estate sales. Original hardwood floors and a bay window had sold me when I’d moved here three years ago. A few art prints hung on the wall behind the TV. Bright yellow pillows framed the ends of the gray couch I loved. The look was simple and contemporary, save for the framed band poster on the wall behind my little-used dining table. The Raiders, with their peppy brand of folk and alternative, provided the soundtrack to my life. I figured the least I could give them in return was top billing in my kitchen.

Once the computer was liberated from its packaging, I sat cross-legged on the couch and loaded up the game.

What greeted me on the screen was utter chaos. A city burning, a fight between some villagers and an army, and the guy from the packaging—the one with calves like Gerard Butler—emerging from the ashes.

When the smoke faded, Gerard stood alone on a patch of grass. Minor chords over a steady drumbeat emanated from the computer’s speakers. Icons and numbers flashed in front of me, forming some kind of dashboard I hadn’t the first clue what to do with.

What now?

You’re a young, single female sitting in front of her computer at midnight on a work night,
a sneaky voice in my head piped up.

Trying to play a computer game.

And the only person to give you an orgasm in the last revolution of the Earth around the sun is you.

The first four results for “Oasis game” in my search page were top notch reviews.

The fifth was “cheat codes.”

There were so many things I could be doing right now. Pilates. Reality TV. Hell, maybe I could even return the computer and get my dress back.

No. As much as this sucked, cheating would be worse.

Returning to my new notebook, my gaze roamed the virtual countryside. This time, I noticed something in the corner of my screen.

Somehow I managed to put two plus two together, and virtual me scampered over the virtual terrain. I found food, stole a donkey, and rode it to a village, where I fought a guy with a massive beard who looked like he should be on the cover of a romance novel.

Finally a banner unfurled across the bottom of the screen, declaring my title was “peasant.”

“That’s a
promotion
? What was I before, dirt?” I glanced at the clock. “Holy shit.” It was three am. I had to be up at six thirty to be at work by eight for a full day of meetings.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and fell into bed.

You better be worth this, Max Donovan
.

Chapter 5

Flying monkeys. Nice.

By Wednesday night I’d mastered the basics of Oasis: things like how to fight, run, and train flying monkeys to do my bidding.

My couch was also going to have a permanent dent in it from my ass, thanks to the hours I was logging there.

I was hunched over the computer in my lap, working my way up from squire, when my cellphone startled me. I hit the speaker button.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Paybear. Just wanted to call and see how things are going three days into the new job. You busy?”

“Nope. Just trying to become a knight,” I mumbled. Gerard found a burst of speed and circled the last two enemies, attacking from the rear. Ilyana, a hot warrior chick who joined us while we were crossing the biggest desert ever, appeared from nowhere to deal a deathblow to the final opponent.

I pumped a fist in the air as the victory cut scene flashed and endorphins flooded my brain. 

“What was that honey?”

“Oh. Sorry. Just said I’m having a quiet night.” I moved the computer off my lap and stood to stretch my legs. I lifted the phone to my ear, taking it off speaker.

“How is life as an associate?”

“Oh, you know. Day drinking and name dropping.”

My mom laughed, like I knew she would. “What’s it really like?”

Avery’s ominous words my first day about high expectations came back to me. The onslaught of meetings and requests since then had only reinforced the fact that being an associate was a whole other level.

“I’m figuring it out. There’s this one client who would pretty much make my year, but he’s being…difficult.”

“Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll get him.”

The kink in my neck was about as bad as the ones in my fingers, but I tried to work it out anyway.  “I’m going to try.”

“I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” A smile pulled at my mouth despite my tiredness. “How are you feeling this week?”

“Not great yesterday, but better today.”

I frowned. “Did you go into work?”

“Yes, Payton.”

“Mom, that’s what sick days are for, you know. You’ve only been back a few months. Go easy.”

“I will, sweetie.” Her voice said she thought I was being overprotective, but my mom liked to think she was invincible. Once I’d thought so too. “We still on for brunch Sunday?”

“You bet.”

“Can you do me a favor and drop me at my meeting tomorrow after work?”

“Of course. Seven pm?” I checked my calendar. If I was in the office by seven and worked through lunch, I should be able to make it out by six.

“You got it.”

After hanging up, I moved to stand over my computer. Research had told me the game had ten levels. I was on eight.

What if you finish and nothing happens?
All the sticky had said was
PLAY
, after all.

Donovan’s smirking face danced in my mind.

I’d come this far. There was no way in hell I was going to back down.

Ignoring my sore butt, I plunked down on the couch and set the computer back on my lap.

By Thursday morning, I was a mage. I barely enjoyed the rush of satisfaction after beating a nasty level because I was still one hurdle away.

I spared a quick glance away from the screen to take in Charlie’s horrified face when she entered my office. “You look like an extra from
The Walking Dead
. Did you even have time for mascara?”

“Of course I did!”

She leaned over the desk and pressed a finger to my cheek, recoiling when she saw the black marks on her skin. “Tuesday’s mascara doesn’t count. Payton, what’s wrong with you? I’m worried.”

I blew a piece of wavy hair out of my face. Maybe I hadn’t had time to put on makeup this morning, and my shirt didn’t really go with this skirt, but I could remedy both those things.

As soon as I finished the game.

“Portfolio update is this afternoon,” I said through my teeth. “I need an update on Donovan by then. I don’t think ‘I’m playing his game’ will be acceptable.”

“Don’t you have any other leads to present?”

“Nope,” I admitted. Because I’d been pouring all my time into Donovan, I didn’t have a plan B. Management would freak if I had no new clients and no prospects. And Avery…I couldn’t think about the look on Avery’s face when I bombed. “It’s too late to start scouting now. Charlie, I need to close this deal, and I can’t do that unless I get through the last level in this stupid game!”

Charlie eyed me with pity. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing to do.”

She shut the door before coming back around the desk to perch behind me. After a quick scan of my screen, her fingernail pointed to one of the meters in my dashboard. “Increase your resistance before you fight your way through that wall. They’re going to come at you with archers, so you need to be able to take a lot of damage. See that gate? You need allies that can break down that, or the walls. What do you have—giants? Something big and burly. Dragons or anything that can fly would work too.”

I looked at her in awe. “Who
are
you?”

“My brothers played a lot of video games.” She tapped the screen. “Flying monkeys. Nice.”

By twelve forty-five pm, we’d broken through the gate and conquered the city and the oasis. “Success” appeared over the red banner unfurling across the screen. The wave of accomplishment I felt was on par with the rush I’d gotten when I graduated business school.

“We did it!” Charlie exclaimed, her expression dissolving into delight.

My cell was already buzzing. I didn’t question how he knew I’d finished, just as I didn’t question that it was him.

“I’m going cross-eyed, I have blisters on my hands, and I haven’t washed my hair in three days.”

Donovan’s low laugh came down the line, sending prickles down my spine while reminding me just how annoyed I was. “You say that like it’s my fault.”

“You’ve been playing with me all week. Please tell me I have your business.” I couldn’t find any energy left to try for charming.

“You have my business.”

I was close to weeping with relief. “Thank you. When can you meet me to go over the details? I also need a full business plan for our review.”

“Eight tonight?” He named a bar near his place.

“Done. What?” I prompted at Charlie’s look of disbelief after I hung up.

“I’ve never heard you talk to a client like that.”

I shrugged. “Max Donovan’s special. If I’m going to have to jump through his hoops, I don’t have to act happy about it.”

“Whatever you say.” She shifted off the desk. “Nice work, boss lady. Now please tell me you’re going to change before Tilt tonight.”

My eyes squeezed shut. “Shit. I just arranged to meet Donovan tonight.”

“Tonight? As in, after work hours?”

“Yeah.” A bit of defensiveness crept in. “We meet clients after hours all the time.”

“In that case, you’re off the hook.
If
you give him my number.”

I raised a brow. “You’re joking, right? Sometimes I can’t tell.”

Charlie backed toward the door, an impressive feat given the furniture and her four-inch heels. “Yes, I’m joking. He’s all yours, but only because we’re friends. Don’t waste him. Hot nerds are freaks in bed.” I started to protest but she cut me off. “Now go home and please, for the love of God, shower. If Donovan gets close to you, he’s not giving you his business or anything else.”

I took Charlie up on her suggestion to freshen up my look after I got home. After showering, I broke out a straight iron to smooth my naturally wavy hair. The black patent heels were swapped for flaming red ones. Some pink lipstick that was a little bright for day got slicked over the neutral. I told myself it was because I liked the color, but it all felt like my battle gear.

Gerard had arrows. I had power heels.

Portfolio update had been the high point of the day. Jamie was thrilled about Donovan. Even Armand gave me a grudging nod.

Avery stared holes in me. Maybe he’d figured out his underwear were too small.

In the absence of luxuries like sleep and hygiene, that moment had been enough to sustain me the rest of the afternoon.

“Hi, Paybear.” My mom slid into the passenger seat next to me when I pulled up in front of her building. “You look nice, honey.”

Mom had had me young, and we had the same long, glossy hair and hazel eyes. People mistook us for sisters, which might’ve been due to the similarity in our looks or the way we laughed when we were together. It was clear to anyone who paid the slightest bit of attention how close we were.

“Hot date?” my mom asked as I navigated the streets.

I thought of Max Donovan. “Not exactly.”

“Please tell me you’re at least having fun.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“I’m having lots of fun. I win ten bucks a month on scratch bingo tickets. Just last week, I helped Charlie make a castle out of Avery’s unsigned expense claims at lunch. And, thanks to one of my clients who works for an indie production company, I get episodes of that reality show
Who’s Your Daddy
four days before they air.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. There must be guys at work.”

I thought of Avery. “You’d be surprised.”

“Maybe I’ll have to set you up with someone.”

“You know all the eligible twenty-somethings, Mom?” I teased, stopping for a red light.

“Watch your mouth. I’m not that old, and the women at group have sons. Maybe I’ll get you to drive me every week instead of carpooling.”

“Deal.” I hit the gas, pulling into the late-rush-hour traffic that was as heavy as it was familiar. “You find me someone under forty with a crew cut and post-1960 attitudes toward women, I will gladly drive you to group every week.”

“I could find you a tattoo artist or a dancer.”

I sent her an arch look. “Didn’t you get the memo? You’re supposed to want me to meet some predictable guy with a 401(k) and no cavities.”

“Predictable guys are overrated.”

“Is that why you and Dad hit it off?” I’d barely known my father before he left us, but my mom was pretty pragmatic about how things went down. He was a musician and had been in a semi-popular band. We didn’t talk about him much, but when we did Mom always seemed to remember the positives. It was one of the things I loved about her.

“Paybear, your father and I were only together a few years, but we had some wild times. One of those times resulted in you.” Her voice was warm with humor and something else.

I winced, flicking my signal to turn into the parking lot of the community center. “And I’m sure those times are very private. Precious. They should be kept in your memory. Not shared. Ever. Especially with your daughter.”

“If you say so.”

I pulled into a drop-off spot by the door and put the car in park. “Need me to pick you up after?”

“It’s OK.” My mom popped her seatbelt out and reached for her purse, fluffing her hair. “Gina will drive me home.”

“You and Aunt Gina just want to drink wine and gossip and watch eighties movies.”

“You’re on to me.” She smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile too.

I’d just started my third year of college when my mom learned she had breast cancer. I’d listened numbly while she put on a brave face and talked me through her prognosis. I’d said you weren’t supposed to have cancer at forty-three. She’d said it didn’t matter. We’d cried on the couch of her apartment all night.

I’d never been as terrified of anything as the moment I knew I could lose her. That was when I realized my Mom was all I had.

Through it all, she was brave and I tried to be too. She insisted I finish school as planned even though she was scheduled for a mastectomy. Since the operation and chemo, it’d been a long and bumpy road to recovery. Physically, emotionally, and financially, it had decimated my mom. Through it all, Mom had never lost her sense of humor.