by Gemma Weir
I need to sit down with Dan and find out exactly what he’s hoping for from my time here, because without some clear definition I could waste two months and accomplish nothing.
Six pm rolls around without me realizing the passing of time. That’s exactly what I love about my job. I get so consumed in my work that a whole day, or sometimes night can pass without me even realizing.
Sitting up, I stretch out my shoulders and slip my glasses from my face to rub at my eyes.
“Riley,” Dan says from behind me, making me jump in shock.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, a slightly sheepish look crossing his face.
An uncomfortable giggle escapes my lips. “It’s fine. Did you need something?”
“The team tend to keep their own hours, so they’ll probably be here for a while yet, but I wondered if you’d like to join me for an early dinner?”
I nod. “Sure, that would be nice. What did you have in mind? I’m not really dressed for anywhere fancy.”
“There’s a great BBQ place just down the street?”
“I love BBQ,” I say. “Did you want to go now?”
“If you’re ready, then yeah. We can walk to the restaurant, then I can have my car pick us up later on.”
“A walk sounds perfect,” I say, rising from my seat and stretching my arms out behind my back, tilting my head from side to side to work out the kinks.
“Great, give me two minutes and I’m ready.”
He turns and heads to his office and I take a moment to save the code that I’m working on and shut down my laptop, sliding it into my oversized purse that doubles as a computer bag. My sister Tiff got me the bag as a joke, knowing that I usually carry a backpack, but I love it. It’s a deep purple color, and the leather is so soft that I almost want to run my fingers over it every time I pick it up. It has a long strap that I slide across my chest so that the body of the purse sits just above my butt and as far as I’m concerned it goes with everything.
“Ready to go?”Dan asks when he returns from his office, a brown leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder.
“Absolutely,” I say and walk ahead when he gestures for me to lead the way.
The BBQ place is only a couple of blocks away and Dan and I fill the time chatting about the game and the members of his team. When we push through the restaurant’s doors, the smell of rich meat and spicy BBQ sauce hits me and my stomach growls in reaction.
“Jesus, it smells fantastic in here,” I say as we make our way to the hostess who is smiling at us, menus gripped in her hands.
“Table for two?” She asks when we reach her.
“Yes please,” Dan says, his hand on the base of my spine as we follow the hostess to a high booth built into the wall.
“Is this okay for you folks?” She asks.
Dan looks to me and I nod smiling. He turns to the hostess. “Perfect, thanks.”
“Can I get y’all some drinks?” She asks.
“Riley,” Dan prompts.
“Can I get a Martini with a twist please,” I say.
Dan raises his eyebrows, like my choice has shocked him. Then turns his attention back to the hostess and orders some kind of IPA beer.
“You don’t strike me as a Martini drinker,” he says, his lips twisted into a smirk.
“And what kind of drink do I look like I should be ordering?” I ask, arching one eyebrow and trying to imitate my sister Anna.
“I don’t actually know. Ignore me, please. I swear I’m not normally this much of a fool, but today I seem to have spent a little too much time with my foot in my mouth.”
I laugh at his honesty. “That’s okay. I don’t people that often for that exact reason, but I’m usually falling on my face, not saying stupid things.”
“I don’t believe it. I’ve barely seen a stumble,” Dan says, his eyes twinkling boyishly at me.
“Ha, just ask Al. He’s seen me fall over my feet and almost massacre a group of nuns already.”
“Oh. I definitely will. It’d be nice to not be the only one having an embarrassing day.” Dan says, his voice full of amusement.
A server arrives, interrupting our conversation as he delivers our drinks, placing my Martini and Dan’s beer on the table. As he does so, I take the opportunity to look at the man who will be my new boss, at least for the next eight weeks. In this more relaxed environment, I can appreciate how his eyes crinkle when he smiles or laughs and how his shoulders are broad, but not overly large as he slouches in his seat, his body relaxed.
“So, what made you decide to start a game design company?” I ask, sipping at my drink, as I scan the menu, looking at all the delicious sounding food.
Dan sighs, and I wonder how many times he’s had to answer this question before. “When I graduated from college with a duel degree in business development and software design, I did what every son from a family like mine does and I went to work at the family firm. My father is a big fan of nepotism, so I went straight into a management role and I hated every minute of it. The staff resented me, the job was boring and in a field I have absolutely no interest or experience in, and honestly, I was absolutely miserable. I lasted a year, until the idea of getting up and going to work every day was so depressing that I considered walking away and disowning my family just to get away from it.”
The server arrives, interrupting us again and I quickly place my order, eager to hear more of Dan’s story. When the server takes our menus and leaves, I look up expectantly and he continues.
“It all came to a head one day at an obligatory family dinner with my parents and siblings. I just lost it, I told my dad I hated everything about working for him and I quit.”
I gasp, riveted.
“My dad laughed,” Dan says, a wry chuckle escaping his lips.
“He laughed?” I exclaim, shocked.
“Yep. He told me he was surprised that I’d lasted as long as I had and told me to do whatever made me happy. I started Winters Inc the next day.”
“Wow, and he’s never been upset that you didn’t want to follow in his footsteps?”
“I’m the youngest of six. All of my older siblings work for him and they all love it. No one cares that I’m the black sheep.”
“So why game design and development?”
“I’m a gamer geek,” Dan says, lifting his arms out to the side palms up and shrugging self-deprecatingly. “I’ve always loved computer games; I took a second degree at college because I loved it so much but I couldn’t do it as a major, so I did both.”
“To being a gamer geek,” I say, raising my glass in the air in a toast. He leans forward clinking his glass against mine and for a minute we talk about the games we loved as kids and the ones we still love as adults.
My first day starting my training with Puck is not at all what I expected. The Sinners Security building is located in a row of warehouses on the outskirts of town. The huge industrial building has been split up inside to hold several offices, a command center, a conference room, and storage space to hold all of the equipment and vehicles we need for the different aspects of security we offer.
Puck’s office is large, but the sheer quantity of computer equipment and monitors makes it feel small and a little cave-like. Puck gestures for me to sit in a leather desk chair next to his and I instantly feel claustrophobic and wedged in.
I’m a big guy, well over six foot, with the shoulders and build of a defensive lineman, and right now I feel like a giant squashed into a clown car. Uncomfortable and aggravated, I listen as Puck starts to explain what he does for the business and what he intends to show me.
“So, we are the hub of the company. All jobs come in to us first and we do a thorough check on the client before we even agree to meet with them. We need to make sure they have the means to pay us and that they aren’t a nut job or anything.”
I’m partially listening to him, but the other half of me is trying not to fidget in this chair, or move my arms for fear o
f hitting something or knocking something over. The room is dim, the overhead light the only source of brightness in the windowless room. I wonder how Puck can stand to work in here for eight (and sometimes ten- or twelve-hour days), but I know he fucking loves his job and thrives on all of the technology at the tip of his finger.
“What I’ll get you set up with is some basic research and client checking to start off with. Hopefully, we should be able to hit on something that needs a bit more in-depth probing and then I can get you started on the basics of hacking and procuring information. After lunch, I’ll show you all of the surveillance equipment and we can go through what each item does and its practical application.”
I nod and agree with him, but it has no real conviction to it. Since Grits mentioned me taking over Beavers, I’ve been less and less enthusiastic about this intro to computer security, and now that I’m here, all I can think about is how long until the day is over and I can go home.
To some people eight hours is a short amount of time, a day passes so quickly that you can almost blink and miss it. That adage is not true when you spend it in a windowless box. Every fucking second seems to last an hour and I swear the clock started ticking backwards at one point.
Computer security is boring. Everything about every task I did today seemed relentlessly unnecessary and by the time five thirty pm rolled around, I was ready to shove my fingers into the power outlet and let the surge of electricity end this fucking torture.
“Let’s call it a day, shall we?” Puck says, lifting his arms above his head and stretching them out.
I daren’t copy his stretch, because I’m fairly sure I’d hit something if I stretched in any direction. For the first time in what feels like a decade, I pry myself from the awful fucking chair and carefully stand up, glancing above me to make sure I don’t hit anything on the way up.
My muscles feel tight and I’m so fucking ready to leave. I wish I had a shift at Beavers tonight, because a good fight with an obnoxious customer feels like exactly what I need after a whole day in this godforsaken office.
Puck opens the door and natural light floods in, making me squint my eyes against the brightness. “I need to go talk to Echo about something, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” Puck says.
“Okay, see you tomorrow,” I say, stepping past him and toward the exit. The moment I leave the warehouse, I rush toward my bike, swallowing in lungful’s of fresh air and relishing the feeling of the open sky above me and endless space to either side.
Climbing onto my bike, I crank the engine and within seconds I’m riding through the streets of the small town I call home and toward the club. What I need right now is a drink, my brothers, and maybe some distraction. I’d go visit my mom, but she was so excited when I told her about training with Puck. I doubt she would understand if I told her I hated it.
I take the long way to the clubhouse, circling town and riding all the way out to the creek, before doubling back and eventually pulling into the compound. Lord waves at me in greeting from the gatehouse, a book clutched in his hand.
Pulling my bike into the big barn-like building we use like a garage, I park mine next to Blade’s and climb off, striding quickly across the lot and into the building. The bar feels like a glorious beacon calling to me and I divert my steps and plough over, pulling a beer from one of the refrigerators and then grabbing a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses from behind the bar.
I scan the room, searching for a drinking partner and find two. Reaching down, I grab another glass, stacking it on top of the two I already have, and cross the room, sinking down into a chair at the table where Blade and Daisy are sitting.
“I need a fucking shot, and I don’t want to drink alone,” I say, as I spread the three shot glasses out, quickly filling them to the brim with whiskey.
“What the fuck’s up with you?” Daisy asks, reaching for a glass.
“Shitty day,” I say simply, glaring at Blade until he sighs and reaches for his glass too.
I exhale a long, pained breath as I reach for my own glass, lift it into the air in a silent toast and then throw it back. The whiskey warms my throat when I swallow, and I close my eyes, basking in the burn.
It only takes me a moment, then I open my eyes again and quickly refill my glass, motioning for Blade and Daisy to push their glasses forward. Daisy immediately shoves his glass across the wooden table, but Blade pauses, eyeing both of us before he finally pushes his glass over to me.
“Nikki is gonna kill me if she tastes fucking whiskey on me. She’s missing drinking, what with the baby and everything. She loses her shit whenever I have a drink because she can’t.” Blade says, his lips twisted into a resigned scowl.
“You are so fucking whipped,” I say, pushing his now full glass back over to him.
“Fuck you. Have you seen my hot-as-fuck, pregnant with my baby, old lady? She’s my fucking duchess. But she’s crazy right now, the baby hormones are making her lose her fucking mind,” he says with a mock shudder.
“Are you seriously telling us you’re scared of Nikki?” Daisy asks, barely containing his laugh.
“Hell yes, I’m scared. You just wait till it’s Dove all hocked up on baby hormones. She might seem all sweet and nice now, but she’ll turn into a raging fucking monster, you take it from me.” Blade says, his eyes wide.
Both Daisy and I laugh loudly. When the fuck did our psycho, homicidal V.P. start being scared of a woman?
“Fuck you,” Blade says, grabbing the glass and downing the whiskey in one, then filling his glass again and downing that shot too.
“Why the shitty day then?” Daisy asks as I fill our glasses again.
Sighing, I throw back the shot. “You know when you really want something, then when you get it you realize it’s not as good as you thought it was gonna be?”
Daisy’s brow furrows, but he nods slowly. “Is this about a woman?”
“No fucker, this is not about a woman. I started my training with Puck today. I really wanted this job; to do more than just look scary and deal with drunk, grabbing dudes at Beavers. But I’ve only done one shift and I fucking hate it.”
“What happened?” Blade asks. “Did Puck drive you crazy? I love him, but he is one crazy motherfucker.”
I shake my head, “No, Puck was fine. I know it was my first day, but it was boring and repetitive, and the office is fucking tiny and I couldn’t move ‘cause I was convinced I was gonna hit something with one of my arms. I just… I don’t think being in an office all day is something I can do full-time.”
Both of my brothers stare at me. Daisy’s eyes flash sympathy, but Blade’s are more assessing, like he’s reading me and seeing more than just the words I’ve spoken.
“You had to know that it was going to be like that; at least until you got some experience? What else happened?” Blade asks, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Filling my glass again, I throw it back, not even feeling the burn this time as the whiskey coats my throat. “A couple of nights ago, Grits asked me when I was going to take over Beavers, so she could retire and be there for her new grandbaby. I have no idea if she’s actually serious; but if she is, if I could be more than just the muscle there…” I let my words trail off, my eyes fixed on the glass in my hands, not daring to look up at my brothers in front of me.
“I think she might be serious,” Daisy says, and I snap my head up to look at him. “She was at our place the other day with Angel and she said she wanted to be about to help Nikki with the baby when it came.”
“You need to talk to Grits and Anders. Even if she wasn’t serious, which I agree with Daisy, I think she probably was; but even if she wasn’t, if you want a bigger role at Beavers, I bet Grits would be over the fucking moon to have you. She loves you, always fucking has, even before she went soft when the girls arrived.” Blade says, his face serious.
“I don’t know. I mean, I love the place, but I want to do more than just look scary. That was the whole purpose of me going
to train with Puck.” I say, rolling the glass back and forth between my palms.
“Man up and go talk to Grits. At least see what she has to say,” Blade says again and I see Daisy nodding in agreement.
“She’s here, in with Anders,” Daisy says, nodding his head toward Prez’s office behind me.
“I’ll grab her the next time I’m at Beavers,” I say dismissively.
“Nah, no time like the present.” Blade says, then he shouts. “Hey, Grits, Smoke wants a word, you got a minute?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss under my breath, but it’s too late, and a moment later I hear the clicking of Grits’ heels on the floor and a small warm hand lands on my shoulder.
“Hey, sweetie, what’s up?” she asks.
“It’s nothing, it can wait,” I say, smiling up at her.
“Nah, it can’t,” Blade says. “Maybe you could use the boss’ office?” he suggests.
I glare at him, grinding my teeth and wishing I could kill him from just a look.
“Sure, let’s go, Anders and I just finished up and came out to grab some dinner” she says, turning and waiting for me expectantly.
Like a prisoner being led to the fucking gallows, I follow Grits into Anders’ office. She sits down in one of the chairs in front of the desk and motions for me to take the one next to it.
“What’s going on, Smoke? You look stressed as all hell. Did things not go well on your first day with Puck at Sinners Security?”
I sigh, then lean forward and prop my elbows on my knees. “Today was fine.”
“Just fine?” She asks, leaning forward and mimicking my body language.
“Yeah, see I was really excited about starting that job with Puck and then you said something the other day and I don’t know if it was just an off-hand comment or if you actually meant it.” The words come out in a rush and by the time I stop speaking and look up at Grits, I have no idea if I even made sense.
Her face softens and she reaches out one hand and squeezes my arm. “You mean when I asked you if you wanted to take over running Beavers?”
I lift my eyes until they lock with hers. “Did you mean it?”
