Lily.
Just a few weeks ago, she’d been sporting blond pigtails as part of her image, a character the team’s previous owner had created for her. But now that I’d bought out the team, she’d chopped off her hair. Hadn’t asked me or anything. Just came home one day, and it was gone. Part of the reason I’d bought out the team was so they could look however they wanted, create their own image. But when I saw Lily’s hair for the first time, my stomach went knotty. Her pigtails had been her trademark. What would the crowd think of that? Luckily, they’d loved it.
She’d had her locks sliced into an asymmetrical bob, starting near the edge of her hairline in the back and growing longer in the front. One long chunk hid her right eye. That was Lily now. Edgy and a little mysterious. Couple that haircut with her petite features and striking eyes, and her image had gone from cheap porn star to smoking-hot Bond villain.
“Love that hair!”
Funny how team owners create images for their players in an attempt to max out their marketability. Ever since Lily had cut her hair, the media had gone crazier than they ever had before. Her new look had landed her on the covers and blogs of every hairstylist magazine this side of the Hollywood hills.
Eventually, we made our way to the club’s entrance, and the bouncer waved us through. It was off-season for us, but we still got in for free—the perks of being a pro gamer. Fight and die on-screen for the fans. Free drinks at the club for your efforts.
Inside, a hostess greeted us and motioned for us to descend a set of stairs. A basement club. I preferred those, for some reason. Something about them just felt that extra bit private. Just a little more VIP.
Oh, look at me. Kali Ling, the snob.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the club, my breath caught in my throat. The place had class, I’d give it that.
The décor was all deep blues and ice whites, with a punch of dark-leather seating and wall panels. The floors gleamed, reflecting every light, so they, too, looked as if they were glowing. Jazzy lounge music flowed from hidden speakers at a comfortable volume, one where you wouldn’t have to shout to hear the person standing right next to you but loud enough to wrap you up in its hypnotic beat.
Cage-like chandeliers hung from the ceilings, with thousands of lights wrapped around the bars. Within the cages, virtual dancers, naked silhouettes of men and women, swayed and ground to the music. There were four circular bars throughout the club, with pillars in the center to showcase the countless bottles of various liquors. About ten feet up, a seamless television screen circled the entire pillar, giving a 360-degree view of the action if you walked around the bar. The screens always displayed the latest gaming tournament, and currently, a virtual car raced over a digitized cityscape. With the 360 screen, one loop around the bar gave you a front-to-back view of the vehicles as they raced through the streets.
“Hey, boss,” Hannah called out. She rushed up to me, bouncing like usual. “Have we been seen together enough as a team? Because the dance floor is calling my name.”
I was hoping to have a little more time together than this. We still felt disjointed, and not just inside the game. Then again, we’d already spent the day together, training and grinding in both the real and virtual worlds. I sighed.
“Fine. Make yourself scarce.”
My teammates scattered, leaving me alone near the front of the club. At least, so I thought. Cole circled around to face me.
“Can I buy you a drink, captain?”
I had to chuckle. Looked like he was trying to put our earlier disagreements behind us, and I was more than willing to oblige.
I motioned with my hand.
“Lead the way.”
I followed him through the crowd, hoping to go unnoticed. But as I passed a table of male pro gamers on our way to the bar, one of them called my name.
“Hey, warrior,” he shouted, dredging up the nickname I’d earned in the minors, when I’d taken out an entire simulated team by myself. “Glad to see you’re coming back. I’ve got a teammate who needs a good ass-kicking.”
I grinned. “Make a line, gentlemen.”
I was met with applause and general appraisal as I walked away. I think I even heard a marriage proposal in there somewhere.
Cole glanced back at me as we continued on.
“They love you.”
“They’re just teasing,” I told him. I got it a lot. Fighting guys all my life, both in reality and in the virtual worlds, I’d learned that, at times, they disguised their respect with verbal pokes and jabs. Luckily, I was good at jabbing back. With my fists.
“Well, yeah,” Cole began. “You’re strong and beautiful. I guess it’s expected.”
Beautiful? Cole had never said something like that to me before. I drifted back a few feet as we shouldered our way through the crowd. Maybe I was reading too much into his words, but the space felt more comfortable.
As I followed him, snippets of conversation floated over to me before being swallowed up by the music. Like bubbles, they drifted along with the breeze, snagged attention, then disappeared in a burst.
“Did you hear?” one voice said, punctuated by the slow, lounge beat. “Team Legacy got invited past The Wall.”
“No shit.”
Yes, yes. Jessica Salt had been spotted at the magical land beyond The Invisible Wall. Everyone was buzzing with the news that an American team had appeared at the estate containing gaming’s biggest mystery. I pushed farther through the crowd, passing by another table.
“Oblivion did, too,” someone else said. “And Syndicate.”
More American teams making it past The Wall? Interesting.
“It’s a drug house. Everyone knows it.”
“That’s just a cover-up. It has something to do with the Illuminati. You know they control the paparazzi, right?”
Oh, dear God.
We reached the bar and leaned against it, waiting for the bartender. I glanced around for my teammates. Hannah and Lily danced together in the middle of the floor. Lily wasn’t one who typically danced or sought attention, but I think she was secretly digging all the raves over her new look.
At the bar closest to the front of the club, a cluster of ladies had already appeared around Derek. He leaned against the bar, drink in hand. Though I couldn’t hear anything he was saying over the music, the women all leaned toward him, hanging on his every word and laughing the same practiced laugh at just the right times.
Sometimes, it wasn’t just gamers who played their parts.
As I turned back to the bar, I found the bartender in front of me. He grinned.
“The famous Kali Ling.”
“No. Just Kali Ling.”
He laughed. “Famous again soon enough. You’re coming back to the pro circuit this year, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s good. The fans really miss you.”
It was nice to be missed. The fans were the reason I kept going. That, and giving my team the life they deserved.
“What can I get you?” He folded his arms on the bar and leaned toward me, giving me a sexy grin. You want some sexy back? Here it comes.
“H2O, on the rocks.”
“Water?” He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you have to drive yourself home.”
Cars had been autonomous for nearly two decades now, so, ha-ha, what a punch line. But no, the problem wasn’t driving myself home. The previous year, during the 2054 RAGE tournaments, I’d gotten a little too caught up in the celebrity-party lifestyle. Okay, scratch gotten a little too caught up in and insert nose-dived right into. After time away from the spotlight, I was more than happy to put a fifty-foot chasm between me and that way of life. Besides, as team owner, I had the extra responsibility of looking after my players and having to crawl out of bed at the crack of dawn—something I already had eno
ugh trouble with when I was sober.
“You know drinks are free for the pros, right?” he continued. “Along with anything else.”
He nodded behind the bar. I leaned forward and spotted several Pac-Man-shaped bowls filled with hits of HP. I recognized their distinctive colors immediately, combinations of red, blue, and yellow from the classic Dr. Mario game. They sat behind the bar like they were nothing more than mints. Most gamers treated them that way, too. A shot of tequila and pop a hit. Or was that the other way around?
I pressed my lips together.
“I know. Water is fine, thank you.”
The bartender shrugged and handed me a glass. Water with ice. Somehow, it hadn’t been too difficult for him. He turned to Cole.
“And you?”
“Scotch.”
The bartender grinned. “A scotch man, nice.” He filled a glass and handed it to him. “Anything else?” He nodded behind the bar. Cole glanced over the edge and gave me the side-eye.
“No. Thanks.”
Had he only turned down the HP because I was here or because of the drug test earlier? I’d run the tests because I was trying to do what was right for the team, but I was starting to feel like an overprotective mother.
I sipped my water, letting the ice-cold liquid fill my mouth. It grounded me in the moment, and my gaze flicked up to the screens circling the bar, still featuring the racing events. Racing had been one of the less popular divisions in eSports, until this year. For more than a decade, it had been extreme off-road races. Up mountains. Across glaciers. It was interesting, sure, given that the liability meant no one could do that in real life. But this year had introduced a version that was more like street racing in the most exotic cities around the world.
People loved it.
Really, it played more into the celebrity-gamer lifestyle. The super expensive cars, the foreign, upscale cities. Currently on the screen, a Lamborghini, a Bugatti, and a Viva—the virtual-only line of vehicles—all battled for first place. They weaved around each other, slipping between other cars and oncoming traffic, all accented by different shades of neon, glowing against a midnight setting.
A building began to crumble, casting bits of brick-and-steel debris onto the road, and time slowed. They’d mastered the slow-mo cuts now, where the action would phase in and out of slow motion, specifically designed to allow the viewer to watch a particularly intense action scene in immense detail. As the building collapsed sideways onto the road, time slowed, and the drivers slid through a volcanic rainfall of debris. Concrete smashed. Tires screamed. Colors blurred.
Beautiful.
“So,” Cole began, reminding me of the moment and other things he’d called beautiful. “You were gone for a while to buy out Defiance.”
I pressed my hip against the bar, wondering where he was going with this. “Yeah. I missed a few months.”
“What were you doing?”
“Touring, doing interviews, whatever needed to be done to buy out the team.”
“Was it hard? I mean, most team owners in eSports are multimillionaires.”
While his question wasn’t the most appropriate, he wasn’t wrong, either. Buying out the team from the former owner, personalizing the house into our own facility, renting the virtual pods, all cost more than I had expected. A lot more. Like, add-a-couple-extra-zeros-to-that more. But it was worth it. I had my team, and I was going to do things right. No corruption. No falsified drug tests. With me, they’d be safe.
I smiled. “You worried about the money?”
He glanced down at his drink. “It’s not my business.”
Yeah, it wasn’t his business. But if he was worried about the money, he wasn’t alone. If the current status of my bank account was represented by some sort of facial expression, it would have been snickering at me.
“You used to be with Rooke,” he said, meeting my eyes.
My fingers tightened around my glass. I wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement. Yes, I used to be with Rooke, our former teammate. While I had been away, Cole had taken my spot on the team, so he and Rooke would have practiced together during the time I was off. Which possibly made them friends. Which possibly meant he was . . . checking he wasn’t making a move on his buddy’s girl?
“And?” I managed to ask, struggling to keep my expression neutral.
“And now you’re not?”
I supposed we weren’t together, but how was I to answer that?
“We . . . haven’t talked in a while,” I said. It was the best I could offer him.
“What happened?”
My stomach tied itself in a knot, then twisted some more. Looks like Cole was nudging the night in a certain direction. One that ended with the two of us as more than just teammates. But the answer to his question was, not only had I not spoken with Rooke about the situation, I hadn’t talked with anyone. Mostly because talking about it felt worse than getting a knife through the gut. I knew. Literally.
I had suspicions of what might have gone wrong. Was it too much space? The struggle to maintain a relationship long-distance while I was traveling? Business trips. Conferences. Planning and more planning. Rooke had been practicing with the team, grinding away. Every spare second we had was going into the game, and none was going into each other. Considering we were both putting so much energy into the same thing, we’d never been further apart. And, at one point, he just cut me off. Backed away when I bought out the team. Never spoke again.
I mashed my lips together, as if that would dull the sudden pain in my chest. “It didn’t work out.”
“Was it all just bullshit for the cameras?”
That day we kissed during a match flashed through my mind. Pretty easy to remember when you’re on the receiving end. Or had I kissed him? In a way, Cole’s question was justified. My relationship with Rooke had started as bullshit until it became something more. And now it was nothing at all.
“Why are you asking so much about him?”
Cole shifted his weight a few times and glanced around the club. “Look, I don’t mean to butt into your love life . . .”
His voice trailed off, and he didn’t say anything more. This was going right where I didn’t want it to. What was that old saying about watching a train wreck in slow motion? Here comes the crash.
“Because I was wondering . . .”
Don’t ask me. Just don’t ask.
“If it’s all right with you . . .”
Oh shit. He’s gonna ask.
“Maybe that . . .”
Here we go. Incoming disaster . . .
“Rooke could step in as your fifth?”
What?
Seriously, what did he just say? Apparently, the train had derailed and slammed into me instead. I blinked several times before I managed to spit out a couple of words.
“Excuse me?”
“Listen, Kali—”
My heart sunk as I realized what was happening. I pushed myself off the bar. “Are you leaving the team?”
The words came out much louder than I expected, and a few heads swiveled my way. I glanced down the bar, bit my lip, and turned back to Cole. He fidgeted with his drink, staring hard at it. “I don’t want you to be screwed.”
Funny how just a second ago, that’s exactly what I thought he wanted to do to me. There was an edge in his voice now, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes, either.
He was leaving the team.
I lowered my voice and leaned toward him. “Is this about the drug test?”
“No.” He stood up straight and turned to face me head-on. “I want to be the best.”
So did everyone, but what did that have to do with leaving? I tried to follow his line of reasoning. “And you don’t think you can be the best on our team? Defiance took the championship last year.”
“Under different manage
ment.”
Ouch. So his problem was me.
“You don’t think I’m good at this,” I concluded.
“I think you’re just getting started, and it’ll be a while before you get there. In five years, you’ll be destroying everything you touch. But I don’t want to wait five years.”
That I could understand. He was hungry for greatness. We all were, or we wouldn’t have gotten this far. Most people think talent and skill is what takes you to the top. And it helps, sure. But what really takes you from zero to a hundred is motivation. Drive. An attitude where “not possible” doesn’t exist.
He wasn’t entirely wrong, either. I was asking a lot of the team to stand by me while I made this move. I had some learning to do, and it was true I was just getting started. And money. I didn’t have the money. Cole hadn’t said it directly, but hey, a girl can read between the lines.
“Look,” he continued, “if it’s going to affect the team too much, I’ll stay.”
Why did he have to be so professional? It made it hard to get angry at him. Not impossible, but harder.
“When would you be leaving?” I asked.
“As soon as possible.”
Yikes, he really wanted out, and fast. What the heck had I done to him?
“Look, if I offended you in some way—”
He held up a hand. “I got an offer from another team. They need to know by tonight.”
That explained the urgency. Sort of.
“Why so soon?”
“They have a tournament starting up, and they need a fifth.”
“Can I ask what team?”
He hesitated before answering me.
“Oblivion.”
Huh. Well. There’s a name drop if I’d ever heard one. One of the best teams in the league. Typically, they specialized in the Ops games, but rumors were they were looking to expand this year. Guess whatever game they’d be playing was something that needed hand-to-hand combat experience. That would explain why they were looking for RAGE players to join them.
Then something started nagging at me. Something I’d heard earlier while we’d been making our way through the club. My stomach clenched. Hell, every muscle clenched, and my mouth nearly hit the floor.
Gauntlet Page 3
