Gauntlet

by Holly Jennings

  Had to be real.

  “Yeah,” I concluded with a nod. “I do think it’s real.”

  His grin spread even further. “Then that’s all that matters.”

  “Is it?”

  “You tell me.” He nodded behind me, where Rooke was standing. “Is that real?”

  He was referring to our on-again-off-again relationship that had been portrayed so much in the media during our first tournament together. Well, someone came to play. I did, too. It was my turn to grin.

  “When it needs to be.”

  I wasn’t even sure what I meant by that, but Kim Jae cocked his head to the side, and his eyebrows went up.

  “Well, Kali Ling,” he said, pushing up to his feet. “This is where we say good-bye. Can’t be talking for too long.” He leaned toward me and winked. “Have to watch my image. You know how that goes.” He started to walk away, but not before he added, “See you in the arena.”

  I laughed. “I’ll only see you in the arena again if I make it to the championship.”

  He paused, casting a fleeting glance at me over his shoulder.

  “Like I said, see you in the arena.”

  My laughter snagged in my throat, and I went numb. K-Rig believed we’d make it. Now, if only I could believe it.

  As Kim Jae left, Hannah and Lily bounded over and collapsed onto the couch beside me.

  “Oh my God,” Hannah squealed, full of giggles. “Was that K-Rig?”

  I gave her the once-over, studying the way she swayed even while sitting on the couch and the oversized grin plastered on her face.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “You said we could drink at the clubs!” she sloshed, shouting much louder than she needed to be heard over the music. She nudged me and pointed at a group of guys at another table.

  Oblivion sat at another table, with a round of shots between them, and more. Before slamming the shots back, they each popped a hit of HP in their mouths and downed it with a gulp of tequila. Hannah leaned even closer to me and lowered her voice to a whisper, as if she were sharing some grand secret.

  “Remember when that was us?”

  She laughed. I didn’t.

  “Remember when Nathan died?”

  Hannah’s carefree expression faded into one of concern. Wow. I’d sobered her up in four words. Way to be a killjoy, Kali.

  I turned my sights back to Oblivion, where Cole had just downed another shot. He coughed and sputtered as he leaned against the bar, pounding it with his fist as if it would help him somehow. His teammates laughed and patted him on the back.

  I sighed.

  Please be careful.

  Rooke finally made his way over and sat on the couch beside me, opposite Hannah and Lily. I leaned toward him, so no one would hear us over the music.

  “How are you doing?”

  He barely glanced at me. “Fine.”

  “Just . . . fine? Any issues?”

  “No.”

  He kept his gaze fixed on a spot on the far wall and said nothing else. I sighed. Maybe I was going at him the wrong way. Rooke wasn’t the type to open up easily, and in a way, I was cornering him with my questioning. Still, after all the time we’d spent out in the garden, learning Baguazhang together, I thought that his communication skills would have slowly leveled up.

  I went numb.

  The garden. Practicing Baguazhang. I’d cut out our nightly ritual to drag him to this club, and I hadn’t even realized it. I resisted the urge to smack myself on the forehead. No wonder he was upset with me.

  I moved a little closer to him. “Did you want to practice in the garden when we get home? It might be cool, in the moonlight.”

  He blinked slowly, still staring into the distance. His jaw went tight.

  “No.”

  My eyes fell shut, and I sighed. I’d done this to help him. I thought that if I could get him in front of the cameras and show the world we were still a team, he’d feel the same way, too. Instead, I had set him back to where he was weeks ago. Now he was shutting down, and I wasn’t sure I’d get him to open up to me again.

  Congratulations, Kali Ling. You fucked up again.

  • • •

  The next morning, before practice, I plopped down across from Dr. Renner in her office. Back when I’d first renovated the house, I had given the doc her own office to conduct her sessions with the team.

  “He’s not talking to me,” I confessed as soon as my butt hit the chair.

  Her gaze flicked up to meet mine, but she said nothing.

  “Rooke,” I explained. “He stopped talking to me about what he’s going through. Is he talking to you?”

  She sighed. “Kali, you know I can’t break doctor-patient confidentiality—”

  “This is more important than that. I have to know if he’s okay.”

  Dr. Renner simply shook her head. “I’m sorry—”

  “Doesn’t being team owner count for something? I pay your salary.”

  “Kali, I can’t discuss it. You need to figure it out yourself.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that? He’s gone into turtle mode.”

  Dr. Renner stared at me for a second, and the corners of her lips quivered, as if she was fighting back a smile.

  “Turtle mode?”

  “You know, buried in his shell. How can I help him if he won’t open up?”

  Dr. Renner held up her hand.

  “Kali, calm down. You’re getting out of control.”

  “Because I want him to be okay. I want the team to be safe. Is that so bad?”

  She smiled. “It’s not bad. But you can’t protect the people you love from everything in the world. They’re going to make their own choices and mistakes. You will, too.” She looked me over as she thought it herself. “Is this because of your feelings for him—”

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  She paused, letting the silence hang between us for a few seconds.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You’re right about a lot of things, even things I don’t want to admit, but with this, you’re wrong.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because if it was anyone on my team, I’d feel the same. And even if I’d never been in a relationship with Rooke, I’d hate this just as much.” I crossed my arms over my chest and pushed back into the chair, like I was trying to bury myself inside it. “He was my best friend, and I abandoned him.”

  “Yes, but you did that because he cut you out first.”

  “Sometimes it doesn’t matter who did it first. It’s who did it last.”

  Dr. Renner tapped her foot a few times. “You can’t do everything yourself. You’re trying to be his manager, his teammate, and his friend. Owners have to make hard decisions. That’s going to affect your relationship with the team.”

  “But I started this because of my relationship with the team. I want what’s best for them.”

  “What’s best for them isn’t always what’s best for business, and I know you feel that they are more important than money, but if you’re not bringing it in, how will you even have a team at all?”

  I knew what she was saying. I was letting my emotions get in the way of handling the situation. Being emotional wasn’t a bad thing. It was my love of the team that motivated me to do this in the first place, and it was my epic stubbornness that pushed me to keep going every day. But letting my emotions cloud my judgement hindered my decisions as the team owner. I’d barely convinced myself to report Rooke’s drug test, and I’d been questioning it ever since. I still did. But if I’d been able to put my emotions aside, it would have been easier to remember that I started all of this to do things right, and that included reporting tests if they failed.

  “Okay,” I said with a nod. “Thanks, Doc.”

&n
bsp; I left her office and leaned against the wall outside her door. How could I put my love of the team aside? These were my friends, and I wanted what was best for them. So, how could I know what was right for them if I didn’t allow myself to judge how I felt about it first? I clunked my head against the wall. This was harder than I thought it would be. So much harder. And it became even worse when I passed through the living room on my way to the kitchen for breakfast. Hannah sat alone on the couch with an appalled look on her face, staring out into space. I stopped dead. Hannah rarely looked that serious.

  I walked up to her and stopped at the edge of the couch. She never noticed. She just sat there, blinking, like she couldn’t process the thoughts in her brain.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She blinked, and her head snapped around to meet my eyes. She didn’t answer. Instead, she held up her tablet for me to read. I took it from her, and when I read the headline of the latest tabloid she had opened, my chest went tight.

  Team Defiance’s Hannah O’Leary comes out as straight.

  “It’s not true.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth and sniffled. “But read the article. People believe it because I’m girly, and I flirt with guys. They hate me now. They think I’ve been lying about who I am just to get attention.”

  She curled up on the couch, pulling her legs closer to her. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

  “It hurts so much,” she said simply. “I mean, I know I’m not supposed to care what other people think, but to claim I’m not gay just because of the way I act sometimes . . .” Her voice caught in her throat. She drew a shaky breath and closed her eyes. “It’s like the media knows how to really get to us. They could say anything else about me, and I wouldn’t care. But this . . . breaks my heart.”

  She squeezed the last word out before she broke down. Tears spilled out of her eyes. She hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed against them. Of course it broke her heart. Hannah had said it herself; she hated when people tried to jam her into a box. Now the entire world was trying to tell her that to be gay, she could only act in ways they deemed acceptable.

  I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to protect her. To take her pain and make it mine. To punch anyone and everyone responsible for making her feel this way. But I couldn’t do any of those things. So, instead, I sat down next to her, wrapped my arms around her shoulders, and held her, like how she always held me when I cried.

  “I’m just being myself,” she sobbed. “Is that really so bad?”

  My grip tightened around her. “Most people are afraid to be themselves, so they take it out on those who aren’t. You’re not afraid, Hannah. You’re one hundred percent you, more than anyone else I know. The only thing that’s bad is if you hide who you are because of them.”

  “I know. But it’s not fair. How come they’re allowed to print lies like that? How come they’re allowed to screw with people’s lives and get rewarded for it?”

  I had no words for her, nothing I could say to take the pain away. Nothing I could do to change this fucked-up situation. So, I sat there with her and held her until she couldn’t cry anymore.

  • • •

  After I’d finished comforting Hannah, she’d actually cried herself into exhaustion and fell asleep on the couch. First, the media had targeted Rooke, then Derek, now Hannah. I tried to tell myself it was a coincidence. But the top gaming teams in the world were all in L.A. Why were the tabloids only focusing their attention on us?

  I plopped down at my desk in my office and sighed. It was still the early-morning hours, and I felt as though I’d been up for three straight nights. My eyelids weighed about a thousand pounds, give or take. I nearly put my head down on the desk when Derek walked in.

  “Ready to go over strategy for the week?”

  I lifted my head. When he glanced at me, he ground to a halt, and his eyes went wide.

  “You look like a bus ran you over, then backed up again.”

  I frowned. “Thanks.”

  “Have you had your morning coffee yet?”

  A groan escaped my lips as I pushed back in my chair. “Not even coffee could fix today.”

  He sat down across from me. “What’s wrong?”

  I filled him in on Rooke’s and Hannah’s troubles, but that was all. I wasn’t about to dump all my problems onto him, about me questioning if being team owner was the right move, about the money, about everything.

  I nodded at his tablet. “What have you got for me?”

  “Ascension is a rookie team from China,” he began. “But don’t let the ‘rookie’ part fool you. These guys are intense.”

  He tapped on his tablet and accessed the screen across from my desk. Highlights from the matchups overseas played out on the screen. Ascension played the Chinese equivalent of RAGE, a fierce fighting game in its own right. Unlike the RAGE tournaments in the West, with their fields and towers, the matchup took place in a single, dojo-style room with unlimited, short-range weapons with the sole purpose of eliminating the other team as brutally as possible. There were no bases or points to score. This was total elimination, last team standing. Think Mortal Kombat, only five-on-five and much, much worse.

  Even I winced as I watched the four guys and one girl who made up their team slice and dice through every opponent thrown at them. And, believe it or not, they did so with a decent amount of style and grace for such an intense, vicious game. They soared through the air, flipping and gliding around each other, attacking their opponents with combinations nearly impossible for one fighter to coordinate on their own, let alone an entire team. They moved like they were five limbs controlled by one mind. No wonder they were one of the highest rated rookie teams.

  “They’re fast,” Derek said. “And they have amazing coordination.”

  “You think?”

  “But their experience is limited. Being rookies means they don’t have many professional matchups for us to bank on. I think you and Lily should go for the flag again. The rest of us will guard the base.”

  “Lily and I got the flag last time. Maybe someone else should.”

  He considered that. “True, but we also have to go with our strengths. You and Lily are the fastest runners.”

  I wasn’t sure, and it must have shown on my face because he leaned toward me.

  “We have to bank on their inexperience,” he insisted. “If we all play where we’re strongest, it’s our best chance at defeating them.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.” I took a breath and tapped a nail on my desk. “I appreciate you handling this, especially without the credit.”

  He shrugged. “We’re a team. That’s what we do. We help each other out.”

  I smiled, and my heart went a little soft. Even when Derek wasn’t trying, he knew how to charm someone.

  I started to push away from the desk when he spoke again.

  “I grew up without a father.”

  I knew that about Derek, but I wasn’t sure why he was saying it now. I sat back down.

  “I mean, I love my mama, and my grandma,” he continued. “They raised me. But I swore to myself that if I had kids one day, I’d be there. No matter what. So, if these rumors about Jennifer Talen turn out to be true, then I’m taking responsibility for it.” He cleared his throat. “That would mean I’m leaving the team after the tournament.”

  I went numb. That was the second teammate I was at risk of losing. First Rooke, with his relapse, and now this. Derek was doing the right thing, though. Guess the situation was hitting him harder now than at the club since he was sober and not surrounded by beautiful women.

  “I understand,” I told him.

  “I’m trying to get ahold of Jennifer,” he said. “As soon as I know what’s going on, I’ll let you know.” It was quiet for a minute between us. Derek stared at the now-blank screen of his tablet, absentmindedly stroking a finger across it. Ge
ez, this really was getting to him. Another teammate in need of comfort, and not much I could do. Eventually, he shook his head, rested his elbows on my desk, and leaned toward me. “So, what’s next for the team?”

  More damage control. The rumors about the team were getting out of control. After seeing Hannah’s breakdown on the couch, I had to do whatever I could to counter the media. If we lost our fans and our sponsors, we’d be screwed. Plus, I didn’t know how many more attacks on my team I could handle before I lost it and killed somebody. Now, that would be a headline.

  Kali Ling loses her mind, impales tabloid editor with sword in real life.

  “More appearances,” I told him, hearing the tiredness in my own voice. “More photo shoots.”

  “And Ascension?”

  “. . . and Ascension.”

  CHAPTER 13

  They weren’t looking up.

  At least, that’s what I was trying to think about as Lily and I hovered on the rooftop above the enemy’s flag. Two of Ascension’s players stood guard, swords out as they monitored every movement at ground level. Looks like they hadn’t prepped for the vertical component of the game.

  But instead of focusing on our opponents, my mind was on something else. Something that wasn’t sitting right with me. The VGL had announced a new rule shortly before the round began. Just like last Saturday night, we had to be plugged in for the entire line of matchups until ours played out. But this week, they’d added another rule, and this one didn’t make any sense.

  If no team scores, the game will reset.

  How would that even happen? If one team wiped out the other, then the remaining team would have no problem scoring. Therefore, the game wouldn’t need to reset. So, what was the point?

  Lily backed up several steps from the roof’s edge and waved for me to follow. I took a stance at her side and drew my sword. She gripped an axe in each hand.

  I counted down with my fingers, a silent signal for us both.