Going Under

by Jeffe Kennedy

  He didn’t regret learning her secret, though. In fact, it gave him a fierce sense of satisfaction that she’d confided in him. He only wished he’d been there instead of that limp biscuit, deadbeat ex. Fucking asshole wouldn’t have scared Fox away. He’d broken the cover around more than one internet stalker in his day. They made good stories. And exposing them ruined their lives as surely as they tried to destroy their victims.

  In fact, he could do that for Emily. It should have occurred to him before. He’d go through her records—had to pat himself on the back for his instinct that they covered something up—and find the incidents. There had to be police reports of some sort. If nothing else, he’d figure out who the husband had been and visit a little payback on him. Something juicy to serve a coward right.

  Maybe he wouldn’t even tell Emily he’d done it. Just enjoy his anonymous good deed by her, to make up for the temporary lies. Chances were the stalker had already met his comeuppance. Those guys rarely learned their lessons. Once one obsession escaped, they fixated on another and often scaled up too fast, as if they couldn’t wait to reach the peak they’d experienced with the last one. That led to mistakes.

  A guy like him? He’d built his career on the mistakes of others. Maybe he would tell Emily, lay the head of the dragon at her feet, so to speak.

  He’d spend the day investigating the regional ISPs—every damn one of them on the mainland, of course—and then maybe hit some shops, pick a few things to decorate and torment the lovely Miss Emily with. They weren’t going for the long term, fine. Didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy the hell out of each other for as long it lasted. Didn’t mean he didn’t love to make her smile.

  Finding a lover like Emily didn’t happen often. Women of her ilk didn’t hit the clubs and the bars. Hookups worked okay, had their own thrill, but seriously intense sex took buildup over time. A nice hook, yes, but then layering of anticipation to really grow the story. Flash fiction had its place—a tasty bite—but the novels delivered full satisfaction. At least for him. For better or worse, he preferred the long term when he could get it.

  If his dad hadn’t turned out to be such a shit, blowing up their lives in such a spectacular way, Fox would probably have married Bailey Jones, as she’d more than half expected, and settled into family life. He might even have been reasonably happy. It had worked out okay, though, knowing what he did about himself now.

  Bailey had been great for the seventeen-year old him. More than that. She’d loved sex and him with a generous lack of reserve that kind of shamed him in retrospect. He’d been a typical boneheaded guy and took everything she offered without knowing the value of it. When he’d blown town, after his mother found out about his dad’s compulsive gambling, their devastated finances and how Fox had helped him cover it up...well, it hadn’t occurred to him to tell Bailey any of it.

  By the time he got himself together enough to face his mother again—worst moment of his life—Bailey had moved away and no one knew where. Yeah, of course he could probably research her, find her current location, but what was the point? They’d both moved on and maybe it was better that they stayed memories for each other. Remained their more innocent selves, if only in some golden bubble of the past.

  Damn, he was maudlin lately. What the hell had gotten into him?

  Too close to the finish line, most likely. Just revved to break the story and impatient for the taste of blood. He’d worked, in one way or another, for over two years on this one story—pretty much since he first played Labyrinth and looked up the design team for a puff piece. Long haul for one payoff.

  Being stuck on that claustrophobic island in the oppressive gloom only added to his impatience.

  No matter what, he’d stay in Seattle tonight. Blow off some steam. Have a decent meal out, catch a movie or something. Then he’d have time tomorrow to hit any ISPs he couldn’t get to today, just in case, and return to Lyra armed with the information he needed to pin Phoenix down in his flaming nest.

  With any luck—and the good Lord had blessed him with all the luck he’d denied Fox’s father at the end—he’d have Phoenix’s identity within a few days. He’d stake his reputation on it.

  Then he laughed, a spray of water hitting him in the face with the cold splash of reality. Hell, Sparky, you already have.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Em worked most of the night. After repotting her philodendron, that is. And the three begonias that probably wouldn’t survive being dumped, trampled and then suffering the final indignity of serving as Dinah’s litter box.

  The denizens of her household had spoken and they were not happy.

  Between the fur family and Fox’s seductive insistence, she was seriously reconsidering her No One Comes in the House rule.

  She’d planned just to check in, once she’d showered off the dregs of sex and urine-saturated potting soil, but Cindy and Syd had sent her a bunch of stuff. Really good stuff. Rarely did she wish to be in an office again, working face-to-face with a team, but now she did. The gals had built upon her foundation and made it amazing.

  What they proposed might be difficult to implement. But if they tweaked this aspect...

  She got absorbed, in the best possible way, stopping only to take nail clippers to the false tips that seriously got in the way of her keyboarding. Trixie would be appalled, but Em figured she’d gotten her money’s worth already. She looked up when Anansi nudged her at dawn. A rare bright morning it might shape up to be too. Sending off her notes to the team, she included a request to Cindy and Syd to meet later. With a run and a few hours of sleep, she’d be good to go for the rest of the day. And into the night.

  With some hard work and a bit of luck, they’d get this module out into the world.

  And watch the trolls choke on it.

  * * *

  Cindy and Syd popped up on the video screen in the private conference room, looking nervous. Another reason not to like her Phoenix persona—everyone was scared of him. Hazard of the game. The Meek and Sweet Wizard of Oz would have had everyone looking behind the curtain immediately.

  Still, she kind of hated it when other women quailed in front of Phoenix. She threw up a Tom Hiddleston as Loki avatar—evil, yes, but with that sexy, mischievous smile that Fox had nailed in spades. Cindy, serious and round-faced, rolled her eyes, but Syd cracked a grin, her facial piercings glinting with the blue glow of the screen.

  “You gals rocked this work,” Em started in without preamble, wanting to make sure they knew it. “I’m beyond impressed.”

  “But?” Syd raised a magenta eyebrow speared by a platinum bar.

  “No buts. This is good work. I’m sending Jared notes to that effect for your performance reviews. Exceeded expectations and then some.”

  They exchanged glances.

  “Um, sir?” Cindy ducked her head a little. Don’t be submissive, dammit. “Then why the private meet?”

  “Yeah.” Syd nodded. “If you’re going to shorten the leash, then do it. You don’t need to butter us up. We can take the straight dope.”

  She considered that, studying their expressions and thinking what Fox would say. Likely something about putting all the cards on the table.

  “I’m going to be blunt here,” she said and, yeah, they flinched, bracing themselves. “The reason I asked for a private meet with you two is I didn’t want management to factor in. This is just us.” Shit, almost said “us girls.” “Geek to geek, gamer to gamer. If I was there in person, we’d be sitting in a dark corner booth in a bar, okay?”

  They managed not to exchange looks, but their reaction to the absurdity of that idea came through loud and clear. Had Phoenix been that much of an ogre? Yeah, maybe.

  “Let’s do it this way—since you’re so certain you know what I’m going to say, why don’t you tell me what you think it is.”

  Syd s
hrugged, wrinkling her nose and sitting back. Abandoning the field to the outwardly meeker Cindy who, surprisingly, fixed the screen with a determined glare. “Look. We know this is troll bait. The community will go bananas over this. There will be hacking attempts, personal attacks. They’ll sniff out that Syd and I were on the team and we’ll take the hit for it with gruesome shit of all kinds.”

  Ah, too bad. But she didn’t blame them. “I understand if you can’t go there.”

  “No!” Syd abruptly sat forward again and slammed a many-ringed hand on the desk. “That’s not it. We absolutely want to go there. And we also know that you and management want to reel us in. But Cindy and I are not afraid. Bring it on.”

  Cindy nodded. “Yes, Jacker is not Gametronix and neither of us is Lisa White. We can handle this if you let us. We’re asking you to let us do this thing. One hundred percent commitment.”

  “Lisa White?” In the quiet of her office, her old name echoed with eerie resonance. With a superstitious pang she thought that, if anyone said it a third time, her old self would manifest, bringing destruction in her wake.

  “Yeah. It happened, what, five, six years ago?” Syd glanced at Cindy for confirmation. Not nearly so long as that. “Anyway a lot has changed since then, but she’s still the great cautionary tale. You wouldn’t know, necessarily, but the female programmers do.”

  Cindy smoothly took up the tale. “She designed that Amazon game, where the characters were all female and you accrued points through pounding on and enslaving guys. You could raid other islands and accrue male harems and other booty.”

  “Yes.” Syd clapped her hands. “There was even this bit where Heracles arrives and you could assign him impossible tasks. It rocked.”

  “I played it in college before they yanked it.” Cindy looked thoughtful. “It can’t have been more than four years ago.”

  “Maybe not.” Syd frowned. Shook it off. “Anyway, we won’t make her mistakes.”

  “If you let us run with this,” Cindy inserted, giving Syd a warning look.

  “We have to do this. If only to show we can, that we won’t be intimidated. They might have destroyed Lisa White’s career—which was a huge loss to the profession—but there are others of us willing to take up the torch. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t back us on this—this is your concept we’re running with. The first decent one you’ve offered female players and—”

  “Why do you think I wouldn’t back you?” Em finally interrupted the tirade as Cindy’s meaningfully raised brows had failed to do.

  Syd paused, regrouping.

  “Jared hinted as much,” Cindy stepped in. “He said the two of you had talked and had concerns for our safety. He was at Gametronix, you know. He’s totally PTSD about it.”

  “And you haven’t exactly been a champion of females in the community—in the games, us on the team or on the forums.” Syd looked as if she wanted to say more.

  “Which isn’t Phoenix’s job,” Cindy reminded her, then looked at the screen. “You’re a recluse and you love the games and that’s all you want to deal with. We get that. More, I—we—respect that. You’re established. But we’re young and just starting what we want to be long careers. This is important to us.”

  “Because we don’t want to spend our whole careers being afraid of the boys club and the trolls,” Syd asserted.

  “I agree,” Em said.

  Syd started to say something else, then cocked her head slightly. Cindy didn’t look as surprised, simply nodded, as if confirming something to herself.

  “I want you to run with this,” Em continued. “I don’t care how the trolls react. I wanted to make sure you two knew what you were getting into. I do remember, very well, what happened to Lisa White and—” Em caught herself too late. Third time. Bad luck.

  “We won’t cave like that,” Syd replied with careless confidence.

  “Because we have better support now. People are more aware.”

  “If management will back us,” Syd said to Cindy, clearly falling into a usual argument between them. Their level of teamwork impressed Em and, oddly enough, reinforced that feeling of loneliness. It might have helped back then, to have even one other woman working with her, instead of all those guys, half of whom treated her like an alien species. Even Henry. Syd and Cindy had each other.

  And me too.

  “All right then. But keep me apprised. I have more than one identity on the forums and I’ll be watching your backs. Now, let’s go through this. Do you want to call in Hong Wong?”

  They exchanged a moment’s glance, shaking their heads together. “We got this,” Syd took the lead.

  “We don’t need him,” Cindy backed her up.

  * * *

  It took a few hours, but they got through everything. Right about the time, in fact, that her reminder popped up.

  GO RUN.

  THIS MEANS YOU!

  Had she made her two-runs per day goal since meeting Fox? She turned over the days in her mind, not sure now how many it had been. Time flies when you’re having fabulous sex, apparently.

  Anansi seemed to think it had been a long time, because she caught him snoozing instead of impatiently waiting for her at the gate. The run felt good, working out the kinks from sitting and irregular sleep. Fox didn’t seem to have made it back—not that she’d run past his house explicitly to check. Anansi had picked the direction. Pretty much.

  Still, a tinge of that loneliness settled over her when she got in. She poured some wine and sat on the couch, but Dinah wouldn’t sit with her—part of her ongoing shunning for Em’s repeated absences. Her mind wouldn’t settle on the book she hadn’t picked up since Fox inserted himself into her quiet life. If she hadn’t had a bookmark, she wouldn’t have remembered where she left off, it had been so long. She thought about playing a game or going on the forums, but it irritated her to think of donning one of her many aliases.

  She’d rather talk to someone who knew her. More, she wanted Fox to be sitting on the other end of the couch.

  Maybe it partly came from witnessing Syd and Cindy’s easy camaraderie, their nearly seamless partnership, but she suddenly missed having friendship. It was funny—when she’d first come to Lyra she’d been like a wounded animal, crawling into her den and erasing her tracks. She’d been so intent on not being fucking terrified all the time, and then on becoming someone else, on rebuilding her career, that she hadn’t had the emotional room to be lonely.

  Also, any friends she’d had she’d lost in the fiasco and then in becoming Emily Bartwell. Henry had been just the one to walk away decisively. The others had either distanced themselves from her train wreck or hadn’t been enough a part of the gaming world to understand. Looking back—well, she’d driven most of them away, unable to bear their sympathy, infuriated by their puzzlement over losing “just a job.”

  It hadn’t mattered at the time. When you were fatally wounded, all that mattered was staunching the blood flow. Cutting everybody out of her life had been a kind of cauterizing. Which—duh—also left behind a lot of burnt flesh. The way her barren life had become.

  Now Fox had woken her out of her walking coma. A prince tapping on the glass coffin and dislodging the poison that put her there. He’d make a good prince charming, with his handsome ease and athletic grace. A kinky one, to be sure, but hey—maybe Snow White would have been into it. She’d lived with seven guys, after all.

  Maybe if she’d nurtured some of her own friendships, she wouldn’t have felt so damn alone when the shit hit the fan. Talking to Fox about stuff had gotten that ball rolling, but he’d be gone in another month or so and she’d still be here. Spending time with Dinah and Anansi wouldn’t cut it anymore. And it might be good for her to not be Phoenix so much—or her other identities. It might be time to return to one reflection in the mirror. Figure out who that might
be. Which meant having friends who knew her for herself.

  Five-forty-five. Glory would be closing up soon. Maybe she’d want to hang out.

  Before she could change her mind, Em shrugged on her coat, fetched Anansi and loaded him into the Jeep. They got to the post office right as Glory was hitting the lights. She gave Em an owlish look and shook her head.

  “I am not fetching your damn packages. The PO is closed and if you wanted them so bad you could’ve come earlier.”

  “I didn’t even know I had anything here,” Em protested, laughing. “I came to see if you wanted to get a drink or something.”

  Glory gave her a hard stare. “What happened—did foxy Fox dump you? I’ll kill him.”

  “No, no, nothing like that. Though he is off-island tonight and—oh God, is it awful that I only wanted to hang out with you because he’s not here? That’s a total violation of the Girl Code, I’m sure of it.”

  “Technically you would be correct.” Glory shooed her out the door so she could lock it. “But since, in my memory, you’ve never once dropped by to invite me to hang, I’m giving you a special dispensation. But you’re buying.”

  “Yes! Absolutely I’m buying. I should have said so.”

  “And you’ll tell me all the dirty details.”

  “Well,” Em hedged, shortening her stride to match Glory’s. Funny how she’d gotten used to Fox’s almost perfectly matched pace. “There’s not much to tell.”

  Glory made a rude sound. “Don’t give me that. You’re glowing.”

  “I just went for a run.”

  “I’ve seen you after running. This is sex glow—I’d know it from a hundred paces. See, a sex glow has...” Glory trailed off in mid-gesture and stared hard at her. “Oh. My. God.”

  “What?”

  “That’s not sex glow. That’s lurv glow. You can’t be in love—you just met the guy!”

  “Um, exactly!” They reached Bud’s Tavern and she held open the door for Glory. “Which is why I’m not. This is exercise glow. That’s it.”