by Kitty Cox
"That's the only reason you're not fired." Chance didn't even try to soften it. "I was coming down here to do just that. Make it right with Dez. Talk to her. Stop treating her like she's some bimbo that doesn't know shit. Hell, run a map with her – she'll prove she knows what she's talking about."
"If she will. Nah, I read her blog. I get it, ok? She was citing numbers that weren't available to the public. Pretty sure she hacked the back code or something, which is fucking impressive."
"Probably," Chance agreed. "But she's going to be out for the day. Any of you know how to fix the problem?"
Braden nodded. "I do. She'd just highlighted it on my desktop when I tried to shift her over." He shoved his hand over his face. "Most fucked up thing? Sitting here, waiting for the team, I realized I never would have done that if she'd been a guy. I just put my hands on her like I had a right to."
Chance nodded, forcing all of them to realize the truth of that. "It's not just touching her. It's that she's a woman, working around a bunch of dumb guys, and we've been taught all our lives that we have the right to do what we want to her."
"Why didn't you punch me?" Braden asked.
The corner of Chance's mouth lifted. "I was going to, but Mark got in the way."
"Didn't want Braden to hit back," Mark admitted. "Would break his probation."
Jeff sucked in a breath. "What?"
Braden chuckled. "Uh, yeah. I got a little record, ok? Out of high school, I had a problem with my temper. Still kinda do. First time they blew it off as boys will be boys. Second time I put the guy in the hospital and got five years. About a year and a half left. Had to sit through a shit ton of anger management classes, too."
"Remind me not to piss you off," Jeff teased. "Skinny fuck like me? You'd snap me."
Braden shook his head. "Nah, man. I ain't got a hair trigger or anything like that, but if I snap, I just don't know how to stop. Broke my own hand." He held it up, showing the large knuckles. "Frat boy was fucking with a little queer guy in one of my classes. Made the guy cry, you know? Just don't fucking stand for that shit. Guess it's like my fatal flaw or something. I just can't handle bullies."
Chance took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall. His skin prickled like he'd been touched by the divine. Braden's words hit him harder than they should. His fatal flaw. They all had one. Every last one of them had something that made them imperfect. He pressed his fist under his nose, the knuckle of his first finger hard against his septum.
"Flawed," he breathed, mostly to himself, but they all heard. "Fuck. Tim, get me a text logo by the end of the day?"
"Can do, boss."
Chance tapped his fist to his lip. "I picked all of you for a reason. You may not have been the best for the job, but you're the best for this damned team. I have everything I own tied up in Silk, but I think the time is right." He met each of their eyes. "Long hours, I can't pay you more, but we can change the game world. You think you guys can do both? Flawed will have to be second. It has to be, or we won't finish either one, but I'm pretty sure I have the team right here that can handle it. I think you're all flawed in just the right way, and I think we need to do this."
Andy, the quiet guy in the back, chuckled softly. "Chance, none of us have a life. Even Flynn's wife gets it. This is what we live for. Pretty sure we can take it."
Chance accepted that with a tiny nod. "Ok. Then we're going to do this for Dez."
That brought a smile to their faces. A few of them muttered,"For Dez," in agreement, some patted the guy beside them, but they all took the new project with a calm and determination that surprised him.
Mark grabbed a pen and stepped up to the whiteboard. "Monday through Friday, we focus on Silk. This room becomes the Flawed Think Tank. Something hits you, write it down. I'll get a cork board. Weekends..." He grinned. "Flawed gets top billing unless Silk needs to be babysat."
Then he started making columns. From setting through characters to mechanics, he broke it all down into the concepts they'd need, just like they had so long before when starting Silk. What was just a dream was quickly becoming a reality. Chance watched his guys work, damned proud of them and how far they all had come.
"Ok, now let's get Silk to load. No one leaves till we're at the same place we were last night." Mark bobbed his head, and the guys cleared out, but Chance stayed.
He said nothing until the room was empty and he was alone with the operations manager. "Why'd you call them all in?"
Mark shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, if they saw how Braden was taking it, they'd realize you weren't full of shit. That, and I figured we could enlighten the guys who had no clue what she'd done. When I saw the article she wrote, that's when I made the call."
"Thanks." Chance just didn't know what else to say.
Mark patted his shoulder. "I just want to know how you got her into your bed."
Chance couldn't help it, he grinned. "More pot than I've ever smoked in my life and a whole lot of proving I won't hurt her."
For a moment Mark chewed the side of his cheek, then he got brave. "How bad was the assault?"
Chance shook his head. "Ask her. If you find out, let me know. I can make some guesses from the comments on her blog, though. Google her phobia. It kinda says a lot."
"It says sexual assault, most commonly in kids."
"She's twenty. Three years ago? She was a kid."
From the doorway, Braden let out a pained breath. He'd returned to say something, but neither Chance nor Mark had noticed.
"How do I make it up to her? Fuck, I made her relive that?"
Chance shrugged. "She likes stuffed animals, but not the cute kind."
Braden thought about that. "Mark, I know my code's fucked, but I'll be back in an hour. K?"
"I'll handle the code," Chance assured him. "Go on."
Chapter 12
Most of the team was gone. She'd had to force Chance to go out and find a date. He was worried about her. Worried that he'd upset her, worried that she would take too many pills, and worried that her little freak out meant things between them were ruined. Somehow she'd managed to convince him, though, and right now he was on the prowl.
She chewed on the end of her pen, amused. He needed his fix as much as she did. His withdrawal was different, but just as real. Instead of getting the shakes or vomiting, Chance grew surly and irritated, making rushed decisions because his mind was on something else. More specifically, finding someone else. That he cared so much about how she felt was something new, and she was willing to wallow in the warmth of it.
"Dez?" Braden stood at the far end of the table. He'd bought her an adorable stuffed monster and left it on her desk earlier. It wasn't the cute kind. It was evil and atrocious, and completely black, except for the beady red eyes. She loved it, named it George, and had already forgiven him.
"You're fine." Gesturing at the space around her, she looked up. "Just pretend like I'm standing in a hula hoop, and you're not allowed to cross it, ok?"
He smiled slightly. "Chance does."
"You got the simple rules. He understands the complicated ones." She turned back to the screen. "What do you want?"
"Tim left. It's just us." He moved to the computer one away from her and leaned over the chair before it. "So, Chance says my problem with the code is that I don't play MMOs. I was thinking about World of Warcraft. Wondered if you'd be interested?"
She couldn't help it. She laughed and shook her head. "Stay away from WoW. I mean, it's a great game, but you're a developer. If you don't want to fall into the same trap as every other developer in the world, don't play it."
"Why?" He was honestly curious.
"Because WoW changed MMOs. Everything steals from it, and you can tell. The only way Deviant Games can be different is if we have different expectations." Her teeth found the pen again, and she changed a variable. "Never mind that most MMOs are quest-based, gear-based, grind-based games now. You need a sandbox."
"K. So what am
I downloading, Dez?"
One finger flicked into the air, begging him to wait, and she quickly saved her work. "Let's try Secret World. That should give you the taste, hold the expectations, and tweak your interests." She gestured to her desk in the dark corner under Chance's apartment. "Would you put a copy on mine?"
He moved toward it obediently. "How come you hover in the corner all day, but at night you're willing to come out?"
Dez's eyes flicked involuntarily toward the large window into Chance's living room. "Out here I can get a couple of computers working on different things." She gestured to the security cameras on the screen to her left. "And harder to sneak up on me."
"Waiting on Chance?" Her face must have betrayed her, because Braden chuckled, lifting a hand to prevent her from saying anything. "Right. Look, you know he's going to probably bring some girl back?"
She made a point of rolling her eyes. "Lemme make this real clear, Braden. I don't touch. That means I don't fuck. OK? So just take your theories and shove them up your ass."
He walked back across the room. This time, he turned the chair and dropped into it, resting his arms along the back, then his chin on his arms. "He's pretty hot, though, right?"
She blinked slowly. "Why, you want to fuck him?"
"Not my type, but I wouldn't refuse."
She looked at him, her eyes searching every inch of his face for the hint that he was fucking with her. Braden's blue eyes waited, hiding nothing. Those words were his true apology to her, the secret he was offering up to make things even between them.
"You're gay?"
"Bi. They don't know. Pretty sure they won't care, but it's never come up."
She tilted her head slightly. "You just brought it up."
He cracked a smiled and ducked his head. "Yeah. Doesn't work like that with guys. I'm just sayin' that I think you got a thing for him, and I figure the last thing you need is to get hurt again."
"Living hurts," she said, dismissing it. "Chance and I are friends. We talk games. Pretty sure there's nothing to worry about."
"You high?" he asked.
She slapped the pen onto the table. "I'm always fuckin' high, Braden. Always. The drug changes, but I don't come down if I can help it."
"Why?" His expression dared her to answer.
"Because I like it." She turned back to the screen, blocking him out.
He wasn't about to let up. "If you weren't high, could you touch someone?"
"No."
"What's it feel like?"
With a huff, she snapped her head back around. "It feels like knives." She shoved herself to her feet and lifted her shirt, exposing her abdomen. "The fissure? Yeah, that's not ink. That's the scar they left. I was scared to look down, expecting to see my guts spilling onto the floor. You wanna see the rest? I know he told you. I know you're curious, but it's not really something I want to remember."
He didn't flinch from the volume of her voice. Instead, he just pinched his chin between his thumb and first finger. "You yell, you act real tough, but you ever punch someone for asking?"
"Touching."
He smiled. "I hit. Got my ass in trouble a few times. I don't even think – I just hit. I'm good at it, too. Only thing I do better is game." He gestured for her to sit. "Thing is, Dez, you don't come off as tough. You seem vulnerable, and I have a real weakness for that. I don't mean sex, I mean just in general. The guys I like? The dainty ones. The gentle ones. The girls? Yeah, kinda the same thing. I like smart; I like fragile. I like being able to take care of people."
"Like Jeff?"
Braden smirked and nodded, his face getting slightly darker. "Yeah. Pretty sure he's straight, but he's cute. My point is, I can spot vulnerable a mile away, and it's like..." He leaned back with a groan, looking for the right words. "I feel like it's my job to stand up for them. You, I mean."
"Don't need a bodyguard."
"You still have one. I didn't mean to freak you out, but I'm gonna make up for it. Anyone tries to touch you, I'll break their damned face." He winked. "Cept Chance. He's hot for a redhead. Admit it."
She couldn't help it. She laughed. "He kinda is."
"Bet he's got a little dick."
She tried to ignore that, pressing her hand over her mouth to hide the smile, but she failed. "Some girl, when she was leaving, said he's hung like a racehorse."
"You've never seen it?"
Dez lifted her eyebrows. "Not really something we do."
"Mark said you passed out in his bed last night."
"Dressed! I forgot the dozy effect of pot."
Braden smiled wider. "Bed. Pretty sure he didn't carry you there, so how'd you end up where you passed out?"
She picked at the tank over her chest. "This is his shirt too. What's your point?"
"Gonna tell me you didn't check him out?" He scratched at his short blondish hair. "C'mon, Dez. Give me something here. He at least have his shirt off?"
"Voyeur."
He shook his head. "Pervert, maybe. I just know he's ripped. I'm wondering if that red hair goes all the way down."
"Seems to. Cute little trail, just as bright as a flame. And yeah, he's ripped. Has a gym in the second bedroom up there. Works out every morning, unless someone crashes the server."
"Ouch," he laughed. "A tease and a slam, all in one. Never seen a real redhead naked before."
She blinked at him innocently. "Me either." That wasn't quite true. She had, through the window above them, and she hoped to get another chance. Chance really was a very beautiful man, and if her body was going to refuse sensation, then she'd make up for it with her mind.
"That was a dirty thought."
"It's possible."
He nodded. "Yeah. Just do me a favor. When you get an eyeful, enjoy it a bit for me, k?"
"Promise."
"Just sayin', there's nothing wrong with being human, Dez. You always act like you want us all to ignore you, but we don't have to. You want a friend, I'm willing to try. Can't promise I won't fuck up again and touch you, but I'm trying."
"I like the monster." She offered a smile, but her eyes wanted to tear up. Damn these guys and their ability to make her feel like she was ok.
Braden pulled himself to his feet. "Games have a few hours on the download. It's almost two. You want me to hang out here until Chance is back, so you don't have to be alone?"
She shook her head. "Nah. I like alone." Out of habit, she pulled the bottle from her pocket, pausing when his eyes widened. "What?"
"What the fuck are you on?"
"Vicodin, 750s. I usually eat a pair every four hours. Aren't you glad you asked?"
"Damn, that's insane. No wonder you're a twig. Shit messes up your guts."
Dez shrugged. "It works."
"You ever going to quit?" He pushed his hands into his pockets, true concern on his face.
She bit her lip, knowing his definition and hers were different. "Why do you care?"
"Because I do care. The team's pretty close, you know? This whole thing with Flawed? I mean, it's perfect." He pulled out his hands and held them up, exposing the damage he'd done to them in his youth. "We're all monsters, but the thing is, here," he gestured to the large room, "we're not alone. I was just gonna say, you decide to get off that shit, I'm here for ya."
It had been too long since anyone had done more than yell or scream at her. People tended to cover their confusion with anger and hatred, and her inability to connect physically confused everyone, or had. Braden didn't get it, but he accepted it and was trying. That tiny, awkward gesture confused her. She didn't know how to take it. She had no idea how to react, so she just told the truth.
"I'll quit when I'm dead."
He said nothing for a moment, then nodded. "I won't be the only person crying. Have a good night, Dez. I'll see you on Monday."
"Night, Braden."
She tried to go back to the code, but his words haunted her. He wouldn't be the only person crying? At her funeral? She'd be lucky if anyone showed up
. Maybe Chance. She looked up in time to see Braden push through the door, heading toward his car. She'd never thought about what would happen after she was dead. For too long no one had cared. His words reminded her that maybe someone finally did. Maybe she wasn't just hurting herself anymore.
Dez looked at the pills. Six hours. No, five. She could handle every five. Maybe she'd break it up and smoke pot at night so she could eat something? She needed it to keep away the fears, but maybe she could stretch it out a bit? It was worth a try. Chance had already done so much for her, but she would pay him back with her experience and knowledge of games. Braden? She didn't have anything he wanted. If it mattered, the least she could do is try. Just for a few days. If it sucked, no one had to know. It was just a few days.
Chapter 13
The music was insanely loud, the bass hard and heavy. Chance pushed through the door and headed to the bar. He got a beer – just one because he didn't plan to stay too long – and turned to check the view.
Young, lithe, and beautiful, college girls crowded every corner of the campus hotspot. He was looking for something specific. It started with the eyes. Dark, painted heavily, he'd know them when he found them. It made it so easy to find a willing partner when he started with the eyes. They thought he was nice, respectable, and considerate. They were used to men leering at their tits, but he knew better. He'd done this enough to know exactly how to impress the kind of woman he was looking for.
First, he needed to place himself conveniently. He pushed through the crowd, working his way toward a group at the back. Pool tables and dart boards would be there. The guys would all be posturing, and the women would be watching. It's how humans attracted a mate. Frogs croaked, birds displayed brilliant plumage, and dogs fought. Humans did all of it, but the smart man knew how to work the system.
A trio of ladies smiled when he brushed past them. Pink lipstick, minimal eyeliner, pixie cut hair. No, no, and no. He wrote them off even as their eyes undressed him, but he couldn't stop the smile. This was what he was good at. He could make them happy, and they let him feel real for just a moment. It was a game, a ritualistic dance, and they all knew it.
