Geek Actually Season 1 Omnibus

by Cathy Yardley

  Contents

  Episode 1: WTF

  by Cathy Yardley

  Episode 2: The Invisible Woman

  by Rachel Stuhler

  Episode 3: Boss Battles

  by Melissa Blue

  Episode 4: The Long Con

  by Cecilia Tan

  Episode 5: Beware of Rage Bait

  by Melissa Blue

  Episode 6: Can You Not?

  by Cecilia Tan

  Episode 7: Pussy Bites Back

  by Rachel Stuhler

  Episode 8: A Dox on Both Your Houses

  by Cathy Yardley

  Episode 9: Aces Wild

  by Cathy Yardley

  Episode 10: Well, Actually…

  by Rachel Stuhler

  Episode 11: It’s Not Me, It’s You

  by Melissa Blue

  Episode 12: System Failure

  by Cecilia Tan

  Episode 13: Squad Goals

  by Cathy Yardley

  Up Next

  Writer Team

  Geek Actually Season 1 Omnibus © 2017 text by Serial Box Publishing, LLC.

  All materials, including, without limitation, the characters, names, titles, and settings, are the exclusive property of Serial Box Publishing, LLC. All Rights Reserved, including the right of reproduction, in whole or in part, in any audio, electronic, mechanical, physical, or recording format. Originally published in the United States of America: 2017.

  For additional information and permission requests, write to the publisher at Serial Box Publishing 222 Broadway, New York, NY 10038.

  Serial Box™, Serial Box Publishing™, and Geek Actually™ are trademarks of Serial Box Publishing, LLC.

  ISBN: 978-1-68210-180-3

  This literary work is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, incidents, and events are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Written by: Cathy Yardley

  Cover Design by: Wendy Chan

  Art Director: Charles Orr

  Lead Writer: Cathy Yardley

  Editor: Rakia Clarke

  Producer: Leah Withers

  Executive Producer: Molly Barton

  Executive Producer: Julian Yap

  Geek Actually original concept by Leah Withers

  Geek, Actually

  Season 1, Episode 1

  WTF

  Cathy Yardley

  MICHELLE

  “Where the fuck has your author gone?”

  Michelle sighed as she looked up from the manuscript she’d been trying to edit since she got in that morning. All she wanted to do was get this one manuscript completed before she got home, for a change, instead of staying up until midnight. It was heading toward lunch, and she’d barely made a dent. She glanced at the desk clock, half hidden by stacks of manuscripts, galleys, and review copies.

  Senior editor at Faraday Publishing might be her dream job, but the actual work was a slog.

  She took a deep breath, focusing on the current emergency. “How can I help you, Pam?”

  Pam the Publicist stood over her. In the year that they’d worked together, Michelle had noticed that the woman was often pissed, or at least irritated. But now Pam was so angry, she was shaking. Her short, red-tipped gold hair stuck straight up, like she’d been tearing at it with both hands.

  “You can help me by getting your special snowflake in line,” Pam snarled.

  “Which snowflake?” Michelle responded, thinking of her current list of authors. Sterling Knight was an old-school, hard-core sci-fi writer who was generally a pain in the ass about publicity. Phil Geunther was an up-and-coming epic fantasy writer who needed equally epic amounts of hand-holding and ego-stroking. There were plenty of options.

  Before Pam could answer, Michelle’s phone buzzed, signaling an incoming call from Ted, one of the best literary agents in the business. He’d been hounding her for feedback on a controversial proposal he wanted to start shopping for the past few weeks. He’d been nudging her with texts and calls more often, since he wanted it out by the end of the week.

  Ted also happened to be her husband. But since he never called her during work hours in his spousal capacity, she didn’t feel too guilty hitting “ignore.” She pushed a wayward strand of black hair out of her eyes—stick straight, a legacy from her Filipina mother—and frowned, realizing that she’d forgotten to put any product in this morning. She’d been in a hurry to get to the office, and honestly, to avoid Ted, who had seemed more and more irritated with her lately. She just didn’t have the time for it. She’d have to wait until Pam was finished with her rant before straightening her ponytail and getting herself organized.

  But damn, she hated looking disheveled. It seemed to spill over into everything else in her life. And her life was disheveled enough right now, thanks.

  Pam crossed her arms. “Aditi Sodhi. You want her book to hit the list, remember? So does Gwen, after all the money we spent on it.”

  Now Michelle focused like a laser. “What’s going on with Aditi’s book? I thought things were going well! What happened?” She mentally scrolled through the strategy marketing had presented to her, the one she’d greenlit. “We should be getting the starred review in PW, and a good write-up in Library Journal. I thought all those ARCs got sent out. The damn thing launches in June! Did the…”

  “Would I be bugging you if I fucked up?” Pam interrupted. No, this is all on your girl.”

  Michelle winced. Everybody knew Aditi’s book was Michelle’s baby. It was her biggest acquisition, and the series was one of the biggest buys in the publisher’s history. There was a lot riding on this—for her, for the marketing team, and for the publisher. “Okay, what is she doing?”

  “It’s what she’s not doing,” Pam said. “I got her into the diversity special week of io9, I got her personal essays on Jezebel and Bustle, and a bunch of guest posts for some great sci-fi sites. Fucking Den of Geek stuff. Maybe even a book pick from Felicia Day’s Vaginal Fantasy book club. That means Aditi needs to give me content. She’s delivered nothing, and she is totally MIA!”

  Michelle felt her stomach knot with tension, but kept her face impassive. Good thing she’d worn her “stay Zen” pale jade twinset today. Hopefully it projected calm. “She’ll get you something. I’ll talk to her.”

  “I can’t have her vanish on me! You know that.” Pam’s eyes flashed behind her gunmetal-gray glasses, glinting with a promise of retribution if she were dicked around. “I need it by the end of the week, latest. And that isn’t one of my usual padding-for-lollygagging deadlines. That’s a drop-dead-latest-or-they-tell-me-to-fuck-off deadline.”

  “Got it.”

  Pam leaned her knuckles on the desk, close enough that Michelle could see her tiny nose ring. “When it comes to this book, we’re all in, you know that. But if she doesn’t hit it big with this, my head’s going to roll, not yours. Not at first, anyway. Make sure Aditi fucking plays ball.”

  “No one’s more aware of the stakes than I am,” Michelle said coldly, hiding her anxiety behind her carefully cultivated “corporate bitch” shield. Seeing Pam’s sharp look of hurt at her arctic tone, Michelle softened. “I’m not going to screw you over, Pam. She’ll get it done. If I have to fly to Wisconsin myself, I promise, she’ll get you the posts.”

  Pam nodded, still grumbling as she stalked out the door.

  Michelle pulled out her cell phone, texting Aditi. “YT?” After a minute, she realized if Aditi was dodging Pam, she probably had her cell phone off, or buried under a pile of laundry or something. If Michelle was lucky, it was because Aditi was busy writing the seq
uel.

  The sinking feeling in her stomach, however, suggested she knew that kind of optimism was misplaced.

  She quickly straightened and re-tied her hair, then opened up Chrome and clicked on the bookmark for Rebel Scum, the Slack channel her sister Christina had set up for Michelle and their friends. She could imagine Christina making fun of her for not just using the app on her phone, but there was a certain comfort in seeing it on her computer.

  Also, she hated using her phone’s keyboard.

  Michelle glanced through the thread and saw that they were all on. Including Aditi, thankfully.

  She’d been friends with Aditi for… God, was it five years now? And she knew Aditi well enough to know that she couldn’t just dive in and confront her. It was going to take some finesse.

  She read the comments in the thread:

  Elli: Who’s here? Anybody? Everybody? Nobody at the coffee shop, and I am borrrred.

  Elli and Aditi had met at the University of Wisconsin, where Aditi was studying psychology, and Elli was studying dramaturgical psych. Or possibly Latin—Elli went through a wide variety of majors at the time. They’d met at an anime club freshman year, and had been fast friends ever since. Elli was currently employed as a barista in Toronto, her hometown. Michelle smiled, wondering how long that would last.

  Taneesha: I’m here. But I gotta go soon. Brogrammer meeting this afternoon, gah.

  Taneesha was a video game programmer in Austin, Texas. She and Christina had been part of the same Warcraft guild, back in the day. Michelle often felt the closest to Taneesha, since they had the same sense of ambition and had both worked their asses off to get where they were—no small task for Taneesha, being a black woman in an often male-asshole-dominated field.

  Aditi: You’re going to tell us what all happened, right? Love your Brogrammer stories.

  There she is. Michelle leaned towards her monitor, already starting to try to frame her request—and figure out how she was going to apply some pressure to her recalcitrant author/friend.

  Taneesha: It’d be funny if it weren’t so damned pathetic. Seriously. If I have to hear one more guy call another guy a pussy or laugh about how we should “make the tits bigger” on our Valkyries, I am going to punch somebody in the throat.

  Christina: I’d be okay with bigger tits if it meant more hit points. Like, if you’ve got a D cup, you then get 50 added to every strike, no matter what weapon.

  Michelle did a quick face-palm, grateful they couldn’t see her reaction. Christina was her half-sister—Filipina from their mother, white from Christina’s father (their mother’s second husband) and the opposite of “ambitious.” And “demure.” And, often, the opposite of “sober.”

  Elli: *snicker* So if you’ve got breasts big enough to trip over, you’re what? Invincible?

  Aditi: LOL!

  Christina: Yet again, women “using sexuality as an unfair advantage.” Amirite?

  Taneesha: I should suggest that feature, just to see all these hardcore gamers choose female characters or else they get pwned. Except plenty of guys already choose women because—not even kidding—they figure if they’ve got to watch the back of a character, they want a nice ass to look at.

  Aditi: Maybe you could change it to the less clothes, the more hit points you get. I could be happy watching some nekkid warriors strutting around for a change, instead of bikini-chicks.

  Michelle decided to wade into the conversation, keeping the tone light.

  Michelle: Nekkid hot guys. There’s a thought.

  Christina: To a point. I don’t want to see junk flopping about just so guys can get bigger swords, if you know what I mean.

  Elli: Speaking of gaming, tho, I never see you guys on Warcraft anymore. I’m trying to build my rep with the Saberstalkers and getting my ass kicked by elites.

  Aditi: Sorry, sweetie. I’ve been getting my ass handed to me trying to write this sequel. SO stressed.

  And there was her opening. Michelle started to type a long question about the sequel, and where Aditi was stuck, and how they could set up a schedule. But that was too much, too soon. She decided to keep it casual, and then move in for the kill, bringing up the posts.

  Michelle: How’s the writing going?

  Aditi: Don’t worry, boss. I’m working hard!

  Michelle: Hey, I’m asking as your friend, not your editor.

  She only felt a little twinge of guilt at that one. She was both, though.

  Aditi: It’s tough. But I’m still plugging away. Just a little stuck.

  Michelle: Maybe you could take a break. There are some posts you could work on. They’re really important. I could help you with them, if you want.

  Michelle tried not to think about how much time that was going to take.

  Christina: What, they’re not keeping you busy enough over there, sis? You’ve been on the job for what, six months… you got it locked down already?

  Michelle bristled. Of all the times for Christina to get aggressive about work, this was the last thing Michelle needed.

  Michelle: Hardly. And it’s been more than a year, actually. I just want to help Aditi out.

  Christina: Mom still thinks you’re nuts for working at a little sci-fi publisher instead of the other big one, with all the swanky lit fic.

  Just like that, Michelle’s buttons were pushed. More like slammed. She typed back so fast that her keys tapping away sounded like machine-gun fire.

  Michelle: I’ve told Mom Faraday is not a little publisher! They’re a major publisher. Like Big Five major.

  Christina: Hey, don’t jump up my ass. I barely care about my job. I’m just glad you’re working with books I actually like reading.

  Elli: You sound stressed too, Miche. Anything I can do? Want a call? Or a visit? I mean, New York isn’t that far from Toronto.

  Michelle forced herself to pull it back. Focus on Aditi. That was the point.

  Michelle: Thanks, Elli. Things have just been a little hectic, though, no big deal. I’m good.

  Christina: You’re always good. How do you do that without drugs? I would need a bag of weed the size of my head to stay as even as you.

  Taneesha: You DO have a bag of weed the size of your head.

  Christina: And look how calm I am! ;)

  Another face-palm. Jesus, this was going nowhere.

  Michelle: I have to get back to work. Aditi, can you keep your phone on? Calling you about something important. Talk to you in a few minutes, okay?

  Aditi: k.

  Michelle reached for her phone, quickly hitting “ignore” again as Ted called for the fourth time. It was probably what made him a great agent, but right now, his persistence was just annoying the shit out of her. But before she could call Aditi, though, her publisher Gwen entered in a cloud of patchouli scent, wearing a floaty dark blue dress, her abundance of curly hair bouncing like a frizzy halo around her head. “Like my shoes?”

  If Michelle had been drilled throughout her childhood to dress to impress, Gwen seemed to dress to amuse. Michelle’s pencil skirts, silk tanks, and tailored suits would fit in in any boardroom in New York. Gwen, on the other hand, would fit in at any ComicCon.

  Michelle grimaced at Gwen’s question, but duly looked down, barely noticing the shoes. “Cute.”

  Gwen actually put her foot up on the desk, showing off what looked like hand-painted Keds. “They’re Doctor Who shoes! See? This one’s got brown pinstripes and a tie. That’s Ten! And this one’s got a brown jacket and a bow tie. That’s Eleven!”

  Michelle suppressed a groan. Christina and Taneesha adored, and had tried to force her to watch, Doctor Who. She couldn’t get past the plastic, awful-looking aliens and cheesy special effects. And their bad guys looked like giant pepper shakers with a whisk and a toilet plunger. Just how frightening was that supposed to be?

  “Awesome,” she said, trying to muster up enthusiasm. The thing was, Gwen was the publisher—the big deal here, her boss. She liked to let her geek flag fly, and as boss, she ex
pected everybody to salute it.

  “Thanks.” Gwen preened, then she sighed, taking her foot off the edge of the desk. “Listen, I got a call today. From Sterling.”

  Michelle stifled another groan. “Oh?”

  “He said he had some serious concerns about your last revision letter.”

  “Really.”

  “He said you were getting too caught up on things that weren’t really important.”

  “His characters are flat and misogynistic,” Michelle said, a little more bluntly than she ordinarily would have.

  “I know, I know,” Gwen said. “But he’s also a bestseller, and he has a, ahem, rabid following.”

  Michelle didn’t roll her eyes, afraid that if she started, they’d roll right out of her head. The man was practically a poster child for the MRA—Men’s Rights Activists. His sci-fi was straight out of the Dark Ages, when men brandished ray guns and women knelt at their feet, clutching their calves and looking up in wonder. Knight made it quite clear that he thought women should be in tin foil bikinis—not in sci-fi publishing.

  “I know he can be difficult,” Gwen said, “but can we please just go easy on him editorially?”

  Michelle bit the inside of her cheek, pausing. “Sure,” she said, when she was fairly certain she could say it without snarling.

  “Oh, thanks. I knew you’d understand.” With that, Gwen practically skipped out of the office.

  Michelle groaned, putting her head down on the desk. “Fuck me sideways,” she muttered, then quickly dialed Aditi’s number.

  ADITI

  Aditi leaned back in her rickety office chair, rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

  Busted. That bitchy publicist probably ratted me out, she thought, getting up and heading to the kitchen, where her cell phone was charging. Sunshine poured in through the kitchen window, making their large backyard look like a soggy postcard. Spring in Wisconsin. If she were the outdoorsy type, she’d probably be out there on the back deck, drinking chai and planning a garden. Maybe I should try that, she thought. I could totally plant a garden. At least flowers. Or maybe vegetables? Cooking with fresh vegetables could be good…