by Joey Bush
There was a long pause before Owen typed, "Screw hand-to-hand combat. You need a drink. Come over."
A hurricane of conflicting thoughts and emotions followed me up the stairs and into the car. No matter what my brain said, my body took me straight over to Owen's apartment.
He opened the door brandishing a bottle of tequila. "Was that a typo or did you actually catch your boyfriend having sex with a guy?"
It was hard not to fall right into Owen's open arms. I had been on the verge of tears for hours, but they just would not come. I knew if I felt the warm circle of his arms around me, I would not be able to hold them back. It was very tempting, but I managed to remind myself I was not out for revenge. Owen's friendship meant more to me than that.
I held up the bottle of red wine I had brought for myself, an unopened bottle from my father's collection that I realized might actually cost close to one hundred dollars. "Not a typo. Where's your wine opener?"
He opened his apartment door wide and pointed towards the kitchen. It had been almost four months since I had dropped by his place before Sienna and I drove back to UCLA. The open layout and leather furniture were classic bachelor pad, but it felt comfortable. His roommate had not lived there very long and had barely made a personal mark on the place. Everywhere I looked were little reminders of good times with Owen.
"Is that the rock I made you lug all the way back from Calico Basin because it looks like Yoda?" I asked.
Owen knocked back a shot of tequila. "Yes. But no changing the subject. Trent, cheating, break-up, go." Owen looked a little rough around the edges and I wondered why he had started drinking without me. It was nice to have a friend so upset on my behalf, but it seemed like more.
I poured a large glass of wine and shrugged. "Now that I think about it, Trent might have just been something to do."
Owen clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from spitting tequila across the kitchen island. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "'Just something to do?' My, my, Ms. Thomas, you are a modern woman."
"I meant between classes and homework," I said before I realized that sounded just as bad. "No. What I mean is that I was only dating him for the distraction. Though, that might just be the hurt and wine talking."
"Drink more, get to what happened today," Owen said. He led me around the kitchen island and over to the leather couch. His big-screen television was still cued up to Dark Flag. Light Slayer was paused surveying the Black Fields. Below, his clan members were running some of the missions he had sent them on. The messages flooded back to him down the left hand of the screen. In the upper righthand corner, I could see his list of flagged players open in the corner. I was at the top of the list.
"I introduced him to this cute nursing major in my program," I said. "Oh, God. I remember talking with Trent about how adorable John was that night. Am I just completely oblivious?"
"No. People are in relationships for all kinds of reasons. Just because you did not psychically know he was attracted to this John does not mean anything. It just did not disrupt what you wanted out of your relationship. So what did?"
"I walked in on the two of them in Trent's dorm room today," I said.
Owen slammed his shot glass down on the coffee table and poured himself another messy shot. "Fucking hell, Quinn. I know how that feels. I'm sorry."
"You know how that feels?"
Owen picked up the shot glass and paused. He then sat back very carefully, took the shot, and turned to face me on the leather sofa. "I know exactly how it feels. I walked in on Sienna fucking some other guy."
#
The tequila shots and foul language suddenly made sense. Owen was feeling the same things I had. His empathy was driving him to drink and curse and reach for my hand. His agate-blue eyes were locked on mine and I could see he was telling the truth.
"Sienna cheated on you," I said. I had to look away, down into the deep red of my glass of wine. Then, I took a long, slow drink. My insides were fluid, loosened by the red wine, and his confession had sent a tsunami through me. I took his hand and felt his warm, hard grip.
Owen shifted on the sofa but his eyes did not leave mine. "About the same time you met Trent, I came to campus to surprise Sienna."
"I remember," I said. "You had called me about her class schedule."
"It was going to be our half-anniversary. She always liked to create as many celebrations as possible. We hadn't celebrated a ‘halfversary’ for a few years," he said.
"Except I remember she found out and told you it wasn't a good time," I said. "I didn't tell her."
"I know. Things had not been going well for a long time. After she moved to UCLA, we became more pen pals than girlfriend and boyfriend. I knew it was over, but I needed to see her face-to-face."
"And instead, you saw that," I said. The same cliff-falling feeling that had come over me was in Owen's eyes. The scene with Trent and John flashed in front of my eyes and I drained my glass of wine. Even then, the image still swum before my eyes. "She never thinks, thought about what other people might do or feel. Why couldn't she just be the bigger person and break up with you?"
"Is that what you wanted Trent to do?" Owen asked.
"Yes, but that's totally different. He wants me to be the kind of girlfriend that understands he likes to have a little guy action on the side. He didn't even think it was cheating. Sienna knew she was cheating on you." I stood up, agitated.
"Sienna didn't want to break up because she liked the image of sweet collegiate girl with a high school sweetheart," Owen said. "And I wanted to visit to see if she had outgrown that yet or not. I got my answer and it was alright. We had been over for a long time."
"That's a terrible reason to keep dating someone and you just let her," I said.
"I know, but would you and I have kept talking if I wasn't with Sienna?" The question burned his throat more than the tequila and he cleared it a few times in a row. "Now, wait. This is supposed to be about you. Are you going to take him back?"
I went to pour more wine. My mind was sloshing around, but I tried to stay on topic. "I really liked him. He was a lot of fun. He was funny. He liked to do a lot of the things I like."
"Good grounds for a friendship," Owen said.
"Isn't that the best foundation for a real relationship?" I asked.
Owen poured another shot of tequila. "Does Trent play Dark Flag? Let me guess, is he the Boa I saw you bashing into the ground earlier?"
"No," I laughed. "Trent is not into video games. Now that I think about it, he hates video games."
"Good," Owen said. "Let's play."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Owen
It was hard to keep my mind on the game. Quinn bit her lip every time she tried a new sequence on the controller. It was adorable. No, that was not the right word for it. Seeing her strawberry lips bitten brighter was too delicious. Then they parted in a breathless little victory laugh every time the move worked. It made it impossible to keep my eyes on the screen.
"So, let me guess, you were just running around Dark Flag kicking butt and taking names when your phone rang," Quinn said.
"What?" I blinked and looked back at our avatars. We were on the crest above the Black Fields and my clan was starting to gather.
"When someone called and offered to sponsor your playing," she said. "Were you just sitting around in your boxer briefs playing at noon on Tuesday?"
"Stop talking about my underwear," I said. "I play fully dressed. What have I told you about gamer stereotypes?"
"That's not a gamer stereotype, it’s a guy thing. I know you all take your pants off the first chance you get." She nudged me with her elbow and laughed.
I could not tell her it was her pants I wanted to take off. "Are you asking me how I got my job?"
"Yes. Did someone just notice you were the rock star of online games and track you down?"
"No. It takes a little more than that," I said. "I know it’s hard to believe, but this is a real profession. I star
ted off as a Beta Tester for a gaming company. Before that, I got all kinds of experience writing code. It’s taken years to get where I am."
"When did you learn to write code?"
"In high school. My part time job was to write the code for games other people were creating. It’s why I started to play video games so much," I said.
Quinn flipped back her wavy chestnut hair. "What's Beta testing?"
"It’s when a game is nearly finished. The creators need people to actually play it. Players uncover all the inconsistencies and bugs. Then, the creators go back and fix it all before wide release," I said.
"Is that why you know so much about Dark Flag?" Quinn bit her lip again as she tried a new spell.
"No," I said, forcing my eyes to stay on the screen. "I'm just really good."
Quinn paused her avatar, whose heaving breasts and skin-tight suit were not helping me at all. "So you didn't do any Beta testing on Dark Flag, you just picked it up and became the all-conquering Light Slayer?"
"Yes. And before you ask, I had the sponsorships beforehand."
"Wow. So you really are that good," she said.
I reactivated her avatar and kept playing. "You'll figure it out too. I mean, you've only been playing for a few days and you can keep up with me. I'm thinking you could be a good protégé."
Quinn bounced forward on the leather sofa. "God, how great would that be? I really want something I can just throw my whole self into, you know? That's what's so hard about the nursing program. Everywhere all around me, classmates are doing exactly what they always wanted to do. And every day, I'm wondering why I don't feel the same way too."
"But you feel that way playing Dark Flag?"
"Yeah, I know. It’s corny and I'm sure it just seems like a convenient escape."
"No," I said, squeezing her knee. "As long as you want to really learn about all of it and not just play for fun."
"Show me," Quinn said.
I gripped my controller. It had been days, no, years since I saw Quinn look so inspired. She had been dutiful, responsible, and practical. But none of those things lit her from within like she was now. The fact that doing what I loved had the same effect on her was too good to be true. My blood was pumping.
I brought up two hidden menus that showed some of the master commands. "Knowing how to find things like this is part of my super power," I said.
"All those years of Beta testing paying off, huh?" Her chocolate brown eyes flew over the new information.
"Don't worry, it’s not completely unfair. Stuff like this is all over the internet. A few hours of research and you could find it," I said.
"Ooo, what's a Portal Spell?" Quinn asked. Her lithe fingers were already trying out the sequence over the top of her controller buttons.
"It sends you and any chosen player into a private space. A lot of people use it during combat," I said.
"Oops," Quinn said.
She had accomplished the tricky sequence and now our avatars were alone in the great hall of an abandoned castle. Anxious messages flashed from my clan members, and I sent them all our coded message for “stick to the plan.” While Quinn's avatar shimmied across the wide open hall, my clan was still preparing to cross the Black Fields and take the next stronghold.
"This is so cool," Quinn said. "Once you get the hang of it, it can almost move like a real person. I bet it almost feels natural to you."
"That's the whole point," I said. It was hard to take my eyes off her now graceful avatar, but Quinn herself was irresistible. "We've gotten to the point in gaming when you can actually step into whole other worlds."
"And do things you would never dream of doing in real life," Quinn said.
Her eyes were on mine, the chocolate brown melting as I returned her look. "That's the attraction for a lot of people."
"Not for you?" she asked.
I put my controller down and took her hand. "No. I spent a lot of my life setting aside what I really wanted to do. That's over now."
Her lips only inches from mine. I wanted to move, to kiss her, but I could not. Our eyes held as if some greater force had paused us there.
#
I took a deep breath. "We should go to Vegas."
Quinn's eyes opened wider, and I wondered what she thought I meant.
"There's a great arcade, lots of people. A lot of people there like Dark Flag. You'll get good experience," I said.
She laughed and sat back. "Sure. Sounds great. I was thinking about heading back to school, anyway. I don't want to spend another night with my parents."
"Do you need to call them?" I asked.
Quinn shrugged. "They didn't notice I was gone in the first place. I'll wait for them to call me."
We headed towards the Vegas Strip, the lights growing brighter. Neon suddenly towered up above us. Quinn smiled, her face raised to the multi-colored lights.
"Do you like Vegas?" I asked. It was always a topic of discussion amongst people who had grown up in the area. Those that hated it moved away to places like Los Angeles.
"I do. When I was little, Vegas felt like something out of a fairy tale. Like you could drink a magic potion and everything would be like in Wonderland," Quinn said.
"And now?"
"It’s a good place to disappear for a while. There are so many tourists here that it is easy to pretend to be someone else."
I drove towards the Excalibur Casino. In the basement was a huge and silly arcade. Somehow, looking at Quinn's face under the neon lights, going to an arcade did not feel right.
"I know a good bar near here. More locals than tourists, but still a fun place to be someone else for a while," I said.
Quinn smiled and I parked in a ramp. We walked the long block to the bar. It was a small dive bar wedged between a large casino and a cowboy-themed restaurant. We paused for a moment to marvel at the amount of tourists that had either packed or worn their cowboy boots on the airplane.
"He even has spurs. Do they allow those in the casinos?" Quinn asked.
"Luckily, they look about as dull as he is," I said.
We headed inside the bar and found a high-backed booth near the back. It sat across the back wall so we both had an excellent view of the door.
"I'm going to bet she is from North Dakota," Quinn nodded towards a particularly pale tourist who was shivering in a tank top.
"Too bad no one told her it gets cold in the desert at night," I said.
"This place is bigger than I thought," Quinn observed.
I enjoyed watching her look around the familiar bar. It had one long, scarred wooden bar, the line of booths we sat in, two pool tables, a darts corner, and a small sunken dance floor that remained packed at all times. The windows had steamed up from the dancers already in motion.
"I found this place a few years back," I said. "And you didn't think I went out."
Quinn smiled. "Let me guess, you came here to dance."
"Not exactly my thing. Do you like to dance?" I asked. I could imagine her moving easily among the gyrating people. The image was very tempting.
"Yeah. Trent and I love, I mean, we loved to dance," Quinn said. Her eyes drifted back to the small dance floor and I saw them go wide again. "Oh, my God. Speak of the devil."
I signaled the waiter to bring us two shots and two beers. Quinn looked like she definitely needed another drink. Then, I turned to look in the direction she was staring. I caught sight of a tall, lanky man with dyed white hair. He stuck out in the crowd, not only for his hair, but for his wild moves. Trent was drawing as much attention to himself as possible.
"Please tell me that is not your ex-boyfriend," I said, even though I knew it was.
"Do you think he's here with that guy?"
"If they didn't come together, I would not be surprised if they left together. Shit, sorry, Quinn."
"No, it's alright. Obviously he's really broken up over our break-up," she said. She pulled out her phone.
"No. Wait. What are you doing?" I asked. I lung
ed across the booth for her phone, but she pulled back.
"Just letting him know that I'm at my parents if he wants to come and talk."
"You think he's going to make the four-hour drive from UCLA to talk about your relationship?" I asked.
"You would. Wouldn't you?" Quinn said.
I was glad the drinks arrived. Before she noticed, I tipped back both shots and signaled the waiter for another round. Watching Quinn be tortured by an obviously awful ex-boyfriend was going to take a high level of intoxication.
"Besides," Quinn said, typing furiously on her phone, "he's not in L.A., he's here. So it would be easy for him to tell me he was already on his way. You know, play the hero."
Trent's flailing arms dropped when she pressed send. In the midst of the dance floor, he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked it. A pleased smile spread across his face before he shoved the phone back in his pocket without a response.
Quinn grabbed her beer with both hands and groaned into the foam. "Oh God, of course. He doesn't even care. Did you see that smile? All he cares about is that I still have feelings for him."
"Do you?" From where I sat, he looked like a grade A douchebag.
"Yes. No. We were never really that serious but it still hurts, you know? He just used me to feed his ego," Quinn said. She picked up the pint and took a long drink. "Hey, didn't you order shots?"
I laughed. "Yeah, they're on their way. So, besides getting drunk, what are you going to do?"
She took another long drink. "I suppose you would not help me with a Coyote Ugly type take-over, would you?"
"Sweetheart, there is not enough alcohol in this bar for that," I said. "I'm sure there are other ways you could make him jealous. Is he really worth that much effort?"
She looked back at the dance floor. Trent was sandwiched between two enthusiastic girls while flirting with the man over their heads. "He was always the life of the party."
"That's a terrible reason to stay with someone," I said.
"Yeah, I know. I guess it was just sort of effortless," Quinn said. "We got together, had fun, and never fought."
