In two weeks’ time, he’d finally be an American citizen. He’d belong. After a lifetime of always being out of place, even among other Irish Travelers, he was going to carve out a spot for himself. One way or another, he’d make the most of this opportunity. He had to. There was nothing else left of him.
When he’d first come to America as an illegal alien, a chancer, he’d been a hurting, lost teenager, trying to escape the horrors that’d happened. The scars on his soul. Life was different here. He was different. And yet, was he? He could pretend there wasn’t a bit of the Traveler ways still in him. The old ways ran deep, but he was determined to be an honest man.
His phone vibrated deep in his coat pocket. He shrugged out of it and tossed it over the back of a chair, then glanced at the screen.
Rashae.
She’d beat him to the punch. With an email.
Tomorrow, he’d sort out the new game project. He’d make Ayan and John see things his way, and Rashae...he’d convince her this project was worthy of her time and attention.
Everything was possible. For once in his life, things were going to fall into place.
Rashae flopped on the guest bed, her laptop already open. Samantha, Rashae’s younger sister, sat with her back against the headboard and a pint of ice cream in hand. The laptop screen was divided into boxes, the three faces of Rashae’s best friends staring back at her.
“Well, how’d it go?” Tamara sat back, the space behind her masculine. She must be at her boyfriend’s loft.
“Awful.” Rashae slumped against the pillows and snagged her sister’s spoon. This called for a lot of ice cream.
“What?” Miranda sat forward at her desk in her boyfriend’s animal rescue offices. “No, are you sure?”
“What happened?” Piper chimed in. She, at least, was at home, no boy toy in sight. “You’re going to have to text me details after tonight. I’m headed off into the boonies to see Dad.”
Sam was silent, probably off mulling over her own life problems. Still, Rashae appreciated her presence.
“Oh, you found him?” Rashae propped her chin up.
“Yeah, he finally surfaced.” Piper rolled her eyes. Her dad was a tried and true hippie, complete with traveling van. “Back to you! The meeting?”
“It was a disaster from the beginning. I fell—on the campaign manager—and really, I should have taken that as a sign to turn around and leave.” She’d had such high hopes. Oh, she’d known her bubble was going to be burst, but she’d had...hope.
“Oh no...” Miranda blinked, a kitten perched on her shoulder and one hand covering her mouth.
“Is he okay?” Tamara asked.
“Is he okay? What about me?” Rashae smacked the bed and leaned forward.
“Um, I sort of assumed you were okay.”
“I’m fine—and for the record—Mr. Loveridge is like...Gerard Butler, P.S. I Love You hot. I think I even detected a bit of an accent. Too bad he’s an asshole.”
“From the beginning,” Tamara demanded.
Rashae related the train wreck that was her evening, down to being talked over and ignored, which really ticked her off. Why invite her to the project, and then not let her have a voice?
“It sounds like it really sucks.” Piper wrinkled her nose.
“It does, like you wouldn’t believe. I mean, Declan warned me these guys aren’t the usual game developers, I just didn’t expect this. Especially from him. Declan was totally unlike his emails.”
“Okay, walk me through what it is they’re doing again, please?” Miranda asked. “I’m still not straight on what ‘Ameritrash’ and ‘Eurogames’ even mean.”
“Euro style games are mechanics over theme,” Sam said between bites of ice cream.
“And Ameritrash is heavy on theme, light on mechanics.” Rashae jumped in to save time.
“So...examples?” Miranda asked.
“Arkham Horror is classic Ameritrash—”
“Wait, what is Cards Against Humanity then?” Piper screwed up one side of her face.
“Oh, boy.” Rashae rolled her eyes. “It’s a party game. Some call it Ameritrash. A lot of die-hard gamers hate Cards Against Humanity. I mean, I get it, there’s no strategy behind it, but so many people have been reintroduced to games because of it. I think the purists need to get off their high horse, but whatever. Anyway, Eurogames. Settlers of Catan is a classic Euro-style resource gathering game.” Rashae snagged the ice cream spoon for a quick bite.
“Okay.” Miranda made a face like she was still confused. “And these guys want to...?”
“They want to make a game with strong mechanics and theme. Merge the two together, which is a great idea, in theory. And they’re coming at it from a different angle. Declan told me they’re actually engineers or something and decided to play at making a board game. I just...I don’t think they know what they’re really doing or who they’d be selling to.”
Rashae had so many thoughts on the topic, but of her close circle of friends, none of them played board games the way she and Sam did. Her friends were more into video games and other geek culture. Board games were the foundation her childhood had been built on. It was what Rashae had connected with her father and Sam over, while her older sister Lily and their mother were doing other things.
“Then...I’m sorry, but why are you doing this? You want to make money.” That was Miranda. She knew all about making games, but of the video variety, since she ran a very successful gaming company.
“Because I need to get my foot in the door. They fired their last artist for failure to deliver and the campaign manager came to me because he’s a fan of my artwork. It’s just...I want this. And it sucks that it’s not happening how I want it to, but...I think that tomorrow if I sketch what I have in my head...I could do it.”
“Sorry, guys, date time.” Piper leaned forward and waved. “Gotta go. Keep me updated?”
“I have to split, too. Stephen should be home soon.”
“Me, three. Sorry, I told Raul I’d help him update the website with the new adoptables.”
“Fuck, you guys are going to a party without me?” Rashae laughed the pain away. Of course, she had her head so buried in work that she’d missed everyone moving on. Finding love. Someone to share their lives with.
They ended the call after a little good-natured ribbing, leaving Rashae and Sam to sit in silence. Their parent’s new house just didn’t feel like home. It was too...fancy. Stately.
“Talked to your not-boyfriend?” Rashae asked.
“Yes.”
“Is that why you’re eating a pint of ice cream?”
“Yes.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Sam was quiet for a moment. She might be the baby of the family, but she had a solid head on her shoulders. Rashae often found herself wanting to channel some of Sam’s cool composure, but she just didn’t have those genes. Dad had saved them all for Sam.
“I love him.” Sam stared up at the ceiling.
Rashae wasn’t shocked by the statement. If Sam didn’t love Oliver, then she wouldn’t have fled DC after a very public scandal involving some rather passionate photos. After Rashae had chewed Oliver out and heard his side of the story, she was of the mind that Sam needed him in her life. To mess her up, to make her crazy. Sam was too...controlled. Too composed. Oliver brought the unexpected, but Sam had to come to a decision before she allowed herself to feel. And that was what the last few months had been about. Finding out what she wanted, while living on Rashae’s couch.
Either way, Rashae had enjoyed having Sam around. She just didn’t think it was a permanent situation, no matter how much Sam suggested they look for a bigger place, with another bedroom.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.”
Everyone around Rashae had someone. Tamara and Stephen were having growing pains as they prepared to move in together, but they’d figure it out. Miranda and Raul were still in their honeymoon phas
e. Sam had Oliver. And even Piper and her on-again-off-again boyfriend, Kobe, were doing all right.
That left Rashae.
Alone.
It had to be a combination of the holidays and a rough night that had her down. A little more ice cream, some hot chocolate and sleep would do the trick. She’d hit the ground running tomorrow with a fresh perspective and blow Declan and the others out of the water.
Rashae shuffled through the large house, the morning silence unnerving. She kept her hands in her pockets, for fear of touching anything. She’d grown up with her life split between DC and Atlanta, since her father was a career Senator, but since he’d been...promoted? Headhunted? She wasn’t sure if being asked to be the Secretary of State was a good thing or not. It’d meant a lot of changes. Less privacy. More security. And a new house.
Though, in reality, they’d always needed more space. The six of them crammed into the four-bedroom brownstone had been a nightmare of stepping on each other’s toes. This new place was so very...grand. And Rashae didn’t belong.
That was how it was now. She was related to these people. She loved them. But this wasn’t her world. And everyone else had something to do.
Dad was working.
Mom was preparing for the holidays.
Lily was researching for a case.
Sam was, in theory, shopping, but Rashae was willing to bet all Sam was shopping for was a little of Oliver’s time.
It was a vast change from previous holidays. Of course, Rashae had come down early to meet with the developers for the as-yet-unnamed board game. She still didn’t know what to think about the whole thing. While she’d made a name for herself creating costumes for the stage and cosplay, it wasn’t the only thing she wanted to do. She wanted to paint, draw, and think outside the box. And board games had always been a special part of her life. Being in on the design of one would be...amazing. Maybe Miranda was right and this wasn’t the project for her, but she wanted it to be.
Rashae started the coffee pot and pulled out her phone to review the notes she’d transcribed from last night.
The problem with turning ideas and words into art was interpretation.
When Declan said he wanted something sexy, did he want a lot of skin, or the allure of covered curves?
When Ayan and John said they wanted an eye-catching color pallet with clean illustrations, did they want neon colors or jewel tones? Realistic figures or cartoon?
And how the hell did she marry those two ideas?
Fuck it.
She’d traded numbers with Declan before the meeting in case she got lost. Might as well make use of it now.
Hey, I have some questions re the design ideas. Got some time to talk?
She hit send and glared at the screen.
Just looking at his name irritated her. All night, he’d cut her off, spoken over her and barely acknowledged her presence. He was the perfect example that hot geeks were often just dicks in disguise.
Whatever.
Rashae poured herself a cup of coffee and retreated back up to the guest room she’d taken over for the next few days. Once dad’s office closed, they’d go back to Atlanta and celebrate with the whole, extended family. She could use this time to create.
“Exterminate. Exterminate.”
Her phone vibrated and the screen flashed with an incoming text.
Talk in a bit? Meeting now. Always have time for you.
She stared at the text.
What...the...?
Was this guy for real?
She rolled her eyes and pulled her tablet closer.
Whatever.
Rashae swiped her thumb across the phone screen and opened Netflix. John and Ayan were...they weren’t board game geeks. They seemed like corporate nerds. When she designed costumes, she often had to think like her clients, get in their heads, and she found that watching a show or movie that would appeal to her customers often helped her find the proper muse.
If she was designing for Declan...the movie Snatch came to mind. Something about the hint of an accent and the hat he’d worn on his way out the door. Boondock Saints was a close second.
She turned on a newer, popular drama and got to work, starting with the template files she’d created for game pieces, cards and box artwork. There were times when creating without limits was liberating and other times having a sandbox to play in inspired her more. Right now, she needed to make use of the proper tools to achieve the right design.
Rashae had rarely produced art for hire, but she’d created many a costume from vague instructions. If she could do that, she’d damn well make the best game skin possible.
“Exterminate! Exterminate!”
She gasped and her stylus shot across the tablet screen, creating a thick, dark line where it wasn’t supposed to be.
She blinked at the clock.
Noon?
How had she sat here for three hours without realizing it?
She laid the tablet and stylus down and shook out her hands. Her butt was numb, her bladder full and stomach empty.
Who the heck was texting her?
Forget about me?
Rashae blinked at the three words for a minute.
Oh...
Crap.
One missed call and three unread texts.
Way to go, diva.
Actually, I have some stuff to show you. Busy?
Rashae could dump the files into the cloud and get some feedback before she’d finished breakfast-lunch.
She hoped there was more food than toast downstairs...
She scampered to the bathroom, mentally replaying the conversation from yesterday about food. Something to do with not having a lot in the house, since they were about to leave.
Ug.
The last thing Rashae wanted to do was fuck with her muse by going to get groceries. And being around people.
She washed up, dragged her fingers through her hair and glared at her reflection. If she went out, did she want to bother with more than clothes? She’d have to, for appearance’s sake, especially with all the recent attention Sam and Oliver were getting. Rashae’s image wasn’t exactly helping things. The least she could do was put on a face.
“Exterminate! Exterminate!”
“What? What? What?” She grabbed the phone on her way to her suitcase.
Lunch?
Rashae stared at the single word.
Lunch? With Declan?
Lord, he’d trample her muse and make her grumpy. That was not a good idea. Except... Declan was a successful campaign manager, and with the way board games were growing in popularity, a person like him was an increasingly valuable contact. Plus, he was easy on the eyes. Even if this gig didn’t pan out, she needed to make nice with the grumpy bastard for the sake of future opportunities.
Sure. Where? When?
Rashae stared at her suitcase.
Fuckbuckets.
This whole thing had her in knots. She was starving. Super hungry. And usually she’d flip a guy the bird if he thought she ate too much, but this was a work-business type thing and the rules were different.
Fine.
She’d have some toast to take the edge off, eat light at lunch to appease the stomach gods, and grab something on the way home. Maybe a burger, fries, and a shake to reward herself for smiling instead of slapping the guy a new one.
Rashae could do this. She could. And she would. If she got through lunch.
3.
D
eclan fiddled with the fork and spoon, aligning them so they were perfectly parallel.
What the devil was he doing here? A guy like him didn’t belong in a place like this. Still, he couldn’t suggest a pub to someone like Rashae.
He jigged his knee and glanced at his phone.
If there was a God out there, she’d cancel on him. Or flake. He’d take either over this...sad, pathetic excuse for seeing another human being. The holidays always fucked with his head, and for some reason, this one was worse than the othe
rs. He could lie to himself and say this meeting was all for the project, but it wasn’t.
He shied away from thinking too much about it and instead smoothed the napkin over his thigh.
What the hell was he going to do about John and Ayan? They’d followed up last night’s email with another one this morning. They were thinking about bringing back the original clipart designs, unless Rashae could wow them with something. And yet, they wanted digital files of her work? To—what? Compare it side by side with what they had? Even Rashae’s worst work was better than what they had. He didn’t want her to send the files. As the son of a con man, he was wary. And rightfully so.
The waiter stopped by, for the third time, to check on him. He could do with a little less attention. At least until she got here. He’d had a moment of panic earlier—what if there wasn’t a table? What if they were left standing around?—so he’d shown up nearly a half hour too early.
“Doctor? Doctor!” The phone alert noise took him by surprise.
“Shit,” he muttered and snatched up the phone to read the text.
Here early. Getting a table.
He hit dial and pressed it to his ear.
“Hey, I totally misjudged how long it would take me to get here.” Rashae’s voice was...buoyant. Full of life.
“Actually, I’m here.” He stepped into the aisle, which gave him a clear view of the door, and the woman with the crown of curls and golden light shining through the frosted windows behind her.
I am off my nut.
He shouldn’t be here.
“I see you.” She gave him a little wave and ended the call.
He was fucked.
Rashae strolled toward him. She’d pushed her hair back in an elastic band that had some sort of blue feathery bit on one side.
“Didn’t find any ice on your way in, I see.” Open mouth, insert foot...
Rashae’s lips spread into a grin. She tipped her head back...and laughed.
The sound was...magic. Was she even human? She had to be part fairy.
“I didn’t have anyone to embarrass myself in front of.” She set her bag-purse-thing in the extra seat and shrugged out of her coat. “I’m still a little mortified about that. Are you okay?”
The Gamer and the Geek (Gone Geek, #4) Page 2
