“Fine. You brin’ dead bodies to lunch in that?” He clamped his lips shut.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Rashae leaned forward, her expression serious.
“The holidays make me a little homicidal,” she said.
“One too many, ‘Smile it’s Christmas’s?”
“Yes.” She threw up her hands. “Thank you. As if I don’t get enough, ‘You should smile more’s. It’s like the holidays give everyone the right to tell you to look happier.”
Crisis averted.
Now to avoid saying much more and get to eating.
“I mean—”
“Exterminate! Exterminate!”
Rashae rolled her eyes and snagged her phone.
“Sorry, it’s my sister. Of course, the minute I have something to do she decides I exist to do her bidding. Do you have siblings?”
Right in the feels...
“No, no I don’t.” At least, not anymore.
“Lucky. I swear my older sister believes the rest of us were born to serve her. Love her, but she’s taking herself way too serious lately.” She tapped the phone a few times then slid it into her bag. “There. I’m ignoring her.”
“Doctor Who fan?” He followed suit and muted his phone.
“My father was a fan of the original series. He made us watch it when he could get the tapes. My younger sister and I made a point of watching the reboot together. The last few years Dad, Sam and I all watch the Christmas special, while Lily and Mom roll their eyes at us.”
The waiter descended and took their drink and food orders, momentarily breaking the flow of conversation. Talking was never Declan’s strong point, much to his father’s chagrin. He wasn’t gifted with the con man’s silver tongue. The silence went on for a few moments while his brain spun off a line of questions he wasn’t about to ask.
“Sorry for pulling you away like this during the holidays. I know everyone is busy with family and whatnot.” She folded her hands on the table. “Any big plans?”
“Uh...no, nothin’ really.”
“Lucky. Do you have family around here or...?”
“No, no family.” He smiled, because that seemed to put people at ease when the truth inevitably came out.
“No—oh my God, and I’m sitting here complaining about mine.” Rashae cradled her face in her hands. “We’re doomed to keep doing this, aren’t we? Me embarrassing myself and being a dick?”
Declan laughed, the mental picture of her face last night, eyes and mouth round with shock, still fresh in his mind.
“Usually, I’m the one sayin’ the dumb shit. Sorry.” Fucking hell, she was a politician’s daughter. He had to watch what he said.
“Sorry? I’m the one that should be sorry. Can we just start over? I’ll go out, walk back in and we can pretend I didn’t just say all that?”
“You’re fine.” He leaned on the table. Maybe now that that was out of the way, they could...talk about something else. What they had in common. Or at least the game. Ugh. That was a disaster, but with her help he could fix it. He was certain of it. Except he couldn’t rightly tell her that the guys were having second thoughts on hiring her. Despite Declan’s preference for shooting people straight, even when it hurt, this time he was going to have to put a spin on things. Just until she proved them wrong.
“So...what are you doing for Christmas?” She seemed genuinely perplexed by his situation.
“Uh, watch the special? Catch reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life?” In all reality, he’d probably marathon the last season of Doctor Who and meet up with one or two of the guys from his gaming group who needed to get away from relatives for a bit. There were a few things around the grounds he could take care of, but nothing much would happen until after the new year. “It’s actually a good time of year to do a lot of the work for upcomin’ campaigns. The spring is a huge time for crowd fundin’ games to debut at Spieltage in Essen.” The German convention was arguably the biggest gaming convention in existence.
“Do you think our game’ll be ready?”
Our game.
He liked those words.
“Maybe?” He leaned forward, ready to talk about something he knew how to handle. The logistics. Those, he knew like the back of his hand, he’d done it so many times.
“I took the feedback from last night and I worked up a few things this morning. They’re rough and unfinished, but I think I got it all in there.” She reached into the behemoth bag she’d hauled in and pulled out a large tablet. “I know they’re flip-flopping on theme, so I went more classic Euro with most of them, though I like the cyberpunk mock-up the best.”
She passed him the device.
He stared at the image. Her style was there, but...the subject wasn’t right. For Rashae or the game.
It was well done. The colors were amazing. She knew how to draw a woman’s figure. But...this was a lot of skin.
“You can swipe to see the rest of the set.” She propped her chin in her hand.
He did as she suggested, tabbing through the images. She’d done several of the possible titles in various fonts. Some more suggestive than others.
It wasn’t at all what he’d expected. There were a lot more...breasts...than he thought were necessary.
“I think Ayan and John are goin’ to like the more Euro look, but I’d like to see the cyberpunk. There aren’t many with that theme.”
Rashae directed him to the folder and he held his breath, hoping for awesome.
A woman in a skin-tight suit of...circuits and wires had one hip cocked out. Hell, she even had on heels. Completely ridiculous for a game with heavy war themes.
“I went a little crazy with the armor. I can always scale it back, make it sexier.” Rashae drummed her fingers on the tabletop.
Sexier.
That was his word.
Fuck.
How did he say this without stepping in it? Again?
Declan set the tablet down and swiped to a relatively safe image of a card layout.
“You don’t like it.” She stared at him. She was too smart to be taken for a fool.
“No—that’s not it,” he replied in a rush. This—he wouldn’t lie about. It was executed beautifully, but...
“Is it the layouts? The colors? Do I need to go more...not basic, just, classic?”
“No, what you’ve done is amazin’.”
“But you don’t like it.”
“That’s not it. I...used the wrong words to explain what I had in mind.”
“You said you wanted something sexy.” The way she looked at him could cut a man.
“Yes, but I meant it...cool. Somethin’ that has a wow factor, not...sexualized. Like, the mecs in Scythe are sexy. Those pirate ships in Merchants and Marauders are sexy. The Blood Rage miniatures are sexy.”
“Oooohhhh.” Her brows lifted.
“I mean,” —he flipped back to the cyberpunk sex goddess— “she’s sexy-sexy, you got that right, just...not in the way I meant. What is she?”
“The scout.”
“A...scout in heels?”
“I was trying to make what you said you wanted.” She stretched her hand out toward him, her smile strained. “It’s ridiculous, but I thought that’s what you were talking about.”
“Yeah, a scout in heels is only goin’ to find you one thing, and that’s not goin’ in a game for twelve and up.”
She snickered and covered her mouth with her other hand.
“Her...cleavage defies gravity. That’s not natural.” He tilted the screen this way and that, admiring the depth of shading, even Rashae’s quick sketches conveyed.
“I spent some time looking at comics last night for the proportions. I might have gone a little overboard.”
“Look, John and Ayan aren’t gamers. They’re engineers and businessmen who have seen a few guys make a buck off a game and think they know the trick. Have they engineered a good game? Yes, but their initial design was...dull. That’s why, when they hired me t
o manage their crowd fundin’ campaign, I said, ‘Look, guys, the name and the art work are goin’ to kill you. No one is goin’ to sit down to play it when they could get a Blood Rage or a Scythe instead.’ Though the mechanics of their game are—they’re great. The packagin’ isn’t goin’ to sell it.”
“Wait—they don’t play board games, but they want to make them?”
“...yes.”
Rashae’s mouth worked silently and her brows drew down into a line, furrowing her brow.
“I know. I know how it sounds, and I’m right there with you, but they reverse-engineered some of the best game mechanics and figured it out. Now, we just have to sell the game. And that’s why I said we needed a new, sexy—I mean cool—artist on the project. Someone who has their own buzz that will bring attention to the table.”
“Hey, I am sexy.” Rashae buffed her nails on her shoulder.
It was a trap.
She was—sexy wasn’t the right word. She was, attractive, talented, eloquent, intelligent and more. And that was just what he’d gleaned about her. The real deal, he imagined, was much better.
“Ouch, way to hurt a girl’s feelings.” She sipped from her water.
“I...uh, didn’t mean—fuck.” He couldn’t really tell her the truth and he wouldn’t lie to her face. Though he was lying to her about one, crucial thing.
“You do know I’m messing with you, right?” Rashae snickered.
“I sure as hell hope so.”
“You’re accent—where are you from?”
“Ireland.”
“Ah.”
The waiter saved him from what was inevitably the rest of that question.
What part?
There was no way to answer that one.
They resituated the table and tucked into the meal. The conversation lagged while they ate, which he was grateful for. He filled her in a bit more about the first iteration of the game, the clipart-like design work, the stale packaging, a few end game scoring points that hadn’t worked out.
“You’re a lot...different than you were last night.” Rashae sat back in her chair studying him.
The headband was from Sherlock. He should have pegged that sooner.
“Excuse me?” He blinked and tried to corral his wandering mind.
“Honestly?”
“Please.”
“I was pretty...unhappy with the way the meeting went, being talked over, about and ignored isn’t normally something I put up with.”
Declan stared at her, replaying bits of last night back in his head.
“It could have gone better.” He scrubbed a hand over the stubble he hadn’t shaven off in a few days. He could tell her a partial truth to appease his conscience. He was still lying, but he was doing it for their own good. Right? “I’m sorry. I...bullied John and Ayan into lettin’ go of their previous design. I picked you and...I could see them, I don’t know, checkin’ out and I was doin’ anythin’ I could to keep them on the hook. Christ.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was a dick, wasn’t I?”
“Am I the problem? Would it be better if you hired someone else?”
“They...don’t want to pay for the names they want. Not—fuck. Not that you aren’t—I’m goin’ to shut the hell up now and drown myself in this soup.”
Rashae had the grace to laugh at him and not call him a bowsie. She leaned forward and brushed her fingers over the back of his hand.
“They won’t pay for the name recognition they want. I get that. If this was cosplay, they couldn’t afford me. But because in the board game world I’m unknown, I don’t command that high of a price tag. It’s business, not personal. That’s why I waived the normal fees. You have a great reputation and I’m excited for the chance to work with you. And stop thinking I’m so easily offended. And, thank you for thinking of me.”
She sat back, but his hand still tingled from the brief contact.
He really had to get his head in the game. This stupid, fanboy crush of his had no place in his work and it was screwing with his head.
“Not a problem.”
“Now, what are we going to do about the design? What’s going to wow them?”
The hostess approached them, a cordless phone in hand.
“Excuse me, are you Ms. Grant?” the young woman asked.
“Please do not tell me it’s my sister.” Rashae closed her eyes and pressed the phone to her ear. “Yes?...Okay...Seriously?...Fine...Fine...I said fine...Whatever, okay.”
She ended the call and handed the phone to the hostess.
“Everythin’ okay?” he asked.
“My oldest sister.” Rashae stabbed a bit of lettuce. “It’s like...she thinks the rest of us exist to do whatever she needs, because it’s not like any of us have stuff going on. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
She set her fork down and fished out her cell phone.
“I really wanted a chance to pick your brain more, but Lily...I swear to God I’m going to smother her in her sleep.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just a phone call away.” Needy much?
“You might regret saying that. Do you mind if I cut this short? The princess isn’t going to stop until someone does as they’re told.”
Getting a random phone call from an artist he admired? Nothing to regret.
“It’s fine. And don’t worry about the check. Go on. And don’t fall into any snow drifts while I’m not around to break your fall.”
Oh, if he could reel those words back in...
4.
R
ashae finally locked herself in the guest room. It was late afternoon, and she’d lost a lot of time she would have otherwise spent staring at her phone. The only thing that’d made Lily’s list of errands tolerable were the silly, random texts from Declan.
Making sure she got to the metro okay.
That she knew what time the Doctor Who special aired.
Oh, and there was a marathon tomorrow.
Watch out for snow drifts.
The last one would never fail to make her smile.
Declan was a completely different person today. More like the man she’d chatted with leading up to the meeting, which was a relief. She didn’t feel much better about the project, but her faith in humanity was restored. Not all the attractive, abtastic geeks were dicks.
God, she couldn’t stop putting her foot in her mouth around him though. First the snow drift debacle, then she complained about having a big, busy family. What next?
She plopped down at the desk chair and pulled out her phone, chewing her lip.
Declan never texted back immediately, which was probably another blessing. If he did, she’d still be standing in produce grinning at her phone.
Since she didn’t have a new missive from Lily or something to smile about from Declan, she shot off a quick text to Samantha. Sam had been oddly silent all day, which Rashae was taking as a good sign. Sam had needed time to heal, and she’d done that while Rashae kept her busy up in New York, but now her little sister needed to leave the nest and dive into the next chapter of life.
Rashae’s money was on a real engagement with Oliver, but she’d keep that to herself. The whole thing was a tricky, sensitive situation between the family and she did not want to get involved more than she was.
“Exterminate! Exterminate!”
She snatched up the phone, but couldn’t deny she was disappointed the message wasn’t from Declan. It was from Sam. At least she was alive.
Dinner w/ Oliver. Can u cover 4 me?
Well...crap.
How the hell was Rashae going to do that?
She chewed the end of a pen and mulled it over.
Lily and Sam weren’t speaking, but if Sam wasn’t at dinner tonight, Lily would want to know exactly what was going down. Rashae would rather not have to lie to their parents. Mom would believe anything Rashae said, but Dad? He saw through her. And Sam’s relationship with their father was tenuous at best, since Oliver worked for
him.
The only thing to do was be absent herself. If she wasn’t there, everyone else would just assume Sam and Rashae were out with their old circle of friends. Only thing was, Rashae needed to work. And not in a café, where she’d be tempted by all the pastries and sugary drinks. Her New Year’s Eve costumes fit like a glove. She didn’t have time to make alterations if she splurged.
She didn’t want to double text Declan, but if she wanted to slip out before anyone else got home, it was now or never.
Hey, any chance that office space is open? I need a place to crash and work, ideally pretty late.
If Sam and Oliver were having dinner, she wanted to be prepared to back up their story. Besides, the questions Oliver had peppered her with weren’t random at all. No guy cared what shapes a girl liked unless they went on a ring.
Rashae set about packing up her drawing pad and other tools. At home, she had a design studio.
“Exterminate! Exterminate!”
Space is closed for holidays. What do you need?
Well, crap. She could always go to the library and then piddle around once it closed. It wasn’t ideal, but she needed to do a little shopping, too.
Need to cover for my sister and get started on what we talked about. Day is getting away from me.
Rashae finished packing up her stuff, but she wasn’t confident that the library was a good idea either. What if their holiday hours were different? Or there were events?
“Vworrrp Vworrrrp.” Her phone flashed and nearly vibrated off the edge of the desk, due to her overly aggressive ring tone.
She snatched it up, brows arching at the name on the screen.
“Hey, sorry to bug you.” She wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder.
“Nah, you’re not a bother.” Declan’s voice was more...relaxed. His tone seemed to roll, painting the mental image of green hills. “Why do you need to cover for your sister, if you don’t mind me askin’?”
“Long story.” She sighed. “Sam—Samantha—is out with her not-boyfriend and our oldest sister—Lily—is still butt-hurt that Sam’s not-boyfriend didn’t pick her instead. I was thinking I’d...I don’t know, vague-text the fam and tell them we were out and not to hold dinner for us.”
The Gamer and the Geek (Gone Geek, #4) Page 3
