by Xavier Neal
I try to slick back the missed curls, relieved I managed to not only look decent for the discussion, but to not wake Ford up in the process. Pretty sure he could’ve slept through a freight train crashing in my living room the way he was out. Sad thing is I was right there with him. However, due to Princess Pinky’s routine schedule he insisted we create for her, she prevented that from being a possibility by rudely tugging on my sheets. I guess I should really be grateful she did.
“Ollie!” Buddy warmly greets shoving his sunglasses into his black hair as he enters the small conference room. “You get a doughnut?”
Thankful he seems to have no clue I’m tardy, I simply shake my head, and say, “Not yet. Wanted to get through this without getting chocolate on my designs.”
Lie. Didn’t even know there were doughnuts, but now that I do, I really want one. I didn’t even have time to eat this morning. I had to brush my teeth in the car with a stick of gum and a tic-tac I found.
Bart strolls in close behind him. “Morning, Ollie! Have a good holiday?”
“I did.”
Probably the best fucking holiday I’ve ever had in my life.
“Catch those fireworks?” He sits down beside his partner across from me.
“I did.”
And then made some of my own….
Buddy smiles, tucks his leg underneath him, and leans both arms on the table. “So, let’s get straight to the point of this meeting.”
A wave of confusion engulfs me. “I was under the impression we were meeting to look at the artwork I had been toying with.”
“No.” Buddy shakes his head. “We don’t care about that.”
“Excuse me?”
“Of course we care about that,” Bart quickly corrects and gives him a gentle nudge.
“Huh?” Buddy darts his eyebrows down. It takes a split second before he realizes exactly what just came out of his mouth. “No! No! We absolutely care about that. We just know that’s handled, Ollie. Your artwork has never once disappointed or been unfulfilling for our games. That isn’t a question or task you of all people need to be babysat over.”
I place a hand over my now rapidly beating heart.
Downside of having two very lax bosses is often the accidental fear they ensue.
Bart folds his hands together and gives me a concerned stare. “We actually wanted to discuss with you your feelings about making this a multiplatform release.”
The question bulges my eyes.
“We haven’t done one in many years-”
“Since Sweet Bloody High actually,” Buddy interjects.
“But we think now would be a great time for it,” Bart quickly takes over again. “While we’ve been back and forth on the decision for a first person or third person shooter, I think we are settling on one that allows the player to choose.”
“We’ve also decided we want this to be our big Christmas release next year.”
Even more baffled now, I stutter out, “Y-y-y-you w-w-w-want what?”
“Yeah!” Buddy enthusiastically states. “This launch will be huge! This game will be huge. Do you have any idea how many requests we get to make more games for the console?”
“And you know why we don’t,” Bart tries to remind casually.
Their dynamic is always like this. It’s an interesting pair. Most of the time they need each other for balance, not only to keep the company running, but from the looks of it their friendship too.
“Yeah,” he attempts to calm back down, “but now we are and I’m really excited about it. Even if we only put one of these out every few years, it’s still something!”
Bart rolls his eyes. “Look Ollie, this is what we want and ultimately as the owners and your bosses we can do whatever it is we decide-”
“But we’re not giant dicks so we value your input.”
“You can’t say dick to our employees, Buddy.”
“I can,” he corrects, big brown eyes dancing mischievously. “And if memory serves me correct, I just did.”
Before an argument can ensue, I chime in, “I think it’s a great idea.”
“See,” Buddy fails to whisper.
“My only real concern is the time frame. If you want it released for next year’s holiday season-”
“Then it’s going to require twice as much effort.” Bart nods slowly. “Thankfully, with Death’s Doorstep in its final stages to be our release this holiday and Dragon’s Doctrine making prompt progress to be first release of next year, we should be able to give this game what it needs to reach our target date. That is if everyone is on board and is willing to work the extra time it may require.”
“We need everyone to give all the energy they have,” Buddy backs. “All focus. All hands and feet on deck. We’re going to be paying out the ass for this project, but we know if you all are willing to make it happen, it will be worth it tenfold.”
“You can’t phrase things like that,” Bart scolds again. “It’s very unprofessional.”
“Why are you up my ass about every little thing today?” Buddy snips at the same time he snaps his head. “Is this about yesterday?”
“We aren’t discussing that here,” he lowers his voice, “and please remember all I’m trying to do right now is encourage you to be professional.”
Buddy mocks, “Yeah, okay…”
“Ollie is our lead artist. She’s isn’t just some bottom of the barrel employee who would like suck your dick for a promotion. Treat her with respect.”
I try not to gasp at the comment.
Who blew him to get a better job?! Yup. Definitely asking Camilla about that one. If it’s juicy and it’s gossip she knows. Funny thing is she doesn’t go out of her way to dig up the dirt. She typically just ends up in the right place at the right time. She also doesn’t care for most of it. She only brings me the things she knows I will either laugh profusely over or threaten to vomit up my lunch about.
“Oh I can’t say dick, but you can?” Buddy bites.
“Let me just say, I don’t really care who says the word dick,” I try to nonchalantly begin, “but I am 110 percent on board with giving this project everything I have. I am humbled you are letting me be so involved from the artwork to the storyline to some of the more advanced ideas like how to handle marketing. I appreciate getting to be hands on for this experience and am prepared to devote all my time to it.”
Not exactly all my time, but most of it. Ford will understand. If anything he’ll support it. I know I’ll get busy, but we’ll make it work. I’m not worried about that. Actually, nowadays when it comes to Ford I worry very little. He’s proven his dedication to making our relationship stable despite whatever curves work or family throws our direction. I like to believe I’ve shown the same commitment. Plus, after last night, I damn sure have no desire to ever walk away. Or limp away. Or crawl away…Geez I’m still sore.
“Great!” They exclaim in unison.
“We will get some memos sent out and come up with a weekly meeting schedule. In the meantime, Dragon’s Doctrine has a few touch ups needed to the cover,” Bart informs.
“After that, please feel free to resume sketching for Cowboy’s Carnage.”
“Did we actually decide on that name?” Bart grunts. “It seems…violent.”
“It’s a violent video game!” Buddy snaps.
Not prepared to put in my two cents just yet on the name choice, I reach for my bag, and quietly dismiss myself.
I wonder what’s going on between them. They’re always a tad push and shove, but not like this. Not like something is wrong. Not like something happened and they aren’t sure how to deal with it.
After grabbing a doughnut from the employee lounge, I flop into my office chair, relieved to be alone to reflect on the unexpected decisions dumped upon me.
Almost immediately, Camilla appears in the door way with a very suspicious stare.
“What?”
She slowly begins to grin.
“What? Is there chocol
ate on my nose” The lack of retort prompts me to continue asking, “Is it somewhere else? Do I have a pencil in my bun again?”
“You have a visitor.”
“What?”
Ford appears over her shoulder with short wave in the air.
My jaw hits the ground leaving me speechless.
What the hell is he doing here?!
“You left your phone at the apartment,” he answers, strolling in behind my best friend who looks like a school girl dying to poke the situation.
“And would that be your apartment or hers?” Camilla questions as she positions herself on her favorite spot on my desk.
He offers her a wide smile. “Hers.”
“Guess now I can rip up your application to become a nun.”
Her joke receives a sharp glare from me.
Ford chuckles, “Burn it. That’s never going to be an option.”
“Ford!”
“What about after you?” Camilla challenges.
“Camilla!”
“There will be no after me. I’m it.”
The words burn my face, but swell my heart.
He is it. I used to think people who said that kind of shit were high or in serious denial on how life actually works. Now? Now I’ve realized it’s just not something that happens to everyone, but I’m glad as hell it’s happened to me…Or from the sound of it. Us.
“Big words from a big…built…cowboy…” She drags the words out while admiring his measurements, which are being displayed perfectly in a white t-shirt and fitted pair of jeans. “I’m willing to listen to your testimony over dinner this evening.”
Ford replies, “Absolutely.”
“Ford….”
“On you of course,” my best friend adds.
“Of course.”
“I’m not cheap to entertain.”
“And I’m not afraid of the price.”
“Excuse me!” I state a little louder. “Are either of you aware I’m in the room?”
“Just not sushi. Not a fan. The amount of meat to rice ratio irritates me.” Ford drops his attention down to me. “And Darlin’ I’m always aware when you’re in the room. I know when a chunk of my heart isn’t around.”
Camilla swoons, and I have to stop myself from doing the same.
He tips my chin slightly upward and plants a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. When he pulls back he informs, “I just thought I’d drop off your cell in case you needed it.”
“I think you stopped by just for a kiss,” Camilla comments.
Ford gives her a wink. “Bonus.”
I blush at the same time his eyes fall back to mine.
“Won’t take up any more of your time. I know you’ve got work to do and I’ve got a brother to scold, so I’m gonna go. See you tonight?”
Taking the offered phone, I nod. “Apparently for dinner with my best friend.”
“I like steak.”
My eyes roll yet he smirks. “Appreciate a woman with a fondness for red meat.”
“Red, white, brown, yellow, pretty much anything that looks cut well and tastes good.”
“Camilla!”
He laughs again, and I cover my face with my palm to hide my increasing embarrassment.
Not at all how I wanted them to meet. Definitely not what I wanted her to say. They both needed to be prepared for what they were getting into, him more than her. Why is it so much with him is so unpredictable? And why is it a bad thing to love it so much?
“Oh, and Ollie?” His voice darts my eyes up to see him stopped in the door frame. “Never and I mean never leave without waking me up to properly kiss you goodbye again.”
The words deepen the redness in my face, yet I somehow manage to nod my understanding of his demand.
I did kiss him goodbye. But it wasn’t proper. Since he didn’t stop snoring it’s safe to assume he probably didn’t even know it happened.
Once he’s completely outside of my vision, my best friend spins my chair around to face her ecstatic face. “Marry him.”
If she only knew how much I want to…Never thought I would ever be the type of woman men would put up with longer than the seven minutes they need to get off in bed. Damn sure never imagined someday I might actually find one who lasts for hours and wants to spend the rest of his life with me. Which he does. His very specific word choices, including the ones he just gave Camilla, prove it. We may not be walking down the aisle tomorrow but I know it’s in our future. Without a single doubt.
I close the lid to the grill just as Ollie strolls out onto her patio. Seeing her wrapped up in my old gray stained sweatshirt and a pair of loose black shorts stirs my cock without my consent.
Could be because we’ve been spending less time in the sheets these past few weeks and more time side by side working on our computers, or it could be because there is nothing sexier than seeing the woman I love most in the world covered in me. Thinking a little bit of both.
Ollie plops down in the patio chair and pulls her feet to her chest. “Sorry, I didn’t come out here first. I had to shower.”
“Had to?”
“Yeah, I was enjoying an ice cream cone on the way home from work-”
“And you didn’t bring me one?”
“I didn’t know you were already here.”
“But you didn’t ask.”
She glowers and I lightly chuckle before having a sip of my beer.
“Anyway, a stupid bike rider swerved in front of me, I hit my breaks, smashed the cone, and spent the remainder of the drive sticky as well as swearing like a starving sailor.”
The description drags out more laughter.
“Smells good though,” she motions her hand towards my grill, “whatever you’re cookin’, good lookin’.”
I smirk at the same time I place the bottle down on the nearby table. “Just slow roasting vegetables at the moment. Wanted to wait until you were home before actually putting the meat on.”
About a month ago, I tossed the piece of shit grill she had, and brought over the one from my apartment. Aside from the fact hers was dingy and outdated, I liked having something here to remind her of me. Something here I contribute to. It was really just the beginning. I’ve got laundry in her washroom, aftershave along with deodorant in the bathroom, and three coffee mugs I’ve gotten over the last two Christmas’ from employees.
“And what are you grilling tonight?” Excitement instantly appears in her eyes. “Tell me it’s the cheesy beer chicken.”
I lean against the railing. “We can’t have that every week, Ollie.”
“Since when are you a quitter?”
After we exchange a small laugh, I answer, “We’re having steak.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “Good news or bad news?”
“What?”
“Well, when you decide we’re having grilled steak there’s always some sort of news involved.”
“Not true.”
“Princess Pinky threw up in my favorite flats. We had steak and twice baked mashed potatoes. Blake was too hung over to work without supervision, we canceled our weekend away, and you made steak and garlic red potatoes that night.”
My mouth lowers to argue yet she raises a finger to inform me she’s not finished.
“I gave you a key to my apartment-”
“We had pizza that night!”
“Because we spent all afternoon and most of the night having sex and the only thing still open that didn’t require us to leave the house was pizza. But the following night we had steak and baked potatoes. And why is it we always have steak and potatoes?”
“We have other sides.”
“We do,” she says slowly, “but there’s always some sort of potato. Is that a farm boy thing?”
Her attempt to make light of the situation in case I am indeed delivering bad news is appreciated.
“It’s not bad news.”
“Then it’s good news.”
“It’s actually great news. We have our final meeting wit
h Wilcox scheduled for next month. While everything is a done deal at this point, we will finalize the paperwork to make it official as well as release a press statement.”
