The voice was wrong.
That left it between Piper and Tamara.
He wasn’t sure she was either of them. She could have lied. Sent him a picture to appease his curiosity. But that didn’t seem like her. His gut said she was in there.
In the end, all he had to go with was her chat profile, which listed her as a thirty-something, white female.
Tamara was Asian.
Piper was Caucasian.
How much was he going to trust a profile?
He’d agonized over the decision, but couldn’t bring himself to dig deeper into the women’s online lives. It seemed…wrong. So he’d stuck to what she’d told him, and by extension her user information.
A few weeks ago he’d been pretty sure she was Tamara, but she’d told him no. Which only left…Piper.
There wasn’t a world out there in which he’d ever have a chance with someone like Piper Erin or any of the other women, but it didn’t stop him from dreaming the connection between them was real.
He was a sad, pathetic soul, wasn’t he?
A message popped up in their chat.
K4h3l20dk: i do want 2 c u
K4h3l20dk: all of u
K4h3l20dk: it’s just maybe not the right time
K4h3l20dk: missed seeing u cum
Dirty messages didn’t ease the sting. Sure, she might like their Internet games, the phone sex, him being around whenever she wanted to talk, but if he were honest with himself, it wasn’t enough anymore. Three, maybe four months of these games, and for the first time in ages…he wanted more. He wanted something else. Something he could touch.
Maybe she had some sort of hang up going from her chat handle to her real name?
He’d begun calling her Pam as a way of hinting to her he knew who she might be. But she hadn’t taken the next step. Perhaps he needed to make that first step. Tell her he knew who she was, that it was okay.
Stephen brought up a browser window.
He could message her their gif. She told him she often watched it when he was teaching or otherwise unavailable, that she stroked herself while watching the looped video of him coming. But…what if he sent it to her real name? To Piper? As himself?
2.
Tamara’s knees weren’t quite strong enough to support her. Not after that orgasm. Or three. Four? She couldn’t remember.
Still, she wrapped her bikini-clad body in a sarong and stepped out of her room. The morning light reflected off the water and through the floor to ceiling windows of their vacation rental.
Man, she’d really needed to get away for a while. Too bad her bank account was hurting from this trip. She didn’t regret it. Not with everything she’d needed to figure out, and the girls were who she needed to talk to the most.
“Morning,” Rashae said with far too much enthusiasm. She sat at the dining table, a bowl of cereal in one hand and her tablet propped up in front of her. Probably studying some new cosplay design. They were all jonesing to get back to work, and Rashae was the worst of them all.
“Is it?” Tamara shuffled into the kitchen, still adrift after Stephen’s gift, the orgasm—just talking with him left her spinning.
“Yup. I got an email about that show. I think I can get you an introduction if you’re still wanting the gig.” Rashae shifted her attention to Tamara.
“Seriously? Yeah, that would be great.” She grinned. First the orgasm, now a new opportunity? Today was looking pretty good. She was in bad need of something going right. After refusing to date her co-host from a popular YouTube video game show, she’d been canned. He’d thrown what amounted to a temper tantrum, and just like that, fifty percent of her income was gone.
“How was your morning date?” Miranda sat up on the sofa.
“Shit.” Tamara pressed her hand to her chest. “What the fuck?”
“Man, you’re jumpy.” Rashae watched her like a cat.
“Who is he?” Miranda rested her chin on the back of the sofa, her short hair more like a halo, thanks to the humidity giving her curls.
“Who is who?” Tamara opened the fridge and stuck her head in an effort to cool her cheeks and find some breakfast. Except they’d emptied it of all but milk since today was their last day. Crap. She closed the door and leaned against the cool metal. What she wouldn’t give to stay here…escape from all her problems…and be a beach bum…
Tomorrow, she’d have to go back to reality, and what a fucking disaster that was.
“Come on, you’ve been glued to your computer every day for at least an hour. While. On. Vacation.” Miranda folded her arms under her chin. “Spill! You are not in there interviewing for new anchor jobs. Please? I have zero love life, and yours is always interesting.”
“My love life is what got me canned.”
“Any word from the Legend producers?” Rashae asked.
“Nothing. They’re refusing to admit that they basically caved to Adam’s tantrum. What a douchecanoe.” Tamara crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the counter. She’d ignored her co-host’s parade of pretty and petite Asian girls coming and going from the set because she’d already rocked the boat by pushing to take on the co-host job.
“Dude. Sue.” Rashae frowned. “You’ve got proof.”
“Not enough.” Tamara sighed. “I kinda, sorta already talked to a lawyer, and he said it’s not enough to prove they fired me over a personal issue. I just…I just want to put it all behind me, you know? It was a shitty work environment anyway.”
“You at least need to speak out. Tell your side of the story.”
“And what? Be called the ‘Bitch of Gaming’ all over again? No, thanks. I did that once after…after…yeah. Not again. Thanks.” Tamara shuddered.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tamara said over Miranda’s stammering. She rubbed her face.
For a solid year, all she’d done was stand on her flimsy pedestal and tell her side of the story—and look at what good it did her. Canned from her only solid paycheck. Yeah, she still had other gigs—from beta testing games to stunt doubling, but they didn’t have the same kind of regularity as the show. She’d thought she’d finally made a big break when it came to Legend. Maybe she wouldn’t have to do as many odd jobs here and there. If things got really rough, she could always go back to being a personal trainer. There was no shame in that, and she’d enjoyed many of her clients.
Tomorrow, she’d have to face reality all over again.
The hate mail would have piled up in her inboxes. She was tempted to do a total purge, except she might have a new opportunity buried in all the crap. No part of her regretted standing up for herself. It’d brought her into this circle, given her friends, shown her how strong she was, but it’d cost her a lot, too.
“So—your date go well?” Miranda asked.
“You just want more material for your romance book you aren’t writing.” Deflection was the name of Tamara’s game now.
“It’s a hobby.” Miranda shrugged, unapologetic.
“Tamara, it’s bound to be interesting when you pick up dudes online.” Rashae gave Tamara a pointed look.
“What? I have a type.” Tamara shoved a hand through her hair. She had an anonymous type since no matter how careful she tried to be guys were always getting her into trouble. Adam was just another guy in a long string of men who wanted to use her. For once, she wanted her needs met, and she didn’t want to have to plan for the inevitable fall-out and how badly it would go for her. In her line of work, the woman was always at fault, and that was bullshit.
“You look, I don’t know, glowy and freaked. Does he like weird stuff?” Leave it to Miranda to be at least fifty percent right.
“No, nothing weird.” Tamara opened the fridge again, then closed it.
“What’s your deal, then?” Rashae laid the tablet down, giving Tamara her complete attention.
Why couldn’t she be like them? Rashae could slay a man with a look. Miranda had the be
st luck with picking a great guy. Both women were beautiful, smart, and had it all. Tamara covered her face.
God, she was a terrible person. Her relationship issues were so trivial and petty and stupid and…she should be focused on getting her shit in order. That’s what this trip was about. An opportunity to get away from home, regroup, plan and go home armored up and prepared to fight for what professional-Tamara needed. Still, she wanted someone in her corner, to come home to, to talk to, to have crazy hot sex with.
But no one got it. Not really. They were all a bunch of career-minded women who didn’t need a man. Except Tamara wanted one. A guy who would let her drop her guard, curl up in his lap and just…be. Someone to catch her when the bad days knocked her down. Someone to stand beside her when the shit got flung. But finding that person, preparing them for what her life was like…the thought of it was exhausting. And she didn’t know if her Internet boyfriend was up for a challenge like that.
One glance at what her life was really like…and he just might run from her. She couldn’t risk it. Her heart wouldn’t survive another loss.
“Stephen wants to meet up,” she finally said.
“Stephen? I like it, sounds sexy.” Miranda grinned.
“Watch out, her romance dude will be named Stephen next.” Rashae grinned at Miranda.
“I can’t name him after someone we know. Even by proxy. That’s weird.” Miranda rolled her eyes.
“How long have you been stringing this one along?” Rashae twirled her spoon, her focus back on Tamara.
“I’m not—” Tamara took a deep breath. Fighting with Rashae over this would get her nothing but grief. “We’ve been talking for a couple months.”
“Wait—is this the L.A. guy?” Miranda sat up. “You said you tracked his IP, that sometimes he’s only a couple blocks from your apartment.”
“Yes. It’s him.” And Tamara was a terrible, horrible person. She had the link to his Facebook account in her Favorites folder and liked to ping his current IP address to figure out where he was. Sometimes, she fantasized about going to find him…sit next to him at a coffee shop just to be near him. But she couldn’t. Not after sending him that stupid picture.
“Last you told me, you were still anonymous.” Miranda was totally tuned in now.
“You mean—is this the chat room, cyber sex thing you did?” Rashae’s gaze narrowed. She glanced from Tamara to Miranda and back again.
“Yes.” Tamara groaned.
“Lord, Jesus.” Rashae shook her head. “Why? Tamara. Why are you picking up random dudes in chat rooms? Go to a bar. A con. Men fall over themselves to be near you.” She pounded the dining table with her fist at each point.
“That’s the problem.” Tamara threw her hand up. “Rashae, how many guys want to buy you a shot because you’re the token black woman—in cosplay—at a con?”
“A lot,” Rashea replied without missing a beat.
“Exactly. To those guys I’m a unicorn. A hot Asian girl with big boobs. I’m the conquest. The girl to…put in her place. I don’t matter to them. It’s either my ethnicity or proving everyone else is right about me. That I’m just a bitch and a whore.” She thunked her head against the fridge.
“You’re right.” Rashae nodded. “Doing what you did, standing up for yourself, it made you a target, but not to everyone. The gaming circle is pretty small. There are plenty of guys out there who don’t have the same hang-ups or prejudices.”
Tamara leaned against the stainless steel surface and looked up at the ceiling. She didn’t regret standing up to the men who’d attacked her, but they’d stolen a piece of her, even though she’d tried to deny it. She did her best to deal with the residual pain, and one part of that was this thing with Stephen. He didn’t know her history, what had happened to her, what people said about her. All he knew was—her. The real, vulnerable her she couldn’t be with anyone except her girlfriends. And that was special. Worth protecting. Even if that meant she was protecting him from herself.
“Back to Internet dude,” Miranda said.
“Stephen. His name’s Stephen.”
“Okay. Stephen, sorry. Why not meet him? You already seem to know all about him. He’s got to be at least be eighty percent okay, or you wouldn’t still be talking to him, and it sounds like he’s not connected to anything in our industry. He knows nothing about what you look like. You’ve been talking for ages. Are you scared he’s ugly?” Miranda made it sound so very simple. She scrunched up her nose. “He doesn’t know anyone at Legend, does he?”
“No, he has no connection to video games, YouTube, any of it. That’s why it’s perfect the way it is. If…if we meet…everything changes. I can’t handle anymore change in my life right now. I need to get shit under control.”
“Morning.” The fourth member of their geek girl club descended the stairs from the second story, still wearing a fuzzy robe, slippers, and her hair was up.
Tamara was glad Piper had missed their conversation. What Tamara had gone through was nothing compared to the hell Piper had endured. Lately though, it seemed as though Piper’s hard, outer shell were cracking. Tamara hadn’t wanted to say anything, but she might mention it to her therapist. Who also happened to be Piper’s.
“You are never going to believe what some random dude just sent me.” Piper laughed and pulled out her phone.
“Morning,” Rashae said. “We’re waiting to hear Tamara’s reasons for not having a face to face with her Internet beau.”
“Is it the chat room guy?” Piper asked without looking up.
Tamara swallowed.
Christ, had she told them all? Probably. Stephen made her crazy, and when she was crazy she talked. This weekend she’d done a lot of talking.
“Seriously, come check this out. I get random dick pics, but never a dick gif. The nerve of this guy. Look.” Piper turned her phone toward Rashae and Miranda slid down the couch to peer at the screen.
Why the hell not?
Tamara crossed the floor to join the girls.
She only had to see a second to know the full loop.
The same gif was saved on nearly every device she owned.
Her mouth dried up.
“Wait—Stephen? This guy’s name is Stephen?” Rashae turned her head and speared Tamara with a glare that sliced her to the bone.
“Yeah, the dude’s some sort of professor.” Piper closed the messenger and brought up the Facebook profile of a Stephen Kipper, which Tamara was already well-acquainted with, thanks to her crazy stalking skills.
“Does dick-gif-Stephen live in L.A.?” Rashae continued to stare at Tamara.
“How’d you guess? Don’t tell me he sent it to you, too?” Piper finally glanced up and followed Rashae’s glare to Tamara. “What? What’d I miss?”
“I don’t know.” Rashae arched a brow, her stare none too friendly. “Tamara?”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
She took a step back. It didn’t matter that she knew five different marital arts styles, kicked the asses of men twice her size, or that she was the offspring of not one but two gold medalist fighters. Rashae would wipe the floor with her ass for this—and rightfully so.
“You know this guy, Tamara?” Piper perched on the dining table.
“I can explain.” Tamara swallowed, trying in vain to fix the dry mouth problem.
She’d just wanted to be a normal girl, not the girl on YouTube or the one in the video game. Her. She wanted to be—her with a guy. To have a man like her for her without having to wonder if he had some sort of ulterior motive. But this thing with Stephen had become something else. A connection that’d mattered. She’d never expected it to go this far.
To last.
“Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.” Rashae’s glare lowered the temperature to downright frigid.
“I didn’t.” Tamara closed her eyes. “At least I don’t think I did.”
“What did you do?” Piper glanced between them, still totally out of the loop.<
br />
“Tamara?” Rashae prompted her.
“I didn’t…” Tamara opened her eyes. She’d dug this hole for herself. Now, it was time to hop in. “Look, I never expected things to go this far with Stephen.”
“Dick gif dude? You know him?” Piper’s brows rose.
“Yes. I met him in a chat room. We…talk.” Tamara swallowed. Yeah, no one believed that. “He just…he wanted a picture of me, but I knew that if I sent him my picture that…You know what happens.”
Piper blinked once, very slowly.
No one spoke.
“I don’t understand. I’m clearly out of the loop here. Please spell it out for me.” The way Piper spoke, slow and sweet, with each word enunciated so carefully, was not a good sign.
“It was months ago. I took that Wonder Woman group shot of everyone and sent it to him. I figured—that’s a lot of women. He’d never figure out which one I am. Right?”
“Tell him you’re not me.” Piper’s brows were almost indistinguishable from her bangs.
“I never told him I was you. I never even told him I was in the picture.”
“But you are, right?” Rashae asked.
“Yes, I’m front and center.” Tamara had thought she could hide in plain sight. She should have known she couldn’t out-smart the hot professor.
“You have Internet sex with this guy.” Piper shoved off the table and pointed at her phone.
“Yes.”
“And you gave him my picture?” A red flush crept up Piper’s neck.
“No, not a picture of you, but you are in it.”
“This random motherfucker you have video sex with—you sent him my Goddamned picture?” Piper’s face was red and her hands clearly shaking. “After everything that happened—You. Gave. Him. My. Picture?”
“It’s not just you, Piper. He’s got it all wrong—”
“No. You gave him my picture. After everything Carl put me through?” Piper was practically shaking. And why wouldn’t she? After a very public break-up with a video game engineer touted as the next-great-mind in the industry, he’d set about to destroy her. In so many ways, what had happened to Piper was worse than what happened to Tamara.
Beauty and the Geek (Gone Geek Book 1) Page 2
