Virtual Reality

by Kitty Cox

  "Mm. That's a big word," he purred. "I think we might have to keep you around a while."

  "Uh..." She had no idea how to respond to that.

  Ice chuckled. "I'm harmless, darlin'. I'm also an insatiable flirt. Just tell me when I get out of hand, I promise I can take it." He yawned again. "But I have got to get some sleep. Have to be at work in a couple of hours. Log in again tonight?"

  It was the most fun she'd had, so the offer sounded almost too good to be true. "Ok, when?"

  "Um, say six pm eastern time?" He sounded hopeful.

  "Wow, you play that long?"

  "Yeah. Or any time after that. I'll be on until dawn."

  "Ok. I'll try," she promised.

  "Don't break my heart, Lith. Have a good morning, and I hope you get some sleep."

  She did too. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to sleep for more than an hour at a time. Anxiety had that effect. "Yep. Night, Ice."

  "User has left the channel."

  Chapter 2

  She did sleep. Probably not as much as she should have, but more than she had in months. Three hours seemed like an eternity to Kate's exhausted body, but after waking up, she still had dark circles under her eyes, and her face hung on her skull like only her freckles were holding it on. A hot shower helped, and makeup hid the rest, so by the time she walked out to her car, she only looked like a half-dead, flat-chested twig instead of a holocaust victim.

  With a stack of resumes in hand, Kate had a list of places hiring to visit. Her skills weren't impressive: she could type quickly, answer phones, and work for next to nothing. In other words, she'd apply to just about any secretarial or administrative assistant positions she could find a listing for and hope they would overlook the massive gap in her work history. Over and over she walked into the main lobby and ended up handing her paperwork to some dolled-up girl at the front desk who looked bored. Kate's stomach clenched with each disinterested look, convinced she'd never find something, and desperate for a way to keep paying her bills.

  She pulled up to the last place on her list, the Degrass Plaza, and checked her face in the mirror. Her eyeliner was starting to smudge, her lipstick was long gone, and her crazy orange hair was trying to frizz in the humidity. A touch of powder, a scrape of a brush, and a swipe of gloss made her look professional again, but nothing would fix the dark circles under her eyes except a lot more sleep. She looked as good as she could, she told herself and stepped out of the car.

  Her dainty heels clicked on the asphalt, the stiff material of her suit skirt swished with each step as she marched toward the automatic door. Just as the glass slid open, Kate pulled her cheeks up, forcing a smile into her eyes, her feet keeping a steady rhythm. She just had to be professional. She just had to get a damned job before the end of the week!

  A tall, svelte man leaned over the keyboard, his brow furrowed, but he lifted his chin when she walked up in a minor acknowledgment of her presence. "Give me just a second?" he begged.

  "Not a problem."

  They always kept the good-looking people at the front desk, and this guy was no exception. He looked familiar, but probably just because he was like every other showpiece in these elite corporate lobbies. A dime a dozen and chosen for his charm and sex appeal - which he had plenty of! She chided herself for thinking like that, but let her eyes enjoy the way his suit molded to his body, proving that he probably looked just as good without it on. A perk of the job, getting to appreciate the nice view every day when she walked in, right?

  The man's fingers flew across the keyboard, his gaze flicked from side to side, then, with a gesture of finality, he smacked the enter key and straightened. When his eyes turned on her, they widened slightly before drifting to the paper in her hands, the smile tugging at one side of his mouth looking a bit more than just friendly. She felt like he was dissecting her, learning all of her secrets with that one brief look.

  "Sorry about that," he said. "How can I help you?"

  She tried not to, but instinctively, she looked away, and her smile slipped. It only lasted a breath before she forced herself back into the role she needed to play. "I saw that Degrass Plaza was looking for an administrative assistant." She paused to give him a charming smile. "I wanted to bring in my resume and learn more about the position."

  He nodded slowly as he accepted the crisp papers, his eyes scanning the first page. "Monday through Friday, typically nine to six. The position is salaried and often requires overtime."

  "That isn't a problem," she assured him, hoping he'd pass it along with her resume.

  "Good." His dark eyes lifted from the page and held hers, commanding her complete attention. "Doesn't look like you've done this kind of work before, what made you decide to apply for an administrative position?"

  Crap, crap, and double crap. "I'm looking for something with regular hours that's consistent and has options for promotion. I spent the last five years as a stay at home wife - my ex-husband insisted - and I was hoping this would be a good way to re-enter the corporate world." She laced her fingers together to hide the trembling of her hands.

  "Mhm." His eyes dropped to her wrists, and he paused. "So, do you have any hobbies?"

  Not at all what she was expecting. Also not something she'd give him too much detail about. Kate lifted her chin and met his eyes. "I write bad stories in my free time and play a few computer games. Nothing excessive."

  His polite smile finally began to soften. "Good to hear. So, when are you available for an interview?"

  "Any time that's convenient," she assured him. Who was this guy, and how had she managed to luck out enough to get an interview already?

  "Friday?" He grabbed the keyboard with one hand, the mouse with the other, and stared at the monitor. "Hm, would the afternoon work? Say two pm?"

  "That would be perfect. Thank you."

  "No, thank you, Mrs. Gaskill." He offered his hand, and she took it, matching his grip, but something about the touch seemed personal, intentional.

  "It's Ms. Gaskill," she corrected. "I resumed the use of my maiden name."

  "Very nice. I'm sorry to hear of your divorce. Now, if you'll excuse me? Have a nice day, and we'll speak again on Friday." He smiled again and turned, leaving the front desk completely empty, his charm turned off like a switch.

  Evidently, they really needed someone fast if the poor guy was trying to man two positions at once. Either that or she'd met him before - he really did look familiar somehow - and had just gotten the luckiest break of her life. Either way, she'd take it.

  Hopefully, whatever had convinced him to give her an interview before looking over her resume would also make it that much easier for her to get hired. She wanted to squeal in excitement but knew better. Instead, walking calmly and quietly back to her poor little car, Kate reminded herself that an interview did not mean a job. No matter how tantalizing that man was, she still had to impress the boss.

  Her next stop was the one she dreaded most: the attorney's office.

  That building was unnaturally quiet, the only conversations held behind tightly sealed doors. Even the receptionists spoke only in hushed tones. In the lobby, she waited, the minutes ticking past loudly on a large clock at the back of the room. The movements of the second hand sounded like a death knell. Kate focused on picking the nail polish from her left thumb, carefully removing each flake of taupe paint, ignoring the mess it made in her lap. Today, she was meeting with Marshall and his attorney, to go over a few items of "contention." In other words, that bastard didn't want her to end up with a single thing from their life together.

  A pretty young brunette walked into the lobby. "Ms. Gaskill?"

  "Yes?"

  "Mr. Stinel and his attorney have arrived. If you'd follow me?"

  She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to face him ever again, but she had to. If they couldn't agree on the terms of the divorce, then a judge would have to sort it all out, and that meant more money than she had. All she wanted was the car, he
r share of the equity in the house, and a fair split of the debt he'd judiciously racked up. That was it, but Marshall wanted to make her suffer for leaving him. His last words were that she'd regret it. So far, he was very wrong.

  The halls were long and narrow, the lighting bright but soft, the atmosphere dejected. Maybe that was just her. Marshall always won. He only knew how to get his way, never how to compromise. It worked for him. It's what had charmed her initially, but she'd been just a stupid girl back then.

  The brunette knocked then pushed open a door, gesturing for her to enter. Her ex-husband and his attorney were already seated, papers laid out before an empty chair. Keeping her face stoic, Kate took it, listening to the door click closed behind her with a finality that made her gut clench. Thankfully her attorney walked in only a breath later, and they took their chairs.

  "Good afternoon, Kate," Marshall said, a sneer in his voice.

  "Yes, it is, isn't it?" she replied, glancing over to her attorney.

  Isabella Ford shook her head slightly, discouraging her client from saying too much before she leaned across the table. "The document you both are looking at is a fair and equitable split of the marital assets."

  "I'm not taking the damned debt," Marshall grumbled.

  "It would be very unconventional to request all of the assets of a seven-year-long marriage, Mr. Stinel, without acknowledging the joint commitments that come with it. Since you were the sole provider, it is within my client's right to request alimony as well, but she feels that if the debt is split fairly, that will not be necessary."

  The man beside him, obviously her ex's attorney, shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. Ms. Gaskill refused to find employment for the duration of the marriage, even though she was fit and able. It is not my client's responsibility to continue to enable her behavior."

  "She cared for the home and the marital assets, at the request of her husband. This is not an unusual situation."

  Yeah, this was going to get ugly. While the attorneys bickered back and forth, Kate watched Marshall. Each time it appeared his lawyer was getting ahead, he smiled deviously, like his sole purpose in life was to make her suffer. It probably was. He'd always held grudges and had been convinced that the world was out to get him. For the last few years, she'd listened to his rants about how someone - who changed weekly - was trying to keep him from getting ahead. It was never his fault. There was never any way for him to overcome his challenges. She was sure he felt the same about their divorce.

  It took nearly two hours, but they eventually reached an agreement. Kate would get 40% of the home equity, give up the car - they allowed her two weeks to arrange a replacement - but 65% of the debt would become his responsibility. It still left her with over ninety thousand dollars to pay off, but that was much better than what she'd expected. Kate felt it was a good agreement. So long as nothing changed, her divorce would be final by the end of the month.

  "Happy?" Marshall asked. "You drug this shit on for almost eighteen months."

  Ms. Ford gently touched her arm, but Kate had to reply. "Yes, Marshall. Finding an agreement we can both live with makes me happy. Hopefully, we can put this behind us soon."

  He leaned closer, his elbows taking the weight of his upper body. "I'm gonna make you pay for this, you know that, right?"

  "That's enough," his attorney whispered before looking across the table. "Thank you, ladies. We will be in touch."

  Polite noises were made all around, and the two men filed out of the room. Kate didn't move. She barely dared to breathe. The papers before her attorney were exactly what she needed to end the hell she'd been stuck in for so long.

  "You ok with this?" Isabella asked once the men were gone.

  "Yeah," Kate breathed. "Losing the car is going to be tough, but I'll manage. I have an interview on Friday, so after that, I can just take the bus or walk."

  "Ok. Well, think about it. We can change our minds before the court date."

  Those words hit her a little too hard. Kate nodded slowly. "Yeah, but so can he. Thanks, Isabella. I'm sure you have other clients to get to."

  "Kate?" Isabella looked worried. "Has he tried it again? Should I ask for a restraining order?"

  "No," Kate assured her. "He only came to see me that once, well, since I left him, and I've moved since then. I'm ok." When her attorney stared, Kate went on. "Honestly. I can handle this. I'm sure it's not the ugliest divorce you've ever seen."

  "Domestic violence is still domestic violence," Isabella said, gesturing to the scar on Kate's jaw. "If he tries to see you outside of this office, I want you to call me. If he's violent, call the cops first, then me."

  "Promise."

  "Ok. And I'll arrange it so you have the car until the check for the equity in the house comes in. That way you can purchase another."

  "No, I'd rather just get this over with." Kate stood. "We both know he's going to sell it. It's his revenge, and it's something I can deal with. Let him think he's won."

  Her attorney nodded, a sad smile touching her lips. "Ok. Just don't give up too much to make this go away faster. You'll regret it in the end."

  They shook hands and parted ways. Her heart felt a little lighter thinking that everything would be over in just three more weeks. Less than a month until her biggest mistake would be a thing of the past. It brought a smile to her face that stayed until she reached her car.

  A scrap of paper was stuck under the wiper. It didn't take much to figure out who'd left it. With trembling fingers, she extracted it and opened the note. Marshall's scrawling handwriting was barely legible, but the intent was clear.

  I still have an insurance policy on you. I'm going to keep it. I know what a klutz you are, I mean look at what you managed to do to your face. ~M

  "Asshole," she muttered, unlocking the door.

  She wanted to crumple the note into a ball, but instead folded it carefully and lay it on the passenger seat. Isabella would want to see it, even if it wasn't exactly a threat. Marshall was too smart for that, unfortunately. He was also trying to prepare a denial of his previous aggression toward her. It didn't matter. He had no way to torture her anymore. She was almost free. Just three more long, tedious, anxious weeks.

  Chapter 3

  The house was quiet. Locking the front door behind her, Kate began peeling out of the suit before she got to her bedroom, pressing the power button on the computer as she passed. She'd promised IceMan she'd play at six, and it was already 5:30. Finding an oversized t-shirt, she pulled that on, grabbed a couple of slices of cold pizza from the fridge, put on a pot of coffee, and made her way back into the computer room.

  While the game updated, she scarfed back what she'd call dinner and poured herself a little liquid energy. Sipping carefully at the hot coffee, she logged into the game. She hadn't even spawned into the world before a private message dinged.

  [IceMan] Get on TeamSpeak!

  [Lithium] Working on it.

  She had to tab out of the game, but, in a few seconds, there she was at the top of the list, looking at a plethora of names under the heading "Eternal Combat." Assuming TeamSpeak followed the standard rules for any program, she double clicked the heading she wanted and heard a synthetic voice declare that she had joined the channel. Voices flooded into her headphones.

  "God fucking damn it, who told Executive Pain we're here?" a woman screamed.

  "You're the one fucking him," a deep male voice replied coolly.

  The woman didn't even slowdown in her tirade. "Void! I'm gonna rape you, you lame ass mother fucker! Come get this you chicken shit!"

  "Q." IceMan's name lit up for only a split second.

  "Recall, recall, recall," the woman screamed. "I need a dropship, two mech units, twice that of dedicated repairmen. Medics, you know who you are, the rest of you pull a damned heavy."

  "QQ."

  "What!"

  "Send an invite to Lithium," Ice said.

  "Who? Yeah, I'll send it as soon as I'm loaded. But who?"

&nb
sp; Kate finally had the guts to speak up. "That's me."

  "Sweet fucking shit," the other woman purred, sounding giddy. "Where the hell did you come from, sweetheart?"

  "Um. I met IceMan yesterday."

  QQ laughed. "Picking up more women, Ice? Lith, if he tries to buy you a drink, trust me, take him up on it."

  "I'm telling Void," Knock piped in.

  "Fuck off," QQ shot back. "Seriously, that's how I met the outfit. Bastard thought he'd show me up. Butt pucker, mother fucker."

  Ice sighed, the sound almost lost in the cacophony of voices. "Welcome to prime time with Paradox, Lith. The crass one is QQ, currently ranked second on the professional leaderboards."

  QQ couldn't let that go. "That's because Void cheated!"

  "He did not," Knock said. "You got overconfident and blew it. Shit, you should have seen that flank coming a mile away. Now set the damn destination and stop nursing your big-dick issues."

  IceMan broke in again. "Guys, I'll catch up. Lith's new."

  "New?" That caught QQ's attention. "Hold the ship. Ice, get a medic. Lith, you know how to play heavy?"

  "I'm willing to try anything," she assured the apparent leader.

  "Hold up, no, seriously, everyone get in the ship and sit still. I'm telling Void and sending a message to PsychoDreads." QQ sounded intense. "Lith, you're about to get a real welcome to Eternal Combat. Kill everyone you can. I want Ice keeping an eye on her at all times. She has no bad skills, people. This is a gamer in the making. Time to put on a show. Three-way at the Crater. We're taking Charlie Point."

  "That's C," Ice clarified.

  "Ok." Kate was so lost. Things felt like they were happening a bit too fast. She found the group, entered the dropship, and waited.

  The mechanical voice announced another visitor. "PsychoCut has joined the channel."

  "QQ, this new girl, is she fucking hot, or what?" PsychoCut asked.

  "Dunno," Q said. "Does it matter?"