4. Amy
Amy
Waking up at three in the afternoon has become a pretty normal occurrence for me.
I rarely do it on work days, though.
Max, my brother and one of my favorite people on this entire planet, has my phone filled with death threats for leaving him to man the store alone today, but it wasn't a busy day.
It's just that he had two huskies from a repeat client. Huskies sing. That's fine. We're used to that.
These two not only sing, but they slip out of everything. Both of them are major flight risks, common with the breed. The red one likes to eat the high-velocity dryer, and the black one is fine for everything except the bath.
He hates water, so he tends to get a little nippy for the bath phase.
Put them together, and it's a day of hell and husky songs.
I am very okay with having missed that fiasco, but I do feel bad for springing it on him last minute.
Amy:
Sorry. You're the best. I love you. I promise to give you a bonus this week.
Max:
A bonus every week for the rest of the year, you hussy. I was watching you stream. You played with that Trick guy all night, didn't you?
Amy:
Yep. Zombies. It was fun. I needed it.
Max:
Better be careful, or you'll be blowing something other than zombie heads.
Amy:
The guy probably lives in Canada. He's too polite to be from around here.
Max:
Whatever. I just think you should lay off the gaming guys. You keep holding onto losers, and you won't let me cut their dicks off when they fuck around on you.
Amy:
That's because it's ILLEGAL.
Max:
So is leaving me with two huskies. Alone.
Amy:
You're not alone. Isn't Shay there?
Max:
Shay helps dry dogs. She doesn't help groom them. YOU LEFT ME ALONE, BITCH.
Amy:
Sorry, sorry. Double bonus. I won't do that again. I just needed to blow off some steam. Wickledick really got to me this time.
Max:
It's fine. Gotta go. Owner's here for pickup.
Amy:
Love you, MaxyMoo.
A grin spreads across my face as I toss my phone aside and flop back onto the bed. Sheets billow around me, their cool softness a welcome contrast to my overheated skin.
Huh. Funny how the thought of Paul doesn't make my blood boil like it did yesterday. Is it because of my gaming session with that Trick guy?
Stretching in lazy comfort, I replay our zombie-slaying exploits in my mind. The dude has serious skill. We made a great team, and he didn't bat an eye at my occasionally suicidal runs. He ran right in with me. No man left behind.
When was the last time I actually enjoyed myself in a game without the pressure of an audience?
But I can't let myself get too attached. For all I know, he could be some married dude looking for a thrill. Wouldn't be the first time I got burned by a smooth-talking player.
No, better to keep things casual. Stick to the occasional game, maybe chat a bit. Nothing more. I have enough complications in my life without adding a virtual fling to the mix.
Rolling over with a sigh, I cuddle into my pillow, soft and squishy with comfort. The anger that's been simmering inside me for days feels more distant now. Like maybe I can finally let it go. Move on.
Fucking Paul. I let out a snort. To think I wasted so much time and energy on that cheating scumbag. Well, no more.
Amy Sloane is done being a doormat. I'm focusing on me .
Starting with a nice, long nap. I'd already slept in, but fuck it. The bed's comfortable, and I have nowhere to be. Burrowing deeper into the covers, I feel a languid laziness come over my limbs.
Of course, that's when my fucking phone rings, from a number I don't recognize.
Rolling my face out of the cozy fluff of my pillow, I aim a glare at my phone, like an inanimate object gives a shit how I feel about it ringing. Unknown numbers are usually telemarketers or scammers, but something makes me reach over and swipe to accept the call anyway. Call it intuition. Or curiosity. Or luck.
"Hello?" My voice is rough from sleep.
"Is this Amy Sloane?" The voice on the other end is deep, authoritative. Familiar.
I sit up straighter, suddenly wide awake. "Speaking. Who's this?"
"Asher Sinclair."
Holy shit. Asher Sinclair, CEO of HELIOS Games, and, more pertinently, my best friend's fiance. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. But why the hell is he calling me?
"Right, of course. What can I do for you, Mr. Sinclair?" I try to sound professional, like I'm not sitting in bed in my underwear. Like he hasn't seen me drunker than a college kid on St. Patrick's Day. Like I don't know intimate details about his sex life with my best friend.
"Please, call me Asher. We're close enough for that, aren't we?"
Haha. Yeah. Also, I know how you like your dick sucked, courtesy of your fiancee.
"Of course, Asher."
"I'll get straight to the point, since I'm sure you're busy. We're launching a new game next quarter, and we're looking for influencers to help promote it. Your name came up in our discussions, and I want you in."
I nearly drop the phone. They want me to promote their game? Me, the streamer known for rage-quitting and swearing like a sailor? It must be because of Sam.
"I'm flattered, but are you sure you have the right person? My streams aren't very family-friendly. You know how I am."
Asher chuckles. "That's precisely why we want you. Your authenticity, your fire—it's exactly what this game needs. We don't want some polished spokesperson. We want someone real, someone who can get the gamers excited."
I bite my lip, mind racing. This could be huge for my channel. But I need more information.
"Tell me about the game. What's the genre, the target audience? And what would you need me to do?"
As Asher launches into his pitch, I find myself nodding along. It's an MMORPG, set in a post-apocalyptic world. Gritty, violent, no holds barred. Aside from the fact that it's an RPG, it's right up my alley.
Huge emphasis on the story mode and social aspect. I'd be partnering with another influencer. We play together daily, progressing through the game and streaming our experience before launch. Two strangers, meeting on a video game to showcase its social potential.
Cute.
And the promotion side sounds manageable. Stream the game, hype it up on social media, maybe do some interviews or events. Nothing I haven't done before. The oddest caveat is that we'll be staying at a hotel for the week, so that it's easier for the filming crews.
But there's one thing still nagging at me.
"Why me, though? I'm sure there are bigger streamers out there, ones with a cleaner image. Aren't you worried I might be too... controversial? I don't want to do this out of nepotism."
"HELIOS Gaming is something I take pride in, Ms. Sloane. I wouldn't extend the offer if I didn't believe you'd do well in the role. We want an authentic experience. However, our decision to add a female streamer was a little short-notice. We start on Monday. Will that be acceptable?"
"Absolutely." Max is going to kill me. "An entire week?"
"Seven days," he confirms. "We'll need to fly you out Sunday, so you'll be ready Monday morning. You'll be gaming most of the day, and we'll be filming you over the course of the day to share with the viewers."
It sounds like a lot.
But it sounds like fun. And it's the opportunity of a lifetime.
"I'll do it."