Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Run faster,” Aleks yells at me.
“I’m faster than you!”
“You’re both slow,” Jackson calls from ahead of us.
The three of us are sprinting through the convention center. The good thing is we’d all slipped on our masks, so people are parting like the Red Sea for us as we navigate our way to the B stage.
I’d barely had enough time to stop by the hotel to pick up my gear before coming here. The two energy drinks I’d downed are not sitting happily in my stomach. I’d attempted a third one, but Jackson literally slapped it out of my hand, saying I would crash.
I am running on no sleep.
The last forty-eight hours were some of the worst of my entire life.
I hadn’t even second-guessed myself when Saturday morning rolled around. Everyone around me asked countless times if I was sure I didn’t want to go to the championship. My family especially.
Eventually, I had locked the door to Sydney’s hospital suite so it was only her father and me because I didn’t want to deal with them. I’d just wanted Sydney. I’d just wanted her to be all right. All my worries were nothing compared to the fear I’d felt.
I didn’t care about winning the championship, and I certainly didn’t care about pleasing the whims of the fucking board.
But Sydney had been right.
I do care about this run.
I care because I want to prove to myself that I am the best. I want to prove that I can do this. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks so long as I have that belief in myself.
It killed me to leave her in that hospital bed, but I saw that gleam in her eye. I saw how much she wanted this for me, and that’s why I love her. We are a team.
There is a part of me that mourns the impending loss. My severance from the Covington Hotel Group won’t be easy. My safety net will officially be gone. I will have nothing to fall back on other than myself.
Except I’m not alone.
The two guys running beside me are proof of that.
The girl in the hospital bed will always be mine. If I have Sydney, I can get through anything.
“And next, please welcome to the stage JustAGame.” The announcer’s voice booms across the crowd as we push through the double doors and into the B room. We begin running down the stairs, passing bleacher after bleacher.
There are already five gamers on stage. JustAGame would be the sixth.
I have minutes to get myself up there.
“Lastly, he’s your top pick and the self-proclaimed Final Destiny king, CreepyPillows.”
Creep bounds onto the stage, raising his arms to hype the crowd. They cheer for him, shaking the air around us.
“Get your ass up here, English.”
The crowd hushes, and everyone looks around until their gazes land on us. I halt in my progress, looking up to see that Creep has snatched the microphone from the announcer on stage. He grins down at me with that punchable face.
This is it. My moment of no return.
Aleks and Jackson clap a hand on either shoulder.
“You’ve got this, brother.” Jackson nods.
“Kick their asses.” Aleks pushes me forward.
I pick up my pace, racing down the stairs and then swerving around the mosh pit. A security guard joins me, guiding me quickly backstage and then to a set of stairs to lead me onto the stage.
“Please give a welcome to EnglishCoffee.”
Nerves rattle through me.
I step onto the stage to the thunderous crowd chanting my name. There is no doubt they know what I’ve been going through. Every media outlet has been covering the accident.
I take my place at the only free monitor.
The one right next to Creep.
Fuck.
I swallow, peeling off my mask and letting my eyes adjust to the lighting. I shove it in my backpack and pull out my headset.
“You look like shit.”
I side-eye Creep with a sarcastic smile. “Thanks.”
“You better give it your all, English.”
As if I would give anything less.
“Just watch.”
Creep gives me a grin as he slides on his neon orange headset. I follow suit, clicking my noise-cancelling into place.
I might be fighting this battle at half HP, but that won’t stop me.
I brace my left hand on the keyboard, my right hand curving around the mouse. The cursor hovers over the start button, and I close my eyes. I picture the woman who pushed me here.
I feel her with me, her support and warmth. Syd’s cherry scent still clings to my skin, and it sets me at equilibrium. My power surges, and I open my eyes, ready and full of fight.
That and the energy drinks start to kick in. Ungodly high amounts of caffeine are filtering through my bloodstream. They basically function like a stat potion, souping me up for the battle.
“Three. Two.”
Jitters run through me.
I definitely drank way too much caffeine.
“One.”
My pointer finger reacts on instinct, clicking on the Start button.
The second the opening sequence begins to play out, my nerves freeze and die. A practiced cool falls over me. I let my field of vision zero in on just the monitor before me.
I remember who I am. I remember what I’ve been training for.
This time around, I use everything in my arsenal. That skip I didn’t implement last time? I execute it perfectly. A five-minute boost. The neo-grenade trick one of Mathias’ guys saw Creep use in the replay? I use it as well. I use it better.
I don’t leave any card unturned.
I’m halfway through the second hour when I get to the same part I faltered at in Miami. My jaw clenches as my hawk eyes zone in on my character world traveling. Butterflies flurry in my stomach as I keep my finger poised on the right click, waiting to double-tap it. My character drops to the ground, and I mash the mouse, my shotgun exploding into the dirt.
The glitch activates.
I watch as my dystopian cowboy goes flying across the barren town. When he lands at the mission point, I let out a small sigh of relief.
A small victory, but there’s still more I need to do.
I curse when one of my frag bombs goes awry, but I smile when the nerve gas mission completes without a hitch.
I’m getting closer and closer to the end, and I have no clue if I’ve done enough.
But I still have one last trick up my sleeve.
There’s a clip that I know will guarantee my win, but the added time to execute it will end me if it doesn’t all go perfectly.
I weigh my options.
Take the risk or not?
Fuck it.
No regrets.
I successfully clip my character through a wall into a house that would otherwise be inaccessible. From here I can get to the guard, who is normally sleeping at this time of night, and murder him for his helicopter key.
“Sorry, mate.”
I headshot him with my revolver and then access his inventory for the key. My morality meter takes a dip, but this time, it’s still within the yellow. A few minutes later, I make it to the helicopter and pray that this is going to work.
I get in and begin flying it to the corner of the map. I keep going and going, aiming for a specific pixelated triangle in the mountain range. My finger doesn’t let up from the D key.
Sweat breaks out across my forehead.
I’m also eighty percent sure I need to piss right now. Those energy drinks did wonders keeping me awake, but they went right through me. Noob mistake before a three-hour run.
I just need to get this right, and then I’ll be done in no time.
My breath hitches as I watch the helicopter spin out of control, clipping through the mountain range into some unforeseen blackness on screen. It spits back out on the other side, into what looks like a control room. I quickly jump out of the helicopter before it crashes in the small space and goes up in flames. Adrenaline pumping through me, I run my character toward the NPC sitting at the large desk and merk him with my revolver.
There’s a pause as the game attempts to catch up to my actions. Finally, the code realizes I’ve just killed the final boss and sets itself back on course.
The final cutscene plays, and I grin.
I fucking did it.
I rip off my headphones and stand, letting loose a howling cheer.
A quick glance to my right shows that everyone else is still finishing. I look up at the jumbo screen, and tears bead my eyes when I see my time. Three hours and two minutes. My body shakes.
A new fucking record.
And it’s on the official books.
I did it.
The crowd chants around me, and I feel nothing but pure euphoria in this moment. Dopamine and pride flood my system. The only thing that would make this better is if Sydney were here. I have no doubt she is watching the livestream from the hospital.
God, I can’t wait to see her.
Two bodies crash into me, almost knocking me to the ground as they envelop me in a hug.
“You crushed that.” Jackson squeezes tighter, attempting to remove all the air from my body.
“Thanks,” I wheeze out.
“Yeah, congrats, dude!” Aleks grins down at me. “How are we going to celebrate?”
“Honestly, I just want to see Syd.”
“Fair.” Aleks shrugs. “But we’re going to do something eventually.”
“Oh, yeah. We’ll get proper pissed later.”
“That’s my boy.”
“All right, let’s leave the winner to do his glory round.” Jackson inclines his head to the reporters standing by. “We’ll catch you later, ‘kay?”
I give them a nod, and they file offstage.
I do my due diligence and thank the crowd before standing off to the side to chat with the announcers about the run.
A cheer has my head swiveling back up to the screen, and I see Creep’s time finalized. My eyes drift down to sandy-haired Australian, who gives me a droll look before he stands up and lazily makes his way over to me.
“I kind of hate you right now.”
“Why?” I tilt my head with a smirk. “Because you know if I’d competed in the whole championship, I would’ve left you in the dust?”
“Yeah.”
I blink, his honesty catching me off guard.
“You better show up next year.” He pokes me in the chest.
“Just tell me you’re obsessed with me, Creep.”
“In your fucking dreams, English.” He begins to walk past me but throws his head back briefly. “Enjoy the victory while you can; I’ll be reclaiming my crown soon enough.”
I smile, triumph settling warmly in my chest as I move to take a few photos for the waiting paparazzi and answer their questions. I finish up by crouching down and shaking the hands of some fans in the front row, smiling for the numerous selfies.
I sling my backpack over my shoulder and exit backstage to find the nearest toilet because I’m about to piss straight energy drink at this point.
When I exit the loo, my eyes snag on my grandfather. He stands off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, watching me intently. I gulp, giving him a tense wave as he nods at me.
I take one step toward him, watching him straighten, before I quickly pivot.
With breakneck speed, I take off, weaving through the smattering of people huddled backstage.
Yeah. Nah.
Don’t really want to deal with that right now.
My entire body jerks as someone yanks on my backpack. I let out a grunt as my shoulder is almost torn from its socket.
I whip my head around, ready to bite the person’s head off, but the fire dies when I look at the wiry man peering down at me.
“Mister Covington, really?” Frank admonishes.
“Worth a shot.” I grin at him, but inside I’m glaring daggers.
The man is a snake with a freakishly strong grip. He wouldn’t be my grandfather’s right hand if he didn’t anticipate my moves, though.
“I’m not sure what your plan was. You do remember we drove here.” Frank continues to keep ahold of my backpack as he leads me back through the crowds.
“There’s this really great invention called a rideshare app. Ever heard of it?”
Frank sighs and says nothing more as he returns me to my grandfather. I feel like a five-year-old who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
I open my mouth to speak, but my grandfather holds up a hand.
“Good job.”
“Thank you,” I stammer. I say nothing else, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I thought we could chat in the car back to the hospital. I figured that’s where you would want to go.” He angles his head to the side and starts walking off.
My body doesn’t move for a few seconds, catching up to the unexpected turn of events. I jog to catch up to my grandfather, narrowing my eyes at him, trying to decipher what he was playing at.
We go through the back exit, and Frank opens the door to the rental limo for us. I slip onto the fresh, black leather, my hands tight around my backpack in silence. Traffic is thick on the Strip, and I stare out at the moving lights while I wait for grandfather to make the first move.
“That was impressive, Parker.”
“Pardon?” I whip my head around.
“Your game, it was impressive to see it in person.” Grandfather lifts his eyes from his cellphone and gives me a warm smile. “I still don’t fully understand it, but it was entertaining to watch.”
“Thank you.” Hope bubbles in my chest.
“The crowd was excited by everything you did. They loved you. They do love you. It’s quite the community you have, and it’s clear how influential you are.”
I grin now. “The community is what makes it the best. It’s not just the fans, but the other gamers, too. In the speedrun community, we work together on new ways to outsmart the system.”
Grandfather hums, crossing his ankles. “And you broke a record, correct?”
“I did. I now hold the world’s fastest speedrun for Final Destiny.”
I have no doubt that Creep would try to dethrone me as quickly as possible, but I don’t care. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to achieve, and I’d take the win.
“You didn’t give up, Parker. I’m proud of you.”
Chills race over my skin at the praise. But because I’m a masochist, I say, “Even though I didn’t win the championship?”
“This was never meant to be a punishment, Parker. I didn’t enter into this agreement hoping you would fail.”
I wince, knowing I had done just that.
His face softens as he purses his thin lips. “Come here.” He pats the seat next to him.
I crouch and shuffle my way to the other side of the limo to sit beside him.
“I’m not going to stop the vote, Parker. You have to take responsibility for your choices. Part of becoming an adult is accepting your failures just as much as your wins; it’s the only way you’ll continue to grow.”
I know he is right. It is how I made it this far in my gaming career. I could’ve lost the Miami tournament and thrown in the towel. I could have vowed to never play Final Destiny again or to never face Creep. Instead, I used the anger of my loss to train harder. I took that loss, and I turned it into one of the biggest wins of my career.
Hearing the crowd chant “English” over and over reminded me that I’m not just a Covington. That I really have made a name for myself, one that I am proud of.
“I was holding myself back,” I whisper in realization.
Grandfather pats my leg. “Took you long enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you can’t reach for the stars if you keep one foot on the ground, son. If you are going to commit to your career, if you are going to be the best, you have to give it your all. And I’ll never be disappointed in you so long as you are giving it one hundred percent. You showed that today. You showed me that, even against the odds, you’ll fight, and you’ll come out on top.” He grins at me now, and the truth of his words sinks into my bones, rewriting the very way I look at life. “I told you, I’m proud of you, Parker. Just because you’re no longer the heir doesn’t mean you’re not part of this family. You’re still a Covington. You’re still my grandson.”
“Damn straight, I’m still a Covington.” I grin back.
He is right. I am fucking proud of myself. I might not have won the championship, but proving myself against Creep had been way more important.
“There seems to be quite a bit of money in this industry of yours. Maybe we’ll look at sponsoring one of those esports teams.”
“Always looking to make more money, aren’t you?” I roll my eyes.
“I told you, it’s always about the money.”
The car rolls to a stop, and Frank hops out to open the door.
“How long do I have?” I ask my grandfather as we make our way through the hospital.
“The board votes in four weeks, just before the holidays.”
“A lovely Christmas gift for them,” I snort, hitting the lift for the floor of private suites Syd is located on.
There is one thing my grandfather missed.
I’m not just going to sit around and wait for the board to strip me of my power.
I accept the fact that I have to step down as heir. If I keep holding on to that shield, I would never move forward. I need to be free of that weight so I can soar to new heights on my own. I am EnglishCoffee, and I would become the best gamer there is.
But I would do it on my own terms; I wouldn’t do it just because the board bullied me into it.
In fact, I would make them regret pushing me.
All this time, I thought I couldn’t have my cake and eat it, too. Technically, I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t give my cake to someone else.
I stop short of Sydney’s room and smile at the blonde frowning at her phone in the corridor.
“Paige, can I talk to you?”