Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
not easy
REY
It feels different walking into the vast foyer of Infinio Games this Monday morning, knowing I’ll soon never lay eyes on this factory-turned-office again.
Although the work itself has been soul-suckingly boring at times, the people are fantastic.
And the candy-coloured modern furniture, juxtaposing the exposed brick walls, makes the artist in me squeal with joy.
This place is extraordinary.
I can be me here. My range of colourful thrift-shop treasures fits right in, and there are enough tattoos around here to make my mother’s eyes water (albeit, it doesn’t take much).
Strolling through the vast open office toward Nia’s HR corner, I savour the sound of fingers tapping on keyboards, the smell of freshly ground coffee from the break room, and how the ceiling-beams shimmer when the sun hits them through the tall mezzanine windows.
The teams wave hello as I pass, and I smile in return. I’ll miss them all.
I’ll miss watching the Thames sparkle below the London Eye.
Nia couldn’t justify keeping me. But at least she got me one more week, which I’m grateful for. I also got a message from my modelling manager this morning.
Confirming the gig for this Saturday, are you still available?
You know it. Can you tell me what it is yet?
Will send you the details on Wednesday, and you’ll finally see what I meant by BEST EVER
It means I’ll be okay for spending-money for a couple of weeks, but without a full-time job I’ll never get out of my brother’s guest room. It’s only a matter of time before one of his dates turns into more than a date.
If only I could find another role here. Surely there’s someone in a company of five-hundred who needs help and has the budget to back it up? I’d prefer not to have to tell my parents the truth.
A deep voice cuts through the air, disrupting my spiralling thoughts, and I turn to see the source.
Oh, a rare treat. In my five weeks here, I’ve only seen him a couple of times.
Mark Becker, Infinio Games CEO and co-founder, is down from his secluded top-floor office. Doing one of the infamous ‘pop-ins’, it seems. Nia’s HR consultant is there too. Poor Mark, does he know she’s documenting and reporting his every move?
“What’s your role?” he asks, making the young brown-haired man it’s directed at a shade paler.
I’ve never seen Mark up close in person, but in photos he looks a little too handsome, to be honest. Why he didn’t want to be the face of the company before beats me.
His back is to me as he talks to the group. Broad shoulders fill out the expensive-looking navy suit. His dark blond, perfectly styled head is well above most of the team members; as if his baritone voice and direct approach weren’t intimidating enough, he has to tower over them as well.
“I-I’m the development lead for pod four,” the now ashen-faced man answers.
“Exactly. So why can’t you answer my question?”
His voice is low, but it’s no less threatening.
“It’s not so easy.”
“Not easy? I sure as hell hope not. I’m not paying you for easy.
We’re in a highly competitive industry where you need to stick to the popular and successful Infinio style.
I don’t want to see new, I don’t want to see different, and I definitely do not want to see easy.
” He waves a long, muscular arm towards the smart board with lots of scribbles and diagrams I’ll never understand. “Sort it out or get the hell out.”
Yikes.
Alright, Mark could use some lessons in human interaction, it seems. Wonder what Mum would say if she saw he’s not as wonderful as he looks.
I shuffle past quietly, sending sympathy to the poor dev lead.
When I enter Nia’s private office at the far end of the long building, she bounces off her chair.
“Good morning! Are you okay?”
“Yep, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, I didn’t manage to make you permanent.” She pouts. “Seems like your mum really wants you to work here.”
I shrug. “It’s not your fault. And thanks for not saying anything to Mum.”
Her shoulders relax. “I know better than to make her look bad in front of her sisters.” She grimaces. “You looked like you were upset about something, though.”
“Oh, right.” I wave toward the situation I just witnessed and recount what I heard.
Nia winces. “Ouch, yeah, Mark has the quarterly board meeting coming up in a week. It puts him on edge.”
I imagine those meetings must be tough post-Damian.
“He doesn’t have to take it out on his staff, though,” I say, not sharing the shred of empathy I have for him.
“Yeah, I know. He’ll find his way, I’m sure.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Does he know you’re reporting on him to the board, by the way?”
A hint of red appears on the tops of her high cheekbones, and she scrunches up her mouth. “He will eventually. But he’s fine. My report to the board is clear; he has done nothing that resembles Damian’s patterns or behaviour, and they don’t need to worry.”
I crash down on the blue, fluffy beanbag chair in front of Nia’s desk and lean back.
“I’m going to send you down to Horace Lin today,” Nia says. “Did you meet him yet?”
“No, but I recognise the name. Art director?”
I don’t dare acknowledge the tingle in my skin at the mention of his title. It’s not like he’s going to ask the HR assistant for help with design, but maybe I’ll get to see some of the latest sketches they’ve been working on. It makes my drawing-fingers itch to be used again.
“The head of development is sick, so Horace is inducting the new starters down in the auditorium. He might need some assistance, and you know the drill.”
“Great, I’ll do my best. Do you mind if I ask if he’s got any open roles for me hidden away?” I grin, knowing I’m pushing it. I’ve already been over the workforce plans with a fine-tooth comb, looking for roles I could slip into with my useless CV.
She doesn’t dignify that question with a response, and I push myself off the fluffy chair with great difficulty.
I enter the mountain-themed auditorium and hear the group of new starters before I see them. Their voices are bubbling with excitement.
“Check out this LED waterfall feature. It’s even making a trickling sound,” one high-pitched voice says.
“Is this real or fake? I can’t tell,” a deeper voice says. I round the corner of the grey-carpeted steps-hill, and see the fifteen newbies gathered on different levels, talking in clusters. Some point at the variety of exciting interior, some are huddled around phones and tablets.
So these are the people Mark has had specialist consultants headhunt from all over the world to save the company. The best of the best. A bunch of geniuses, apparently.
“Hi,” I say to the three people huddled on the edge of the group. “What are you looking at?”
“Hey, Tolu is showing us their Kitty Cat Bit game early sketches,” the smallest of them says. “I’m Naresh Kapoor, by the way,” he says, stretching out a tiny hand. “Call me Noor.”
“I’m Tolu,” the one with blue hair says and waves from behind their tablet.
“Kaia,” the mousy-blonde says, giving me a small nod.
I introduce myself, grinning, and Kaia responds with a twitch of her mouth that could resemble a smile.
“What’s Kitty Cat Bit?” I ask, and they all swivel to me with wide eyes.
“You’ve never played it?” Noor asks, lifting his bushy black eyebrows over round eyes.
“No,” I say and shrug, catching Tolu’s brown eyes over the screen. They smile and shrug in response.
“Can I see?” I add.
Kaia moves over so I can get a better view of the screen, and I’m invited into a world I’ve never known before. Early game design. There are sketches of characters and story-boards. Simple background drawings.
I want to know everything.
“How did you draw this? Are you an artist?”
“Not really, but I can draw certain things.” Tolu moves on to explain game mechanics, apparently what draws people in and keeps the game fun.
As they talk and the others interject with their experiences and favourite games, I’m sucked in and feel like I’m floating on a cloud.
When they ask about me I eagerly start telling them about going to UAL, but it’s not long before there’s a tingling in my neck.
Goosebumps form on my arms, and I realise it’s quiet around us, except for my own voice that’s now echoing in my ears.
I stop talking and look up. All eyes are on someone behind me, and I turn to find Mark Becker and his very fiery hazel eyes glaring at me.