Chapter 4 No Lies
CHAPTER FOUR
no lies
REY
The fifteen new starters sitting behind me on the steps have gone dead silent.
I wish I wasn’t wearing a bright yellow dress today.
And of course I’m here on the front row as if I belong here.
Maybe I should sneak onto the sidelines or behind Horace.
Although, he looks a bit like he wishes he could disappear into a hole as well. Wonder what Mark said to him.
And now, because I couldn’t hold back my laugh at the ridiculous comment ‘this is life!’ (purrrlease—it’s work, get over yourself), Mark has his eyes on me again.
“Horace, can you continue the intro about the company? I’ll be right back.”
Mark strides towards the group.
Towards me?
Fuck.
My stomach clenches harder with every step he takes in my direction. It’s happening in slow motion, and I increasingly have the feeling I might shit myself right here on the plush carpet steps.
“Come with me,” he demands in a low voice, and I know I’m not to argue, question, and definitely not dawdle. I walk-run behind him and his long legs out of the auditorium, wondering if this is it.
These are my last moments in this office.
He does that straight-backed walk that says he owns this place. Even if he didn’t own it, that’s what he exudes. Where the bloody hell are we going and what is happening?
Before I know it, we’re in a tiled hallway I didn’t even realise we’d entered. The gym entrance?
He stops and turns to me. “What the fuck is your deal?” he asks in a low, menacing tone.
“I—”
He holds up a hand to stop me and pinches the bridge of his nose with the other, his chest rising as he inhales deeply.
Standing this close to the man for the first time is intense.
The moment stretches out, and my heart pounds in my ears.
I can’t help but notice how the tailored navy suit struggles around his biceps, and the appearance of lightly tanned skin between his designer watch and his crisp, white cuff. I bet he’s got magnificent forearms.
“Look,” he starts, and I jump out of where my thoughts were heading. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me what you were doing at the session.”
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He knows about Nia’s report. Why else would he ask like that? Is he going to believe me regardless of what I say?
“I was there to assist Horace,” I answer, looking him straight in the eye.
His jaw works overtime while he searches my face. What is he, some kind of lie detector?
“Why the fuck did you laugh?”
“You really should think about your language,” I say before my brain catches up, and I clap a hand to my mouth.
“Shit!” I squeak through my fingers. “Oh, bugger.” I wave my hands around as if I can fan away my blabbering self.
“Sorry,” I manage finally and stand still, clutching my hands in the skirt of my dress.
Mark glares at me, and it freezes me to the spot.
“Are you done?”
I nod, keeping my mouth shut, worried I’ll say more stupid shit.
“Answer my question.”
“I—”
“No lies.”
“Well, I guess I thought it was a little over the top, you know? This is life. Umm, it’s just a job to most people, that’s all.”
His brow knits and the hazel eyes appear darker. They move across my face again and skim down my body. It’s swift, but it’s as if he’s stripped me naked. It makes me feel exposed. Vulnerable. I should be screaming in fear, but I suck in a breath, taking his delicious, manly cologne in.
Holding my breath, I’m waiting for him to yell at me, or threaten me. But he does something worse.
He shakes his head.
In that condescending-as-shit way.
That judgemental shake I’ve seen a thousand times. It turns my heated centre to ice in an instant, and I want to roar at him the way I never dare do to my mum. I deflate like a balloon instead.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Get back to work, if Horace needs you so badly.”
I step back. Is that it?
I’m so beneath him he can’t even bother to tell me off properly.
“Okay,” I say and pull open the heavy fire door, leaving the intimidating man behind.
The adrenaline pumps so hard I might throw up.
I need to get away from this door so I don’t see Mark again right away, and so he can’t see me like this.
I look guilty as fuck, but it’s only because he’s scary as fuck.
Nia has never asked me to report on him to her.
I think she’s kept me out of Mark’s way intentionally, and I’m happy about that. Just after this morning, I can see why.
I breathe deeply in and out as I walk back to the auditorium.
The glowing glass waterfall structures that reach the ceiling, and the sounds of trickling water soothe me the second I step through the doors (it strikes me that’s probably the intent of this elaborate design).
Horace’s careful voice carries around the bend. I can’t have been gone long at all.
I sneak back and sit down next to Kaia and Tolu again. Horace sees me, and the sides of his lips twitch up, only to drop again as his eyes move to someone coming up behind me.
Oh God, the knot is back in my gut. I need to be super helpful to Horace today so Mark can see I wasn’t lying.
I don’t lie. Most of the time.
Horace finishes his little talk and gives the podium back to Mark, and I actively try to tune his deep voice out as Horace shuffles across the carpeted floor towards the corner where I’m sitting.
He waves and catches my attention before he dips down.
“Can you take me through the programme for the rest of the day?” Horace whispers and nods towards the exit.
“Absolutely,” I say, and we leave Mark and the new starters behind.
“This way,” I say to Horace, as I assume he doesn’t know which computer room they’re meant to be in next.
“It’s in room five today. I’ll take you through the week’s agenda.
Why don’t we shuffle some topics around to better suit your expertise?
Frank can pick up the rest when he’s back. ”
Horace sighs, and he sounds so relieved I could hug him. I’m happy I’m actually helpful.
“What does an art director do?” I ask, more curious than I dare to admit.
“Oh, I define the visual style of our games and make sure what we put on screen matches what we’ve agreed.”
“Like what?”
I push the door open to the computer room, and look back to show him I’m listening.
“Everything. The worlds, the characters, the user interface.” He shrugs as if that explains it.
“What’s your favourite game?”
“From Infinio?”
That’s an interesting follow-up. I’d assume it would be a given.
“In general?”
“Questnite’s the best-looking game out there. It’s a competitor’s game, so I’m not allowed to say. But our Dragon Trials is up there too. Damian did an excellent job on that.”
“That’s the flagship game, isn’t it?”
I turn on the computer at the front of the room, and it chimes to life in an instant.
“That’s right,” Horace answers.
“So this is how the induction works.” I talk as I open the documents he’ll need on the computer. “There’s a range of topics they need to learn, all listed here. The newbies will, by the end of the week, have a really clear idea of Infinio.”
Horace breathes out a long breath as if I asked him to solve a two-page algorithm in his head.
“What’s my part in it?”
“I believe all these sections here are yours,” I say, pointing to the screen. “We can move them to today. There are slides in here for you. Have you been shown this before?”
He shakes his head, and I swear he’s sweating.
“What’s wrong, Horace?”
He sits down on a chair next to mine and scratches his temple. “Look, I just don’t enjoy improvising. I like being prepared.”
“It’s all here,” I point, and he nods.
I swivel in the office chair to face him. “Can you tell me about concept art?”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“It’s not a test,” I say, and flash him a smile. “I don’t know anything about it. I’m curious.”
“Okay.” He straightens up. “The concept artists are the first ones to create the visuals of characters, environments, and the overall style of the game. It’s all about exploring, brainstorming, and developing the feel for the story.”
“The vibe?” I ask.
He lights up and shows me the first I’ve seen of a real smile.
“Sure. The vibe of the game.” There’s a different tone to his voice now.
“Before anyone has coded anything, we sketch it. It’s crucial for us to capture the emotions, the atmosphere, and the mood.
Imagine you’ve been told there should be this castle in the story.
Fine, it’s a castle. But what’s the … vibe? ”
He gesticulates while he talks. It’s clear he’s very passionate.
“If it’s overgrown, damaged, foggy—maybe it’s haunted?” he continues. “Maybe a dragon lives there? We’re paving the way for the vision of the game.”
As he speaks, something flickers in my chest, and I’m taken out of my body. I’m floating above us, picturing myself getting up and drawing on the whiteboard. I’m sketching my old ideas of this abandoned world that has only one district left of living plants. I haven’t thought of this in years.
“Rey?”
I blink.
“Are you okay?” Horace asks.
I’m still sitting on my chair, thankfully. “Sorry. Umm… What you were saying sounds amazing. I envy the newbies who get to sit through your induction.”
He smiles. “Thank you, Rey. Can you show me the slides I need to talk to?”
I take him through everything and then it falls out of me. “Horace, can I work for you? I don’t even need to be paid. Please, can I be an intern or something?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “But you’re HR.”
“Temporarily. I also have a BA in Illustration from the University of the Arts London, if that makes a difference?”
Horace looks at me. Really looks at me.
“Why?”
“Why?” I repeat.
“Yes, why do you want to work for me?”
“I’ll be honest,” I start and brush a tangled lock of hair away from my forehead. “I’m nearly thirty and I haven’t drawn or painted in a few years. Umm, close to six years.”
Horace lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t speak.
“I always had these stories attached to my art. I invented this world of people who were left on a dying planet, fighting for their survival.” I dare a glance at Horace, he’s still listening.
“I’d draw or paint the world and the characters any chance I could get.
My walls were covered with it all, my mum would—”
I shake my head. Let’s not go down that particular road.
“What?” Horace asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.
“Look, my art is colourful and a bit out there, but I can show you. My style is my style, but you’ll see I’ve got the right technique. I’ve just yet to find my path, and when you were talking just now…” I point to my heart. “You sparked something in me.”
I’m nearly panting when I finish. Horace’s brow is furrowed.
“Please,” I breathe. “Just for a few months?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”