14. Morgan
Chapter 14
Morgan
I couldn’t stop thinking about Jack fucking Evans.
I’d never felt more embarrassed than I had at the top of that stupid hill, and the worst part was that I still had no idea what had gone wrong. I was pretty sure it wasn’t my fault; every time I replayed the moments leading up to his rejection, I became more convinced that he’d been giving off serious mixed signals.
Come to think of it, he’d been giving me mixed signals for weeks. On that stupid weekend away, he’d got close to me in the river only to proudly proclaim that he didn’t date. And he’d been the one to ask me to go hiking … well, sort of. It had at least been mutual, and I was certain that almost-kiss had been, too. Or maybe I was the only one who had felt something when we’d been floating face-to-face in that river; when our hands had brushed against one another as we walked.
But that was beside the point. “Water under the tree,” as I’d so idiotically said. And he was clearly trying hard to prove a point that he still wanted to be my friend. He’d been texting me throughout each week, and he’d been way friendlier than usual at our Monday night games. So despite my persisting confusion, I was determined to move forward as if it hadn’t happened. At least as far as he could tell, anyway.
All I wanted to do at work was go cuddle Pablo and plan my Ren Faire outfits; Phil wanted us to send him our ideas by the end of June at the latest so he could start sourcing materials.
But not only did I have actual work to do, I couldn’t even use my lunch break today for puppy cuddles; I had lunch plans with Chloe, which had morphed into plans with Grey and Fatima, too, apparently.
We met up at a cafe a short walk from the office, Grey still in high-vis from their job as a train guard, and Fatima looking as polished as ever. When I asked why she wasn’t at school, she muttered something about inset days and actually having a lunch break for once.
“I genuinely can’t wait for October,” Grey said as we tucked into our food. Their hair was now a sunshine yellow, and they’d added a new patch to their biker vest: a frazzled-looking possum with the words “even baddies get saddies” in lime green embroidery around it.
“I know, I’m so excited,” Fatima said. “I told Jared about it and he tried to invite himself.” Jared was Fatima’s long-time boyfriend who lived in Manchester, where she spent most weekends.
“He could totally come.”
“No way,” she said, her mouth full of sweet potato hash. “He’d just get in the way of my flirting with all the tavern wenches.”
“Yeah, having a loving partner around really fucks with your game,” Chloe said sarcastically, and we all laughed.
“Seriously though, what are you all thinking for the character day?” Grey asked. “I can’t even picture what I should be wearing.”
We’d agreed in the Wench Please chat that, whilst Phil would be making us some more classic Ren Faire looks for one day, we wanted to dress like our D their arms looked no more muscular for the effort.
“Good luck with that,” Chloe said, pointing her fork at Grey. “I’m definitely dressing like Calamity though, meaning lots of black leather.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down.
“You gonna paint yourself purple, too?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I will.”
“What about you?” Fatima asked me. “What would Captain Morgana wear? A full suit of armour, I assume.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but I doubt that’s practical, so we’ll see. I’ll come up with something.”
Grey’s cutlery clattered against the table as they dropped it, looking up at me. “Wait a minute, sorry, just back up a minute. Morgan, you said you always pictured Gorlag in a loin cloth?”
I shrugged. “I mean, yeah?”
They winked at me. “I’ll try not to let that get to my head.” The rest of us laughed. “What might that loin cloth look like, exactly? I’m struggling to conceptualise this costume.”
I was secretly glad they’d asked; I’d actually got to the point of feeling excited to show everyone the drawings I’d done. I pulled out my tablet, opened my gallery, and handed it over to Grey.
“Oh my god, Morgan, this is so cool!” they shrieked, spreading their fingers to zoom in.
“Thanks,” I replied, beaming.
Grey passed the tablet around to Fatima and Chloe, who were equally full of praise for the drawing, before Grey snatched it back to study the outfit.
“Can I see more?” Fatima asked, pointing to the tablet in Grey’s hand. When I nodded, Grey very reluctantly handed it over, literally growling in protest. I saw Fatima swipe several times, mentally indexing what I’d drawn in the last few weeks that she might see. It wasn’t until she stopped and cocked her head to one side that I remembered what I’d drawn just after the images I’d shown them.
“This person looks familiar,” she said, turning to show the table a drawing of a tall blonde man in a plaid shirt standing on an overlook, ridges rising up on both sides of the landscape. I felt my face go red, and I turned my attention to my plate as Fatima showed Chloe what she’d found. She wasn’t mocking me; they seemed to actually be admiring the drawing. But when I’d drawn it, I’d been thinking about how embarrassed I’d been. And where they probably saw a slightly more chiselled jawline than was realistic for Jack, I knew I’d drawn it that way because I remembered the set of his face – the tensing of his muscles – as he rejected me.
I was glad I hadn’t saved the one of us in the river to my image gallery.
“He told me it was great,” Chloe said.
“Yeah, it was really beautiful. You could see for miles.” My cheeks burned, but I forced myself to look at her as casually as possible.
“He’s done that hike at least a dozen times,” she said. “I don’t think that’s what he meant.”
Okay, so, no eye contact with Chloe then. I looked at Fatima and Grey for support, but they were too busy giving each other a conspiratorial glance.
Blissfully, Fatima changed the subject, scrolling back to the drawings I’d done.
“Hey, one of Jared’s friends is actually looking for a freelance illustrator for a project. Do you do that? Or know anyone who does?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never done any freelance work before, and no, I don’t know anyone else who does it.” But something in the back of my mind wouldn’t let me leave it at that. Showing them what I’d done had been exciting until they’d found that drawing of Jack, hadn’t it? And I could certainly do with the money. “Why? What’s the job?”
“Apparently one of his coworkers he’s quite close with is quitting to open a games shop in Manchester.”
“Oh that’s awesome!” Chloe said. “We’ll have to take a trip up when they open.”
“Well, I think he’s a long way from that,” Fatima said.
“You can give him my details,” I said. “I don’t have any experience, but if it’s a gaming shop, maybe I’d actually enjoy it.”
“Yeah, for sure,” she said with a smile before pulling out her phone and taking a picture of the character drawing up on my tablet in front of her. She spent a few seconds looking down and typing before setting her phone face-down on the table. “Done.”
The slight buzz of excitement mostly washed away the lingering embarrassment I’d felt. I’d only ever drawn for myself, so I’d be shocked if he wanted me for the job, and even more shocked if I could actually manage to do it. But at least it was something different – something that wasn’t a spreadsheet or a cold call. Maybe it would even be worth some more XP.
* * *
By the time I got home that evening and sat down on the sofa with dinner – a poor attempt at a one-pot curry that had actually required a chopping board, a mixing bowl, and two pots, since the first one I chose ended up being way too small – I had three emails waiting in my personal inbox. Well, four if you counted the one from the cosplay shop that kept emailing me after I downloaded a PDF from them called “The Perfect Guide to Ren Faire Layering”. But three that actually needed my attention.
The first was from Jared’s colleague. Damn, that was fast , I said, opening it up.
Hey Morgan! I’m Greg, Jared’s work mate.
Fatima sent the picture you drew, and I think it’s really cool - exactly the style I’m going for. I’m looking for something cool like an axe, or a sword and shield, or something that conveys combat since a lot of the shop will be minis. Also would be cool to have a D20 involved somehow? The shop will be called “Game On!” which I know isn’t that original, but it does what it says on the tin I guess.
The catch is that I don’t have much of a budget for this - ￡500 max really. I know that’s not a lot for a professional logo, so if you can’t do it, I totally understand. But if you’re interested, let me know and I can maybe send you a deposit? What do you think? However you would want to work. And if not, no worries, really.
Cheers,
Greg
I blinked at the email on my laptop. Five hundred British pounds? For drawing swords and axes, something I did for fun? Hell yes, I wanted to do it. I balanced my bowl of curry on the sofa – risky business, but my feet were occupying the free space on the coffee table – and was typing a reply almost immediately.
Hi Greg, nice to meet you!
I’m sure Fatima said, but I don’t have freelance experience. That said, this project sounds great! I can make that budget work, and it sounds right up my alley. What’s your timeline? Let me know and we can get started. Maybe you can send over some other images you like? And a deposit sounds good - let’s say ￡100 up front and the rest when we’re done? Let me know.
Speak soon,
Morgan
PS - I think Game On! is great! Like you said, does what it says on the tin. And I love a bit of friendly competition.
I wasn’t sure if I was completely off base asking for twenty percent up front, but I didn’t care; I would have done it for free as a creative exercise. So I hit send and did a little happy dance, almost sending my bowl of curry sliding to the floor, but I caught it in time with my free hand.
I let myself finish my dinner before turning my attention to the second email, which was from Mum. She sent them roughly once a month, letting me know where she’d been and where she was headed. She’d left Big Sur and was staying in San Luis Obispo, where she was taking a yoga instructor certification course for the next few weeks. I closed the email out without replying.
The last email was from Cara’s mum. She’d attached the listing for the house, which had apparently gone live a couple of days ago. She also had a block of time over the weekend that the estate agent wanted to show some people around.
I sighed and looked around me; I’d thought I might have more time to figure things out, but it seemed things would move quite quickly. I shouldn’t have been surprised, really; I’d been spending enough time browsing listings myself. I needed to make peace with the fact that I would have to give up my little home sooner rather than later.
Suddenly I was overwhelmed by a wave of nostalgia. I missed Cara. I missed when things were predictable, and safe, and I wasn’t being kicked out of my house and rejected on mountaintops and forced to cook myself horrible dinners. I missed my friend, and I missed what life was like when she was with me.
I picked up the phone to ring her. We hadn’t actually managed to catch up properly since she’d left, but was clear from her sporadic texts and her less sporadic Instagram stories that she was having the time of her life. I didn’t want to be the needy friend. But I really did need her in that moment.
I tried not to be surprised when it rang through to voicemail. And even though I stared at my phone for a solid five minutes after hanging up, she didn’t ring or text back. I thought about texting Chloe, or maybe even Jack, but instead I just grabbed a book I’d already read and let myself get sucked into the adventure there. At least I knew how it ended.