Chapter 21
twenty-one
see it. say it. sorted.
Frankie.
“I guess you didn’t take into consideration how what you did would affect us.”
The room is quiet after that.
Everyone’s waiting to see if I’m about to snap or spiral or brush it off with a joke.
I do none. I just sit back in my chair, hands folded in my lap, and nod once in understanding.
“That’s fair,” I say.
Kai doesn’t look relieved. If anything, he looks more frustrated. He’s sitting at the far end of the conference table, arms crossed and face tight in disappointment. He’s been with me since the studio was a two-room nightmare. A lot of his time has been spent in this company.
His anger is justified.
The rest of the team is scattered around the table. I’m surrounded by tired faces and defensive postures. People who didn’t sleep much last night either, but for very different reasons.
“We worked our asses off,” Kai continues. “All of us did. And when you walked out like that—”
“I didn’t walk out on you,” I say calmly.
“But that’s how it looks,” Maya cuts in, not unkindly. “Online. To the academy. To people who don’t know us.”
I exhale through my nose. I am so tired.
I glance at the clock on the wall. Twelve forty-seven.
I got in after Za went to bed last night and left before she woke up this morning. I didn’t even look at her door. Coward.
I shift in my seat.
“I hear you,” I say. “All of you. And I’m not gonna pretend the walkout didn’t create a mess.”
Kai snorts. “A mess is generous.”
“Okay,” I concede. “A fucking garbage pit.”
That gets a few tight laughs but not enough to ease the tension, yet still enough to let everyone breathe again.
“I’m not mad that you were upset,” Leo says from across the table. “I was upset too. We all were. But you’re the face of the studio, Frankie. When you react like that, it becomes the story.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket but I don’t check it.
“What I need to know,” Kai says, softer now, “is whether you’re gonna crash out and torch our future every time something doesn’t go our way.”
I look down at the table. The little nicks in the wood from years of stress tapping were getting deeper. There’s a metaphor here but I can’t find it.
“No,” I say. “I’m not.”
Silence again.
“I fucked up,” I continue. “I was upset. But I didn’t think about how it would land on you or the studio. That’s on me.”
Maya leans forward. “Then what’s the plan?”
Good question. Great question even.
Because while they were all refreshing Twitter (I’m never calling it X) and watching the internet explode, I was scrubbing my makeup off in a bar bathroom, and throwing up. It never even crossed my mind about doing damage control. But I don’t say that part.
“The plan,” I say carefully, “is damage control. We don’t apologize for the work. We don’t apologize for being disappointed. But we do clarify that the walkout wasn’t about disrespecting other devs. It was about frustration with an industry pattern.”
Kai studies me. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you gonna apologize?”
“Fuck no,” I say automatic.
Around the table, everyone shifts. Maya presses her lips together. Leo rubs his temple. It’s pure disappointment layered over exhaustion—everyone is fed up with me.
“Look,” I say finally. My voice comes out steady, even though my chest feels tight.
“I know I can be stubborn and quick to act out when I feel disrespected. Some of you may even call me ‘defensive’. But I still don’t think I’m wrong about what I did.
So I’m not going to apologize. Now. I won’t insult you by pretending it didn’t cost us—”
Kai doesn’t back down.
“It did cost us! Sponsors pulled back, Frankie. We spent all night answering emails instead of celebrating the one category we actually won.”
“That award doesn’t matter,” I say.
“It mattered to us,” Maya replies gently. “And I get why you did what you did. But when you walked out, the narrative stopped being about the work and started being all about you.”
Leo leans forward. “We built this studio on intention. On patience. On being strategic when bigger companies weren’t. Last night didn’t feel strategic, Frank. How are we gonna stand a chance in this industry if we already have a reputation like this?”
The group starts mumbling in agreement.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again. And I ignore it again.
“And what about the internet?” Kai asks. “Because right now half of it thinks you’re a hero and the other half thinks you’re unprofessional.”
“I can’t control that,” I say.
“It’s a bad look either way.”
“I know.”
“So why not just apologize?”
“I already said I’m not going to. So why don’t we move on to what’s next?”
“And what is next?” Maya asks.
Before I can answer, there’s a knock on the glass wall of the conference room.
All of us turn.
Tasha stands there, eyes wide, hand still hovering near the door handle like she’s not sure she should interrupt.
Realistically, she should also be in this meeting but she is in strong disagreement with my actions as well and thinks it’s best if the team voice their opinions to me directly without her being a part of the dog pile.
I think neutrality in this is a mistake but I’ll respect it.
She has her stance and I have mine.
Besides, I don’t have time to process the complexities of our relationship at the moment because behind her is a man who takes up too much space in the doorway.
The room reacts before I do.
Everyone straightens.
Everyone whispers his name.
Leo’s eyebrows shoot up. Maya’s mouth drops open. Kai looks like he’ll pass out any second.
Football fans. All of them.
Tasha pushes the door open some more. “Uh. Frankie? Your… guests are here.”
My stomach drops. For half a second, I forget where I am.
I don’t move. I refuse to make eye contact. I refuse to even acknowledge his existence.
The man in the suit steps forward first.
“Morning. Sorry to interrupt. I’m Daniel Hargreaves.”
He brought his agent?
“I believe we have a scheduled meeting,” Daniel continues, glancing at me. “With Ms. Campbell.”
Every head in the room turns toward me.
“Me?”
A scheduled meeting?
I blink once, then twice, like that might reset the moment. The room hums with confusion now. Just a low, collective what the fuck.
Kai looks between the two men. “So you’re saying this meeting was pre-arranged?”
“It was,” Daniel confirms. “Last night. Via ‘discord’ I believe.”
My chest tightens. I remember now. The user I told to come in today.
No.
That account had no profile picture. No name I recognised. And this account had been following me for a while.
Surely not.
It’s hard to conceptualize that Jabari McKingsley would give me anything without taking credit for it.
“Yeah. I just,” I say carefully. “I—sorry. I wasn’t expecting… this.”
I had assumed… I don’t know.
I had expected… literally anyone else.
A tech guy. An angel investor. Someone awkward and earnest who liked indie games too much.
Not him. Anyone but him!
“You’re the donor,” I say, staring directly at Jabari now.
“Yes.”
I clear my throat. “That’s—this is that meeting?”
The room shifts.
Kai frowns. “You didn’t mention—”
“I didn’t know,” I say quickly.
Daniel gestures politely. “We won’t take long. We want to talk about investing, probably working with you on the game you have in development? My client is a big fan of your work.”
“He is?” Kai is gassed as fuck.
“Yes, that is evident by the donations made over the past few weeks. Including the sum sent last night.” Daniel’s voice is tight, like he’s annoyed. I guess all these donations are news to him too.
“It was you who donated last night?” I ask, unable to stop myself now.
“Yes,” Jabari replies.
Oh my days…
“How much did he donate?” Leon asks.
“￡100,000.” We say it in unison.
The room hums.
“You?” Mara asks, stunned. “You donated that much?”
Jabari nods. “I support indie creators.”
Leon looks like he might levitate.
Daniel steps in smoothly. “Jabari’s interest goes beyond a one-time donation. He’s here to discuss potential sponsorship for this upcoming project.”
Blouse and skirt.
“Sponsorship?” Kai repeats.
“An investment,” Daniel clarifies. “With no creative interference.”
The room erupts quickly:
“This could—”
“Do you know what this means?—”
“Frankie!—”
I lift my hand. “Hold on.”
My chest feels tight. My thoughts are racing, but my face stays composed.
CEO mode on. Damage control activated.
“With the platform you have,” I say, addressing Jabari directly now, “you could sponsor any studio you want. Why this one?”
Why me? Why now?
Jabari doesn’t rush his answer so the room quiets in anticipation.
Daniel answers instead, “We believe RudeGal Gaming is positioned favorably for growth. Both commercially and culturally.”
Leon leans forward, barely containing himself. “Would this include marketing collaboration?”
Jabari shrugs. “If it makes sense.”
“And,” Leon presses, “would you consider… deeper involvement? Likeness. Motion capture? Maybe even a character model?”
My head snaps up. “No!”
Everyone whips their heads together at me, shocked at my quick dismissal of the idea. But Jabari isn’t shocked.
“That’s not something we’ve discussed,” I add, forcing calm back into my voice. “Besides, you’re a popular player right now. I’m sure you could get on FIFA. Or your own Fortnite skin.”
“Oh they’ve reached out,” Daniel clarifies. “But all the uses of my client’s likeness have remained under his control and so if you decide on this you would be the first and only company with his likeness. That is if he’s open to it.”
Daniel looks at Jabari.
“I’d be open to it,” Jabari says. “Only if you are, Francine.”
Mara turns to me, eyes bright. “Frankie, this could be huge.”
“His co-sign could do wonders. Marketing wise,” Tasha adds. “And that face would bring in a new audience. It could be the break we’re looking for globally.”
Kai exhales. “Frank… we need this.”
I look around the table.
At my team. At their hope. At their trust.
Then back at Jabari.
I feel cornered.