Chapter 10
JACKSON
Ispend the weekend in the design studio with the team, partly helping to craft the underwater dungeon and partly helping with the RP stuff.
My lead artist, Michaela, looks at me as though I’ve grown a second head every time I make a role-playing suggestion.
My team’s good. They push back when they need to.
But this weekend, that only happens once.
In the break room, I can feel Michaela glancing at me as she talks with her wife on the phone.
I’m on my phone, looking at Dakota’s stream.
I’m appearing offline so she doesn’t know I’m watching her.
Why did I tell her that about my mother?
I never even talk about those things, and now, it’s like I can’t cram it back inside of me. It’s too close to the surface.
“Sir?” Michaela says, standing over my desk.
“Yes?”
“I want to say, we all think you’re doing the right thing with Cove. And we’re over the moon that you’re taking an interest in the roleplaying side.”
I smile tightly. Hoping I don’t look intimidating, knowing I probably do from the way she’s cringing like she thinks she’s overstepped. “Thank you. The team’s doing fantastic work. Please, speak up if it’s too much. I mean that.”
“We will,” she says. “But it’s not.”
When she leaves the break room, I put on my Bluetooth headphones and switch on the audio for Dakota’s stream, titled Sunday Funday. “I’m not really sure I’m cut out for that sort of thing,” she murmurs.
I quickly scan the chat for keywords. See the word relationship.
I swallow a ball of emotion. I haven’t spoken to her for two days.
I dropped too much on her. All that emotion and heartache, dragging it up from the past and using it as an emotional burden for a woman I don’t really know. But feel like I do.
“Life is so simple at the moment. Stream, sleep, hang with a friend or two. Repeat. Why complicate it?”
If I were a more superstitious man, I’d say the universe is giving me a sign. I should just message her and explain why I’m being distant. These things are difficult for me to think about, let alone talk about. Do I regret it? Am I worried she’s going to tell someone? No, hell no. So then, what?
That night, I lie in bed, phone in my hand. I quickly send her a message before I can wimp out of it again.
TheRealCreator: Sorry for the ghost routine, beautiful. Work has been mayhem. We’re doing a good job at reinventing the Cove. How have you been? How are the streams going? I tuned in for a while today, and you looked great. As usual.
The message status changes from delivered to read almost immediately. I wait eagerly for her reply. I’m shocked at myself. Fidgeting and buzzing with excitement like a little kid.
Three dots appear. She’s typing.
Then they vanish. I wait for a long time. Ten minutes. Staring at the screen like a loser.
TheRealCreator: Are you there?
I type, then delete the message. If she wanted to reply, she would.
Maybe this is a sign. We haven’t done anything yet, not really, just shared a small taste of each other. Had some steamy online fun. We could cut ties here, and our lives would go on as usual.
But the next day, I call Pete and Elena Voss to my office. Elena is my logistics head, a Jane-of-all-trades who’s remarkably adaptable. She’s a young go-getter with hair shaved on one side, the rest flipped over, Viking-style.
“I want to repurpose the upcoming graphics exhibition to allow streamers to attend.”
Elena tugs on a lock of hair. Pete adjusts his glasses.
Their hands lower in almost comical slow motion.
“The event is in five days,” Elena murmurs.
“All the invitations have been sent, and we’ve got our RSVPs.
We’re trying to drum up interest from graphic card companies, especially, right?
” She seems bothered. “How do streamers factor into that?”
“Their insight into whether graphics or gameplay should be our highest priority,” I say.
“Well, sure,” Elena says tightly. “But at a graphics exhibition?”
“It will be good to have some opposing voices in the room,” I murmur. “Plus, I think Pete’s right. We need to do more outreach to the most passionate members of our community.”
“Did I say that?” Pete murmurs.
“You showed me Dakota’s stream,” I say. “She’s extremely talented. She has serious insight. Make sure she’s on the guest list.”
Pete and Elena glance at each other. It’s a quick moment, over fast. I might’ve missed it if I wasn’t paying close attention. I let too much slip then. Passion, fire, and pride.
“I’m sure you can both handle this, yes?” I say.
“Uh, sure,” Pete murmurs, standing. “Which other streamers are you keen to have there?”
Dammit. I don’t even know. I haven’t watched anyone else except for DakkyDuck.
“The usual lineup,” I say vaguely, waving a hand. “And Pete, put a press release together. We’re going to show some early previews of the reworked Cove dungeon to our users. I want a stylish, professional voiceover explaining we’ve heard their complaints and are addressing them directly.”
“The board will want assurances too,” Pete murmurs.
“I’ll sing whatever tune they want,” I grunt. “As long as they don’t get in the way.”
“They might?—”
“If they force the issue,” I snarl. “I’ll make them choose. They can go on without me, or let me fix this.”
“The stock would hit the earth’s core without you, Jack, come on.”
“Then they should remember that,” I grunt.
Pete nods shortly. “Can we talk privately?”
Elena shifts uncomfortably. “Um, actually. I was hoping the same?”
I nod. “Pete, let me talk to Elena first.”
He shrugs, taking out his phone as he heads for the door.
Elena takes a deep breath, folding her hands in her lap. “First, I want to say thank you for all the opportunities you’ve afforded me so far, sir.”
“You’re very welcome,” I tell her sincerely. “You deserve it. You work hard, and you get results.”
A tight smile. “Yes, thank you.”
“But?” I say, hoping I sound casual and approachable and not like the big, grumpy wolf the media sometimes brands me.
“I’d like to talk about a promotion,” she murmurs.
Immediately, my CEO instincts kick in. This is the worst part of the job. Because Elena deserves a promotion. And I can’t give her one.
“I know Emerald Cove didn’t turn out the way we all hoped,” she says.
“The users didn’t love it as much as we wish they did.
But I worked day and night to bring it to life.
Organizing all the teams, the freelancers, liaising with the Japanese office, sometimes taking your place on conference calls when you were busy elsewhere. ”
I lean back in my chair, sighing. I hate this shit. “Elena, I’m so sorry, but for now, I have to say no.”
She flinches, hurt. Deservedly so. “Oh.”
“You deserve this,” I tell her. “And down the line, once this has settled, I will make this right. You have my word on that. But if I promote you now, the board will riot. The way they see it, you were intimately involved in a flagship level our users hate.”
“That’s not fair,” she says.
“I know that. You were helping bring a vision to life, not having the vision yourself. It doesn’t change the corporate reality, unfortunately.”
Even saying the phrase corporate reality makes me feel sick.
“I swear, once this phase is over, we’ll revisit this.”
She stands, hands behind her back, suddenly cold. “Thank you, sir,” she says stiffly.
When Pete returns, he says, “Did you shoot her down?”
“She told you she was going for the promotion?”
“She’s been talking too much,” he says. “Bragging about the promotion before she even got it. I told her to calm down. Not to jump the gun. But…” He sighs.
“We’ll make it right,” I say firmly. “Elena’s been with us for almost five years. She knows we value her.”
Pete nods.
“What did you want, anyway?” I ask.
“Just—be careful.”
I laugh awkwardly. “What?”
“I’ve known you for a long time, Jack. You’re acting differently lately. More like the early days. Reckless.”
“Imaginative and daring is how I’d phrase it, but potato, tomato.”
He laughs darkly. “Is something happening with this streamer?”
“This meeting’s over,” I cut his line of questions short. “The fuck you thinking, Pete, asking me about my personal life?”
He stands, hands raised. “My job is to handle the media. But there’s only so much I can do.” Translation: if they catch me red-handed, giving special treatment to a streamer I want more than I want air, I’m screwed.
I say nothing. Wait for him to leave. Wishing he were wrong. Knowing he’s right.