But she seemed to be hard at work and exhausted with it. We were able to greet each other in passing, stop and have a short conversation. She seemed to want to avoid talking about what had happened between us the night after paintball. And I kept remembering to control my instinct to dig for information. We still needed to sit down, talk things through. Figure out a way in which we could be together, be happy.
I hoped that we’d get that chance after the Con in Vegas.
I remembered the first time I’d visited Sin City—during the last year of high school as an independent study student. I’d had a lot of free time between minimal schoolwork and coding the game that would become Mission Accomplished, my first great success. Lindsay had invited me to spend the weekend up there with her and I felt like I’d stepped into another world.
I’d been a totally oblivious innocent, really, too young to drink (not that I did much of that now anyway) or to gamble. I’d followed her as she took me around to the various casinos. We’d seen a couple shows. It’d been my first trip outside of my little world since leaving Washington and moving to California.
Bright lights of every color burned up and down Las Vegas Boulevard, better known as “The Strip,” from sundown until dawn. Our convention would take place at the Arthurian-themed Excalibur Hotel, built to look like a massive fairy-tale castle. It seemed an appropriate venue, given our game’s fantasy theme.
I made the rounds, personally inspecting and okaying each display before the Con started. Jordan was at my side for a lot of it, rolling his eyes and muttering about my control issues.
“Don’t you have something you need to do?” I finally said.
“Well, there is the warm-up for the cosplay competition. Some of those girls are going to be in skimpy chainmail bikinis. I’ve appointed myself as a judge.”
I sighed, checking off boxes on a checklist on my tablet as I moved to the next exhibit. “Of course you have.”
“What about you? Everyone would get a kick out of you being a judge.”
“I’m sure I’ll be busy.”
Jordan put a hand up to his ear. “Did you say you’ll be busy or you’ll be getting busy?”
I shook my head and tried to reply in as stern a voice as I could muster. “Sometimes I’m astonished that you are the CFO of my company.”
“C’mon…those interns—”
“Work for me. And so they are off-limits. For me and you. One lawsuit at a time is enough.”
After fixing some details at a nearby display, Jordan swept up to my side again. “You’re so uptight these days. How long has it been, anyway? Aren’t you due for a little…stress release?”
I glared at him sidelong. No one, not even him, was privy to the details of my sex life.
“Either get your mind back in the game or go do something else,” I snapped.
The Con itself was three days of pure chaos, pure adrenaline, and an unbelievably fantastic high. People loved our product. Lived our product. There were demos and trials and contests. There were cosplay competitions where people dressed as their characters in the game. And, as Jordan predicted, there were some chainmail bikinis. I was certain that, somewhere, Emilia was violently rolling her eyes.
There were roleplaying events and head-to-head duels—both virtual and recreated in live-action. I’d never been as proud of our game as I was during those days, seeing the real faces of our players. They were surprisingly of all ages, even retirees. I had the chance to walk around amongst the exhibits and contests. Sometimes I was recognized by the players—sometimes stopped by a reporter and asked about the lawsuit, to which I gave my standard “no comment” answer.
When I saw Emilia, she looked tired. It did not appear as if she was getting much sleep. We were playful with one another whenever we had a second to talk. Once she sidled up to me and, when no one was looking, squeezed my bicep. “I just had to get me a little bit of that,” she murmured before walking away.
I resolved to sneak in a covert slap of her ass.
Still, she looked so strange to me. With her large brown eyes and dark eyebrows and that bizarre white hair, she looked almost otherworldly, like the elf maidens she so liked to parody on her blog.
At the employee costume party, she’d added bright pink and purple braids to that white hair. She wore a short skirt in the style of a ballerina tutu and dainty little fairy wings, her face all painted with bright, glittery colors. She looked exotic, different, almost like one of Jordan’s models. Her long legs were prominently on display and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.