Page 61 of Wild Boys After Dark: Logan
“I’ve got another show or two on the horizon; then I’ll take time off. But I think I want to do something useful with my time off. Find a way to, I don’t know, help others instead of sitting around on my ass.” He sipped his beer and tugged at the neck of his Baja hippie jacket. “How ’bout you? Any plans for vacay after the release?”
“Shit. You’re kidding, right? My downtime is spent playing at my work. I love it. I’d go crazy sitting in some cabin with no connectivity to the real world.”
“The right woman might change your mind.” Sage took a swig of his beer.
“Dex date?” Regina tipped her glass to her lips. “Do you even know your brother? He might hook up once in a while, but this man protects his heart like it carries all of the industry secrets.”
“Can we not go there tonight?” Dex snapped. He had a way of remembering certain moments of his life with impeccable clarity, some of which left scars so deep he could practically taste them every damn day of his life. He nurtured the hurt and relished in the joy of the scars, as his artistic and peace-seeking mother had taught him. But Dex was powerless against his deepest scar, and numbing his heart was the only way he could survive the memory of the woman he loved walking away from him four years earlier without so much as a goodbye.
“Whoa, bro. Just a suggestion,” Sage said. “You can’t replace what you never had.”
Dex shot him a look.
Regina spun on her chair and then swung her arm over Dex’s shoulder. “Incoming,” she whispered.
Dex looked over his shoulder and met the stare of two hot blondes. His shoulders tensed and he sighed.
“It’s not gonna kill you to make a play for one of them, Dex. Work off some of that stress.” Sage glanced back at the women.
“No, thanks. They’re all the same.” Ever since the major magazines had carried the story about Dex’s success, he’d been hounded by ditzy women who thought all he wanted to talk about was PC games.
Regina leaned in closer and whispered, “Not them. Fan boys, two o’clock.”
Thank God.
“Hey, aren’t you Dex Rem?” one of the boys asked.
Dex wondered if they were in college or if they had abandoned their family’s dreams for them in lieu of a life of gaming. It was the crux of his concern about his career. He was getting rich while feeding society’s desire to be couch potatoes.
“Remington, yeah, that’s me,” he said, wearing a smile like a costume, becoming the relaxed gamer his fans craved.
“Dude, World of Thieves is the most incredible game ever! Listen, you ever need any beta testers, we’re your guys.” The kid nodded as his stringy bangs bounced into his eyes. His friend’s jaw hung open, struck dumb by meeting Dex, another of Dex’s pet peeves. He was just a guy who worked hard at what he loved, and he believed anyone could accomplish the same level of success if they only put forth the effort. Damn, he hated how much that belief mirrored his father’s teachings.
“Yeah?” Dex lifted his chin. “What college did you graduate from?”
The two guys exchanged a look, then a laugh. The one with the long bangs said, “Dude, it don’t take a college degree to test games.”
Dex’s biceps flexed. There it was. The misconception that irked Dex more than the laziness of the kids who were just a few years younger than him. As a Cornell graduate, Dex believed in the value of education and the value of being a productive member of society. He needed to figure out the release date, not talk bullshit with kids who were probably too young to even be in a bar.
“Guys, give him a break, ’kay?” Regina said.
“Sure, yeah. Great to meet you,” the longer-haired kid said.
Dex watched them turn away and sucked back his beer. His eyes caught on a woman at a booth in the corner of the bar. He studied the petite, brown-haired woman who was fiddling with her napkin while her leg bounced a mile a minute beneath the table. Jesus. Memories from four years earlier came rushing back to him with freight-train impact, hitting his heart dead center.
“I know how you are about college, but, Dex, they’re kids. You gotta give them a little line to feed off of,” Regina said.
Dex tried to push past the memories. He glanced up at the woman again, and his stomach twisted. He turned away, trying to focus on what Regina had said. College. The kids. Give them a line to feed off of. Regina was right. He should accept the hero worship with gratitude, but lately he’d been feeling like the very games that had made him successful were sucking kids into an antisocial, couch-potato lifestyle.
