Page 10 of Aim Assist

Amy:

Love you, MaxyMoo.

A grin spreads across my face as I toss my phone aside and flop back onto the bed. Sheets billow around me, their cool softness a welcome contrast to my overheated skin.

Huh. Funny how the thought of Paul doesn't make my blood boil like it did yesterday. Is it because of my gaming session with that Trick guy?

Stretching in lazy comfort, I replay our zombie-slaying exploits in my mind. The dude has serious skill. We made a great team, and he didn't bat an eye at my occasionally suicidal runs. He ran right in with me. No man left behind.

When was the last time I actually enjoyed myself in a game without the pressure of an audience?

But I can't let myself get too attached. For all I know, he could be some married dude looking for a thrill. Wouldn't be the first time I got burned by a smooth-talking player.

No, better to keep things casual. Stick to the occasional game, maybe chat a bit. Nothing more. I have enough complications in my life without adding a virtual fling to the mix.

Rolling over with a sigh, I cuddle into my pillow, soft and squishy with comfort. The anger that's been simmering inside me for days feels more distant now. Like maybe I can finally let it go. Move on.

Fucking Paul. I let out a snort. To think I wasted so much time and energy on that cheating scumbag. Well, no more.

Amy Sloane is done being a doormat. I'm focusing on me.

Starting with a nice, long nap. I'd already slept in, but fuck it. The bed's comfortable, and I have nowhere to be. Burrowing deeper into the covers, I feel a languid laziness come over my limbs.

Of course, that's when my fucking phone rings, from a number I don't recognize.

Rolling my face out of the cozy fluff of my pillow, I aim a glare at my phone, like an inanimate object gives a shit how I feel about it ringing. Unknown numbers are usually telemarketers or scammers, but something makes me reach over and swipe to accept the call anyway. Call it intuition. Or curiosity. Or luck.

"Hello?" My voice is rough from sleep.

"Is this Amy Sloane?" The voice on the other end is deep, authoritative. Familiar.

I sit up straighter, suddenly wide awake. "Speaking. Who's this?"

"Asher Sinclair."

Holy shit. Asher Sinclair, CEO of HELIOS Games, and, more pertinently, my best friend's fiance. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. But why the hell is he calling me?

"Right, of course. What can I do for you, Mr. Sinclair?" I try to sound professional, like I'm not sitting in bed in my underwear. Like he hasn't seen me drunker than a college kid on St. Patrick's Day. Like I don't know intimate details about his sex life with my best friend.

"Please, call me Asher. We're close enough for that, aren't we?"

Haha. Yeah. Also, I know how you like your dick sucked, courtesy of your fiancee.

"Of course, Asher."

"I'll get straight to the point, since I'm sure you're busy. We're launching a new game next quarter, and we're looking for influencers to help promote it. Your name came up in our discussions, and I want you in."

I nearly drop the phone. They want me to promote their game? Me, the streamer known for rage-quitting and swearing like a sailor? It must be because of Sam.

"I'm flattered, but are you sure you have the right person? My streams aren't very family-friendly. You know how I am."

Asher chuckles. "That's precisely why we want you. Your authenticity, your fire—it's exactly what this game needs. We don't want some polished spokesperson. We want someone real, someone who can get the gamers excited."

I bite my lip, mind racing. This could be huge for my channel. But I need more information.

"Tell me about the game. What's the genre, the target audience? And what would you need me to do?"

As Asher launches into his pitch, I find myself nodding along. It's an MMORPG, set in a post-apocalyptic world. Gritty, violent, no holds barred. Aside from the fact that it's an RPG, it's right up my alley.

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