Page 155 of Talk Nerdy To Me
My grin only grows, but she abruptly pulls back, clearing her throat as she starts backing away.
“I have to go,” she says as she turns and starts walking quickly toward the area where everyone is gathering.
I spot Harley walking toward me very quickly, and I dart another glance around.
“Do you see what this is?” she asks as she comes to stand beside me.
“Yeah,” I tell her, watching Britt as she moves toward a solid black horse off to the side. “I wrote a few sad songs in the same amount of time she created a gothic branch of the universe and became the dark queen.”
She nods like she’s impressed that I’ve caught on.
“It’s genius in so many business directions I can’t list them all. It’s the perfect way to rebrand us. It’s going to make us a lot of money and generate some really good buzz. The players will decide which queen is winning at all times, so that reduces our involvement and frees up so much of our time.”
She sighs like she regrets she has to add the but I hear coming.
“But it’s breaking my heart, and it’s also really hard to keep up with her current pace. She’s speeding toward a burn-out because she’s avoiding her pain by throwing herself into work. She needs a life, and you didn’t hurt her on purpose. That’s why I gave you the invitation.”
She gives me a supportive clap on the back.
“Fix it, please. The sooner, the better,” she adds before walking away.
“Hey, what am I supposed to do for Britt? I thought I was her squire,” I call as I chase after her.
“Sorry. I lied. Even though we let the big secret leak, we kept up the charade that Britt would still be a princess. I’m known for flair. You’re going to be with Prince Norven. Not that it really matters.”
I don’t even get a chance to ask questions, because she hauls herself up on her horse, and rides away like it’s perfectly fucking normal.
I’m still working on adjusting to how hardcore rich people roll.
At the end of the day, this is just fun for her, and she uses business as an excuse to play like a boss.
It’s like hearing Vince explain why having a stripper pole installed was a practical business expense.
I’d probably enjoy it, if I had any idea what the hell is going on right now and who this ‘prince’ I’m now assigned to like cattle is.
“Goggles on!” someone shouts.
I have no idea what the next words are, because they’re in that language. The crowd, who is apparently way more abridged on what’s going on than I am, erupts into a frenzy just as I’m pelted in the leg with a paintball arrow.
It hurts a lot less than being hit with a paintball gun.
It’s not a kill shot, but I still have to run with a limp. I make it five steps before I’m hit with an arrow to the chest and have to drop.
At least I know the rules to this part of all this, but…now I have to hope no one steps on my ‘corpse.’ I just thought the costume was my biggest setback of the day.
