Page 5 of Pucking Only

Mr. Ferguson folds his hands together and leans forward, his gaze bouncing between Samuel and me.

“We have a bit of a situation that’s come up,” he begins. “Richard, our senior developer, has resigned.”

I tense. I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t this. My heart begins to race at the news that Richard has left. The senior developer position is open. Is this thechance I’ve been waiting for? I’ve been with the company for almost a year, but when someone has the talent and the skill set necessary, they can go far, and fast. I know I’m good at what I do. I want this senior position so badly that I’m going to do whatever I can to prove I deserve it.

“Richard’s timing is not ideal,” Mr. Ferguson continues. “We just started the development stages for a new hockey game commissioned by one of our largest clients. It’s a top priority, but we can’t move forward with it because all of our other developers are working on other games.”

“Sir, I can handle it,” Samuel says. I fight not to roll my eyes. Of course he just assumes he’ll get it, the arrogant prick. “It shouldn’t be an issue…”

“Of course I’d hand it to you, Samuel,” Mr. Ferguson nods, and once more, I’m struggling to stop from rolling my eyes. “However, I’m not sure you have the code skills necessary to impress the client.”

Samuel looks stunned, his eyes wide and jaw dropped. I cough into my fist to hide my grin.

“But…but, sir,” Samuel stammers. Mr. Ferguson shakes his head, and cuts him off.

“I’m not saying you have no chance, Samuel,” Mr. Ferguson says. “However, I have to consider what will satisfy the client. Skyler’s skills are technically sharper. However, she doesn’t have the experience of full game development.”

I blink. That was almost a compliment, which is shocking. Half the time, I’m not sure he even remembers I work for him.

“Sir, you can’t be serious!” Samuel exclaims. “Skyler is not capable of this level of responsibility.”

I shoot Samuel a death glare. If I wasn’t certain it would get me fired, I’d kick him right in the balls so hard there was no chance of him creating little Samuels who would run around and be assholes to other women. Then I remember hiswife, who I’ve met at a few company functions. She’s actually a sweetheart, who wants nothing more than to be a mother, so maybe I won’t try to sterilize him with my foot.

“This is what I’m going to do,” Mr. Ferguson says, pulling my attention away from Samuel. “I need this game to be the best version it can be. So whichever one of you can give me the best code for this project, that's who I’ll choose to present to the client. In turn, that’s who I’ll make senior developer.”

“What?” Samuel gasps.

“Are you serious?” I blurt out.

Mr. Ferguson narrows his eyes at me and nods. “Yes, I am very serious. This isn’t how we’d usually handle this kind of situation, but desperate times. We need this game done, and we need it done quickly. This client wants the release to coincide with the Stanley Cup, so the sooner we can provide them with something, the better. Use Unity — we aren't trying to reinvent the wheel here. We’ll keep models and animations simple but realistic. Keep the poly count low to save time but focus on textures and mapping. If you use AI for scripts, fine, but make sure you edit the code so we can actually sell the game. That all clear?”

It hadn’t fully sunk in before, but at his mention of the Stanley Cup, it hits me. This is supposed to be a hockey game.

Ihatesports video games!

I’m the kinda girl who likes games with zombies, guns, or fighting.The Last of Us. Tekken. Mortal Kombat.Games with stories, stakes, and stuff that breaks free from the confines of the real world. Sports aresoboring in comparison to that.

I grit my teeth. Shit. This isn’t ideal, but I can’t walk away from this chance. This is my dream job and my opportunity to really prove myself!

Plus, I’m not mad at the idea of beating Samuel out of the job and shoving it in his face.

“So, are you both agreeable to this plan?” Mr. Ferguson asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I glance over at Samuel. He looks hesitant, too. He’s not really a sports game guy, either, so we might actually be feeling something similar right now, which sucks. I hate being reminded he’s actually a real person with feelings, not a gremlin. Hell, in another world, we really do have enough in common that we could be friends.

In this world, though, he’s Captain Douchepants.

“Of course,” Samuel huffs. “It seems unnecessary, but I’m willing to do what is most beneficial for the client.”

Kiss ass.

Mr. Ferguson turns to me and meets my gaze. “Skyler?”

Swallowing, I nod. “Yeah…yes, Mr. Ferguson I’m agreeable.”

“Good.” Sitting back in his chair, he dismisses me saying, “You can go now, Skyler.”

It doesn’t escape me that he’s sending me away but not Samuel. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to give Samuel some tips to help him get a leg up in our little competition.

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