Page 89 of The Import Slot
“We need to sort out this planning phase, Jen. How long until you have a rough draft of the design document?”
“By the end of the week,” I say, which gives me more than enough time. I think, I hope, and I pray.
“Then how long until the prototype?”
“Another four weeks after then, allowing time for feedback and workshops,” I say.
“Perfect.”
“I had a chat with the GM this morning, and he wants a cycle of every single player on the homepage, so each day it showcases a different player as a spotlight.”
“Sure, but stuff like that comes a lot later.”
I jot it down anyway, and we spend a good half hour discussing the plan further. Alex tells me he will set up ‘show-and-tell’ meetings to gauge a feel of things and get some real-time feedback.
“How are you settling in?” he asks.
Alex hasn’t been here much longer than me and he’s here just a few days a week.
“Good, thanks. I already knew Vicky and most of the team.”
“Oh, really? Bit of a fan-girl, are you?”
I frown at him. “I support the team, but was also in school with Daniel Owens. We’ve been friends for years, and we hang out still. I’ve got to know most of them through Danny.”
Alex gets up and perches himself on the desk next to me; he’s wearing an ill-fitting suit and brown loafers like he’s stepped out ofAnchorman.
“This is embarrassing, but, since you know most of the guys, do you know if Michael Betts is single?” Alex adjusts his tie awkwardly and shifts his neck. Is he sweating?
“Bettsy? I don’t think he’s seeing anyone, no.”
“Oh, great. I’m just curious, that’s all. No reason.” He clears his throat and stands up, returning to where his laptop and notepad are. “Um, Jen, can I ask a favour, please? Just don’t mention I asked, will you?”
I can’t work out if he’s asking for him or asking for an interested friend, but I’m not one to blab, maybe except to Ryan, but he won’t say anything to Bettsy.
“Sure, of course,” I say, giving him a smile.
I guess it should flatter me that he feels comfortable enough to ask me.
He leaves the boardroom, but I sit there briefly, scribbling notes and going through my plan of action. I seriously need to crack on; I have no time to waste, and the more I review what I need to do, the more panicked I become. Maybe I was too frugal with my estimations.
I open my design document and scroll through it, reminding myself of my progress. I’m probably around seventy-five per cent of the way there. I’m still waiting for confirmation on the hosting aspect, and I need to meet with the vendor soon.
A tap on the glass window pulls my gaze up; Ryan is waving at me. He gives me a wink when I meet his eyes. I beckon him in, and he closes the door behind him.
“What are you doing up here?” I ask.
“Came to speak to the GM. I wanted to run him through my ideas, but he wants a goddamn PowerPoint or something. Is there any chance you can help me, babe? I do not know what I’m doing. I know what I want to say, but it’s really pissed me off today. I don’t do presentations or public speaking. I hardly manage speaking to the media.”
I glance down at my laptop, and my eyes bounce between my screen and my notepad. Still, he looks desperate, and I know if things were the other way around, he’d drop everything to help me.
“Of course, but it’ll have to be after work hours. Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect. Thank you.” He gives me a kiss and leans against the table. “Everything okay, babe?”
“Just feeling a bit stressed, that’s all. Got a lot to do and think about.”
“Anything I can help with?”
