Page 6 of The Grump I Loathe
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I checked to see a text message from Darius, my head of HR. URGENT flashed across the screen.
“Ew,Bodypointis soooo boring,” Eddie said. “Who wants to get stuck playing a run-of-the-mill first shooter tester when you’ve got pink turnips to harvest?”
Grace perked up. “I love pink!”
“We’re leaving,” I said. “Now.”
“The turnips look so good they might make you hungry,” Eddie said.
“Oh, I’m good.” Grace rubbed her stomach. “Dad got me a quesadilla. I wasn’t sure I’d like it because I’m not good with spicy stuff, but he got them to be extra careful when they made it.”
Eddie blinked at her for a beat, then glanced up at me, her lips formed into a silentO. Her shoulder lifted as she caught her lip between her teeth. For a second, she looked genuinely regretful. Before I could dive into that, my phone buzzed again and didn’t stop. It was Darius, calling to talk about whatever his urgent text meant.
“Don’t run off,” I said to Grace, answering the phone call. “Hello? What do you mean they’ve called to reschedule?” I frowned, trying to hear him over the din of music echoing through the phone. “Are you standing in front of a speaker?”
Eddie bent down, talking to Grace. I watched her gesture to the demo, coaxing Grace over to the headset while I was otherwise engaged in making sure our distributor meeting didn’t fall through. A brilliant smile lit up Grace’s face as Eddie showed her the headphones and controller. I grumbled into the phone as my daughter bonded with the biggest pain in the ass I’d ever met.
By the time I’d wrapped up the call with Darius, ten minutes had passed, and Grace was stuck in, headphones over her ears and her tongue poking out of her mouth as she deftly landed a spaceship on top of a decrepit barn.
“Seemed like your call might take a while. I figured I’d keep her occupied.” Eddie flicked her head in my direction, one delicate, black eyebrow arched in question. “So, what did I do to deserve the honor of LockMill royalty in my little corner of the con?”
I stared at her flatly. “You lured a nine-year-old with the promise of space sheep. And I never said I worked for LockMill.”
She snorted. “You’re telling me you’re not Connor Lockhart, CEO of a AAA game company?” She crossed her arms, drawing my attention to exactly how the sweat-damp shirt clung to her body. I glanced away just as quickly. “You can cut the crap. I heard the kid mentionShadow.”
I made sure the headphones were snug over Grace’s ears, then turned to Eddie with a scowl. “It’s none of your business who I am.”
She held her hands up in a “don’t shoot” gesture. “Believe me, I have no interest in you or your business—even if you owe me one for keeping you away from Ryker Lowe.”
I scoffed. “Since I doubt he plans to attack me with hot sauce, why would I prefer spending time atyourbooth instead of his?”
“Because he’s a blowhard and a phony. His only good game wasLethal Deception. These days, he’s trying to cash in on flashy graphics with no storyline. No twists. No excitement. Just some stagnant plot dressed up with explosions.”
“Well, we can’t all have the wild creativity to come up with space farming,” I said, making a dig at her game. It wasn’t even a unique concept. She’d just taken a farming simulation and slapped it in space.
“At least my characters have more emotional range than a toaster,” she said. “Actually, I’m pretty sure my turnips have more depth than the characters inBodypoint. And the fact that you’re even contemplating seeing what Ryker has to offer is a little embarrassing. I always thought LockMill aspired to stay ahead of the curve.”
“LockMillisahead of the curve.” I scowled, annoyed with myself for allowing her to drag me into another of her petty, childish arguments. This was the quesadilla nonsense all over again. “Maybe you justdon’t want us to seeBodypointbecause you’re jealous of Ryker’s abilities.”
Eddie’s smile grew strained, her eyes flashing with unvoiced emotion, like I’d pressed on a bruise—something that still stung. “You know what, I take it back—you and Ryker are perfect for each other. Coasting on reputation and other people’s hard work without the slightest clue what actually makes video games creative and interesting andfun. Though, judging by the fact you put on a suit to come to GeekCon, I’m not sure you know what fun is.”
“And what’s fun for you? Ruining someone’s lunch?” I snapped back.
She screwed up her face, jamming her finger into my chest. “You’re exactly what’s wrong with the industry, you know that? Just a number-cruncher, selling games like they’re bars of soap on a shelf. Why don’t you take your trust fund and run off to work in finance or something where you belong, huh? Everyone knows Ali Miller was the real heart of LockMill anyway.”
My eyes narrowed, my emotions about to boil over just as Grace whipped off her headphones. “Dad, this game is epic! I named one of my sheep Wooliam.”
“Yeah? You liked it? That’s awesome,” Eddie said, turning to her with a big smile that looked surprisingly genuine for being thrown on in about half a second.
“I’d literally play this all day,” Grace said, jumping down from her stool to tug at Eddie’s arm. “What happens after I finish refurbing the barn? Are there other animals I can adopt?”
“Well,” Eddie flashed her a grin, “once the barn is finished, youmightbe able to start building a very cool hover vehicle whichmightallow you to travel to the crater space hut and adopt some cool aliens.”
Grace gasped, her eyes going wide. “I get to raise baby aliens? Dad!” She turned to me, jaw dropped. I hadn’t seen her this excited in months. “We have to get this game. Ineedthis game.”
Eddie shrugged. “Sheneedsit.”
I stiffened at the smug look on her face, cracking my knuckles.
