Page 3 of Off Her Game
Be cool. You will not go all fangirl crazy and creep him out.
Noah held out his hand her.
Shake it.
Crap, she’d frozen.Like a clumsy puppy she slapped her tremoring hand into his for a brief shake.
Maybe he’d autograph something.Hello, checking out of jail.Yeah, that’d be weird.
“Zoneworld Warrior’scool,” she muttered. Hand to forehead slap.Dumb, dumb, dumb.
“Tori’s in to video games.” Emma’s eyebrows shot upward in awhat’s-wrong-with-youglare. Or maybe it was adon’t-embarrass-meglower.
He granted Tori a small smile. Her stomach clenched. She couldn’t interpret the smile. Was it a pity smile or anoh-god-not-another-gaming-fansmile?
He said, “Thanks, Emma, for bailing me out. Guess it wasn’t too out of your way tonight.”
“I hope you’re not going to make this a habit.” She looked between the two of them. Her scowl promised more coming Tori’s way as soon as her boss was out of earshot. “Either of you.”
Outside smelled of recent rain and gasoline. The icy wind whipped through the few microns of T-shirt fabric, reminding her she’d left her favorite jacket at the Stadium tonight. No getting it back after the cops invaded. The Stadium wasn’t so much a place as an event. The dark underbelly of the video gaming world commanded a lot of money, unsavory characters, and a buttload of the illegal. The competitions never happened in the same location twice. It was unlike the up-and-up, legit event she’d be attending tomorrow.
“Mr. Harrison, I phoned your driver.” Emma waved at a dark sedan idling on the curb. She pasted on a professional smile. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“Nice to meet you, Tori.” Noah’s gaze bounced back to her. His eyes crinkled in the corners with his smile. “Good luck with the gaming.”
“You too.”Please, dear God, tell me about the bots before you leave.
Noah met Emma’s gaze with raised eyebrows.
Emma pointed her finger at him. “No. Absolutely not.”
“We can talk tomorrow, Emma.” He gave her a pointed look before he disappeared into the back seat of his car. The driver shut the door, closing him away.
Tori fisted her hands against the desire to bang on the window and demand an answer to get through the game level.
Have some self-respect.
As she watched his car turn left at the end of the street and out of sight she wasn’t as disappointed to see him go because she didn’t get the answer as because she genuinely liked Noah Harrison. And maybe there was a tad bit of hero worship thrown in.
Emma snapped, “You were gambling on those video games again, weren’t you?”
“I would’ve won tonight.” Said like a bonafide gambling addict, which she wasn’t. Or, maybe she was. She’d argue until the end of the Earth she wasn’t. The gambling, the underworld gaming…at first it’d been about a quick buck to pay rent. Now, she was desperate to be free of it.
Emma’s lips thinned. “You always think you’ll win. I’m never doing this again. I swear.”
“Thanks for coming down to pick me up. Again.” Her sister had threatened the same a few months ago. As polar opposites, they rarely jived on life choices. Emma was the blonde to her dark, almost black hair. Even if her sister’s color wasn’t natural, it fit her. Unlike her sister, Tori excelled at one thing—other than her new talent to get arrested—and that was gaming. Both playing and designing. She traveled to big gaming events, winning a pittance, but still placing with her team in the top twenty-five. Someday, she hoped to design video games full-time and not rely on freelance coding and Twitch streaming with her teammates to pay rent, a dream that was a few months away from becoming reality.
Emma paused at the entrance to the parking deck adjacent to the police station and whirled. “Why do you do this? We can’t afford a big time lawyer. I’m lucky to have found some lady at Legal Aid familiar with video gaming who worked magic to get the gambling charges dropped last time. This time sounds like they didn’t have anything concrete to hold you on. You lucked out.”
Tori tucked her frozen hands into her jeans pockets. “One more good win and then I’m out. I’m hoping D.C. will come through this weekend.” But playing in legit competitions was a crapshoot. When the prize was good, the big names in the sport showed up. Noah Harrison’s company, NJ Legacy, sponsored a twenty-thousand-dollar pot at the D.C. competition. She’d be lucky to hit the top ten and get a fourth of that. Two or three good wins, though, and her gambling debt could be paid off.
“How much do you owe?” Emma released a long sigh filled with judgment.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Jesus, Tori. I’m at a police station at one a.m. bailing you out when I have to be at work at seven. Tell me how much you owe.”
“You also bailed out your boss, which is…weird. How often does that happen?”
