Page 52 of Don't Game Me
The two-word text sent Becca to the toilet, puking until she dry-heaved.
She’d filled up the flash drive with as much financial information as she’d been able to get.
She swished mouthwash then stumbled out of the bathroom to the starchy edge of the hotel bed. She needed help, and not just a makeover miracle to hide her lack of sleep and the fact she’d puked her stomach dry. She wished to have anyone she could confide in without worrying they’d end up hurt.
The phone sat on her still-made bed. A toss against the wall hard enough to shatter it into a zillion pieces tempted her. But not yet.
Pascal:Pickup for phone and zip in a few minutes.
A hotel staffer picked up the flash drive full of financial information and the phone.
She wondered again why they needed the information copied to a flash drive when Symphis or his peon could excavate it from the phone. They hadn’t wanted it emailed, careful to avoid an electronic signature.
She nibbled a nail, considering possible motives for them to want this information. The one that won: revenge.
Symphis, whose real identity no one knew since he managed the Stadium remotely, despised Noah and Tori after Tori facilitated an FBI hit on the Stadium in New York a few months ago. The need for payback undoubtedly ran deep. He planned something to end NJ Legacy. Blow them apart. But what?
No clue.
The honorable move would be to come clean to her brother about all of it, or at least warn him about the stolen data, not that she knew what he could do. This was up to her.
Next week, she could meet the person who might offer her a way out. She’d found out about the woman from an ex-boyfriend of Stuart’s who had escaped without dying a few months before they started. Rumors of him as the intern who got away floated around GenShare, buoying hope. At first, she’d dismissed it as mythological bullshit perpetuated by Pascal to keep them fooled into having a reason to persist. Later, Stuart confided their relationship had been pretty serious. The guy had been the reason Stuart took the internship and declined a higher-paying job in Silicon Valley. To escape, the guy had to disappear—as in ghost out of existence—forever. In that one communication, he’d given Stuart an online gamer codename: Stardust. Months of detective work and now they had a meeting at Comic-Con. Becca and Stuart had planned to meet her together.
Quan’s suggestion Symphis was a woman scared her. Maybe this whole thing was a setup manipulated by Symphis to catch her trying to escape. Regardless, it represented her only lead.
She cradled her face in her hands with her elbows on her knees. The fallout from all this would be her fault.
Her phone rang. Becca answered.
“What stupidity did he do?” Tori asked.
“It’s seven thirty in the morning. Who’re you talking about?”
“Jake. He’s a panicky idiot when it comes to dealing with feels, especially early in the morning. You left with him last night after my sister saw the two of you practically removing each other’s clothing in the hallway. You drank way too much, which we all know ends up in you doing something crazy. Chemistry plus crazy equals you two in bed. Guaranteed it’d end in him freaking out.”
“He’s sort of your boss since you work for NJ Legacy, and he’s Noah’s best man. Aren’t you supposed to be on his side and defend him?”
“God, no. He’s clueless when it comes to important life stuff.”
“This isn’t important life stuff, more like life shit.”
“He did do something dumb this morning. Come to my apartment. We’ll caffeinate before we meet the other girls for brunch.”
“I don’t want to put you out. You’ve got a busy day ahead.”I don’t want to have a lecture on getting sucked into the Stadium. Or, worse, you force me to tell Noah.Becca trudged toward the bathroom.
“Get over here. I want to talk about him and…the other thing.”
Becca’s tension level rose. “Let’s not address the other thing today. Please. I made sure everything will be okay this weekend.”
But had she? Or had she screwed her brother and Jake?
“All right. Girl support only,” Tori said.
After a shower and a stinky cab ride, she entered Tori’s apartment, which smelled of coffee and cinnamon. “Smells amazing in here. How do you keep it smelling so good?”
Tori fingered the hoops lining her left ear. “I have a thing for air fresheners; the expensive ones that don’t smell like bus bathrooms.” Tori led into the kitchen and poured each of them an extra-large mug of coffee. “How do you take it? Sugar? Milk?”
“Bit of milk, please. I’m surprised you haven’t already moved into Noah’s place. It’s cavernous compared to this.” Tori’s whole apartment consisted of a micro-kitchen and one room that served as both dining room and bedroom with a futon in front of a screen.
