Page 7 of The Player (Close Quarters 5)

“In full costume.” My brother nails me with a stare.

“In full costume,” I parrot. “I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.” Dom wraps me up in a big hug and I can’t help but laugh.

He’s such an affectionate guy, and totally a balm to my more remote personality. Not that anyone sees me like that outside our family—I’m all smiles and strong handshakes and jokes there.

Dom is one of the only people I can be myself around.

“Glen’s a lucky guy,” I tell him as I pull back and grab my phone from my desk, preparing to head out.

“I tell him that all the time.” Dom grins. “Now get out of here. I’ll finish up.”

“Call me if you need anything,” I say as I head through the door and down the stairs.

GameCon BS aside, I have bigger things to worry about. This anniversary show will be going ahead in a month, and I really need to figure out what I’m doing. Unfortunately, inspiration has yet to strike. All my brainstorming today resulted in absolute zip.

That probably has something to do with the fact that I went to bed last night with a head full of Emery, thinking about what she was doing while listening to me jerk off in the shower. Then I dreamed of those pink-flushed cheeks and full lips and what that blue hair would look like draped all over my body.

Getting all tangled up over Little Miss Cactus islessthan helpful. I need to keep my head in the game right now, and I really don’t need to add the complexity of an entanglement with my neighbour to the mix. Something tells me that despite Emery acting like a rebel, she’s hiding a sweetness underneath. A goodness.

And I don’t do sweet and good. Ever.

CHAPTER THREE

Emery

“ERIC,LOOK... I’MSORRY.”

We’re standing outside my apartment, in the hallway so the rest of the team can’t hear. The shared workspace was booked for another start-up who have some big presentation today, so we’re kicking it old school by working around my coffee table. There’s five of us: Eric Chung, our resident illustrator. Artie Hall, who does social media and marketing. Tina Lo, who specialises in game mechanics and instructional design. Tomek Nowak, our graphic designer. And me, of course, the head honcho.

“I feel like you don’t respect my opinion,” Eric says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Ofcourse, I respect your opinion,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean I have to agree with you. In that case, you were wrong. The idea didn’t hold weight.”

Eric frowns at me. “I wasn’t wrong.”

“Yeah, you were. The concept illustrations don’t match the story we’re telling. In fact, they didn’t convey a message at all.”

I can tell I’ve been a little too harsh again when Eric bristles. Inside the apartment, it’s quiet. I would bet my last ten bucks that they’re all listening. Ugh. If we had a permanent office space, this wouldn’t be an issue. And I was reluctant to take it to a café in case Eric blew up again.

“Youdidn’t think it conveyed a message, but Tomek agreed with me.”

“Tomek will agree with anyone, because he doesn’t like to hurt people’s feelings.”

Eric’s jaw twitches and I can tell he’s holding back something that he wants to say. Ugh, this is supposed to be an apology but instead of accepting it, Eric is circling back to the same damn fight that got us here in the first place.

“You’re impossible sometimes,” Eric mutters.

“Me?How am I impossible?” Okay sure, I can be a little demanding and I stick by my opinions. But that’s hardly impossible.

“You make people feel like they can’t win with you.”

“Why are you trying to win with me, Eric? Isn’t this all about being the best we can be? Don’t you want that, too?”

He looks at me for a moment and then shakes his head. “Your best and my best must be different. I’ll finish up from home, okay?”

And with that, he turns around and walks down the hallway toward the elevator, leaving me standing there, trying not to scream up at the sky. You know, when I started out, I used to think it would be amazing to be big enough to have a team.

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