At Any Turn (Gaming The System) (12 page)

So now it was time to gather information.

What enables one to strike and conquer is foreknowledge
.
Hire spies, Sun Tzu had said. And Heath was now her roommate and saw her every day. And as much as I hated the fact that it was him and not me, I knew the key to finding out what was going on with her was through him.

And we were due to go out and spend all day Saturday together at the paintball park. Heath had been invited to join the Draco Multimedia paintball team in preparation for next month’s big war against the guys at Blizzard, our rival company. We were due for a rematch this year, and Draco would take no prisoners. And since each side was allowed to “hire” five nonprofessional “mercenaries,” I had asked Heath.

So the following Saturday, despite it being late October, was a hot day in the dry hills of the Inland Empire east of Riverside. We got quite the workout, fumbling around in our pseudo-military gear and protective facemasks, working on strategy and tactics for the big war in November. A hardcore group of about a dozen of us had agreed to get together every Saturday to work it out. For the war against Blizzard, each of us would act as squad leaders for the rest of the employees.

We maneuvered around old ruins created to look like the remains of an ancient city. Appropriate, given the fantasy nature of Dragon Epoch and, of course, Blizzard’s world-famous creation, World of Warcraft. The only thing that could have made the idea more amusing, many employees said, was the thought of fighting in costume as our characters. That idea had been vetoed by both CEOs.

After saying good-bye to the rest of the group, Heath and I ended up going to a nearby pub for an early dinner, reliving the main events of the day, swapping strategy ideas. Heath, having grown up in the high desert, had become an expert marksman and survivalist. He’d told me that his father was a paranoid gun nut who had been prepping for World War III since the eighties. As a consequence, Heath was a sharpshooter with a rifle, having had one in his hands since he was a toddler, apparently. I’d appointed him captain of our sniper squad.

At the pub, I ordered a roast beef sandwich and a beer. And we compared welts—paintballs were not for wimps. They left marks unless you chose to wear body armor. In the heat of the day, we’d forgone that to be “manly men” instead. Like war buddies we swapped stories and teased each other and it was easy between us—like the old friends we actually were, even though Heath hadn’t known when we’d first met in person that we were already friends.

We’d gamed together for over a year at that point and when we met in person, we naturally clicked. I’d counted on that, when it became clear that he would be acting as Emilia’s “screener” for the auction. And I’d known how to answer the questions he’d asked. I’d gamed the system, so to speak.

Heath seemed distracted as we talked about the latest Marvel blockbuster movie. He kept glancing over my shoulder and then looking away, bouncing his knee and acting nervous. Finally I frowned at him.

“What’s up, man?”

“Sorry, hot guy at twelve o’clock, that’s all.”

I knew he wasn’t talking about me but had to tease him anyway. “I didn’t know you cared.”

He glared at me. “Besides you.”

I resisted the urge to turn around and check out the object of his attention. Heath was clearly embarrassed. But I took a minute to look around at the rest of the clientele. Almost all were men and most of them were paired up or talking in larger groups. I scanned the rest of the room. “Wait…are we in a gay bar?”

Heath snorted. “You know, for a boy genius you sure can be slow sometimes.”

“You brought me to a gay bar?”

“Yeah, so what? The food here is good.”

“True. Best sandwich I’ve had in a long time.”

Heath threw me an annoyed glance. “Yeah, it’s not a mistake I’m going to make again, though, don’t worry.”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind. As long as no one asks me to dance.”

A weird look crossed his face. “Do you see anyone dancing? There’s no dancing. There are lots of people hooking up, though, and it was a huge-ass mistake to bring you here.”

“Why?”

“Because every guy in this room has checked you out like five times already.”

I laughed. This conversation with Heath was reminding me of that strange chat with Jordan at the hotel in New York. “Don’t worry, I’m spoken for. I won’t be going home with any phone numbers.”

I dropped my butter knife on the floor and reached to pick it up, turning to glance at a group of men sitting at the table behind us. There were three of them. One of them met my gaze and nodded, smiling. I straightened, turning back to Heath.

“So which one is it?” I asked.

“Guy with his back to you,” Heath muttered, looking away, his knee bobbing up and down even faster.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?”

He looked back at me, even more annoyed. “Because one of two things is going on. They either think we’re a couple and I’m the lucky idiot who ended up with the dark-haired hottie, or they are looking at you and I might as well be a Klingon for all they give a shit about me.”

I frowned at him. Not that I normally assessed another guy’s looks, but Heath was not a bad-looking guy at all. He was tall, very well built—imposingly so—with dark blond hair and vivid green eyes. Not someone who, I thought, should be self-conscious about his looks.

“Didn’t mean to cramp your style, man.” I shot him a grin. “I can’t figure out a way to broadcast my sexual orientation.”

Heath’s eyes narrowed for a minute, but then his gaze brightened. He pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled something on a napkin. “Do me a favor and stick this on your forehead, will you?”

He handed me the napkin and I read it. In three capital letters, underlined, HET, for heterosexual. I laughed and crumpled the napkin. “Nice try. Maybe I’ll cramp your style after all.”

I glanced over my shoulder again to see where the guy was sitting behind me. Then I tossed the ball of crumpled napkin so it hit the guy square in the back of the head. Then I ducked to the side as if Heath had thrown the napkin at me and I’d bent out of the way. The mortification on Heath’s face almost made me bust a gut laughing.

I immediately turned around and met the gaze of the guy sitting behind me. He had reddish blond hair and was glaring at me with bright blue eyes. He turned and grabbed the napkin, then read it, looking at me with a raised brow. I scooted my chair around and put out a placating hand. “I’m sorry about that. My buddy over here meant that for me but I was too quick for him and he got you instead. He’s just harassing me about my sexual orientation.”

The guy threw a quizzical glance at Heath, who turned beet red. I held out a hand. “I’m Adam. That’s my friend Heath. I believe he owes you an apology. What’s your name?”

The guy now had an unsure smile as he reached to shake my hand. Then he looked at Heath, his smile growing wider. “My name’s Connor,” he said in a very distinctive Irish accent. “And these are my friends Jess and Xander.”

I nodded to them. “Good to meet you.”

“Sorry about the bad aim,” Heath said, glancing at me without accusation.

Connor turned back to Heath and his smile grew. Clearly he liked what he saw. “No problem. But if it happens again I’ll have to take you out.”

“How about a round of drinks?” I said. “What are you all drinking? It’s on me since, for once, I’m the one in the minority here.” They all laughed. We ended up pushing the tables together and having a nice long conversation about war games—apparently Connor had served in the army and was amused by our trophy paintball welts. It gave Heath a chance to flash his biceps, too, which I’m sure he appreciated.

When we left a few hours later, Heath and Connor had entered numbers into each other’s phones and I was satisfied.

On the way out to the parking lot, Heath was still in raptures about his new acquaintance. “That accent…my God, when I heard him talk I almost died.”

“Kinda sounded like a leprechaun to me,” I said.

“It’s a good thing you’re straight and have excellent taste in women because you have
no
taste in men.”

I laughed. “Sorry if I embarrassed you back there.”

“If he goes out with me, you are forgiven.”

I paused. “So…I was going to duck my head in and say hi to her when I drop you off, if that’s okay. I texted her, but she hasn’t gotten back to me.”

“Sure…she’s probably taking a bath or something.”

When we got to my car, I threw him the keys. “Wanna drive it?”

Heath’s jaw dropped and he looked almost as perplexed as he had when I’d tossed that napkin at Connor. “Fuck, yeah.”

My 1953 midnight blue Porsche 356 Cabriolet was my pride and joy. The license plate was the finishing touch: UBR L00T, translated from gamer language to mean “uber loot.” The very best kind of loot you could get in game was referred to as “uber,” and was lusted after by gamers everywhere. I loved that car like a cherished pet. Emilia had driven it a few times but then declared the clutch “impossible” and refused after that. I think she was more afraid she was going to scratch it. It came with a price tag that made most people squeamish. And the way Heath was looking at it now, with lust in his eyes, I could see he was thinking the same thing.

“Go easy on her,” I said and plopped into the passenger seat.

Heath slid in behind the wheel and shot me the ecstatic grin of a ten-year-old, reminding me of when my nephews liked to jump in the car and pretend they were driving. He gingerly turned the key in the ignition and when the engine roared to life, he sank back in the seat with a sigh. “I think I just creamed my pants.”

He kicked it into gear and we took the long way back to his house, through the twisting roads of the Orange hills, a few miles east of downtown. He lived in an upper-end condo up there, which he was now sharing with Emilia.

I sobered and allowed my thoughts to drift from Heath’s enjoyment of the car. He tossed me a few speculative glances as he downshifted, then cleared his throat. “How are you holding up, dude?”

I grimaced. He’d been reading my mind, apparently, or more likely, my face. “I’ll live,” I said, trying to forget how much I hated not seeing her every day, not holding her when we were sleeping. We hadn’t lived together long, but I’d grown accustomed to it quickly and it had felt normal. Poor five-years-ago me. He was a distant shadow of a memory now.

Heath’s features grew troubled, pensive.

“How is she?” I asked.

He shrugged. “She’s okay.”

That stab of jealousy again. Heath was a great guy. A good friend. I was glad Emilia had him in her life, especially when she needed someone who wasn’t me. But fuck if I didn’t want to pummel him every time I thought about her crying on his shoulder instead of mine.

I cleared my throat and willed the dark emotions away.

“I was wondering if I could ask you a favor…” I said after a long silence while we climbed the big hill up Chapman Avenue.

“If I can do it, I will.”

“Call me…or text me or let me know if—if she needs help and she’s too stubborn to ask me. If it’s money or—anything.”

His jaw bulged where he clenched it. “Is she acting that skittish around you?”

I stared straight ahead. “Things are…delicate.”

Heath frowned. “I’ll take good care of her for you, man. She needs to do what she needs to do, but—this isn’t going to be permanent. Be patient and try not to pull another stunt like that proposal, okay? She’ll come to you when she’s ready. She’s strong and she can take care of herself, but she has to learn that she doesn’t
have
to do it all herself. I’m proud of her and I know you are, too. She’s basically my sister, you know? My sister from another mister…”

I threw a dark look out the side window as he peeled one out in a high-speed right turn with a whoop and a holler, apparently uncaring of a possible reckless driving ticket. Those were pricey and too many points on the driver’s license. I knew from personal experience.

When we got out of the car and I took the keys from him, he thanked me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I winced, as he landed right on top of a particularly large bruise that he had put there with a paintball.

I followed him into the apartment, but the place was dark. I checked my watch. It was only ten o’clock. Had Emilia gone out?

Heath echoed my thought as he threw his keys and wallet down on a table near the entrance. “Hmm. Maybe she went out with Alex and Jenna?”

I glanced over at the glow of the computer screen coming from the alcove in his den, recognizing the low-level music playing in the background—the main theme music to Dragon Epoch. She’d left her computer on at the log-in screen. “Looks like she forgot to exit the game,” I said.

Heath rolled his eyes and went over to her rig and closed out the program, shutting the computer down. I noticed the spiral notebook she always kept near her computer, full of notes on the hidden quest from the Golden Mountains. I resisted the urge to flip through it, curious to see if she was getting close.

Heath sighed. “She always leaves it at the log-in screen. Drives me batty, this music playing constantly.” He straightened. “No offense.”

I laughed. “None taken. I didn’t write the music.”

“You want to leave her a note or something?”

I pondered that suggestion, pulled out my phone; still no answer to my text. I tapped out another one.

Over at Heath’s. Dropped by to say hi and you weren’t here
.

A few seconds after I hit the send button, I heard a chime from beside her computer. Heath’s head craned around. “Her phone is here. Looks like her bag, too. She must be in her room.”

I went over to her door and tapped lightly. After a long pause, I heard her voice on the other side. But when I opened the door, she was in the dark.

“Heath, I’m sleeping. Who are you talking to out there?” she muttered.

“Adam,” I answered. “I mean, it’s Adam. Can I come in?”

She rustled in her bed, sitting up. I peered into the darkness, just catching her outline. She rubbed her eyes. “Yeah. How was paintball?”

“Good,” I said, stepping into the room.