I couldn’t feel worse than I do right now.
“She’s going to hate me. I blew it, all because of this stupid game.” I sink back into the couch cushions, deflated. “I lost the girl. We’re going to get fired on Monday. This day cannot suck anymore than it does right now.”
“You never know. Maybe if you explain what happened, Regan will give you another shot. As far as the game is concerned, I have bills to pay and mouths to feed. We will make this game work if it kills us.”
At the rate I’m going, I will end up being married to this job. And I don’t want that. I would like a life outside the walls of this office, my place of employment and prison. Or at least that’s what it feels like right now.
I hope Regan will forgive me. If only she’d answer my calls.
I lost Regan. All because I’m an idiot and can’t get my shit together. And I’m about to lose my job. Soon, I will know what rock bottom feels like as if I hadn’t had a taste of that as a child. Making something of myself has always been important to me. Now, I’m about to embarrass myself in front a boardroom of executives.
Seated at the head of the table, at the opposite end from where I stand with my team, Mr. Conway glares at me, his eyes telling me that if I fuck this up, I am done. He hates me, though I have never understood why. I suspect it has something to do with the fact he never earned a cent from his own talents. Every dollar he has made was from the labor of others.
In the seven years I have worked for Conway Development, I created over a hundred different games and apps, all of which were unknown entities I could care less about. While I made them, they were not my vision. They were the product of someone else’s vision, their dream. That’s why I haven’t been able to figure out the missing piece to this game.
Regan had pointed out that I don’t name the games back when we first met. She was right about one thing. I have lost my inspiration when it comes to creating these new worlds and characters because they are not mine. I did not even care enough to name them, which is why the demo for this game is a miserable failure.
Trying hard not to scream in the middle of the presentation, I force myself to hold it together. Mr. Conway flashes me a look that could cut through steel. Ben and the team do their best to navigate through parts of the game that they know will work long enough to impress the TGS executives, but we cannot fool them.
I can tell by the way they point at the screen and whisper to each other that they see right through the facade. Anyone with a decent understanding of video games and the associated technology could notice all the flaws. It’s so blatantly obvious that the product is a hunk of shit. They couldn’t box this up and sell it even if they wanted to.
The problem…I lost my way. I lost my inspiration. Because I lost the girl. I went straight to Regan’s apartment on Friday night, but you need a key to get into the elevator for her floor. And she would not answer my calls. After three days, she still hasn’t answered my calls.
Once my team finishes the lackluster demo, we stand in front of the screen, looking like a bunch of jerk-offs, waiting for the firing squad to hit us with their questions.
A brief pause ensues before Conrad Hale, the man who had bought my first video game, clears his throat. He brushes a strand of gray hair from his forehead and stares right at me.
“Mr. O’ Connor, what do you plan to do about the artificial intelligence? There’s a severe lag in response time.”
Scratching my jaw, I take a second to compose myself. I’m not even sure how to answer his question. After days of digging through lines of code, I have hit a wall. My team looks to me for answers that I don’t have for them. I have coder’s block, completely stuck and have no clue how to shake this funk.
“I’m still working on it, Sir.” I shove my hands in my pockets to still my nervous hands. “My team has been working around the clock to fix the delays.”
“We were assured the product would be fully operational by today. I see that is not the case. I cannot sell this game in its current condition.”
“No worries, Conrad,” Mr. Conway says, pushing his chair out from the table, the legs screeching along the hardwood floor. He stands up, and the rest of the men at the table follow suit. “O’ Connor and his team will get everything working by the end of the week.”
“Two days,” Conrad says, “You have two days to turn over the game. We have investors waiting for this product, which gives us very little room for error. I cannot afford to lose sponsors over an issue with the tech. This game is not much different from the last one your team had developed for us.”
“Well, actually—” I attempt to interject to tell Conrad the technology is not the same, but Mr. Conway pushes his hand out in front of his body to dismiss me.
“Your services will no longer be needed, O’ Connor. You and your team can go back to your desks and await further instructions.”
With one look, I know not to challenge him, even though I want to tell him he’s an asshole. He doesn't know a thing about this game and even less about technology. He’s just some rich kid, whose Daddy handed him a company. His father was a brilliant coder. Unfortunately, they are nothing alike.
When I had accepted this job, it was his father, who recruited me, only to retire a few years later. Maybe Charlie was right about breaking away from this company to start something new on my own. But where would I begin?
Mr. Conway takes over the conversation, shutting me down, as he escorts Conrad and the crew from TGS out of the conference room and to his office. The only time I ever get an invite is when he wants to yell at me for something that I did wrong. I will never be part of his inner circle no matter how hard I work. No matter what I do it will never be enough.
And I’m completely fucked. I have two days to figure out how to make this game work the way we had intended, or I will have lost everything.
After drowning my sorrows in a six-pack of beer and a large pizza, I stagger into my home office, drunk off my ass and desperate for a solution. I called Regan again. She changed her voicemail to say, If this is Jameson, the caller you have tried to reach is unavailable. Please do not call back again.
Her message only made me drink more when I should’ve been working on the game. I hate myself for leaving Regan stranded at the restaurant. But I hate myself even more for not putting her first.
Opening drawers, I search for something that will provide me with some form of inspiration, coming up empty handed. After wasting time that I don’t have, I decide to waste even more. The computer monitor comes to life as I move the mouse. Every time I am stuck on a project, I go back to The Fallen, the first game I ever created.
I showed it to Regan once. She sat on my lap, wearing a pair of panties and a tight tank top with no bra, her nipples poking through the thin fabric. The longer we’re apart, the more I miss her. She hates my fucking guts, and she has every reason to feel that way about me. I was an asshole and so unlike the man I am. Or at least the person I try to be.
Tapping on the keys, I think of Regan and her smile and the way she would look at me as if I was her entire world. She was mine, too. If only I had shown Regan how much she means to me while I had her in my life. I miss her so fucking much I can’t stand it. All the calls sent straight to voicemail and texts left unanswered make me sick to my stomach.
I change the name of a player on the screen to Regan. She’s the queen of the realm in this world, just as Regan was mine. Of course, since I’m a nerd and it only seems fitting, I have to change the knight to Jameson, because I plan to win her back. But how? What could I possibly say to get Regan to change her mind about me? I want to be her knight in shining armor, the man who she can depend on.
For years, I had been that man for Charlie. And I’d never let her down—not even once. So, why was it so hard for me to prioritize my relationship with Regan? I never missed a single bridal shower meeting with the girls or a chill night with Charlie, yet I allowed work to get in the way of my anniversary with Rega
n. What is wrong with me?
An hour into playing my game, I have a moment of clarity. The Fallen has the same artificial intelligence as what TGS had contracted our company to write. I already own the code. Except there’s no way in hell I’m handing it over to Mr. Conway, not after he humiliated me for the thousandth time in front of the client. In front of my goddamn team. He can go fuck himself. Or better yet, I should fuck him over.
But how can I get around his non-compete agreement? There’s only one person I know who can help me with this problem. And if Charlie can’t help, then I’ll go to Mickey. My enslavement by Conway Development needs to end if I ever want a normal life. And I want that life to involve Regan.
Three weeks have passed since I last saw Regan. And in that time, I had put my job before her, proved that I’m no different than the other guys that have disappointed her in the past. She still won’t return any of my calls or messages. I can’t get up to her apartment without an access card, and the same goes for her work. I have no way to apologize in person. That’s why I need to convince Alex to let me take his place tonight.
“How set are you on meeting the event planner?” I ask Alex, speaking between bites of pepperoni pizza.
Alex sets the pizza in his hand on the plate and narrows his eyes at me. “Why?”
“I thought maybe we could exchange places. You could stay here, and I’ll go with Charlie.”
“Jameson,” Charlie says, annoyed. “What are you up to now? Alex is coming with me. This is our wedding.”
Leaning my elbows on the island in Charlie’s kitchen, I hunch forward, giving her my best puppy dog eyes. Or at least whatever I think might sway her to let me come with her to the Wells Fargo Center. “I need to see Regan. I have no other way to get to her.”
She sighs and wipes her mouth with the napkin on her lap. “Maybe you should let her go. If she doesn’t want to see you, there’s nothing you can do about it. You left her stranded in a restaurant, alone on a Friday night, and on an anniversary, of all nights. I would be pissed if Alex did something like that to me. I doubt we’d be sitting here right now if he had stood me up.”
“Maybe he didn’t leave you waiting in a restaurant, but you took him back after all the stupid shit he did.”
“Hey,” Alex says, defensive. “Most of those things were out of my control. I knew Charlotte was the one after the first night I spent in this apartment.” He turns to Charlie and smiles, reaching out for her hand. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
Charlie returns his gesture, practically turning into a pile of mush before my eyes. She’s a different person with Alex. If anyone can understand my situation, these two can. So, why are they giving me a hard time?
“I risked my friendship with Charlie to go out on a limb for you, Alex.” My tone is so severe that Alex jerks his head toward me. Now that I have his attention, I keep going. “I knew Charlie was hurting after everything you had done and even more so after Mickey had kept you two apart. All I’m asking is to go in your place tonight. Do you really want to look at seating charts and place settings anyway?”
He bites down on his bottom lip, thinking it over. “Well, no…but—”
“My point exactly,” I interject. “I’ve done most of the wedding stuff with Charlie. What’s one more thing? I need to see Regan, and this is the only way.”
Charlie shakes her head in disapproval. “I can’t believe you want to use our wedding as an excuse to see Regan. You screwed up big time, Jamie. I doubt she will even want to see you.”
“But you know me, and you know that I would never do something like that to anyone. And I would never do it on purpose. I have a valid excuse for why I was late.”
“You have to find time for her,” Charlie says, softly. “For years, you’ve been married to your job. If you want her back, you will need to change your ways and stop being such a work-a-holic.”
“You’re okay with Alex’s schedule,” I point out.
“Yes, but I know his schedule before the season even starts. I plan our lives around hockey, and then fit my work and basketball schedules in with his. It’s not easy to juggle all these things, but we make it work. You have to do the same thing with Regan, or you will lose her for good.”
“Will you let me come with you? Please.” I hold my hands up, pleading with her. “I will get on my hands and knees and beg if that’s what it takes.”
“I had to do that to get Charlotte back,” Alex says, frowning at the memory. He had to literally beg the guy who he’d broken his nose the year before. It was the last piece of the puzzle to win Charlie over. That was over a year ago.
“I loved you even more for doing that,” Charlie says to Alex with a wide grin on her face. “I still do.” She scoots her chair closer to Alex, so he can hook his arm around her back. Then, she looks across the counter at me. “Regan will respect you more if you make a grand gesture, show her that you will do anything to make it up to her. If you use Alex and me to do it, she might tell you to fuck off. She’s one of those strong and independent types.”
“Like you,” I add.
“Yes, like me. But I always had you to keep me from falling on my ass.”
I throw my hands in the air, frustrated. “I quit my job for Regan. Is that not enough?”
Charlie shakes her head. “Grand gesture, Jameson. Think of something that will win her over. You’re a goddamn genius. I know you can do it. Quitting your job is not enough. Now, you’re an unemployed computer genius with nothing to offer her.”
“What can I say or do to make her forgive me?” I am desperate for someone to give me the answer because I have no idea.
“You love her, don’t you?” Charlie reaches across the table to give my hand a squeeze. “You would never quit your job over any old girl.”
“Yes,” I mutter. “I didn’t realize how much I cared for Regan until after I lost her. I need her back. I fucked up, and I need to make it up to her.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Charlie says, folding her hands in front of her on the counter. “If you really love her, or even think you might, you had better get your shit together. Make a plan before you lose her for good.”
“I’ve already lost her. She won’t return my calls. I have no way of reaching her.”
Scratching the stubble on my chin, I try to find the right words and fail. I have been a mess since Regan stopped talking to me. I can hardly function. It’s been days since I shaved. I’ve had on the same T-shirt since yesterday. I look like I crawled out of a dumpster, and I probably smell like it, too.
“I’m sure it will come to you,” Charlie says. “It always does. You just need to let things sink in.”
“So, I guess you’re not going to let me come along with you tonight.”
“Nope.” Her tone is firm and serious, matching her facial expression. “You will figure it out, Jamie, and when you do, I know she will take you back.”
“How do you know that?”
She shrugs, her shoulder brushing up against Alex. “Because I’m a woman, and I know things. Trust me. Make it count, Jameson.”
I need a grand gesture, one that had better come to me fast. And I had better make it good.
Chapter 15
Regan
Walking down the hallway at the Wells Fargo Center, I stop by the concession stand where I met Jamie only five months ago, thinking about how he seemed like such a nice guy. He was too good to be true and the complete opposite of the man I am still in love with. I wish I could hate him. Instead, I feel sick to my stomach, barely able to eat.
But I can’t cave into my desires. It kills me to avoid Jamie’s calls and leave his messages unanswered. He needs to feel the pain I’d felt every time he called last minute to reschedule a date or left me in a crowded restaurant to eat alone. If it were one time, I could have overlooked the constant humiliation of him standing me up.
Even if I answer the phone, I have no idea what to say to him. Does he even love me back? H
e’s persistent, I’ll give him that. For weeks, Jamie has called and texted, with his efforts slowing down as each day passes.
Is he starting to give up? Should I give in? Have we both suffered enough?
As I stare up at the sign, pondering if I should get nachos or a hot dog, Murph comes up from behind and taps me on the shoulder. I turn around to face him, and my eyes are instantly drawn to the FedEx envelope in his hand.
“This just came for you. It’s marked urgent,” he says, handing it over.
“What now?” I roll my eyes, as I rip open the envelope. “With Coach and Parker’s wedding around the corner, the guest list and their demands have been getting out of control. I can’t handle another strange request from one of these celebrities or player’s wives.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Murph says, staring at the piece of paper I remove from the mailer.
It’s a newspaper article. Flipping over the package, I check for a name.
I peek up at Murph, confused. “What is Foxy Developers? Do we have a contract with them?”
Avoiding eye contact, Murph glances down the hall, his behavior strange, even for him. “He said you would know what it means.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I think of the name. And then it hits me. I tuck the envelope under my arm and hold the newspaper article in both hands, devouring every word on the page.
June 23, 2017
The Philadelphia Inquirer
Local programmer scores big with R.E.G.A.N.
Jameson O’Connor, president and founder of Foxy Developers, has hit the jackpot with his new game, The Fallen. Based on a new artificial intelligence O’Connor calls R.E.G.A.N., The Fallen is now the most advanced first-person shooter game on the market.
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