Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite)

by Atkins, Dawn

  With twelve new Lounges in the works, Gage figured NiGo would be hiring and he’d been right. Skippy, as Rena called him, had been happy to sign him up—didn’t even care that Gage could do tech work. Gage had latched onto computers in middle school, found a guy to show him more, paid for college as an online tech. Skippy had been hot after the spiff he got for bringing in a new hire. Rena had Skippy’s number, all right. Gage hoped to hell she didn’t have his.

  He’d contacted the reporter who did the piece, but he was one of those egotists who called themselves journalists, not reporters, who hoarded sources and skipped facts that didn’t fit their angle. The guy had been cagey, claimed he’d put all he knew in the story. Yeah, right. Gage half agreed with Rena that “Angel” was a fabrication—an unethical stunt that had gotten more than one über-ambitious reporter ousted from the profession.

  Now he spotted Rena coming through the employee entrance, back from her meeting. She was one striking female. Tall, well put together, and strong as hell. She’d been relentless in that Dome battle. The woman wouldn’t look away at the sight of blood or danger. She was a true believer, but she had juice behind her eyes. She’d called herself his guide to the Life. He hoped she’d be the guide to his sister. He headed over to her.

  “So how’d your meeting go?” he asked when he got there.

  “Great. Good.” But she looked upset and her eyes had a funny gleam.

  “Was it important?”

  “Important enough. How’s your shift going?”

  “’Sall good. Keeping the thumb-bangers draining their accounts.”

  “Thumb-bangers?”

  “Just joking.” He wouldn’t get in Rena’s good graces by dissing her homies. She’d already looked at him funny a couple times. He smiled the smile that had disarmed more than one nervous interview subject.

  “Any questions so far?” she asked him.

  One big one: Have you seen my sister? But he’d take it slow. Better to unravel the threads of a story than yank it apart, forge relationships that would net answers to questions he didn’t know to ask.

  As a Lifer, he would learn as much as he could as quickly as possible without raising suspicion. His story was that Beth was a friend, maybe an ex. He owed her money or she owed him, or they’d parted on bad terms—however he had to finesse it to get what he needed.

  “Yeah, I got a question for you. What’s it like in the residence tower? I want to score Quarters fast.” He hoped that sounded gung-ho enough to make up for his earlier remark.

  She shot him a look, not quite buying it, then checked her watch. “I guess a break won’t hurt. We can record your points in my Quarters. It’ll keep us from tying up a computer in the common room. They get heavy use.”

  “Sounds good.” He pushed the elevator button. Maybe he could get at an online directory. He’d been friendly with the personnel girl who’d signed him in, hoping he could later get her to check employee records for him. First, he needed to know what name Beth went by in the Lounge.

  Rena passed her key card over a security box in the elevator and a green light flashed. She pushed the button for the first floor.

  “Secure elevators, huh?” That would restrict his movements.

  “For safety. These used to be apartments. The higher up you live, the higher your key lets you go. When you jump levels, you get the next higher card.”

  Sounded like lockdown to him. “So unless I live here I can’t get in the building.”

  “Someone has to bring you up. And after midnight it’s residents only.”

  Great. No way up on his own and a curfew to boot.

  The elevator opened on the first floor. “Your future Quarters,” she said, waving him onto the landing, which smelled of chicken soup.

  Rena sniffed and smiled. “Ah…Top Ramen. First Levels live on it. It’s cheap and they can cook it on the hot plate you can buy in the Level One catalog.”

  “There’s a catalog?”

  “You buy clothes, furniture, housewares, and electronics from the catalog on your level. The higher you go, the more extensive and expensive the items.”

  “That’s cool.” Like a company store, he guessed. Did it make money?

  She pushed through glass doors that opened onto a beehive of three-deep cubicles, each with blinds for doors, reminding him of a Japanese capsule hotel. She motioned at an open unit. It was white and clean and high-tech, with a trim bed and built-in drawers and shelves.

  “Pretty cramped,” he said.

  “Cozy,” she corrected. “We’re the NiGo Training Center, so we had to conserve space to make room for the trainees from all the Lounges.”

  “I don’t see a TV or game console.”

  “Not until the Level Four catalog.”

  “That’s a big sacrifice for people who live to game.”

  “The early levels are designed so we connect with each other, get a team feeling. In the Dead World, we were isolated at our separate keyboards. In the Life, we’re Family. We share and care together.”

  “Still, sounds rough for the loners.” He was one by nature, though he’d grown up a chameleon to survive, blending in as best he could, everybody’s friend—which just happened to be a key reporter skill.

  Never knowing when all hell would break loose, Gage had been a sponge for skills all his life. His mother’s one decent boyfriend was a gearhead with a passion for motorcycles, who taught Gage the magic and power of engines and how to make them hum like good sex.

  “If you love the Life, you get past that,” she said.

  He suspected Rena preferred solitude, too, despite how happy she claimed to be in the Life.

  Two guys with towels passed them, heading down the hall.

  “Group bathrooms and kitchens until Level Five,” Rena said. “Like a dorm, I guess.”

  So she hadn’t gone to college. Shame. She turned for the elevator. “How long will it take me to make Quarters?”

  “Two million points is about a month if you work hard, take overtime, and do a lot of social interactions and Quests.”

  “Quests? Like in EverLife? Killing warthogs, finding magic potions, learning to shoot a crossbow?”

  “That’s where the name’s from, yes. Quests include staffing an EverLife fan site, volunteering at the NiGo Charter School, doing recon at gamer conventions, a bunch more. I’ll show you the list on my system. Quests are a good way to get to know other Lifers.”

  The door opened at the fifth floor, where the landing had carpet instead of linoleum and smelled of incense, not soup. “How long did it take you to get this high?” he asked her.

  “About nine months.”

  “Is that typical?”

  “Faster than most, I guess.” She hesitated, biting her lip, as if that troubled her. “The requirements get more challenging the higher you go. It’s all up to you, how high and how fast you move. The point is you always know where you stand, where you want to go next, and exactly what it will take to get there.” She slid her key card into the slot, banged down the handle and waved him inside her apartment.

  He was startled by someone standing just inside the door. He flinched, then saw it was a plaster statue of Lara Croft. “You’re a Tomb Raider fan.”

  “A fan?” She shrugged, but she gave the figure a complex look. There was a story here. He wondered if he’d ever hear it.

  The living area was small and held a low, black leather sofa, a huge entertainment center with a fifty-inch plasma, a table, and a tensor lamp on a curved wire. To one side were a desk and bed. He did a double take on the bed. It was huge, round, and covered in black velvet.

  “Nice.” He nodded at it.

  “It’s one of a kind, modeled after Sims House Party. I like it.”

  “What’s not to like?” He caught her gaze and got a full-on punch of heat. The two of them naked on all that bed sounded pretty damn good to him. The spark in her lake-blue eyes said she agreed. When she held out her hand, he almost yanked her close for a taste of
those soft lips of hers.

  “Your jacket?” she said, tilting her head.

  He shrugged it off and she tossed it onto the low sofa, watching him the entire time, her blue eyes flaring hot, like the pilot light to her sex drive. Should he go for it or take a pass? He took a quick scan of her body—firm breasts high on her chest, hips made for grabbing, strong thighs he’d like to get between. He wanted her—he was human—but he had to do what was smart. On the other hand, if it didn’t hurt his cause, he wouldn’t mind a tumble.

  He dragged his gaze away, cleared his throat and fought to think straight. “More Lara Croft,” he said, nodding at a watercolor above the couch. Elsewhere were depictions of other girl game stars—Ivy from SoulCalibur, Chun-Li from Street Fighter, Olga from Metal Gear Solid, and others he didn’t recognize, probably from newer games.

  The entertainment center held the latest game consoles. He nodded at the giant TV. “What did that set you back?”

  “A hundred K in points. I need quality so I can check shaping on game tests.” Shaping. Some cult members helped develop games for NiGo, he’d read. She must be one of them. She had a few skill sets herself.

  “You’ve got some pricey stuff in here.” God help him, he found himself staring at the bed again.

  “I go after what I want,” she said, low and sexy, her body at a suggestive angle—hips out, breasts up, head tilted, the blue pilot light of her eyes glowing hotter than ever.

  She smelled sweet…edible. Was it coconut? And was it her hair—shiny black and pulled into a Lara Croft braid—or her soap? Maybe just her skin. If he could just get a taste… “And what is it you want?” he asked, telling her he wanted it, too, with a tone that registered in her eyes like the flick of a gauge needle.

  But then she hesitated, stepped back, as if on guard for a fight. “It’s more important what you want, Gage,” she said bluntly. “Why Lounge Life?”

  His answer counted big, he knew. “I’m a gamer. I needed a job.” What would a true believer say? “I like what’s here. A setup you can understand. It’s like a family.”

  “You don’t have one already?” Her eyes glittered with suspicion.

  “Not really.” Beth was it and she was missing. His mother had been dead for two years, overdosing on the pain meds that ruled her life. He’d never known his father. “You?”

  “Lifers are my family.” Emotions rippled beneath her words, like muscles under an animal’s pelt. If she called this place home, her real family had to be a piece of work.

  “Then you know what I mean,” he said. Their gazes locked and the connection went abruptly personal. He saw a lonely little girl behind her eyes and she, no doubt, caught a flicker of the grim kid he’d been.

  The past reeked, but it was gone.

  The moment held for a bit, then the link went sexual, an electric thread that sizzled between them. He pictured her naked, muscles taut, sweat slicking her flesh. What the hell, where was the harm? “What I want right now is right here.” He looked her up and down, wanting in, letting her see that. “How about you? Anything you want right here? Right now?”

  She moved closer. “We might as well get you some sex points.”

  “Some what?” He paused. “Wait. You get points for—?”

  “Sex? They count for Social Interaction Points.” She ran a finger down his chest as she talked. “There are other activities. You can host a blog or guide EverLife players, or whatnot—anything with at least two people involved is social, but sex is the most popular.”

  “How does that, uh, work?” Sex for points? Too weird, though his equipment didn’t seem to mind. His zipper was about to undo itself.

  “The points, you mean?” She arched a brow. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t know how sex works.”

  “Never had a complaint.”

  “Good to hear.” She tugged him closer by his waistband. “A same-level hookup gets you four K, but if you’re with a higher-level partner—”

  “Like you, for instance?”

  “Like me. Then it’s ten K.”

  “What’s in it for the higher-level person?”

  “Just two K and that feeling. You know, for doing a good deed?” She smiled wickedly. “So, are you up for it?”

  “Oh, I’m definitely up.” He liked the spark in her eye, the challenge in her half smile, not to mention that body of hers—tight and strong, with everything in the right place and then some. He was pretty sure it was her hair that smelled of coconut.

  “Get comfortable, then, and I’ll be right back.” She turned for the door to the left of the bed—the bathroom, he assumed—moving her tightly muscled ass back and forth with a tantalizing hip roll. God, she was killing him. Before she disappeared into the john, she plugged her phone into a charger on her desk.

  Taking advantage of her absence, Gage went to Rena’s computer to see what he could access. A mouse click erased her flying galaxy screensaver and gave him a sign-in box. Shit. He’d need to watch her type her password, then hope for alone time at the keyboard later on.

  Her desk held programming manuals, tech and gamer zines, and a stack of brochures that said “Girl Power Project.” He skimmed one. She was after equal rights for girl Lifers—recruiting more girls, getting them higher in the Life, making the carding job gender-neutral. So she was a reformer… He might be able to use that. He put back the brochure and snooped some more. Her cell phone was locked, he found, surprised by how beat-up it looked.

  In a drawer, among office supplies, he found a stuffed rabbit with dingy yellow fur and a tattered pink ribbon. Here was another story.

  A corkboard beyond her desk held various NiGo flyers, a printed receipt, and a photo of the Blackstones, hands up in formal greeting. Both wore tunics and had long hair, Nigel’s white, Naomi’s auburn and shiny as a doll’s. A medallion on Naomi’s chest caught a star of light, suggesting holiness.

  Was this like a shrine? The News Day News story made the Blackstones out to be gurus the Lifers worshipped, though the piece was meant to titillate. On the other hand, they controlled the housing, jobs, belongings, entertainment, and, evidently, the sex lives of Lifers in twelve Lounges across the country. If that wasn’t worship, what was?

  Pretty impressive for a company that had come out of nowhere just ten years before. NiGo Interactive’s lead game, EverLife, had been light years ahead of other online role-playing games and swiftly topped the charts. Gage himself had gotten hooked early on, whiling away far too many hours of free time in the absorbing fantasy world.

  Within two years, NiGo opened the first arcade in an old factory in Seattle, launched the second in Phoenix the following year, and had steady growth after that. Twelve more arcades were to open after the much-heralded release of EverLife II in less than a month.

  He returned to the bed, pulling off his shirt as he went. His foot struck something sticking out from under the bed. It was a book. Jean-Paul Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. Crouching to investigate, he found dozens more—all nonfiction—on martial arts, meditation, the Napoleonic Wars, handguns, and more philosophy. Rena hid her heavy reading like pornography.

  The slap of bare feet told him she’d returned. “What’s up?” She stood in a clingy red robe, her black hair out of its braid, all wavy over her shoulders. She’d caught him flat-footed with The Portable Nietzsche in one hand.

  “My foot bumped something, so I was curious. You hide your books?”

  “I don’t have room anywhere else,” she lied, pink spots flaring on her cheeks when she saw him notice her nearly bare shelves. “It’s convenient, okay?” She grabbed the book and kicked it out of sight.

  He wished he hadn’t discovered her secret. When people felt vulnerable, they closed up on you.

  “Hey,” he said softly, catching her arm. “I had to do something to keep from following you in there and jumping you.” He leaned in and kissed her, hoping she wouldn’t clock him one.

  …

  Gage was working her, but at the mome
nt Rena didn’t care. He knew his way around a kiss. His lips had the right give; his tongue was knowing and not too pushy. He smelled great, too—a dark, spicy musk that was him mixed with cologne—and he looked good half-naked, plenty of muscle and a nice shape to his chest.

  She liked sex on her terms—where, when, and in what position—so she walked him against the wall, deciding here, now, and upright.

  His hands slid under her robe and his hot palms took charge of her backside. A burst of heat shot to her sex like a sudden flare streaking the sky.

  He had a very good touch—strong but gentle. Her knees gave way and he caught her off guard, swinging her into his arms. “Put me down.” She did not like being manhandled.

  “You spent a lot of points on that bed. How about we use it?”

  “There are condoms in my drawer, so okay.” She ignored the fact he’d taken charge. She could be flexible.

  He deposited her on top of her bedspread and she leaned on her elbows to watch him take down his jeans and boxers, revealing one gorgeous and ready cock. A wave of expected pleasure washed through her. She’d really like to feel that inside her, barrier-free. “I’m on the Pill. We get checked at the clinic.”

  “I’m good,” he said.

  “Great. Better without the latex.” She wrapped her fingers around him for a slow, teasing rub, enjoying the firm length, the velvet skin, the sweet lip of flesh at his cap.

  He groaned at her touch and closed his eyes, falling back on the bed beside her. She rose to her knees over him, her robe open, her bare bottom feeling the delicious friction of the hair on his thighs. She pinned his wrists to the bed, taking charge again.

  “Uncle,” he said, but his eyes did not give an inch.

  She let go and sat tall, ready to ease him inside, but he stopped her hips with his broad palms, fingers pressing her flesh.

  “I want to see you first.” His eyes crackled with lust. She shivered as he shoved her robe off her shoulders and tugged it away from her body so it floated to the bed, a puddle of red silk. He looked her over hungrily, as if he wanted to lick her to the nub and then some. Mmm. The power of his desire sent tingles and twitches all along her nerves.