Three Player Game

by Jaime Samms

  “I just wanted to make sure you were done with me.” She stepped up and placed a to-go cup next to his computer. “I wanted to head out early if I can. Hoped to get there before most of the talent to make sure the hotel is ready and the car service sorted. I need to time the drive between the hotel and the studio, that sort of thing. Make sure it all runs smooth as possible.”

  What had Pete done before this woman had appeared in his life?

  Oh, that’s right. He’d done all the things until he’d been bouncing off walls and Vince had to peel him down. He picked up the steaming coffee and sniffed.

  “Hazelnut.” Kylee shrugged. “Thought you could use a bit of comfort food.”

  It was a perfect choice. He thanked her, took a sip, and set the cup down again. “I think we’re good. We’re not bringing a lot of equipment other than computers and a couple of hard drives. The sound studio has everything, so I don’t see any reason you need to hang around here. I just want to make sure the last of the video gets sent off before I leave.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” She saluted him, and was halfway across the room before she turned back. “We make a pretty good team, huh?”

  Pete smiled. “Until you steal my job, yeah.”

  She knit her brow. “Why would I want to do that?”

  “Kylee. Seriously. Everyone who does your job is aspiring to do something bigger. You have to go through me or over me. But I am glad we can be a good team, even if we both know we’re ultimately after the same opportunities.”

  She came back to lean on the table. “I don’t know if we are, though. You want to be a director?”

  Of course he did. Didn’t everyone? “I suppose.”

  “And when you get there, I want to work for you.”

  He reared back a bit before he caught himself. “Why?”

  She grinned. “Because people respect you. People work hard for you because they like you. You treat them with respect and like they know what they’re doing.” She gave him a wink. “They all love you best, Scarecrow.”

  Heat rose into his cheeks.

  “I’ll tell you now, so you don’t have to be constantly freaking out in the back of your mind. Organizing shit makes my little heart go pit-a-pat. I excel at it. I’m doing what I want to do, so when you move up in the world?” She winked at him. “Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

  “I’ll definitely keep it in mind.”

  “Excellent!” She stood and flipped her tails over her shoulders. “I am off. I’ll see you in the trenches.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He watched her bounce out of the room. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met anyone who aspired to be an assistant. But then, why not? Didn’t Lee aspire to crunch numbers for an obscure, if growing new business? Just because it wasn’t where Pete wanted to stop didn’t mean it wasn’t a perfectly good place to end up.

  Shaking his head, he turned back to his screen. He had gone through every last line of dialogue. A lot of it was orphan lines every video game had, that repeated far too often, but there were cut scenes and background chatter that were interesting. He’d tried his best to spread out the screamy bits so no one had to do that all day long. It was hard on the voice and actors rightly didn’t like doing it.

  He’d also tried to limit everyone’s time in the studio to less than six hours a day. There was enough to get done that he would be there ten or more, but that was fine. As long as the actors were happy and healthy by the end and the job was completed on schedule, that was what mattered.

  He was deep in the bowels of his spreadsheets when a throat cleared above him. He looked up.

  “Hi.” Levi Pritchard was standing on the other side of his table.

  “Oh.” Pete got up. “Hi there.” He glanced at his watch. “You’re here early. I don’t think the car is coming around for you for another hour or so.”

  “No, I know. It’s fine. Carter wanted to grab some stuff, and we wanted to speak with you.”

  “About?”

  “We hoped you might be able to give us some insight. I mean, I know these are our characters, and we can voice them in our sleep. But this is a new type of project.”

  “We just thought if we could convince you to ride with us, we could pick your brain for tips.” Carter had joined Levi across the table from Pete, and the two men clasped hands.

  “Oh.” Pete pushed at his glasses and glanced at his laptop. He had intended to keep working on his schedules while he traveled, but he could hardly turn down this request. His actors—listen to him, taking possession—wanted a head start on what they had to do. This was a good thing.

  “Sure. Give me another forty-five minutes to finish up here and cancel my car, and I’ll meet you out front.

  They both looked a little relieved, and Pete wondered why. It wasn’t going to be a particularly difficult job. He’d done his homework, knew why many voice actors refused video game work, and had carefully scheduled so no one would feel overworked. Maybe that was all these guys wanted: some reassurance that he wasn’t going to push them.

  After all, Wolf’s Landing was the primary thing for all of them. If he wrecked an actor’s voice, he would scuttle his own career, and he wasn’t about to do that.

  By the time he had shut everything down, assured himself that the video had been sent, and met the actors outside, he had only a moment to text Vince, then Lee, and wish them a nice evening. Once he arrived in Seattle, it would be hours before he’d have a chance to call or text again.

  This was certainly not one of Lee’s more brilliant ideas. He’d spent some time walking tight circles around Pete’s living room to ease the stiffness out of his muscles. He hadn’t lied when he’d said that the night’s activities had messed him up a bit. Probably not badly enough he had to stay home, but that wasn’t why he had stayed behind anyway.

  He’d taken a few hours that morning to get as much work done as he could, then opened a chat window to tell Vince he was going to take a bath and rest his back. That would give him time to pack up his things before Vince started looking for him online again, or calling the house or his cell.

  Packing took him less than an hour. He hadn’t moved a lot of stuff over. Only what he’d taken to Vancouver that first trip, and what Pete and Vince had fetched for him later. He could fit it all into the two rolling suitcases easily and strap his laptop bag over his chest. If he took his time, he’d get home, no issues.

  Winter, it seemed, had made a last-ditch effort to throw snow at them the night before. While the snow hadn’t stuck around, it left the idea of its chill in the air that Lee wasn’t dressed for. It made him shiver, which had him clenching the muscles through his back he was trying to pretend didn’t hurt as much as they actually did. It also meant the wait for a cab in this backward little town bordered on obscene.

  So he decided to walk.

  “Because Vince brought you a sweet, kissed you . . . and you panicked. Well done, asshole.” Muttering to himself got him a look from a passerby, and he shifted his shoulders and the heavy laptop, and hurried on.

  Vince had done more than kiss him. Even more than watch as Lee fucked his boyfriend. He’d figured out Lee’s secret. Lee had guarded his submission for so long it had ceased to be a real thing. Only a fantasy he didn’t believe in anymore. A fantasy he grudgingly doled out in clubs to men he’d never have to see again, just so he didn’t lose his mind. And then Vince had whispered in his ear and made promises with his touch, offered every little thing Lee had all but forgotten he wanted.

  “Can’t go back there,” he mumbled. The sooner he distanced himself from them, the sooner he could get back to normal and stop imagining what might be possible.

  But then he pictured the expression on Vince’s face when he found the empty apartment.

  He wouldn’t be angry, or even disappointed. He’d be sad. He’d think he’d done something to cause Lee’s bitchy behavior, and Lee could just see how his lips would turn down at the corners, and he would gnaw on the inside of his lip while
he thought, trying to suss out what he’d done wrong.

  Lee didn’t like the idea of upsetting Vince. Which was nuts, but true.

  “Goddamn it.” I am not their plaything. I don’t want that life. Its fine for them, but it isn’t for me.

  The last time he had let himself hope it could be, look what had happened. He’d let a Dom go too far and now, every time he sneezed wrong, slipped off a step, turned with just the precise amount of speed and torque, he was toast. Helpless. Vulnerable. That wasn’t okay.

  Even as the memories piled into his head, his phone buzzed with a text message, and he stopped to pull it out.

  Pete: Hope you guys have a great evening. I’m off to Seattle in the back seat of a limo with Carter Samuels and Levi Pritchard. Kiss Vince for me. He’s going to need it.

  Lee swayed where he was. This was a mistake. He should go back.

  He glanced over his shoulder and his back twinged, his knees almost giving out under him. No. That had happened because he let a guy have too much. It had been one time. One guy he’d wanted to trust so badly, who had decided Lee belonged to him and hadn’t taken no for an answer. Then when Lee was damaged, he’d walked away with Lee’s pride and his money.

  Vince was nothing like that. But the idea of it, the thought of being broken, was terrifying. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he gripped the handles of his cases and trudged on, toward his safe, sterile apartment where everything was predictable and calm.

  “Here’s the thing. The more you stare at his desk, the less likely I am to believe you when you say nothing’s wrong.”

  It took Vince a heartbeat or two to realize Blaire had been speaking to him. He blinked. “Sorry. What did you say?”

  “You need to go home and make sure he’s okay.”

  “Nah.” Vince waved a hand at Lee’s empty desk. He’d taken the morning to set up the desktop adjustable frame that would allow Lee to sit or stand at his desk as he wished, and had taken all the Bubble Wrap and cardboard off the new office chair and footstool that Blaire had also ordered for Lee. Now he could only frown at the empty desk and wonder if he’d been right to leave Lee alone.

  “He’s fine. I know he’s fine,” he muttered. Whether to himself or Blaire, he had no idea.

  “You’re not.”

  Vince stared at Lee’s desk some more.

  “You know, sometimes, it isn’t figuring out what they need that’s the hard part. It’s figuring out what they categorically do not need from you.”

  “I don’t— What?” Vince peeled his gaze away from the empty desk to stare at Blaire.

  “Take Frederic. I was watching him work himself almost literally to death trying to make ends meet. It was simple, I thought. He needed more money. If he had the money, he wouldn’t have to work so hard. He could take it easy.”

  “But?”

  “The last thing Frederic Jackson was ever going to take from me was money. His working so hard had nothing to do with money. Until I figured out what it was actually about, he was never going to trust me to be what he needed most.”

  “Which was?”

  “What’s between Frederic and me is not going to be the same as what you need to build between you and Lee. And it has to be between the two of you. Let him build his own relationship with Pete. Who, by the way, is a lot stronger than you give him credit for, so stop trying to protect him. Neither of them will thank you for it.”

  Vince stared at him for a while, but apparently, he was done. “That’s your big advice? Figure it out?”

  Blaire chuckled. “I know. Not exactly wisdom of the ages. Maybe start with determining what you’re doing that’s hurting him, and stop doing that.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt him.”

  “Then why is he running away?”

  Vince glared at his desk blotter. He hated Blaire’s ability to find the most obvious question to ask.

  “You might not mean to hurt him, but whatever is going on, something you’re doing is scaring the bejesus out of him. You want this to work? You figure out what that is.”

  “Shouldn’t you be all ‘no fraternizing at the office’ or something else more boss-like?” Vince grumbled.

  “If I actually thought it might be possible to keep the two of you apart, or that you were better off apart, then yes, probably. But I’ll be honest. I think the two of you are good for each other. He plays off your calm in client meetings, and you get a some bite in your dealings with the investors when he’s got your back. Now you just have to dig deeper and translate that into what that works outside the office.”

  Vince shook his head. “But you’re right. He runs every time he’s about to be vulnerable. How far and how fast just depends on how close we get. Like last night we . . . Shit.”

  Blaire waited, glanced at his watch, then sat back in his chair. “You need to take a long lunch?”

  “I think I do, yeah.”

  “Take your time. I’ve got these reports on the game programmers you want me to look over. That should take the rest of the afternoon. I won’t need you until tomorrow.”

  Vince rose. “Blaire, I swear—”

  Blaire held up his hand. “How many times did you cover for me while Frederic needed me? It’s fine. Go do what you have to do.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good luck,” Blaire called after him as he hurried out the door. He probably wasn’t supposed to hear the “You’ll need it.” part.

  Vince wasn’t even a little bit surprised to find the house empty. He was more hurt than surprised to find all of Lee’s things gone from the spare room. Lee wouldn’t go far. At least, not right away. He’d go back to his own place first.

  Vince took a quick look through all the closets and clean laundry baskets. Lee had been thorough. The only thing he’d left behind was a jacket in the front hall closet. Vince slipped it into a garment bag, grabbed house keys—thankful he still had Lee’s apartment keys on the ring—and hurried to his car.

  At Lee’s place, he let himself into the building, then took the stairs two at a time. He was winded when he got to the top, but that didn’t matter. Catching his breath gave him time to decide if he should let himself in and demand to know what was going on, or knock and ask Lee to let him in.

  Figure out what you’re doing that’s scaring the bejesus out of him, first, asshole.

  “Right. Good plan.” He knocked carefully on Lee’s door.

  After a few minutes, the door opened, and Lee stood there, not letting him in, but not completely barring the way, either. “Should have known.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Vince.

  Vince held out the garment bag. You forgot one.”

  Lee stared at the bag. “Pete liked that one.”

  “And you thought . . . what? He could cuddle up with it at night and it would be enough?”

  Lee lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Whatever.”

  Was he trying to piss Vince off? “Can I come in?”

  “You’re going to anyway.” Lee took a couple of steps back so Vince had space to enter the apartment, but he didn’t look happy about it.

  It didn’t look any more lived-in than it had the first time Vince had been here. Why would Lee want to live in this unpleasant apartment out of cardboard boxes when he could have everything Vince and Pete were offering him? “You know if you’d asked, I could have helped you come pick stuff up.”

  Lee just leveled a gaze at him.

  Okay. So it was obvious Lee had not come here to collect more of his stuff, but Vince had thought maybe Lee would take the out. “Come home, Lee.”

  The even look didn’t falter. Lee crossed his arms over his chest. “I live here.”

  “Why?”

  “I chose this place, Vince. It might not be glamorous or flashy, but I chose it.”

  “It’s empty.”

  “So am I!”

  “Not true.”

  “You don’t get to decide that.” Lee thumped a palm against his chest. “I do.”


  “No—”

  “Yes!” Lee took a step, then another. “This is what I want. My space, my things, my life. Whatever kind of Dom you think you are, you don’t get to strong-arm me into your life or Pete’s. I decide how far this goes, not you. I get to choose.”

  The penny dropped, as it should have a long time ago. Lee couldn’t be told. Telling him what he ought to do was the surest way to get him to do the opposite. Vince couldn’t drag him back to the house and force his story out of him. He couldn’t dictate how their relationship should unfold, or tell Lee what he needed to be happy or how to proceed.

  He could only invite him to take charge of his own life. And accept that if Lee did that, Vince and Pete might not be a part of it.

  Careful to keep the jacket crease-free, Vince laid it over the back of the recliner. He took out his key ring and worked Lee’s keys off it, then placed them on top of the garment bag.

  Lee said nothing as he watched.

  “You keep saying I can’t just declare there’s a relationship and have it be so,” Vince said. “Maybe you’re right. Pete was open to that, but he’s not you. I don’t know what happened to make you so wary, and until you tell me, I can’t do anything about it. You know what I want. What Pete wants.” He met Lee’s gaze. “We want you, Lee. We want to keep you. Care for you.” He took a step back and lifted his arms to indicate the barren apartment. “If this is what you want, who am I to tell you otherwise? If you change your mind, you know where I am.”

  He turned and walked to the door. He wanted nothing more than to grab boxes and start shoving all of Lee’s clothes into them, load up his car with the boxes, and with Lee, and go home. But Lee had made his position clear.

  That wasn’t Vince’s call.

  “Vince.”

  Lee’s voice cracked a tiny bit over his name, and Vince stopped. He didn’t dare turn around. If he did, he’d end up giving in to his caveman desires. Lee didn’t need that from him.

  “You going to tell Pete?” Lee asked.