Stud

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “Yes, sir,” I said and maybe put a little breathiness in it.

  It got him to look up, but I had schooled my face into a neutral expression. I came around his desk, fighting the urge to sit in his lap. Mick had fondled me here, before pushing me flat down across his desk and fucking the ever-living daylights out of me. Of course, that was before he was my boss. I stifled a sigh and resisted the need to fan myself. “What are we looking at?” I asked.

  It looked like Lemmingware’s Egyptian starter world, except everything was frozen.

  “Please tell me this is my computer and not the lag,” he said. “They just opened the world up to the beta testers. Five thousand users logged on in a half hour.”

  “Shit,” I said. “Get up.”

  He vacated his seat but glared down at me. Playing with the keys, I tried to switch views and it was impossible. “I’m going to do a hard reboot,” I said when the control/alt/delete keys didn’t pop me out of it. “Are you going to lose anything important?”

  Running his fingers through his hair, he grumbled, “Probably not. Do you have to do it?”

  I shrugged. “We can always wait and see if it clears itself.”

  Mick paced in front of the desk. I tried not to be distracted by his fine ass.

  “Are you guys having any trouble in the world?” he asked.

  “No, but we’re on the private server that’s accessed by the external hard drive you gave us. We didn’t get the official beta download codes.” I glared at him reproachfully.

  “Why would you want them? You already have the game in the conference room.”

  “Not the final version.”

  “Who gives a shit?” he said. “It’s the same thing, basically.”

  “In the real beta you can import your character when the live version is out.”

  “Wait, so all the stuff we were doing on Friday isn’t going to transfer over?”

  I frowned. “I’m not sure. I didn’t think so. But maybe. Lemmingware would know for sure. Don’t ask them now, though. It’s a shitstorm over there. I guarantee it.”

  Mick went to get us a couple of coffees from his machine. “Let’s wait a few minutes. I had a spreadsheet open and I’d rather not have to re-create this morning’s work. I can’t get ahold of Curtis.”

  Pointing to the screen, I said, “If it’s like this for five thousand subscribers, you’re not going to. We need to come up with a way to spin this so people wait to buy the expansion until Lemmingware gets the bugs out. Only Lemmingware’s engineers and developers can fix this, but we may be able to do some damage control in the meantime. It might buy them some time before the fans come out with their pitchforks and torches. And I’m talking about in real life, not the game.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” He handed me the cup of coffee.

  It struck me then that I was in the boss’s chair and he was waiting on me like a secretary. I’m sure I had a few fantasies about that. He perched on the corner of the desk with his cup and brooded into it.

  “I can call some bloggers and see if we can give them an exclusive story to take everyone’s mind off of first-day crashes. What do we have to offer them?”

  Mick and I spent an hour and two more cups of coffee coming up with a game plan of how this was going to work out. Eventually, the server kicked us out and we were able to close down the program and Mick was able to save his spreadsheet.

  Stretching, I finally gave him his seat back. “Okay, I’ll get right on it.” I had a list of people to call and bribes to drop.

  “Thanks, Terri,” he said. “You did good work this morning.”

  No. I refused to let that brighten my day. I deserved more than scraps and half-assed compliments. “I always do good work,” I told him and opened his office door. Janet was still nowhere to be seen. Looking back at him, I asked, “What were you doing in the beta world anyway?”

  I swear the tips of his ears turned red.

  “What?”

  “I wanted to roll up a new character and try the gladiator character type instead of the palace guard.”

  I was intrigued in spite of myself. “You start off as a slave, though, and you’ve got to slog through twenty levels before you earn your release.”

  “I liked the story,” Mick said, with a touch of defensiveness.

  “You’re beginning to like the role-play aspect?” I said in a low voice.

  He gave me a slow nod and a grin. “It makes my wrist hurt sometimes, but it’s definitely worth it.”

  Now I was blushing. I peeked out of his office to make sure no one was around. “Why don’t you come over tonight and we can see how far we can level up? I bet we can get halfway there if we work together.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said. “Maybe Friday. No, definitely Friday.”

  Someone pushed his panic button. He was just shy of freaking out. I guess this was part of being a hookup. You had to be available for the VIP when he wanted you. Not this chick.

  “I have plans on Friday.” I lied, just to see what he would do. I didn’t have any plans, because I had no life outside of my job and my brother, but I wasn’t going to be available for Mick anytime he wanted me. Otherwise, we’d be back to the snapping fingers nonsense when I didn’t jump as fast as he wanted me to.

  “Billy has an appointment on Friday night?” He frowned.

  “No, I have a date.” Boy, was that a whopper. Still, it soothed my pride a bit when his jaw clenched and he didn’t look too pleased by that.

  “That’s nice,” he gritted out.

  It would have been. God, I was so pathetic.

  “Who is he?”

  “Just a guy I met online.” I wanted to keep this as simple as possible.

  “Really?”

  Too late, I realized the cold look he was giving me meant he thought I was cybering with other men. Well, what did he care? For all I knew, he was still banging three club habitués on Saturday night. We weren’t even dating. But the thought of him screwing around gave me a sour stomach.

  “I’ve got calls to make.” I closed his office door behind me and let out a long sigh. Maybe Mick was right, office romances got complicated. Speaking of which, I made my way over to Simon’s office. I knew Mick didn’t want me working on anything but Lemmingware, but I had a brainstorm this morning in the shower about Simon’s soap client. I wanted to tell either him or Janet before I forgot.

  On my way over, I nodded at a few people and chatted a bit with some of the other assistants who were working on Lemmingware with me. Maybe, if I tried hard enough, they’d invite me out to happy hour on Friday, so I wouldn’t have to stay home and pretend not to be a loser. It was almost enough to make me call my ex, Peter, and see what he was up to. There wouldn’t be any “for old times’ sake” sex, but it would be slightly more social than playing on my phone because I was too worried Mick would log on to World of Legends.

  When I got to Simon’s office, I knocked but didn’t hear any answer. I opened the door, preparing to run if I saw his naked backside pounding away at an intern. But his office was empty. I was about to leave when I heard him speak from an adjoining room.

  “I’m telling you, Laila, it’s a bargain.”

  Oh, ew. If his office was structured like Mick’s, Simon was talking on his cellphone in the bathroom. I backed away, closing the door behind me when I heard Simon say something very interesting.

  “Three million dollars and all I have to do is tell the lawyer that it was my screwup on the funds transfer. We put the million back for my dad and take it away slowly so no one realizes what’s going on.”

  I thought that was kind of sweet. He was trying to keep his father out of prison. Of course, he was thinking of embezzling it back out again. If Mick caught him at it, Simon would be the one in the pokey instead.

  “Okay, fine. We’ll leave it there.”

  I nodded. Laila seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. That was his wife, if I was remembering right.
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  “Then the price for the shares becomes four million dollars. It’s still worth it. Don’t worry about Mick. With my parents’ shares, I’ll own seventy-five percent of the company. I’ll be calling the shots instead of the four of us bickering over bullshit. Mick always gets his way anyway. Not this time.”

  Holy shit. Was this a hostile takeover?

  “But Laila,” he whined. “If we don’t have the three million by Thursday, the deal is off. We can put up a million. Your dad can float us another mil.”

  I held in a snort. It must be nice to casually ask for a loan that big like it was asking for twenty bucks.

  “We can cash in our 401(k)s.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  I actually heard the woman on the other end of the phone, from two rooms away. I left the office. This was none of my business. I backed into Janet.

  “Oh,” I said, flushing. “Sorry.”

  “What were you doing in there?” she said, crossing her arms and glaring at me.

  “I needed to talk to Simon, but he’s on the phone with Laila.”

  Janet blanched and backed away. “I have to get something for Mick.”

  I wanted to tell Mick what I heard, but not while Janet was there. And since I wasn’t going to do it over the phone where anyone else could listen in, or via email, it was going to have to wait. I wondered about the legality of what Simon was going to do. It was a family business. If the money was put back, then technically the damage of the crime was erased. Their father was still a crook, but the only people he had stolen from were his family and at least one brother was ready to forgive him for it. I couldn’t imagine being in that position.

  First of all, my father never stole anything in his life. As a matter of fact, if he had been undercharged at the grocery store, he would make it a point to go back and pay the difference so the clerk wouldn’t get in trouble.

  I missed him and Mom so much. If they were here right now, Billy would have his entire family fighting this disease with him. Mick, however, seemed to have all of his family against him. I tried getting in to talk to him all day, but Janet ran interference. Either he was pissed about our discussion earlier or he was busy. Probably both. I wondered how differently the Wentworth Agency would be run with Simon in charge. He had mentioned hiring me full-time instead of being on a contract. It would mean I could get insurance. Depending on what type they have, I might even be able to include Billy on it.

  It felt a little disloyal, but the flash of relief and hope that flew through me almost made my knees give out. With a full-time job and insurance to pay for the medical expenses, I could finally start digging myself out of the financial hole we were getting into.

  After grabbing the download code to Lemmingware’s official testing site, I left early to take Billy to physical therapy and took my home laptop to the appointment. Hopefully, the slow frame rate in the major cities had evened out. The software engineers had several hours to kick the servers into submission. After a longer than usual wait, I was able to get in and I breathed a sigh of relief. I instantly got a message from Hasani, a level-one slave.

  HELLO KITTEN.

  I was about to click Ignore, but I wondered if this was Mick. After all, he knew that Sanura, my character’s name, meant kitten. He had laughed his ass off when I told him. His Egyptian character who I collected shells with on Friday had been generated randomly by the game and I gave him such shit for not researching a name again. I flicked on my friends list. Donkor was Mick’s palace guard character.

  WHO IS THIS? I typed back.

  HASANI MEANS HANDSOME.

  A quick Google search showed he was correct. My finger hovered over the Ignore button again. It could be a guy with a dictionary trolling all the female characters. Changing my mind, I decided that if he became a pain, I could always block him later. Part of me wished it was Mick, which was the real reason I didn’t ignore him.

  WHO IS THIS? I typed again.

  YOUR FRIDAY NIGHT DATE.

  IT’S TUESDAY.

  I KNOW.

  MICK?

  I THOUGHT THAT WAS A FAUX PAS TO BREAK CHARACTER IN-GAME.

  It was, but we weren’t in a scene. Hell, I don’t think we were even on the same continent—game-wise.

  ARE YOU GIVING UP ON DONKOR? I wasn’t sure why he was contacting me in-game. I wasn’t about to cyber with him in broad daylight in the middle of the physical therapist’s office.

  HAVEN’T DECIDED. THE LAG IS THROWING ME A BIT. I NEED SOME HELP IN THE GAME. MY PLANS FREED UP FOR TONIGHT. I WANT TO SEE YOU.

  Down, girl. He just means he wants to talk work and get help leveling this character. I should turn him down. But Billy was bound to go right to sleep after this and I could use the company.

  OK. COME OVER AROUND NINE. BRING CHIPS.

  Then the game punted me and I lost connection. It had better have saved my progress on the quest I was working on. If I had to do the battlefield quest again, I’d pull out my hair. I waited a few minutes, but the server was still down. Bad news for me as a player, but it was even worse news for Lemmingware. They wouldn’t have brought down the servers unless there was a significant problem. Mick probably wanted my help in how we were going to spin this to the subscribers.

  I put my computer in my backpack and glumly checked my phone. Now would be the time in a dating relationship that the man would call the woman to confirm the plans. For all I knew, Mick missed my last sentence. I wondered if it would kill me if I gave him my number. He had to have access to it, but if I gave him my digits, I didn’t have to lie to myself. I would know for sure that the reason Mick wasn’t calling wasn’t because he didn’t have my number. I would know he wasn’t calling because he didn’t want to.

  The receptionist slid open her window. “Your brother starts the trials with the new neuroactive compounds in a few weeks, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks for the heads-up and giving us the application.”

  “We were so pleased to hear that the hospital got funding so everyone on the waiting list could get in.”

  “Thanks. It was a big relief,” I said. Maybe that’s why it had taken so long to find out. Billy had been waitlisted.

  “Yeah, the Wentworth family is a big donor to the local hospitals. They came through at the last minute with enough money so everyone who was on the waitlist got in.”

  I blinked. “Did you say the Wentworths?”

  Could it be a coincidence?

  “Yeah, they own an advertising agency in the city.”

  Nope.

  “Was it one of the brothers?” I asked. Was this the reason their father embezzled the money? No, that sounded too altruistic for someone who Mick held in so much contempt. Or was it something Mick did to help my brother? I wasn’t sure how I felt about Mick buying Billy a chance for this trial program. Then again, wouldn’t he have mentioned it if he had?

  I shook my head. Mick couldn’t have done it. He was too worried about quid pro quo to pull anything like that. Still, the Wentworths could have just saved Billy’s life by giving him this opportunity. I wasn’t sure the only emotion I felt right now toward Mick was gratitude. I was happy, confused, excited, and afraid. I was a wreck, but I had to hold it together for Billy’s sake. Mick better be coming over tonight.

  “I don’t know,” the nurse said, shrugging. “It came from their family trust. They donate over half a million dollars a year to various projects.”

  Or was this what Simon was talking about this afternoon? Instead of a hostile takeover, were they looking for more places to donate to after they covered their father’s theft? Maybe Mick had wanted to keep funding hospitals and they wanted to branch out into other philanthropic areas.

  My shoulders relaxed a bit. It was starting to sound more like coincidence than a favor I’d never be able to repay. Maybe I had misunderstood the conversation this afternoon. It was my own fault for eavesdropping.

  Like I predicted, Billy was near dead on his feet. He d
idn’t even give a token protest at sitting back in the wheelchair. I went through the drive-through on the way home, and he almost fell asleep in his tacos. After helping him settle in for the night, I made myself a pot of spaghetti and dumped in some frozen meatballs while it was cooking. If Mick did come over and was hungry, I could at least offer him something.

  Mick must have gotten my final in-game message because he was at the door at nine p.m. sharp, not that I was standing by the door waiting for him.

  “My brother went to bed early,” I told him as I let him in. “Normally, he locks this door at night. I didn’t want you to have to ring the bell.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Do you want to go out and grab something?”

  Shaking my head, I motioned him up the stairs. “I made a pot of spaghetti earlier. I can heat some up if you want.”

  “I ate at the office.”

  I leaned against my door after closing it behind us and asked the question that had been haunting me all night. “Did you donate money to get Billy into Montefiore’s clinical trial?”

  Several emotions chased across his face. I saw the exact moment he decided to lie to me and then a few seconds later when he realized it wasn’t going to work. “Yes,” he said, simply.

  I threw myself at him and wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you.” My voice was muffled in his chest. I was going to cry, but then he hugged me back and stroked his hand down my hair. I hugged him tighter. I hadn’t realized how starved I had been for comfort and affection.

  Mick swallowed and cleared his throat. “I’m glad I could help.”

  Reluctantly, I pulled away. “Why did you do it?” Please don’t say it was because I was a great piece of ass. I mean, I know I was. But if he said something like that, he’d make me feel like a prostitute.

  Lightly rubbing his thumb under my eye to catch a tear that had escaped, Mick kissed my forehead. “Because I had the money and you guys needed someone to give you a break.”

  I broke down for real that time. I barely noticed him picking me up like a weeping Cinderella and carrying me to the couch. He held me then, his chin on the top of my head, rocking me until I stopped crying. It felt so good, I wanted to fall asleep in his arms. Eventually, my conscience reminded me that he came here for help with work and not to soothe a hysterical female. I gave myself five more minutes while the end of the sobbing hiccups died down. I could stay in his arms forever and that’s when I realized I was falling in love with the prick.