Make Your Move

by Laura Heffernan

  He’d taken the news so much better than expected, I wondered briefly if one of my friends had tipped him off. But asking would only make things more awkward. “I really am sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Be you.” By this point, we’d reached the elevators. He pointed down the hall. “I’m over there. See you at the wedding.”

  He turned down the hall as if we’d been talking about nothing more serious than his favorite ice cream flavor. Fine with me. If he wasn’t upset, that made everything so much easier.

  And yet, part of me still felt disappointed that I couldn’t turn physical attraction on and off as easily as some people seemed to think I could. Tyler was one of the good ones. He deserved someone special. It was too bad that person couldn’t be me.

  Chapter 6

  “We spend too much of our lives working not to enjoy what we do.” —Holly

  Every job has its highs and lows. My lows largely came in the form of Megan, especially now that she shot me bizarrely hostile knowing looks each morning. As if I cared about her love life. At some point, if she was awful to everyone and not just me, Tyler would figure out who she really was and break up with her. Until then, a framed picture of the two of them went up on her desk, prominently displayed. She changed her text tone to “Boyfriend.” Just when I thought she’d never find a more obnoxious song than “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” she proved me wrong.

  The biggest high in my job was getting to host focus groups in the office. When a game was being tested, Friday mornings were by far the best part of each week. At eleven o’clock, the receptionist called to let me know that my focus group had arrived. I went down the hall to the elevator, where a group of kids and their parents met me. Tessa stood near the back with her two-year-old son, Preston. I gave them a small nod before addressing the group.

  “Hello, everyone. My name is Shannon.”

  “Hi, Shannon!” the kids chorused back at me. Adorbs. I loved when they did that.

  “How’s everyone doing?”

  The cacophony of responses made me want to laugh. “Do you guys like games?”

  “Yes!”

  “You do? Why, what a happy coincidence!” I let my mouth drop open and put my hands on my cheeks in a big display of surprise. “I’ve got a game for you!”

  A couple of the kids cheered. Some groups were shy and barely interacted at all, so it was great to see so much enthusiasm. With the wicked little kids, you never knew what to expect. Some would think that you couldn’t get useful feedback from two- to four-year-olds, but they never tried to spare my feelings. Their parents also provided a wealth of valuable information, both about the kids’ demeanor and comments while playing and what they liked or disliked as the person with the actual purchasing power.

  I continued, “In a minute, we’re going to meet my friend Ryan. He’s got a game set up for you. We’re going to give you some time to play. After, we’ll eat pizza and talk about what you liked and didn’t like. How does that sound?”

  “Pizza!” a little girl in the front said. Her pigtails and freckles reminded me of Gwen, and I grinned at her.

  “That’s right! Come on!” With a big wave, I turned and took the group into the main office area. On the small tables in the middle, Ryan had set up several copies of the nearly finished game.

  The kids clustered around the tables, picking up pieces and chattering excitedly. This was part of the test: seeing how kids responded to the packaging and the pieces.

  Tessa came up to stand beside me. “Preston is like a kid in a candy store today.”

  “So is Ryan,” I said. “Kid focus groups are his favorite part of the job. Thank you so much for doing this.”

  “Oh, I should be thanking you. Today, I’m a hero.”

  I chuckled. “From what Cody tells me, you’re a hero every day. Raising a toddler alone can’t be easy.”

  She shrugged. “You do what you’ve got to do. Having family nearby helps a lot. Are you staying while we play?”

  “I wish I could,” I said, “but we don’t want me to unintentionally influence their reactions. Ryan will explain the game, and then I’ll go back to my desk. We’ve set up Wi-Fi-enabled cameras, so I can watch from over there.”

  Ryan started speaking to the kids, so Tessa lowered her voice to a whisper. “In that case, I’ll let you get to it.”

  “Thanks! Have fun,” I whispered back before I left.

  Usually focus groups didn’t faze me much, but Jameson raised the stakes with his retirement. I needed this to go well, especially since I didn’t have another group planned before the executive game designer would be chosen.

  Making games was the only thing I’d ever wanted to do. I didn’t even much care what type. I’d grown up playing stuff like Chutes and Ladders and Monopoly, like all kids. But I’d also loved Clue, Mario 64, Donkey Kong… basically anything available for my Nintendo at the local video rental place. My parents would check games out for a couple of weeks, and I’d beat them. At least until the video stores all went out of business. Then I went online to find new material.

  But even more fun than playing video games alone (Chris never wanted to join me), I’d make up games for the kids in my neighborhood. I’d create scavenger hunts or elaborate games of make-believe. My parents had encouraged me to get good grades, come up with a plan for my future. They wanted me to become a doctor or a lawyer, insisting a person couldn’t play games all their life.

  They’d been wrong. Once I realized it was possible to make a living by creating the same games that enchanted me as a small child, I made my decision. Went to college, got the degree at their insistence, always with an end goal in mind.

  I’d taken a few coding classes, just enough to figure out that I wasn’t likely to make it in the world as a video game designer. Too bad, because I enjoyed play-testing and finding bugs, but ultimately video games weren’t where my passions lay. This job had seemed the perfect fit. By creating games for kids, I could introduce them to the same wonderful world I’d experienced as a child, helping to nurture them into the type of adults who kept their local game stores in business.

  If only people like Megan didn’t exist in my glorious world. I did my best to put my head down, do the work, and ignore her, but that was easier said than done. My noise-canceling headphones didn’t reduce the smug little smiles she sent my way.

  Lost in my thoughts, I tripped over my desk chair. Behind me, Dennis snickered, and I shot him a dirty look. Sure, I shouldn’t let him get to me, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have pulled my chair out while I was gone to watch me trip when I returned. Usually, I pushed it in, especially when we had kids running around.

  But I had work to do, and no time to worry about Dennis. Ignoring him, I forced myself to concentrate, pulling up the focus group stream in one window. Ryan was still explaining the mechanics for the game. Players rolled a giant block with numbers on the sides. Each number correlated to a stack of oversized cards that would direct the kids to do something, like make an animal sound or dance. I was lost in thought when a Facebook message popped up on my screen.

  Tyler: Hey. Is it okay if I invite my buddies over to play poker tonight?

  Me: Sure. You don’t have to ask permission. It’s your apartment, too.

  Tyler: I know. Just being polite. :-) Wouldn’t want to get in the way if you had people coming over.

  Me: Most of my friends are your friends. If I had people coming over, you’d know. But no, I’ll probably be holed up in my office all night.

  Tyler: Working on anything good?

  Me: I have no idea…

  Tyler: I’m sure it’s great. Anyway, the guys will be showing up around 6. We’ll have pizza if you want some.

  Me: [Thumbs-up emoji]

  “Who’s Tyler?” The sound of Dennis’s voice in my ear made me jump about three feet. My head knocked against
his jaw, sending tears into my eyes. Ouch. At least I was messaging Tyler and not applying for jobs when Dennis snuck up on me. He’d tell Jameson in a heartbeat if he spotted me job searching on company time.

  Rubbing the spot where we’d collided, I spun around in my chair. By no coincidence, it rolled several inches away from him at the same time. “Do you always sneak up on people like that? You took three years off my life.”

  “Maybe you should pay attention to your surroundings instead of flirting at work, then.” He smirked. “When I’m in charge, maybe I’ll have the IT department block all social media and implement a no-phones policy.”

  I needed my phone at work in case something happened to Nana, but didn’t see any reason to tell Dennis that. Better to pacify him. “I’m sorry. Tyler’s my roommate.”

  “Roommate? Or roooooommmmmmate?” As if his tone wasn’t enough to tell me what he meant, he thrust his pelvis back and forth a couple of times. I struggled not to gag at the visual, while making a note to add this moment to my list of HR complaints. If only I could manage to sneak a picture.

  “Just a regular roommate, Dennis. Did you come to check the status of Project High-top?” The one and only game we currently worked on together, thankfully, and it was nearly finished. The final product went to market in six weeks, if all went well.

  “I just dropped by to say hello. Can’t a guy be friendly?”

  Ryan caught my eye with a questioning look, as if to ask if I needed saving. I shook my head a fraction of an inch to let him know I’d be okay. To Dennis, I put on a fake smile with forced cheerfulness. “Of course you can! Thanks for stopping by. It was great to see you!”

  “Jameson also wanted me to let you know that we’re doing a morale booster later.”

  “Oh yeah?” Morale was one thing this company lacked since the merger was announced. Too many people worried about upcoming layoffs. A booster could do wonders.

  “Yup! We’re all going out for drinks and apps after work. Mandatory.” He named a local bar known for its female servers who wore tiny shorts and bikini tops.

  “Oh, I’d love to, but I have plans with my roommate.” Hopefully, he hadn’t seen enough of the conversation with Tyler to know I lied.

  He shrugged. “Cool. Jameson thought some of the executive game designer candidates might want to use the opportunity to let him get to know them a little better, but I’ll tell him you’re not interested.”

  Lovely. I needed the evening to work on my own game, but couldn’t let Dennis capitalize on the opportunity without me. Maybe I could talk Ryan into going, too. Even though he didn’t create games and didn’t want to be an executive designer, we could still have a good time.

  I forced a smile. “Sounds like fun. On second thought, I’ll be there.”

  * * * *

  Three hours later, I’d managed to confirm that, despite what the regulars said, no one visited this restaurant for the wings. They tasted like they’d been boiled in vinegar. The women dancing around in booty shorts and tiny shirts did nothing for me. And the conversation, which largely circled around who had the largest breasts, wasn’t exactly stimulating. Clearly, the answer was the brunette in the corner. I didn’t even know why the debate existed, other than that these guys wanted to hear themselves talk about boobs.

  Ryan somehow got dragged to the other end of the table when we arrived, and despite my best efforts, we hadn’t managed to reconfigure so we could sit together. I shot him baleful glances from my seat. The others would probably take it as evidence that we were hooking up if anyone saw me, but whatever. Shooting silent messages back and forth was by far the best thing about this excursion.

  “Hey, Shannon, did you see the Red Sox game last night?” Megan asked at my elbow.

  Absorbed in my thoughts, I hadn’t seen her take the empty seat beside me, so the question jolted me from my semicatatonic state. “No, I’m afraid I don’t have cable.”

  “That’s too bad.” She sidled closer, leaning in as if she was about to reveal a huge secret. “Tyler and I went to the game. It was a-MAZ-ing. Did he at least tell you about it?”

  “No, but we haven’t spoken today.” A lie, but it wasn’t like I could tell her about the Pact. “Besides, I’m not a huge baseball fan.”

  “You’d love it if you gave it a chance,” she said. “I could explain the game. That way, if you could get a date, you could come along next time. We have a box.”

  Of course she did. Why did people always assume if you didn’t like something, you didn’t understand it? “I know the game, I’m just not into it. My brother played all through high school.”

  It wasn’t even worth addressing her jab about me not being able to get a date. She was like a dog with a bone, though. She wouldn’t let it go. “Maybe it was the company. What if I set you up with someone?”

  Considering how obnoxious I found my brother when we were teenagers, Megan might have a point there. I used to watch with a bunch of girls giggling over how cute his butt looked in those pants. Not too different from the conversations here at the bar, actually. But the sudden interest in my personal life made me wary. “Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

  “Whatevs. Just trying to help,” Megan said.

  I sincerely doubted that, but said, “I appreciate the offer.”

  “So, you’re not seeing anyone?”

  “Why the sudden interest, Megan? You’ve never talked to me about anything but work, and barely that.”

  “As Tyler and I get more serious, it’s totally normal for me to take an interest in my boyfriend’s friends.”

  My ears perked up at the word “serious,” as I’d thought they’d only been on a handful of dates. But I refused to give her the satisfaction of showing my curiosity. I picked up the menu and studied it, hoping she’d take the cue to talk to someone else.

  No such luck. She put her hand on the plastic, forcing me to set it down. Good thing I was using it as a prop and not intending to actually order anything. “Let’s be real here for a minute, Shannon.”

  “Unlike some people, Megan, I’m always real.”

  “I know you’re after my man,” she said.

  The comment was so ludicrous, a hoot of laughter escaped me. She had spent a grand total of ninety seconds with the two of us together in the bookstore, where I’d talked to Megan almost the entire time. She had virtually nothing to base her conclusion on.

  “Laugh if you want, but I see you messaging him at work when you think no one’s looking,” she said. “It’s never going to happen. You’re not getting my man or my job. Not when you’re so basic. You’ll never be extra enough to beat me.”

  At that point, I gave up on being polite. Shoving away from the table, I pushed myself to my feet and went to interrupt Ryan’s conversation, not bothering to say good-bye. From the look on my friend’s face, he wasn’t having a good time, either.

  Willing my legs not to shake, I continued to walk toward the other end of the table. When I got to him, I collapsed onto a stool as gracefully as possible. Which was not very.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “She’s such a piece of work.” I shook my head. “Tell you later.”

  To avoid letting everyone at the table see my frustration, I pulled out my phone. A bunch of texts waited.

  Gwen: How’s the work bonding? Need me to call in a bomb threat to the restaurant? ;-)

  Holly: I’m desperately craving sugar. Can you have Nana make literally anything and I’ll have Nathan pick it up on his way home from work?

  Tyler: We’ve got pizza waiting for you when you get home. Extra cheese and mushroom.

  The messages made me smile. Sure, this outing might be a total bust, but my friends rocked. Quickly, I tapped out replies, and by the time I finished, I’d managed to push Megan out of my mind.

  Chapter 7

  “Being your
own boss requires a lot of sacrifices. But it’s worth it to do what you love.” —Nathan

  By the time I got home that night, I was worn out, completely exhausted. Tyler and three guys sat around the dining room table playing poker. These were work friends, not board gamers, so I didn’t know anyone. My emotional tank neared empty, but I forced myself to ignore the screaming of my inner introvert in the interest of getting to know my roommate’s other friends.

  “Hey, I’m Shannon,” I said. “Sorry to interrupt your game. I’ll be in and out quick.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” one of them said. “This is the closest Craig’s been to a female in weeks.” The guy beside the one who spoke ducked his head, grinning.

  “Hush, Tommy. Don’t make my roommate uncomfortable,” Tyler said. I shot him a grateful look. When witty banter turned sexual, I typically tuned it out.

  “Sorry,” Tommy said. “This tall bastard on my left is Skippy.”

  On his other side sat a guy so tall he must get people asking him constantly if he played basketball. As a fellow tall person, I refrained from commenting on his height and simply said hello, then repeated all their names. Skippy wore glasses and Tommy wore a Super Mario T-shirt. Silently, I chanted, Skippy spectacles, Tommy T-shirt in hopes of not having to ask again later. Craig was of average height and weight, black hair in braids, in a button-down shirt and jeans. Cornrows Craig.

  It was the first time in my life I became aware of being the only white person in the room. Quite possibly the first time it ever happened, coming from an affluent white area and then moving to Boston. Weird.

  A huge yawn brought tears to my eyes just as my stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since lunch. Ducking my head, I left my musings on race for another day when I was more coherent and apologized again for interrupting their game.

  “No problem,” Craig said. “You want to join us?”

  “Next time? It’s been a long day.”

  “Sure. That’s what they all say.”

  “Don’t goad her,” Tyler said. “She’s happy to take your money, and you can’t afford to lose it.”