What amazing news! A squeal escaped me. My plate clattered to the table in my rush to hug them both. “Nana! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
Her face flushed. “It only happened last night.”
“That’s amazing! Congratulations! When’s the big day?”
“We haven’t gotten that far yet. I need to figure out what to say to your mother.”
“Ah.” The mood at the table shifted. My mother.
We both loved my mother very much, but she’d never exactly been supportive of Nana dating after Grandpa died. She wouldn’t be nearly as excited about Nana and Michael’s wedding as I was. Of course, Michael had been delivering my mail since the day I’d moved in. I’d become rather fond of him over the years.
“You haven’t told her yet?” I asked. “Do you need me to run interference?”
Nana rolled her eyes. “I’m a grown lady. I can talk to my own daughter.”
“Theoretically, she should be ecstatic for you, considering how much she apparently wants everyone in the world to get married.”
Nana snorted.
“Hey, there’s an idea,” I said. “Tell her it’s my wedding, then after she finishes freaking out, tell her it’s you and not me.”
“We’ll call that Plan B, dear,” Nana said.
Michael said, “We’re talking about doing the deed before we tell anyone, other than you. We can go to the courthouse on my day off and get it done.”
“You make getting married sound like ordering groceries,” I said. “Come on. At least promise I can be there?”
“Of course. You can even bring a friend.” I started to open my mouth, but she held up one hand. “Hold on. I didn’t say a date. We need two witnesses. Bring Gwen or Holly or anyone you like.”
“Thanks.” I kissed them both on the cheek before settling down to my breakfast. “Just give me a couple of hours’ notice, and I’ll be there. I can take a day off work to watch my favorite nana get married.”
“And you promise on your inheritance not to tell your mother until I get a chance to talk to her?”
“Cross my heart.”
As I ate, my gaze wandered constantly back and forth. Their love radiated across the table. A person would have to be blind not to notice their happiness. With a start, I realized that I envied them. My evenings with Tyler had shown me that, even though life was good, it would have been nice to have someone to share it with.
* * * *
Funny how quickly time moves when you’re dreading something. Workdays dragged when waiting for a focus group or product launch. They hurtled by now, when I had an interview/meeting with my boss about an “amazing” new project he was guaranteed to love but that I technically hadn’t the slightest idea what it was. A meeting that started in… six minutes.
Five.
Silently, I cursed myself for letting Dennis get to me. If I hadn’t gotten caught talking in the meeting; hadn’t made up that stupid “Dads will love this idea!”; hadn’t doubled down on the lie… what a mess. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a liar, a schemer. I just wanted to make awesome games that people would love. Both kids and adults.
With a nervous glance at the clock, I pulled up the document full of ideas that lived on my computer. Some of this stuff simply didn’t pan out upon further exploration. Some had been pitched to Jameson and turned down back when I originally thought of them. Some got delayed or decided against when competing games entered the market. One turned out to be too expensive to manufacture. There were even a couple of really cool ideas, but none of them were likely to “especially appeal to dads.”
What a stupid thing to say. What would dads even love more than moms? A game about playing sports? Drinking beer? Moms drank beer while watching sports, too. Somehow, though, I didn’t think my boss would be impressed by a lecture on the importance of not reinforcing gender stereotypes in our children rather than the game idea I’d promised him.
Across the desks, Dennis watched me. In my nervousness, I imagined that he could see the inside of my computer, knew what useless ideas sat on my hard drive. But that was ridiculous. If he picked up on my feelings, it was because they emanated from me in waves. I needed to rein it in, take control of myself.
“Is everything okay?” I peered at him over the top of my glasses like a peeved schoolteacher.
“Yeah,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good luck in there.”
Weird. But not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I simply thanked him and turned back to my computer.
Two minutes to go.
This was ridiculous. I deserved this job. My ideas spoke for themselves, regardless of which parent they appealed to more. I was ten times the designer of anyone else in this building. I patted down my hair, pushed my glasses back up to the bridge of my nose where they belonged, and picked up my tea for a strong, fortifying drink before going in to blow Jameson away with my qualifications.
As the smoky liquid crossed my tongue, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. Rather than the lukewarm tea that had been in my mug when I went to the bathroom ten minutes earlier, I got a mouthful of something much stronger. Whiskey, probably, although not the good stuff. Rotgut. Nasty stuff. The floral bouquet of the tea masked some of the flavor. Absolutely alcohol, though.
The surprise jolted me into reflexively jerking back, but I managed to keep the liquid in my mouth. Good thing I liked whiskey, although not rotgut mixed with Dunkin’ Donuts tea. Blech. Using extreme effort, I lowered the mug, counted to ten, and swallowed. One sip of alcohol wasn’t likely to affect my meeting nearly as much as if I’d spit it out everywhere. Which was certainly what someone wanted.
My eyes roamed the room, and quickly settled on the most likely suspect. Of course. Dennis now focused a little too intently on his computer screen. He must’ve expected me to take one sip from the mug and spew all over my dress. A wet spot on the outfit that reeked of alcohol did not make the best impression for a job interview. Dennis apparently didn’t know that I liked whiskey. Not the first time he’d underestimated me, and it wouldn’t be the last.
With a newfound sense of righteousness, I popped a mouthwash tab and swished away as it dissolved. Then I swept past Dennis’s desk on the way to Jameson’s office for the interview. “Thanks for the liquid courage.”
“What are you talking about?”
It took effort not to respond that he knew exactly what I was talking about, but now wasn’t the time. When I reached Jameson’s office, I turned back to sneak a peek. Dennis now scowled at his computer screen, typing furiously. Excellent.
Then my eyes settled on Megan. She looked away quickly, but not before I caught the little smirk on her face. For a moment, I wondered if Dennis’s confusion had been genuine. Nah. She probably just liked seeing me flustered. Megan was snotty, but she wouldn’t…would she? She knew I didn’t like her. She didn’t like me.
It didn’t matter. I’d never be able to prove it, so I needed to let it go.
Shaking my head internally, I settled into the chair across from Jameson’s desk. “Good morning!”
My boss wasn’t much for small talk. Without preamble, he said, “Tell me, Shannon, what makes you the best choice for the executive game designer job?”
“Well, to start, I’ve got the experience,” I said. “I’ve been with this company six years, longer than almost all the other designers.”
“Except Dennis,” he said with a nod.
I knew he was going to say that. “True, but there’s more to experience than time in the position. Since I started here, I’ve worked on more games that made it to market than anyone else—including Dennis. My creations have won more awards. My games have strong rankings on BoardGameNerd.com, and I’m a hard worker.”
“Good points,” he said. “Why do you think your ideas have been so successful?”
“I study the markets.” Well, I hang out in a game store a lot. But that’s basically the same. The store’s owners had kids, as did Cody’s sister. Nathan had twenty-plus years of game-buying experience. People talked, I listened.
He smiled. “Very good. You clearly have been an asset to the company.”
“Thank you.”
“So tell me. You said you’ve got a new idea that should appeal to fathers in particular? Since so much of the marketing targets mothers, I like the idea of involving dads with purchasing decisions.”
Oh, no. I would never live down that stupid comment. If it cost me this promotion, I might never forgive myself. Hoping for inspiration, I closed my eyes. An image of Tyler swam across my vision. Of all the days to walk in on my roommate in the shower. I needed to be thinking about kids’ games and fathers, not the fascinating differences between people’s bodies.
“Shannon? Are you okay?”
“Yes, absolutely. I’m sorry.” I wiped my hands on my skirt. “After doing some further research, I’m afraid it doesn’t seem like such a good idea.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be shy. You know there are multiple ways to develop an idea. Let’s brainstorm.”
No. No, I didn’t want to brainstorm. Especially not when I had naked Tyler on the brain. “I don’t want to waste your time.”
“Nonsense! Megan tells me you love to bounce ideas off others, that it’s where the real magic happens.”
What a nightmare. Megan told her father… what? That Tyler was helping me work through a game idea in my own free time? Jameson knew most designers had their own side projects. Did she outright tell him I lied? Or just that I was a shy designer who needed a “nudge” to share my idea? Maybe I wasn’t giving her enough credit for sneakiness.
It didn’t matter. Whatever she’d said, I was in big trouble. My eyes cast about frantically for anything to say, but all I spotted was a billboard advertising chicken wings outside the office window. Which reminded me of the bar we went to after work that night. And what else bars served. The worst possible train of thought at the moment, but once it took off, I couldn’t stop it. My mind hurtled through the tunnel, barreling toward the light of an oncoming train.
Jameson continued to stare at me. The uncomfortable silence grew. I needed to say something, anything at all.
“I was thinking about a game…based around a barbeque? Where the players collect chicken wings and beer and then whoever gets the most wins.” Oh, dear. No, Shannon. Say anything but that. But I had the worst case of verbal diarrhea in history. My mouth wouldn’t stop moving, and these useless, awful words kept tumbling out. “They could use things like special outfits to boost the value of their food. You know, more colorful or…something.”
Stop talking! Stop talking now. What a total mess. With every word, I dug myself in deeper. But I couldn’t back down now, so I stared at my boss, meeting his gaze fearlessly while praying for the floor to open up and swallow me.
The light went out of his eyes. “Ah, yes. Yes, you’re right. That’s probably not a feasible game to develop right now. Not for children, anyway.”
I should’ve gone with the lecture on gender stereotypes. It couldn’t possibly have gone worse. Or maybe spilled the tea Dennis made me in Jameson’s lap. Also better than this meeting.
“No, sir,” I said. “Not a kids’ game. Sorry to disappoint.”
As he thanked me for coming in and we said our good-byes, I knew the one I’d disappointed was myself. One stupid offhand comment, and that promotion had slipped right through my fingers.
Chapter 9
“Winning isn’t everything. But it’s a lot.”––Cody
After my interview, all I wanted to do was go home, climb into bed, and pull the covers over my head, despite it being ninety degrees with 98 percent humidity. Unfortunately, instead, they announced another mandatory all-company meeting at the very end of the day.
I wondered if this was it, if Jameson had chosen someone to serve as his replacement. After the day I’d had, if he announced that someone else got the job, I might burst into tears. Could he possibly have made a decision so quickly? Maybe, if he already knew what he wanted to do before my meeting. Considering how badly our conversation had gone, I didn’t know if it would be better or worse to find out that Jameson had known who he wanted to pick before I talked to him.
When the time came, Ryan and I entered the room together for solidarity. I needed to be able to grab his hand at the moment of truth. We scoped out two seats together at the far side of the conference table.
“Do you really think he’d decide so fast?” he asked.
“I promise he’d decided before I left the room not to give me the job.”
I wanted to kick myself. Losing a job because of my merits—or the merits of the person who got hired—didn’t bother me. But the idea of being passed over for a promotion because I’d let Dennis get to me left a bad taste in my mouth. The only thing worse would be losing out because I didn’t happen to be the boss’s daughter.
A tall, silver-haired man with an extremely dark tan entered the room. He must be the BGG vice president, since I knew everyone who worked in this office. Sure enough, Jameson strode in directly behind him and the two of them went to the front of the room. They chatted while my coworkers trickled in. The moment the clock ticked over to nine-thirty, Jameson ended the conversation and addressed the room.
“Hi, everyone. I won’t take up too much of your time, because I know you’ve all got projects to work on. I just wanted to introduce Hans, who’ll be acting as a liaison between the different branches once the merger is complete.”
The stranger stepped forward. “Good morning! As Jameson said, I’m Hans and my official title is vice president of human resources. I’m here because BGG wants all company employees to work together to find the best possible team-building exercise before we combine our offices.”
Ryan and I exchanged a glance. Team-building, like a retreat? With trust falls and stuff? Dennis might catch me if I fell into him, but only so he could cop a feel. No, thanks.
Maybe I could get a doctor’s note to avoid the whole thing. Something vague but highly contagious. Mentally I reviewed all the conditions I could pretend to have that would get me out of team building. Lost in thought, I almost missed the rest of Hans’s announcement.
“In time, we’re planning to combine this office with our others. We want an environment where any BGG employee can walk into any branch, anywhere in the country, and feel right at home.”
Dennis raised his hand. “What do you want us to do?”
“Well, I’m glad you asked.” The clearly prepared, corny response made me smile. At least Hans was having fun with his job. “You’ll work in teams of two to create a team-building exercise that will improve communication among employees. I’ll be back next week for your presentations. Whichever team comes up with the best idea wins a trip to BoardGameNerd Con in Dallas at the end of next month. Paid registration, airfare, and hotel.”
OMG. My mouth fell open. I’d been dying to go to BoardGameNerd Con since I first heard of board game conventions a few years ago, but Nana’s health had prevented it. Now that she’d recovered, I could finally go, especially since Michael would be around. Unfortunately, I’d missed the registration for this year. The conference sold out about a week after tickets went on sale.
Gamers and game makers would gather together for three days to play, promote, market, research… a gamer’s dream, but also a game designer’s dream. It was as if the company had tailored this prize just for me. I needed to go. I could almost taste the airline cookies as Hans described the event for anyone who didn’t know.
This needed to happen.
I leaned over toward Ryan and whispered in his ear. “You and me. We’re doing this.”
“You think we can win?”
“Oh, yeah.”
At the front of the room, Dennis wore a smirk as if they’d already declared him the winner. Wiping that arrogant look from his face would be the cherry on top of my winning sundae. I couldn’t wait to get started, especially after sneaking a peek at Jameson.
The boss’s face said it all. When Ryan and I won this thing, I might actually manage to salvage my botched interview.
* * * *
Half an hour after work ended, my bravado evaporated. My overwhelming confidence upon hearing about the competition unfortunately had not translated into anything resembling a workable plan. I sat on my couch, staring into the space beyond my open laptop when footsteps clattered up the stairs. Keys jangled, and the door swung inward, but I barely looked up.
“Hey,” Tyler said.
I flashed him a distracted hello, then went back to glaring at my email.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Maybe. Sort of. I guess,” I said.
“Well, glad to clear that up.”
“Sorry. Work thing.”
“Can I help?”
I hesitated. Megan hadn’t shown the slightest bit of interest in Hans’s announcement. If she wanted to go to BoardGameNerd Con, I suspected she’d have gotten her father to pay for it. Meaning we weren’t in direct competition here.
Hedging, I said, “It’s just that, there’s this big competition at work—”
“Are you by any chance up against She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?”
“I don’t think so, but I can’t be positive. I’m not sure if I should talk about it.”
He said, “It’s cool. She didn’t say anything to me. If she does, I won’t discuss it with her. She needs to understand that you and I were friends first.”
The enormity of the relief that hit me took me a little by surprise. More than once I’d wondered what would happen if Tyler had to choose between me and Megan. Getting his help with a work project might be a small victory, but it reminded me that he cared.
“You look thrilled.”
“Sorry.” I wondered how to be diplomatic. “I guess it’s nice to see where I rank.”
Make Your Move Page 9