“Thank you for the compliment.”
“Where do you perform now?”
“I don’t.” I winced after I spoke, because I hadn’t expected my voice to sound so clipped. I immediately felt the need to apologize; he was being polite, and he seemed genuinely kind, far from the assertive man I’d suspected him to be. “Sorry. It’s just that I don’t play or perform anywhere these days.”
“Did I say something wrong, Aubrey?” His brows knitted speculatively.
He said my name far too casually, as if he’d always known me. I searched for a comfortable reply but couldn’t think of one.
Craning my neck to look through the subway car’s windows, I noticed that Grove Street was the next stop and prepared to move toward the doors, but not before trying to redeem myself.
“Thanks for your help. By the way, I love Douglas Adams. Forty-two is the meaning of life. Bye.” The words rushed past my lips as I tried to make my escape seem as friendly as possible.
Dashing past him off the train, I slipped into the crowd. I ran through the underground tunnel, aware that the time for my lunch break had ended a while ago. In an instant, I had become just another NYC commuter, minding my business and not anyone else’s. I couldn’t stop running, though. If I did, I’d come apart.
Aubrey
As I ran to the employee entrance, my thoughts were still on Paul Crane. Why did his name sound so familiar?
For well over a year, I hadn’t allowed myself to think about my time at Juilliard. I should have expected that even in a big city like NYC I’d run into someone that would bring up my past.
My exchange with Paul had freaked me out, but it was over now. It hadn’t gone badly on my end. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for Paul, because he’d ended up with his suit jacket creased up from his efforts, and maybe a book spoiler to boot. I chuckled to myself, lifting my mood.
A glance at my watch marked me twenty minutes late—not as bad as I’d thought, but not good if my bosses noticed. I already planned to work late tonight. I was about to walk into the building when my friend, Quinn, from programming emerged behind one of the massive potted plants.
His polished boot stepped in my way, blocking my path, as he clutched an e-cigarette between two fingers. He didn’t smoke but took fake smoke breaks as a protest to the unquestioned breaks that management permitted all smoking employees. His Emono Games T-shirt sometimes gave off a faint scent of the newly legal pungent variety of smokes.
“You still have interview hair, rookie.” His blond head gave a critical shake after giving me a good once-over. Quinn never dressed the part, but often expressed comments on clothing that showed he knew a lot about fashion.
My green eyes grew wide as I yanked away the decorative comb that held my long, dark-brown hair in a French twist. The last thing I needed was for someone at Emono to suspect I’d used my lunch to interview for another job. I gave my head a wild shake before taking the rainbow hair tie Quinn had fished off the end of his own long blond hair.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll give it back to you when I get upstairs.”
Quinn shrugged. “No worries, I have more. How did the interview go?”
I gave it a thumbs down, earning a nod that marked the end of our conversation for now. We headed into the Emono Games building, which occupied five floors at 99 Hudson. It was one of the newer luxurious concrete and glass skyscrapers stretching to defying heights along the waterfront.
Once we were on the elevator, I reached to press the button for the seventh floor, but Quinn pushed the sixth.
“Did you hear? We have another all-staff lottery meeting right now,” he said.
I tensed and fumbled through my bag, looking for my phone. Once in my hand I stared down at the screen. The message had come when I was on the train, but even if I’d known then, I wouldn’t have been ready. The lottery was Emono Games’ version of The Hunger Games, played in an all-staff meeting. They sent all employees to two conference rooms. Being assigned the “good” room meant you stayed on through the current project. In the other, you were told to pack up your things and leave immediately. Naturally, contracting jobs like mine were the most vulnerable.
“Don’t look so broken up,” Quinn said as we walked out of the elevator. “I checked the email group list. You’re in mine.” He was not just a programmer, but a good one. Programmers in our department were sacred. If they were in your all-staff meetings, it usually meant your job was safe and you could breathe a sigh of relief.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. Even though I was looking elsewhere for long-term work, I hoped to stay the duration of the Absolution project so I could earn the big bonuses promised to every employee, regardless of their employment status. I had been counting on them to bail me out of the financial hole I found myself in.
I let out a sigh of relief as Quinn and I blended into the crowd in the conference room that held over half of all Emono’s employees. We listened to a series of announcements, recognizing the delay for what it was: time. It gave those who had to clear their desks a chance to leave without lowering staff morale. We were the lucky ones… at least until the next round of cuts came around.
When the meeting ended, we took the stairs instead of waiting in line with the groups by the elevators. I turned down Quinn’s offer for a coffee and continued to my office, noting the now-empty cubicles and offices I passed along the way. I wasn’t social, but I knew there was a cut in almost every department except for mine—audio—but that could just mean they hadn’t decided who they wanted to let go of yet.
After dumping my backpack by the door, I immediately sat at my desk to put on my headphones and pour myself into my assigned work. Everything in the game needed sound, and I was one of the five people tasked with mixing and mastering the feature effects, the vocals and the music. Today I had to come up with the sound of a generator revving up, a dog barking in the distance, combat boots running through puddles, and rain beating down on a tin roof. Rain was complicated; it would take some time to blend it into all the other sounds already present.
With this in mind, I started researching the source material in our sound library. Later, I went to the staff kitchenette to refill my coffee mug and noticed a group gathered in the office of our audio lead manager, Logan.
My stomach knotted. Was there another meeting? Why wasn’t I invited?
“Aubrey.” I turned around to find Logan directly behind me. He had on a suit I hadn’t ever seen him wear; his bushy beard neatly combed. His long face had a perplexed look as he stared at me. “I heard you left for the day.”
“No,” I replied. “I was working in my office.”
“We have an important meeting and presentation today. It started at one o’clock,” Logan said, to my surprise. “Ryan sent out a message to the team. Didn’t you receive it?”
Saying Ryan’s name seemed to conjure him up. The scent of his overpowering cologne arrived where we stood a few seconds before he did. He’d also changed into a suit, though his was of winter wool and too hot for our summer.
“So you haven’t gone home,” Ryan said with a fake shock in his voice. “I told Logan you had. No one has seen you since before you left for lunch and that was almost…” He checked his watch. “Two hours ago.”
Logan took the bait and frowned at me. I quickly sought to explain.
“I took an extra twenty minutes at lunch, which I plan to stay later to make up. But the all-staff meeting notice came in when I returned, and I went to the meeting. I’ve been working in my office for the rest of the time. If I’d known about our meeting, I’d have been there—”
“Never mind,” Logan said cutting me off. “You’re here now and that’s fine.”
I took a deep breath and tried to center myself. That is, until Ryan added, “You could’ve texted, and we’d have told you what to do. Everyone else in the department made it.”
“True,” Logan agreed. He turned back towards me. “If you’re running late or s
omething comes up, you must send a text to let us know ahead of time.”
I had to accept that was the end of our discussion. That would have been easy enough, except for Ryan’s now smug face behind him. He seemed to delight in making me look bad. Honestly, I didn’t care much about what he thought of me personally, but I cared when he shined a spotlight on mistakes to the boss while I was still a temporary employee. I made it a habit of not making them, but even little mistakes added up, especially when Ryan was around to keep score. If I had too many mistakes attached, I’d never get the permanent job, or even worse, they’d let me go before the game’s release.
Logan was ready to move on and motioned for the two of us to follow him back toward his office as he spoke. “The meeting is already in progress, as I’ve mentioned. We’d just taken a break and are ready to start the short presentation.”
He held his door open for me and Ryan, closing the door behind us. Inside his office were the last two people I’d thought I’d see. The first was none other than Mr. Emono Games himself, Gary Sato, standing out in his tailored navy suit and leather loafers. The second was, to my bafflement, Paul Crane. He was shocked too, if I’d correctly read the stare he gave before settling his face back into its regular exquisiteness. He somehow looked even better than before. His jacket seemed creased on purpose, and it wouldn’t surprise me if a few of the guys in the office tried to replicate it.
As shocked as I was to see him, I couldn’t help but wonder, what was he doing here?
The buzz level was high. The rest of the staff present included Yasmine, from HR, and three other audio people in my department all sitting together with drinks and snacks in their hands—none of whom had told me about the meeting; not even Daniel, who was a fellow contractor. So much for comradery.
I shook off the initial spark of irritation at their oversight and carried one of the empty seats over to join the semi-circle around Logan’s workspace. It was then I noticed the security guard and several power-suited men from the board seated at a table with a half-eaten buffet of catered food from an upscale deli.
Logan took his chair in the front. “Aubrey was in her office working,” he announced in a light tone.
All attention came my way, and unprepared for the sudden spotlight, I didn’t appear breezy as I’d have liked. In fact, I adjusted my glasses and gave a quick wave to them all. “Hello.”
“I’ll do a quick catch up for her,” Logan said, using me as a springboard into his next announcement. “Paul Crane is here with us today.”
“Don’t mind me, I’m just visiting,” Paul deadpanned.
They all laughed, longer and louder than the comment deserved.
“We hope for more than a visit,” Gary said when the laughter ended. “We asked Mr. Crane, who’s recently completed his and Recon’s Grammy and Billboard Music Award-winning ‘Live in the City’, to create the soundtrack for Absolution.”
My eyes grew wide behind my glasses. Paul Crane’s name finally registered in my brain. He didn’t appear like the clean-shaven, suited prince of media promotions, but it was him—the music producer and prodigy Paul Crane. He was a Who’s Who in modern electro-dance, nu-disco, and also had a name in rap and funk. There had been no escape from hearing Recon’s music this year, nor his dance music for Eagles Credit Card commercials. Paul was huge in contemporary, but in my previous classical music world, Paul was our Mozart on the piano.
A memory of Juilliard came, and I stared at my hands. The calluses on my fingers were gone, but I still remembered the pressure on them from holding the strings of my violin I used to play. And to think Paul Crane admired my playing. It floored me.
Soundtracks for games were common for successful brands, though not often did companies have recognized artists composing them. Without a doubt, getting Paul Crane to do the music could bring a lot of attention and buzz to Absolution and make it stand out amongst the other first-person shooter combat games.
The projector ran through slides as Logan commented on the game. Afterwards, he led a brief on the games progress. I tried hard not to stare at Paul, but he had the arresting pull of a magnet, that constantly drew everyone in. Every time he looked my way, his intense blue-green eyes peered as if right into my soul, making my pulse beat faster. It was unsettling and thrilling—not to mention distracting.
Knowing as much, I tried to ignore him… and for a few minutes I’d succeed, only for my gaze to fall right back on him.
It wasn’t just his looks. He had charm. He was smart and well prepared. Every comment he made about the game showed he was well-versed in the technical aspects of the artwork and craft used to create the scenes.
Okay, admittedly I was pitifully star-struck. Though the likelihood of me working with him was zero. The stars worked exclusively with the supervisors. But then, out of nowhere, Paul announced, “I’m familiar with Aubrey’s work.”
Logan sat up further in his chair and showed a genuine interest in me. “I wasn’t aware you knew Paul Crane.”
I kept my face expressionless, but my eyes met Paul’s with a plea for him not to say anything else. I’d never mentioned attending Juilliard, and now it seemed awkward to bring it up. My bosses, or my colleagues even, would question why I had to leave. Something I’d told no one.
“Oh, he saw me at college years ago,” I said briskly. “It’s nothing.”
“Attending Juilliard wasn’t nothing.” Paul’s words were a reprimand, and I quickly turned my head toward him. He held my gaze intently, and in his stare, I caught a glimpse of authority behind his laid-back veil. I squirmed a little in my seat. The start of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Was he amused?
“You went to Juilliard?” Gary was now studying me as if he’d never seen me before.
“Most of us in the department have musical backgrounds.” Ryan snatched his focus off me and onto Gary, while offering a smile to downplay the edge in his voice. “I don’t mean to sound glib, but you didn’t graduate from Juilliard, did you, Aubrey?” His smile grew bigger. He had a cunning way of playing the roles of predator and savior at once.
“No, I didn’t graduate per se,” I replied. “but I attended for two years.”
Everyone went quiet because I had more pizzazz in my past than expected. Finally, Logan broke the silence to bring the Emono world back in order. I couldn’t help but think it was because none of them found me deserving of this much attention.
“Okay. That’s a good demonstration of the talent we have at Emono Games,” Logan said, moving the conversation forward. “We have an impressive team with a variety of skills and experience. Twenty years in gaming between me and Ryan alone.” His explanation placed his experience higher than my own and was enough for everyone to dismiss me.
As the discussion shifted back to the game, including a video highlighting our most developed levels, I sighed heavily. I couldn’t help but feel I’d missed the opportunity for them to see me as someone significant—although thoughts like mine were born of pride and dreams. The reality was I needed them much more than they needed me.
Then I heard my audio section from Outbreak at the end. The sound effects of the explosion and interlude of music had been used and highlighted. My work was the showpiece!
I sat up taller and smirked over at Ryan. Take that weasel.
“That concludes our presentation,” Logan said, turning off the video and drawing my attention back to him. “We hope what we have will give you some ideas of what we want to achieve with the soundtrack for the game.”
“I have forty-two ideas already on the go,” Paul answered cryptically.
Everyone but me laughed. Then someone out of my line of sight blurted, “The meaning of life.”
“Yes,” Paul said. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.” His eyes went directly to me as a mischievous grin spread across his face. They also read The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, then.
I bit my lip and gave an almost imperceptible shake of my head, becau
se I didn’t want him to mention holding me up on the train. Our interchange surely wouldn’t do more than remind Logan that I had come back late. Please don’t tell them, I thought again when it looked like he would.
Thankfully, he kept silent. That was, until Gary said, “You can work in any way you choose.”
“Good. Aubrey would be my choice as point-of-contact for the project,” Paul said.
A hush filled the room for a split second. Gary leaned over and spoke in Logan’s ear for his take on Paul’s proposal. No owner of a company knew all the goings-on between staff members, or if someone like me, who hadn’t been there long, could deserve a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Ryan’s face reddened. He scowled at me, even as he spoke up, “I’ve been here for years and worked on audio for all of Emono’s triple-A title games,” he said, his voice rising. His eyes narrowed at me. “I was in on the planning of the Absolution project from the start. Sorry, but Aubrey’s only a contractor. We wouldn’t want to waste anyone’s time, not to mention the extensive time it would take to fix her errors within our projected timeframe and allowance.”
I ground my teeth as a flush crept across my cheeks. I’d let him get away with highlighting one mistake to Logan, but my pride wouldn’t allow him to label my work as inferior. It was a fine line to navigate, but I took the high road, with caveats.
“I’m confused at your assessment of my work,” I said adding an incredulity to my expression to make me appear genuinely perplexed. “I’m meticulous on all assignments. Every scene I’ve worked on never had a critique of extensive errors, and I have never handed in an assignment past deadline—”
Logan interrupted me, ignoring that Ryan had brought this up. “This is a client presentation, not the time to bring up issues in the department.”
Ryan paled, letting me know that my words had landed and hit.
“True,” I agreed. “However, we were discussing project management and Ryan pointed out things I’ve never heard before regarding my work. I have never handed in anything late or had significant issues with the final delivery. As for project management, I’d have to agree that he’s right. While I have music production experience, I’m on a contract position here. I agree that someone senior in our department should lead Mr. Crane’s project.” My statement was enough to roll the negative tide away from me.
Unfinished Sympathy (Absolution Book 1) Page 2