Gamer Girl (15 page)

They got seated just in time. The house lights went down and
Madame Butterfly
began. Given what Eamon had revealed, Sarah did her best not to cry, but when Butterfly appeared on stage, child in arms, singing
One Beautiful Day,
Sarah burst into tears, along with half the female audience. This was accompanied by soft groans from the guys. By the time Butterfly sang her suicide aria, Sarah had gone through all her Kleenex. Eamon had silently passed Sarah a handkerchief.

The com
pany got a standing ovation. As they made their way out of the theater and into the night, Andrea and Sarah walked ahead of the guys, who were managing on their own.

Andrea sniffed. “Bastards!”

“Yeah. Bastards!” Sarah affirmed, wiping her nose again.

Andrea pulled out Martin’s flask. “I need a drink.” She took a deep slug of booze
. Andrea’s eyes were ringed with the remains of her mascara. She held out the flask for Sarah, but Sarah shook her head.

“Can’t. I’m the designated driver.”

“I am as well, but we aren’t leaving just yet, you’ll see.”

Martin and Eamon walked behind them, heads down.

By that time the rest of the choir caught up to them.  “Come on, we’re going to Rudy’s to wash the taste of suicide out of our mouths.”

Most of the men were almost sober by now
. Sarah wanted to go home, but Eamon was all for going with the crowd. So, Sarah drove and just followed the herd.

Rudy’s turned out to be a bar with a large private room in the back.
The public area was pretty quiet for a Saturday night. Sarah suspected that the locals knew enough to stay away. The private room had a cash bar, and flasks began to appear once more. Bowing to the inevitable, Sarah gave Eamon back his flask.

The party really got started then. Someone must have dumped a hundred bucks into the juke box because music poured continuously from its depths. The guys sang to most of it, some of them danced to it
or tried to dance.

Then, someone got the idea to revisit some of their concert repertoire. The jukebox was unplugged and the guys began to murder some truly marvelous songs.

When they began a ritual slaughter of one of her favorite madrigals, Sarah could stand it no longer. “Stop, in the name of heaven, stop! Orlando de Lassus is rolling in his grave!”

Martin stood up and looked at Eamon. “Ho, McClintock!” He shook his
empty flask and turned it upside down. “Very good party, but no whiskey—we go home!”

Eamon turned his flask upside down as well. “No whiskey—
we go home.”

“Thank God,” Sa
rah whispered. She gathered their things, and guided Eamon out to the car.  He was back to a serious wobble again, so she propped him up against the side of the car and said, “Keys!”

His response was an indistinct grunt.

Sarah didn’t have time for anything but getting back to Kansas City. She fished around in his trouser pockets until she found his keys. Then she opened the passenger door and shoved him inside. It took her almost five minutes to get Eamon buckled up, because he was sitting on the buckle. She finally managed to pull it out from underneath him. By this time he was semi-conscious.

Sarah got in on the driver’s side, adjusted the seat, the mirror and then took a deep, deep breath.
Sarah checked out his music selection on his very fancy car stereo. One of his playlists was named “Sarah.” Curious, she chose it. She liked the songs. She fired up the car and headed home. Eamon was, for all intents and purposes, out for the count, so the trip home, while long and lonely as she sped down the I-29 toward the City was at least peaceful.

Sarah debated whether to go to his place or hers.
What was funny awhile ago was now a giant pain in her neck. Sarah decided to take him to her apartment. First of all, she didn’t have enough money with her for a cab to take her from his place to hers, and second, she didn’t want to be responsible for his car tomorrow. She’d take him to her place. When he woke up in the morning, he’d be sober enough to get his own ass home!

It took a lot of shaking, but she finally got him awake enough to make it from the parking lot to her door
, but then he needed to pee. Sarah stayed with him while he used her bathroom. She didn’t trust him not to pass out again. Once he’d managed that, she steered him toward her bed and let go. He fell back, and she methodically stripped him down to his underwear.

She pulled the comforter and top sheet out from underneath him.
All the handling had roused him a little. “Hey, sexy girl…come here.”

“Eamon, just go to sleep. No sex, do you hear me? No sex, just sleep,” Sarah insisted.

“’Night.” Eamon turned on his side and went sleepy-bye.

Sarah hung up his tux
, took off her own gown and got into some sweats and a sports bra. She stood at the foot of her bed hands on her hips and thought how sadly ironic it was that the man of her dreams was finally in her bed and totally incapacitated. You had to be careful what you wished for, they said. It seems they were right.

She grabbed his keys, her pillow and her extra comforter and headed for the couch. Sarah put his keys, some ibuprofen,
a bottle of the pink stuff for his stomach and a big glass of water on her kitchen counter. Then, she brushed her teeth, washed her face and went to sleep on the sofa.

Sauce for the Goose

Eamon opened his eyes and realized that he didn’t know where the hell he was. He saw his tuxedo hung up by a closet with his shoes and socks placed immediately underneath. He needed to pee, so he sat up. The pain in his head was so intense that he was certain his skull was about to implode. Then his stomach insisted that it join in the riot that was going on in his body.

Eamon saw what he hoped was a bathroom door and struggled to reach it before he let loose with what little was left in his stomach.
When the retching stopped, he went back to the original plan and relieved himself. There was an orange evening gown he’d missed on his way into the bathroom,
the
orange evening gown. “Shit,” he whispered. There was no one in the bed, but that didn’t mean much.

Stumbling into Sarah’s living room h
e saw the water, the pills and his keys on the kitchen counter beyond. Eamon went over and took the pills, chugged the pink stuff, drank the glass of water and prayed that it would all stay down.

“Hi, lover.”

Eamon jumped and turned around.

Sarah was sitting up on her couch, her comforter clutched around her breasts. “How’s your love machine, baby?”

“W-what?” Eamon stuttered.

“Aw, sweetie, don’t you remember?
Last night you called me Sexy Sarah and offered me your love machine. You admired my ass. A lot.” Sarah had the distinct pleasure of watching the color drain from Eamon’s face.

“But, but you’re on the couch…”

“Well only cause you wouldn’t give me the dry side, lover. I mean, after three times…it does get a little…moist.”

Sarah kept that,
I have you by your unprotected nads
expression on her face as she spoke. It was strangely satisfying to watch him squirm.

“You’re welcome
to take a shower. I could even join you.”

“No, thanks
. I’d better get dressed.” Eamon told her. He scurried to the bedroom and closed the door.

Sarah got up, made coffee and was drinking a cup when Eamon came out of the bedroom in his somewhat
-worse-for-wear tuxedo.

His expression was grim. “The bed’s dry.”

“Made you look,” Sarah responded with more anger than she intended.

“What the hell does that mean?” Eamon asked
, his relief feeding his anger for believing her.

“I’m not stupid. Naïve
? Yes. Stupid? No. I realized that the only reason you took me out was to see what you could learn about Rainwhite from me before the takeover. You had a good laugh about that, right? But for a moment, this morning, you actually believed that you might have slept with the naïve little idiot from the coast. Bet that scared the hell out of you, to think that your standards could sink so low. After all, what would the guys think?”

Eamon started to say something, but Sarah was on a roll. She stood up. “I can understand why
Danielle didn’t want to go last night. Babysitting a bunch of drunken men revisiting their misspent youth is a bitch! Besides, bringing in the corporate serf just meant you didn’t have to worry about not measuring up in the sack.”

Sarah stopp
ed. She put her hands to her forehead and tried to breathe. What was wrong with her? Why was she spouting this stuff? She tried to calm down. She failed.

Sarah
ran to the bedroom and brought the dress out along with the shoes and purse, encased in a Wal-Mart bag. “Take these.” She held them out.

Eamon took hold of them and then dropped them on the floor. “I don’t want them. T
hrow them away. Do whatever your little heart desires with them.” He walked out the door.

Sarah waited until she couldn’t hear him any longer, then she picked up the dress and carried it back into her bedroom.

She
had a good cry and when it was over she pulled out her computer and went to work on the project. The sooner she had his decision about the DLC, the better. Sarah almost hoped he’d say no. Then she could quit with honor and get the hell out of his life.

Monday morning, she walked into the office in a perfectly tailored navy blue suit with a white silk shell underneath. The skirt came exactly to the top of her knee; her navy pumps had two inch heels, high enough to be feminine, low enough to mean business. Her usually Emo hair was combed into a business like style. The presentation was ready at Rainwhite.

The t
eam was ready. She was ready. Sarah emailed Eamon asking him to meet them at two o’clock in the main conference room at Rainwhite.

Eamon, Martin and a man Sarah hadn’t yet met came through the doors of the conference room at precisely two o’clock.

Quick introductions were made. The team learned that the stranger was Dan Clemons, the CFO for Gryphon World, Inc.

The team went to work.
They began with the storyboards and explained how this new large quest line would be melded into the story, how the companion choices would arise from the cities and towns already created. The beauty of the plan was that this new quest required very little in terms of new maps or new environments. There were just two, both of them already developed and both quite spectacular.

The art team showed the concepts for the new characters, their look, their hair and how this displayed their individual personalities.

The programmers took over at this point and gave the three men a tour of how the AI would work, how the AI could be programmed by the player so that they could customize their companions’ play styles to their own.

Sarah watched Eamon lean forward in his chair at this point and she knew that this part particularly caught his fancy.

Finally they came to what would be the largest expense: the voice acting. There was a lot of dialogue. To make this work it would all have to be voiced.

Sarah did the close on the presentation. “
Much of this has already been developed and is ready to use. You paid for it when you purchased the company, all copyrights and licenses are Gryphon’s. The largest expense will be the voice acting and the marketing. I gave you the statistics on how many dedicated
Wickerworld
players are out there. If we bring the DLC in on budget and on time, we’ll make a comfortable profit.” Sarah looked at the three men. “Any questions?” She asked.

That was when the real fun began. For m
ore than an hour, Eamon, Martin and Dan asked very pertinent and challenging questions. The team had good, honest answers for them. If it was something they didn’t know, they acknowledged it.

F
inally, Eamon stood up. “Thank you ladies and gentlemen. This is an interesting proposal, and you’ve done an excellent job of presenting it. Leave your stuff here. We will have to mull it over, run our own numbers and make a decision.” He held a short conversation with Martin and Dan, turned back to the team and said, “You’ll have an answer for you by Friday, Monday at the latest.” He looked at them all. “Good work. Take the rest of the afternoon off, except you, Miss Adams. I need to see you back at Gryphon world in an hour. Go on, guys. Go home or whatever. Be back in the morning.”

Sarah went back to the main office and caught up on her other duties while she waited for Eamon’s return. He sent an instant me
ssage saying he would be delayed for thirty minutes and to wait for him.

“So how did it go?
” Nicole asked, once things settled down a bit.

“Hard to say r
eally. They were very impressed with your art work. If they choose to go forward on this idea, I’m going to ask that you be allowed to come on board the team, at least part-time. If they say no, then I’m going to take your work into Eamon and demand that he give you a chance,” Sarah said.

“Really?” Nicole’s eyes grew bright and she jumped up from her chair and paced back and forth a little. Sarah could see that she was running the possibilities through her head. Nicole sat back down. “Wow!”

About that time Eamon came through the door on his way to his office. “Give me ten,” he told Sarah.

Sarah waited ten minutes and then knocked and went into his office.

Eamon had taken the time to change out of his business suit into jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. He was by his windows, looking out at the city and the river just beyond. He turned to watch her. “Have a seat, wherever you like.”

Sarah sat down in one of the conference chairs
and put her pad in front of her. When he said nothing, Sarah spoke. “What can I help you with, Mr. Byrne?”

Eamon came nearer the table. “I wanted to apologize for Saturday night. Obviously I offended you in some way.” He paused and looked at her, waiting.

Sarah realized that he didn’t understand why she’d been angry. “May I speak freely?”

“Of course.”

Sarah stood up and looked at the floor. She organized her thoughts. “Look, Mr. Byrne, had I been your date Saturday night, it would have been funny. You were drunk, but you were a big kid, teasing, having fun, being mischievous. As your date, I would have appreciated your allowing your naughty teenager to come out and play. You need more time to be silly and to have some fun.”

Eamon had turned back toward the windows. She couldn’t see his face, but she saw the red move up his neck and knew that he was embarrassed.

Sarah took a deep breath. “But I wasn’t your date, Mr. Byrne. I was your employee, one you ordered to accompany you to that event. Your behavior Saturday night put me in a very awkward position, one that I did not appreciate. What you did was disrespectful to me as your corporate serf.” Sarah walked over to the window and stared out at the skyline.

Eamon looked over at her. “You are right, Miss Adams. Just let me say that I did not intend to do what I did. I
meant to remain sober. I should not have taken advantage of your willingness to be the designated driver, at least not without warning you first and giving you an informed choice.”

Sarah relaxed a little. She drew a breath and said,
“Then let me apologize in turn for my behavior the next morning. I am quite certain that you had no desire to be the target of a prank, particularly one that was so obviously distasteful to you.”

Eamon shook his head.
“No….” He sighed. “Miss Adams, I’ll be careful not to put you in such an awkward position in the future.”

“And I won’t give you a heart attack by pretending something happened that didn’t,” Sarah promised.

Eamon leaned against the window and crossed his arms. Sarah saw a small twitch of a grin before he added, “You did make me look.”

Now it was Sarah’s turn to look away and blush.

“Thank you, Miss Adams—“

“There is one thing more, Mr. Byrne. You
won’t want to hear this; but as a paralegal who worked for a large corporate firm, I’ve seen some very contentious cases go all the way to trial over silly things like
sexiest babe
memos in a company.”

Eamon started to speak
, but Sarah put up her hands. “Hear me out, please.”

“Okay
.”

“I took it as a compliment that the guys think I’m hot. But there are women who take
offense at being considered the sexiest babe at a company. If your staff is using your email, instant messaging, skype to promote, vote and comment, then it appears as if your company knows and approves of the sexual discrimination. Martin must have warned you about this. You should take him seriously. Title VII lawsuits, can cost a fortune. Your people need to be reminded that they cannot use company time, or company equipment to compare women’s bottoms in tight jeans.”

Sarah walked closer to Eamon who was looking out the window once more. “Mr. Byrne, I love Gryphon World
, and I love working here. So you see I have a keen interest in helping this company. I don’t want anything as stupid and pointless as a Title VII lawsuit to ruin what you’ve built.”

Eamon
turned around, leaned against the glass, arms still crossed, his expression carefully neutral. “I value your input, Miss Adams. Take advantage of my offer to go home early.”

“Yes, sir.”

Eamon watched Sarah leave. He turned back to the window but he didn’t see much of the scene outside.

If I’d been your date…
Sarah had said it more than once. Eamon realized that he’d treated her as his date the entire evening. The people at the reunion were some of his closest friends and he’d consistently introduced her as a member of the community choir. He remembered standing with his arm around her waist, holding her close, a clear sign of proprietorship. He had to admit, he hadn’t wanted any of the other guys getting ideas.

Those few dates they’d had—he’d liked her a lot, really liked her, but Eamon
believed that she was someone he could easily forget. The trouble was Sarah stayed with him, like the bottom note of a fine perfume. He’d brought her here to be a catspaw, but she’d already become an asset to his company. He’d meant to teach her a lesson, but now it was more about seeing what she could become.

Th
e woman who gave him hell the other morning was angry, but confident and unafraid to speak her mind. The Sarah he’d met a few weeks ago was hidden, withdrawn. Sarah had been living in a controlled world that could never really hurt her. Now she was taking risks, making judgments, taking a stand. He was watching her unfold, open up; hell, he was watching her blossom. He had made his fortune creating things, bringing things from conception to fruition. He was intensely interested in seeing what Sarah would become. She’d certainly gone from pretty cute to smokin’ hot, and he had a hunch that it was only the beginning. Who knew that the girl next door could pack such a punch?