Marny (10 page)

It had started with an ancient Pac-Man
machine Durham’s dad excavated from the back of Dur’s grandpa’s
garage. They’d decided to fix it up and play, and Nyx had suggested
they do it live, on his Flail channel.

People had started to notice and send money,
plus requests for other games and setups. Nyx and Durham had done
some serious digging around on the ’net and in local junk stores to
find outdated equip and obscure games. Their few dozen subscribers
had turned to hundreds, and then thousands.

“Too bad your popularity has peaked,” Emmie
said, in a fake-sympathetic voice.

“Nothing lasts forever,” Nyx said, taking a
bite of salad.

“And you’re on to the next project,” his dad
said. “I’m proud of you. You’re going to learn a lot. Let me know
if you need any more business advice.”

It was a sincere—and valuable—offer. Charles
Spenser had started and sold a lot of businesses over the years.
Even though they didn’t live extravagantly, Nyx knew his parents
had over a million credits stashed away in investments.

“Thanks,” Nyx said. “Your help on the initial
plan was great. But I really want to do this on my own.”

So here he was, standing in his new building,
about to embark on an adventure even bigger than his dad suspected.
Because how did you explain magical game interfaces on a business
plan without sounding like a complete nerf? He’d glossed over those
parts, saying stuff about state-of-the-art immersive tech, and
mixed reality projectors and smoke machines and things.

At least Emmie had backed him up. For a
price.

“Let me help,” she’d said when he’d first
told her what he was planning. Not that he’d intended to tell her,
but she was relentless, and he’d ended up confiding his plans just
to shut her up.

“No helping,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes in that way that meant
trouble. “If you don’t involve me, I’ll tell Dad that you’re
lying.”

“I’m not lying,” he lied.

“Do you really want him to know that your
entire business plan is based on some magical overlap thing you
can’t even explain?”

“I can explain it.” Sort of. Okay, not
really.

She sniffed and tossed her teal-dipped hair
over her shoulder. “Right. I’d like to see that show. Let me know,
and I’ll bring the popcorn.”

“Great idea. I’ll sell tickets.”

“Really, Nyx.” Her voice went serious as she
dropped the annoyed-little-sister routine. “I can back you up about
the fake tech stuff you’re telling Dad. Plus it will be good to
have somebody around who knows the actual truth.”

He blew a breath out his nose and regarded
her for a minute, but in his gut he knew she was right.

From then on she’d been helpful, down to the
whole managing-the-juice-bar idea. Of course, she’d also made him
agree to pay her way over minimum wage. He’d put up a token
resistance and pretended to be outraged, but it was actually a good
deal for him. There were financial loopholes around hiring a
relative in a family business—loopholes their Dad had been using
for years to employ his kids. Both Nyx and Emmie had learned a lot
about business, whether they’d wanted to or not.

Tomorrow she’d come in and start getting the
juice bar ready. The club’s grand opening was in just ten days. He
knew that was pushing it, but he’d already printed up old-school
flyers, and hired a digi-ad firm to send auto-notifications to all
open messagers and tablets in the area and launch the club’s social
media campaign.

In addition to all that promo, Durham was
fine with mentioning the club on their Flail channel. Nyx didn’t
expect all of their hundred thousand fans worldwide to attend the
opening, but there were probably some locals who’d come check it
out.

“Hello?” A woman in a brown jumpsuit stuck
her head through the main warehouse door. “Delivery for Onyx
Spenser. This the place?”

That must be the stuff he’d ordered for his
bedroom.

Nyx went out to help unload the truck parked
outside. The two delivery people handled the big boxes, and he
directed them through the echoing space and through the hall
leading to the living area.

“First room on the right, past the
bathrooms,” he called.

Ten minutes later, surrounded by empty
cardboard and half-assembled furniture, he wished he’d made Emmie
come in early. Assembling a bedframe by himself was a pain, and he
didn’t want to bother the construction guys. They had bigger jobs
to take care of.

It took him way longer than he wanted, but he
finally finished putting everything together. He scooted the
mattress over and let it fall onto the frame, then opened the boxes
of bedding and tossed the sheets and covers on his new bed. Nothing
would stop him from spending the night in his own place, especially
after he’d been so insistent about it with his mom.

Besides, he had some experimenting to do.

At first, he’d thought about embedding some
of the Feyland leaves into the building itself, but quickly
discarded that idea. He wanted to be able to change things around,
not be stuck with the enchanted forest forever. Though it was a
good place to start. The trick was going to be lining the anchors
up correctly so that the forest started in the warehouse, facing
the front door.

He’d figured out in his bedroom that no
matter which way he positioned the forest, it never showed from the
outside of his house. Once, though, he’d had a close call with the
meadow spilling out into the hallway. He’d barely destroyed the
blue flower anchor before his mom got to the top of the stairs.

Right now, though, the construction crew was
still at work, and he was hungry. Nyx pulled on his black jacket
and headed out, waving to the workers as he went. There was a good
noodle shop a couple blocks north of him, on the edge of downtown.
He had the feeling he’d be eating a lot of ramen in the coming
weeks.

The air smelled of machine oil and the dusty
end of a warm day. Ahead of him the skyline of Newpoint sparked
silver and gold, the skyscrapers catching the setting sun. The
Intertech building rose above them, dominating the view. He idly
counted floors, until he lost track somewhere in the forties. What
did they even do in there all day?

In middle school, his class had taken a field
trip to the building. He didn’t remember much about the trip except
for long, clean hallways, a bunch of offices, and Durham getting in
trouble for trying to sneak away from the back of the tour.

Dur hadn’t gotten far, though, before the
security cameras spotted him and a burly guy had escorted him back
to the class.

“What’d you do that for?” Nyx had
whispered.

“I wanted to see the whole thing,” Durham had
whispered back. “I hear there’s like a city up on the top floors.
Someday I want to work for Intertech.”

“No way. Not me.”

Already, Nyx had discovered
a taste for running his own projects. An
entrepreneurial mindset
, his dad
called it. The idea of going to work for a corporate behemoth and
being enclosed in a giant building all day held no
appeal.

Durham, though, had tried for the big-deal
Intertech internship, but hadn’t gotten in. Apparently they were
notoriously hard to land. Nyx had commiserated, but in his opinion
his friend would be better off heading to the fancy college he’d
gotten into than shackling himself to a desk job at an early age.
Even if there was a secret city at the top of the skyscraper.

Nyx gave the gleaming building a last glance,
then ducked into the busy, cramped restaurant. The smell of garlic
and a cloud of steam welcomed him as he took an empty chair at the
counter.

It didn’t matter what happened in the city’s
tallest skyscraper. Beyond keeping his tablet connected to the
’net, the doings of Intertech had no bearing on his life. He had
much more important things to spend his time thinking about—like
how he was going to install hidden compartments in the walls
without the construction guys noticing.

June 22

B
y
the end of the day, Marny’s happiness was overlaid with a fog of
exhaustion. Her mind felt stretched in all kinds of new ways from
the brainstorming she’d done with the team and the possible
projects they’d come up with for her to pursue.

She leaned against the elevator wall as it
went up, her heels burning in the new shoes she’d bought yesterday.
Hopefully, her duffel bag had arrived, or she’d be hand-washing her
blouse and under things in the sink, and wearing the same clothes
tomorrow. Classy.

In another week or so she could probably get
away with her Converse high-tops and nicer new jeans, but for her
second day on the job, she didn’t want to risk it. Even though she
generally didn’t care much what people thought about her, at
Intertech it was clear that employees—and interns—had to play by
the corporate rules. At least until they learned how to bend
them.

The elevator dinged and let
her out on the fortieth floor. Marny slipped off her shoes and
carried them down the hall, the carpet springy under her stockinged
feet. She’d change, make a cup of tea, and enjoy some of the
coconut bread her mom had sent with her. The thought of it warmed
her heart, and she released a low breath. At least she could
taste
home, even if she
wasn’t there.

Loud, thumping music from Wil’s room greeted
her when she stepped into the apartment, followed by Anjah yelling
at him through her closed door to turn it down. Maybe having
roomies wasn’t that different from living with her siblings, after
all.

She glanced around the entry and living room,
but there was no sign of her duffel. Damn.

It wasn’t in her bedroom either. Not that
she’d expected to see the lumpy green bag there, but still. How
long was it going to take the bus company to find one misplaced
piece of luggage?

She needed to call Intertech’s front desk
again to ask if it had come in yet, and also the bus people to ask
them what the heck.

At lunch, she’d taken advantage of the
hour-long break to run down to the retail store on the corner and
buy a nice big mug for her tea habit, plus some specialty blends.
She went into the kitchen, grabbed her fresh box of lavender mint
tea, and kicked the kettle on to boil. The cheerful red and orange
pattern on her new mug made her smile.

Wil’s music got louder as he opened his door
and ambled out. He was wearing a worn T-shirt and sweats—clearly
sharing Marny’s impulse to shed her work clothes as quickly as
possible.

“Hey there,” he said. “Good day?”

“Yeah, I learned a ton. You?”

“It was great.” He smiled, his eyes lighting
up. “Man, I feel like I finally found my tribe. We speak the same
language, you know?”

Marny nodded. Although she hadn’t completely
bonded with her supervisors, she already felt friendly with Angie
and Ser Jellicoe.

“Want a cup of tea?” she asked, lifting her
mug and inhaling the minty steam.

“Nah, I’m good. Had a snack earlier. I’ll
just grab a soda and get my simming on.” He opened the fridge.

“Could you grab my coconut bread while you’re
in there?” Marny asked. “It’s wrapped in foil.”

“Uh.” Wil closed the door and turned, soda
can in his hand. “That was yours?”

“Yes.” She didn’t like the guilty look on his
face.

“I’m sorry, dude. It’s all gone.”

“It’s
what
?” She blinked at him, hoping
that she’d heard wrong.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “It was really,
really good, though.”

“You ate my entire loaf of coconut bread?” A
slow, angry burn kindled in her chest. No luggage, and now
this?

“I’ll buy you more—it’s just that I was
starving, you know?”

“That’s no excuse. And it’s not something you
can just replace. That was extremely rude of you.” What kind of
people behaved so thoughtlessly? She glared at him. People like
Wil, apparently.

“You could peel paint with that stare of
yours,” he said. “Anyway, sorry. You can have one of my Peps, if
you want.”

“Not the same thing.” She folded her arms.
“Never eat my food again without asking.”

“Fine. Sorry.” He stared at the floor a
second, then opened his soda can and sidled out of the kitchen.

A minute later he was geared up and immersed
in his sim machine. What a dud.

Frowning, Marny lifted the lid of the trash
and peeked inside. Sure enough, a crumpled ball of foil shone back
at her. With a last glare at Wil, she grabbed her mug of tea and
went back to her room.

The hallway smelled like flowery perfume,
most strongly in front of Anjah’s door. Marny held her breath until
she got inside her room, then let it out in a gust of
annoyance.