The Wager: A Game Changer Prequel (2 page)

Just as I was thinking of all the ways I could seek revenge on her son, my phone buzzed in the pocket of my hoodie. The drive to ignore it was nearly overwhelming, but when I saw Sky’s smiling face on the screen, I knew I had to pick up if I didn’t want her pixie ass standing on my doorstep.

Feeling the wine start to take effect in my veins, willing the Solo cup to fill itself back up, I inhaled a deep breath and swiped my finger across the screen. “This better be good. I’m in the middle of a boss fight.”

“No you’re not. You’re probably sitting in front of the tube with wine and a frozen dinner,” she said, pinning me for the pathetic dud that I was.

“It’s what losers do on Christmas,” I joked. Only I knew how true it was.

“Fuck that. I know you’re sad over your grams not being there, but you know damn well she wouldn’t put up with this whiny shit. She’d probably clock you over the head for acting this way.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just because you’re right doesn’t mean it’ll change anything. Tonight just sucks, and I’m allowed to wallow in my own pity party over here.”

“I know. I’m letting it slide for now. But you’re mine for New Years,” she demanded.

“Nope. I think my ass will still be sitting on this couch on New Year’s Eve,” I informed her. The last thing I wanted to do was go out and make a fool of myself.

“Maci, I need you. An nZone executive is having a company masquerade, and all my coworkers are dumbasses. It’ll be more interesting if I had you on my arm.” She paused, probably waiting for me to answer. But my answer was no different than before, so I kept quiet. “C’mon. Please? I promise not to make you have a good time. You can drink, and I’ll even drive your drunk ass home.”

“Why would you even want me around if I’m such a Debbie downer?” I questioned, astonished my friend was able to peg me so well.

“Because, you’re hot. You’re bound to attract the attention of some of these geeks. Since I’m the only chick at work, I usually get the brunt of their sexist jokes. It’d be kinda nice to have your smart mouth around to put them in their place,” she said with a laugh. Her voice rang like a bell through the phone, and even had me smiling for a moment.

With a sigh, I contemplated what the harm would be in going. Other than being forced to be sociable, I couldn’t think of anything really bad about the idea. Giving gamer geeks some hell sounded like fun.

“Okay, fine. I’m in. But there better be some damn good liquor involved.” I was only half joking, and she knew it.

“Deal. Now, stop wallowing in despair and try to enjoy your day with your grams tomorrow,” she demanded. “You know fat ass won’t visit her. So, she’ll need you.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Sky.”

“Anytime, Maci. Now, refill that Solo cup and go back to
Miracle on 34
^th
Street
or whatever the hell you’re criticizing,” she chimed, hanging up before I could think of a smart-ass response.

I sighed as I tossed my phone down on the couch next to me, the heft of it bouncing on the soft cushion before falling into a crack.

Staring at the Christmas tree Grams helped me decorate right after Thanksgiving, I allowed the lights to blur together while I thought of what Sky had said. She was right. My grams would never put up with my sulking behavior, even in her not-so-lucid state. Yet, I had no clue what else to do with my time. Getting wasted and passing out seemed like the best way to go. And the fact I knew I wasn’t the only shmuck in the world feeling this way gave me no comfort at all.

The melancholy feeling that enveloped me brought back the memory of where I left off in my latest manuscript. My characters were kicking ass and taking names aboard their ship, but their love life was slipping through the cracks—kinda like my poor phone right about now.

Being a Sci-Fi author had its perks, but when my mood soured, it seemed to wreak havoc on my poor characters’ lives.

As I looked down into the near-empty Solo cup, my characters began to argue. I knew I had to get the scene down before all was lost. The empty cup gave me an idea.

Well, two ideas.

Number one, I would refill my damn cup, because obviously, it wasn’t spontaneously going to fill itself up.

Number two, I needed to write. The old saying was true—
Write drunk, edit sober
. Well, maybe
true
was a bit of an overstatement, but getting words down while drinking was still productive, even if there was a mess to clean up the next day. If anything, I could turn my mood around a bit if I allowed these characters full control of my brain for a few hours.

Seeing how it was only seven thirty at night, I still had plenty of time to kill and knew my characters would gladly eat up a few hours of my evening. It wasn’t long before I had a full Solo cup on my desk and the light of my laptop screen illuminating my face.

Liam: Being Human

P
lacing my book flat on my chest, I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom and wondered how things would go if I just stayed in here all night. Could I ditch my own party? Thad would give me shit, for sure. He was still on my ass about being sulky at his family’s Christmas gathering, claiming I didn’t try to
have fun
, whatever that entailed.

Sighing, I concluded that I just had to suck it up and entertain. Plus, it was only supposed to be my team from work—those who have seen me at my best and my worst. I guessed I could man up for the second night in this holiday season and attempt to be somewhat human.

Gawd, being normal was for the birds. What I wouldn’t have given just to have a nice chick who got me—understood that staying home and chilling with a controller or book in my hand was the way to be.

With that thought, I picked up the paperback and stared at the Sci-Fi artwork that adorned the cover. The fascinating world of space travel and futuristic beings always had me captivated. “M.L. Thomas gets it,” I whispered while staring at the author’s name. I often wondered how my life would have turned out if my time were set in the future.

Would my family be the losers they are today? Or would they be more nurturing and supportive when I needed them the most?

Regardless of all the therapy and time that had lapsed after walking out of my parents’ home on my eighteenth birthday, the hurt that they didn’t care enough to stop me still ate at me daily. I was raw from the inside out—all over something that should’ve been rather inconsequential.

I needed something to happen in my life that would make me feel even remotely worthy of the gift I was given being a part of Thad’s family like I was. I knew I was being hypocritical. I spent my entire adolescence hoping for a loving family, and when they took me in with open arms, the hurt and betrayal from my own folks overtook that hope and consumed it like a poisonous vine weaving through my soul.

Thad’s family and my pseudo siblings at work were my only saving grace in this world. They usually kept my mind off the fact that I was essentially alone, keeping me busy with their antics and games.

With a loud, audible sigh, I decided to stop being so dramatic. I needed to get up off my ass and start dressing for the party. How I allowed Thad to talk me into throwing a New Year’s masquerade was beyond me. Wasn’t that a chick thing to do anyway? The man seemed to be obsessed with doing anything to set me up with someone, even though he always had a hard time finding a girl of his own. Maybe he thought it’d cheer me up, which was rather cute in a geeky, twenty-five-year-old virgin sorta way.

Placing my book on my end table, I got up from bed and sluggishly dragged my ass to the shower. I only had about an hour to get ready, but it wasn’t like it would take very long. Throwing on a mask wasn’t exactly rocket science.

So, I couldn’t help but laugh when Thad busted into my bathroom unannounced and said, “Need any help getting ready, princess?”

“Jesus. Don’t you ever knock?” I exclaimed, the shock of his entrance causing me to get shampoo in my eye.

“What? Are you suddenly bashful?” I could hear him getting into something—glass clanking together telling me it was probably my cologne stash he was raiding.

“I live alone for a reason, dipshit. Why are you here anyway?” Shutting off the water, I stuck my hand out from behind the curtain and waited for him to give me my towel. I didn’t have to ask twice, the soft terrycloth being promptly placed in the palm of my hand.

“Uhh, you are having a party today, right? I mean, your place is decorated for such. Since when did you become Martha fucking Stewart anyway? The pad looks awesome with all the New Year’s decorations.” His babbling became commonplace for me, and I had to take special care not to totally tune his ass out.

“Hired a chick from that party store down the street,” I told him as I dried off, the stench of too much cologne wafting in my direction, overpowering the fresh shower smell in the small space. “Dude, less is more. You don’t need to smell like you poured the whole bottle on you.”

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, I saw his costume for the first time. His Guy Fawkes mask looked perfect with his longer hair, a floor-length, black cape and hat completing his
V for Vendetta
getup. The man sure did know his comics.

“Don’t stare at me when you’re naked. It’s creepy,” he said while still fumbling through the different scents I had in the cabinet.

“Then get out of my bathroom.” Thankfully, he did as he was told, grumbling the entire way out that he had to see my junk. What did he expect, barging in on me like that anyway?

Just as I was donning the last piece of my costume—the mask—Thad hollered from the great room, “Caterer is here!”

Well, it wasn’t really a caterer, but food delivery. I was just going to have a few finger foods out so people had something to munch on while boozing it up tonight. Grabbing my wallet, I quickly made my way out there to tip the guy. Thad, God love him, would never think to tip the delivery person unless he was holding a pizza in his hand.

As soon as the guy left, Thad turned to me and said, “Shit, that costume rocks. How much you wanna make a bet we’re the best-dressed bastards at the party tonight?”

“I dunno about that. Sky usually outdoes us times two with her Cosplay at Comic-Con. I bet tonight won’t be any different.”

“Chicks don’t count. They’ll always look better than us,” he said as he helped set out a few bowls of chips.

“Damn right. Any chick would look better than your gnarly ass,” I joked, earning me an olive to the forehead. “Don’t fuck up my place right before a party.”

“Don’t worry. A buncha drunk bastards will do that for you tonight,” he said, popping another olive in his mouth before pouring the jar into a bowl.

“Yeah, that makes me feel much better,” I said, looking around my pristine place and saying goodbye to the clean floors for a while. I wasn’t your normal bachelor and chose to keep my place rather neat. It seemed to be the only thing I really had control of these days. Which reminded me, I needed to lock my bedroom door before people started showing up. Just because I was allowing a bunch of heathens to mess up my condo didn’t mean they could step foot in my room. “Ahh, the library too,” I said too loudly.

“What?” Thad questioned, wondering what I was blabbing about.

“Just want to lock a few of my rooms so I don’t have to dust for fingerprints when someone fucks up something of mine.”

“You’re such a girl, Liam,” he joked, following me into the hall. As I locked both doors, he added, “Do you think our coworkers would really screw you over by messing with your stuff?”

“Nah. Not intentionally. But I still don’t need a reason to be more anxious than I already am tonight,” I said to the
V for Vendetta
character, the mask being all too creepy in the dark hallway.

“Just give them free reign of your gaming room and no one will give a shit about the rest of the house,” he joked, clopping me on the shoulder as we headed back to the kitchen to finish setting up.

Tonight was either going to be fun or disastrous. I didn’t see any middle ground.

Maci: Transformations

“I
don’t understand why you had to dye your hair. Why not just wear a wig?” Sam asked, totally oblivious to the importance of costume accuracy.

“Because, I want to be sexy, and a wig would be too hot. The last thing I need is to have sweat dripping down my cleavage while wearing this skintight dress.” The black leather dress fit me flawlessly, hugging each curve with perfection, and even accentuating the undercuts of my breasts. I definitely didn’t want to look like a sweaty mess in this thing.

“I also never understood why the Black Cat had white hair of all things. Why not black?”

“Don’t hate on the Black Cat. She’s one of my favorite comic book characters. You’re just jealous because she’s so sexy,” I scolded while applying tons of eyeliner before putting on my mask. “Plus, I kinda like the white look. Some color added in strips to my hair later would look pretty neat.”

“You’re such a geek, Maci,” Sam said with a roll to her eyes and a light giggle. My editor, and partner in crime, knew just how far I would go to keep things as realistic as possible... for fictional characters anyway.

Realism was only fun when it came to fiction. Reality in life was something I tried to avoid. I was a walking contradiction, and I knew it.

“Your hair chick really did a great job on it though,” Sam added as she fingered a lock of my hair and twirled it around.

“Well, with blonde being my natural color, she was willing to do it. Something about not needing a high volume developer or whatever—basically, she wouldn’t have done it if my hair were any darker. I had to keep some nasty coconut oil on my head the night before too, which is something I’d rather not do again,” I said, making a face at the memory. I didn’t get any sleep last night because of it.

“So, did you visit with your grams again today?” she asked, never afraid to broach the topic with me. Her philosophy was that I needed to talk about the things that upset me—get them off my chest so my characters wouldn’t take the brunt of my frustration. Last week, I tried to kill off my main character, something Sam would never, ever let me actually do.