Leveling The Field (Gamers #4) (12 page)

Chapter Fifteen

On Monday morning, Ethan pulled on the sleeves of his suit, straightened his tie, and got in his car for the drive to work.

He’d spent all weekend testing the weak points in his armor and fixing the damage Lissa had caused. He’d told Grant they’d do a trial run on camera today, and he was prepared. He’d written out notes on notecards, and he’d shaved and even plucked a stray eyeb
row hair.

He wasn’t E-Rad; he wouldn’t be E-Rad. Because E-Rad had feelings and loved and that wasn’t Ethan. He was all business, and he was focused, and he’d never let anyone take advantage of him like Lissa had.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he made the turn into the parking lot of the industrial park. He knew she was launching her site today, and although he’d threatened to shut it down, he wouldn’t do that. She’d said donations would go toward a scholarship, and that was the only reason he hadn’t acted.

He refused to dwell on it all, though. He refused to pick apart her words, everything she’d said to him to analyze whether he thought she was telling the truth or not. He refused to do that, because he worried what he’d uncover. He worried he’d feel bad for the things he’d said to her.

So, no. He’d put it all behind him. And he’d push forward. At least he’d gotten something out of their brief time together. He’d agreed to be on camera again. But this was on his terms, his decision. He’d control the angle of the shot. Unlike Lissa’s pictures. He didn’t want to see himself through someone else’s eyes. It was bad enough he saw himself through his own.

He strode past the conference room, where he saw a small filming area had been set up. A camera was pointed at a chair in front of a green screen. For a moment, the sight of it made him sweat, but then he steeled himself like he’d done all weekend. He could do this.

Ten minutes later, Grant sauntered into his office, rubbing his hands together. Grant had no idea that the source of Ethan’s recent bout of courage had blown a hole in his confidence, so he was just as excited as he’d been last week.

“So, did you shave? Whiten your teeth? Jerk off in the shower to release tension?” Grant asked.

Ethan just glared at him.

Grant laughed. “Man, I’ve been thinking about this all week! I think we can do an introduction; you can talk about who you are. This doesn’t have to go live for another couple of weeks, but let’s rip off the Band-Aid and get you comfortable in front of the camera again, all right?”

Ethan liked that idea a whole lot, because he wasn’t quite sure how he’d react when that red light was shining in his face, the lens focused on him. “Right.”

Grant frowned a little, his gaze on Ethan’s chest, and he looked down. “What, do I have something on my clothes?”

“Thought you’d wear some color,” Grant muttered.

“This isn’t even the real deal, Grant, just a trial run.”

“Hey, dress for the job you want, not the job you have.”

“You are so incredibly irritating.”

“Yep.” Grant knocked his knuckles on the desk. “So you want to do this now? Do you need a snack? Did you bring your rider?”

Ethan made a fist. “I’m going to hit you.”

Grant was already strolling toward the door. “Come on, talent!”

Ethan rubbed his damp palms on his pants, surprised at his heated skin, the racing of his heart. This wasn’t a big deal. It was just a camera. And it was just for practice purposes.

He straightened his suit jacket, ran a hand over his hair, and followed Grant out of his office.

In the conference room, the filming area sat in the corner. When he’d walked in that morning, his reaction had been minimal. Now, he thought it looked like a chair where they performed executions. He loosened his tie a little to get some air flowing. Was it a million degrees in here?

Back when he was E-Rad, filming was no big deal. He’d roll out of bed at noon, eat some cereal, then retreat to his cave, wearing a hoodie. Sometimes he even showered, but his hair seemed to look better if he didn’t.

He’d turn on the camera, begin playing, and that was that.

This was…not the same.

Grant was fiddling behind the camera, and Ethan frowned. “Don’t we have someone else doing this?”

His friend didn’t even look at him. “Yeah, I think Owen’s gonna do it, but he’s out today. I can handle a camera.”

“I know you can…that’s not the point.”

Grant finally swiveled his head slowly. “You have a problem with me behind the camera?”

Oh, this was ridiculous. “No, certainly not.”

“Okay then. Chill out and sit your ass down.”

Ethan huffed and did just that, straightened the tails of his suit jacket over his thighs. Then he thought better of it and took his jacket off. He had nowhere to hang it, so he glanced around before settling it on the back of his chair. Then he checked to make sure he hadn’t sweated through his shirt, which would have been gross.

By the time he glanced up, Grant was staring at him. “Dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“Are you finished primping, or…”

“Oh, just start the damn camera,” Ethan snapped.

“All right,” Grant said. “I’ll ask you some questions just to get you loosened up, and we’ll go from there.”

Ethan nodded.

Grant shot him a smile and pressed a button. The red light on the front of the camera lit up, and Ethan stared at it like it was a gun pointed at his head. A bead of sweat dipped down his temple and he wiped it away as discretely as he could.

“So, why don’t you tell us about yourself,” Grant said.

Ethan cleared his throat, unable to look away from the glaring red light. “Hello, my name is Ethan Talley.”

He didn’t move, and Grant stood there for a while looking uncertain before he prompted, “Okay, and can you tell us what you used to do.”

“E-Rad,” Ethan blurted, as another bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Why was this whole thing sending him into a panic? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t stop his racing heart. “I mean, I was E-Rad.” There was a five-second beat of silence before he rushed on. “I commentated video games on YouTube.”

“And were you successful?” Grant asked.

Ethan blinked, but after staring into that red light, he couldn’t focus well on his friend behind the camera. All he saw was a shadow and this lens and this fucking red light and holy shit, he couldn’t breath. Could. Not. Breathe. Was he successful? Depended on how you defined success. “Well, I made a lot of money until I was successful at fucking up my life and killing my sister, so you tell me.”

Grant slammed his hand down on top of the camera to turn it off while Ethan surged up from his chair. He was out of the conference room in three long strides, and then he was on his way to the bathroom, quickly, because he could feel his breakfast rising in his throat.

He made it to the handicapped stall and slammed the door shut in time to upchuck everything out of his stomach and into the toilet.

He stood there, leaning against the wall, toilet paper pressed to his mouth, when two black shoes appeared under the door. “E,” said a deep voice.

Ethan closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose before tossing the paper into the toilet and flushing it. “What?”

“Can I do anything to help?”

Ethan appreciated that Grant didn’t ask if he was okay. Of course he wasn’t fucking okay. “I don’t know.”

“I can leave, or…”

“No,” Ethan said, the word out before he realized what he was saying. “You…being here is good.” He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d wanted that. When he desired the presence of another person over being alone.

Maybe because he was tired of being alone.

He opened up the door to the bathroom stall to see Grant standing there, one hand braced on the wall. He glanced up at Ethan with round eyes. “Hey, man.”

“Hey.” Ethan walked to the sinks and washed his hands. “Sorry about that.”

Grant leaned against the sink. “No, I feel like I’m the one who should say sorry. I pressured you into doing this, and you almost had a panic attack—”

Ethan turned to him. “You didn’t pressure me into it. This was my choice. I just hadn’t…been prepared for how hard it would be, I guess.”

Grant studied him for a moment. “Did Lissa give you a great pep talk?”

Ethan worked hard not to lash out. “No, we…are no longer together.”

Grant made a choked sound. “What?”

He didn’t understand. “It’s a long story, but she was using me. Some sort of project featuring people with scars. I was a face to her. A face I thought she didn’t see, when in reality, that’s all she did see. I thought I would be wanted despite my scars, and she wanted me because of them. So she could take my picture and have it further her career.”

Grant frowned. “Really? Chad said they’re friends. I find it hard to believe she’s malicious.”

That was what Ethan had been trying to avoid. “Well, it’s over.”

“E—”

“The project launches today, in fact. Just Google ‘Rona’s Scars.’ I didn’t authorize the use of my picture, but who knows if it’s up there anyway.” Grant looked miserable, which Ethan empathized with. “Look, can we try again another time? I thought I pulled my shit together this weekend, but apparently I didn’t.”

Grant nodded. “Of course.”

“And don’t worry Chloe with any of this,” he added.

Grant pressed his lips together, then finally said. “Fine.”

Ethan turned to leave but stopped when Grant called his name. He looked at his friend over his shoulder.

“Uh…” Grant scratched the back of his neck. “I’m assuming this breakup was kind of a scene then?”

“That’s safe to assume.”

Grant sighed. “Yeah, okay. Maybe, uh, give this some thought once your emotions aren’t so high, you know? No good decisions are made when you’re pissed.”

Ethan didn’t want to discuss this. “The decision was sound.” He pushed the door to the bathroom open as he heard Grant mutter behind him. “Of course it was.”

It was. It had to be. Because the only alternative was that Ethan had fucked up another relationship in his life. He wasn’t sure he could live with that.

…

This was supposed to be a day of celebration. A day where Lissa could sit back and honor Rona and see the product of all the hard work she’d done in her sister’s honor.

And instead she was a mess, and it was all that bastard’s fault. At first, she’d been devastated, hurt by his words and ravaged with guilt. She should be holding court at the bar where her parents were throwing a party for her, and instead she was hiding out in the bathroom.

Over the weekend as she’d
geared up the launch of Rona’s Scars, anger had taken over. Ethan had said horrible things, he hadn’t believed her, and then he’d taken the happiness of this day away from her. The site had launched earlier that day. No way would she give up on her project, but not having Ethan approve was a knife in the old wound.

Taking those pictures had been a mistake, but it had been for him. She believed that in her heart, that she hadn’t done it in a misguided attempt to assuage her guilt over Rona. Ethan wasn’t a project. She had done it because she cared about him and wanted him to see himself through her lens.

It had backfired. In a huge, irrevocable way.

And now she sat slumped against the door of the bathroom with an ache in her muscles from tensing all weekend, staring at a cock and balls someone had drawn on the wall.

She sighed and wondered how long she could stay in here before someone came after her when the door opened.

“Lis?” said a deep voice.

“Angel?” She turned and glared at the door as if he could see her through the metal. “What are you doing in the girls’ bathroom?”

“Coming to drag you out. Now are you going to walk out on your own or do I have to make you walk?”

She rolled her eyes. “I just need a minute.”

“You’ve had a lot of fucking minutes. I hate that this bastard did this. It’s supposed to be a great day, and you’re hiding out in the bathroom. Mom and Dad are worried.”

Shit. He’d pulled the parent guilt trip card. After Rona’s death, it was pretty much an unspoken sibling rule not to stress out their parents too much. With a growl in her throat, she unlocked the door and stomped out. Angel sat on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth as she washed her hands.

She smoothed down her dress and checked to make sure she didn’t have toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her boots.

“Look, I’m not trying to be a dick—”

“I know you’re not,” she said. “I know that. You’re kicking me in the ass, which is what you should be doing. I’m moping and it’s dumb.”

“He didn’t taint this project. I know that’s what you think, but please forget about what he said. He didn’t know everything.”

“Which was my fault—”

“Hey,” Angel said. “Hindsight’s twenty-twenty. But you know how much this project means to the subjects, and how much it will mean to recipients of this scholarship. So get your ass out there and hold your head up high.”

He was right, of course, he was always right. So she did just that—straightened her spine and lifted her chin up and sauntered out of the bathroom. At the bar, her parents were standing close together, looking concerned, and Lissa hated that she’d put those looks on their faces. She smiled brightly. “Hey Mom and Dad!” She wrapped them both in a hug, her father placing his warm palm on her lower back.

“Lis,” he said. “So proud of you.”

Her mother held her face in her hands. “Very, very proud. The site looks great.”

Lissa smiled. “Thanks. I think a reporter is supposed to be here tonight.”

Her mother gestured at her outfit. “You look amazing. You’ll knock ’em dead tonight.”

Lissa squeezed her mom’s hand. “Thanks.”

An hour later, a TV reporter did in fact show up, camera in tow. They found Lissa in a corner of the bar and turned that spotlight on her. Most of the questions they fired her way were easy—talk about Rona, how she got the idea for the project, the lovely people she met along the way.

“And,” the reporter said toward the end of the interview, “is there anything you want people to understand about this project?”

Lissa didn’t bite her lip, because she didn’t want to mess up her lipstick, so she settled for chewing the inside of her cheek as she thought of a way to formulate an answer. Ethan’s face flashed through her head. “I wanted to do this for my sister and for every person who feels like she did, who struggles like she did. Every one of these people meant so much to me. I heard their stories and I felt for them, but it’s not the same as actually
being
them. There are some people I met during the course of this project that aren’t featured in it, and some of them were the most powerful of all.” She sucked in a breath and knew she had to cut this short before she cried. “And I want to tell everyone who views this project that if I didn’t get it right, I’m sorry. But I tried. I tried so, so hard.”