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

Chapter Five

With her hands full of wine bottles and a cheese plate, Lissa kicked the door to her parents’ house and waited impatiently. When the door didn’t immediately open, she started yelling, too.

Her mother flung open the door when Lissa was mid-holler and glared. “Will you stop the racket, Lis? Goodness gracious. The neighbors are probably looking out the
ir windows.” She made a face at the house across the street. “The curtain moved. You know Old Man Grandy is tut-tutting about my loud children.”

As the middle child growing up, Lissa had to be extra loud to get attention. That trait hadn’t quite worn off yet. She assumed it never would. She smacked a kiss on her mom’s cheek. “Who cares what Old Man Grandy thinks?”

Her mom huffed but wrapped Lissa in a hug, jabbing one of the bottles into her ribs. “Okay, maybe not so tight on the hug.”

Her mom leaned back and patted her face. “You look beautiful as always.”

“Good genes, I guess.” Lissa handed her mom the wine and then followed her into the kitchen. The greatest compliment she could ever get was when people said she looked like her mother. Ariel Kingsman was a stunning woman. Mahogany skin and big brown eyes. High cheekbones that rivaled Iman’s.

Her younger brother, Angel, was already in the kitchen, drinking a beer with their father. Lissa kissed them both then set the cheese plate on the counter. She and Angel were born less than a year apart, so they’d always been close, the two troublemakers who’d had a safety net consisting of their parents and Rona. There was an irreparable hole in that safety net now, leaving her and Angel to cling to each other even more. They even shared an apartment.

Her mother interrupted her thoughts by holding out a glass of wine. Dinner was their regular Sunday routine. Sometimes one or more of them had to miss a meal, but they tried to make every Sunday they could.

This house would always be home to Lissa. There was the living room where she’d played video games with Angel, the kitchen where she’d baked cookies with Rona, and the bedroom where she’d lie awake at night, dreaming about being a famous wildlife photographer. At least she’d gotten one half of that dream. Although attempting to photograph Ethan Talley was a little like dealing with a pissed-off lion.

Stop thinking about him and that damn coat closet.

She plastered on a smile and took the wine glass from her mom, who shot her a look. Lissa turned away quickly before her mom saw her fake smile and called her on it.

“What’s going on?”

Oh shit, too late.
Moms.

Lissa took a gulp of her wine and turned back around to see all three family members staring at her. “What?”

Angel cocked his head. “You kinda went somewhere for a minute.”

“Yeah, I did. In my own head.”

“Wanna share?”

“No, I do not. It’s nice and private in there.” She huffed. “We live together, and you never knock on my bedroom door. I’m not letting you in my head, too.”

Angel opened his mouth to backtalk, she was sure, but Lissa’s mother interrupted. “Enough. Both of you. How you live together is a mystery to me.”

“We grew up together. We’re related. Brother and sister.” Angel took a sip of his beer then grinned innocently.

His mom smacked him. “All of you, leave. I need to finish getting dinner ready.”

“Need help?” Lissa asked.

Her mom answered her by shooing her out of the kitchen.

Lissa, Angel, and their father retreated to the living room, where they watched baseball and devoured the cheese tray.

Her father watched her over the rim of his glasses. Carl Kingsman was a serious man, in sharp contrast to their loud, gregarious mother. And after Rona’s death, he smiled even less. The absence of laugh lines around his mouth hurt Lissa’s heart.

“Have you formed the committee to review the scholarship applications?”

That was her dad. He worried about the details. While Lissa had her head in the clouds, daydreaming about the photos and the project, her father kept her on task regarding the business side of her project. “Yeah, some of Lissa’s grad school friends, as well as some professors from her alma mater.”

Her father nodded. “Good. Rona would be pleased.”

Lissa picked at a rip in her jeans. She hoped so. Growing up as a black American, it’d been evident to them from the very beginning that they had to work extra hard to have less than what someone with lighter skin would have. Rona had been determined to be the best lawyer she could be, to fight for those who didn’t have anyone else fighting for them. She was proud of her skin, her heritage, and everything that she’d worked for.

After talking with her family, Lissa decided supporting young women like Rona, with the same ambitions, would be the best way to honor her sister. She wanted Rona to be remembered for how she’d lived, not how she’d died.

But no matter how hard she tried, it was nearly impossible to sum up Rona’s life. Lissa couldn’t show everyone the red stain on her bedroom carpet, where they’d spilled nail polish at night when they were supposed to be sleeping. She couldn’t point to the corner of the basement, where Rona would model dress-up clothes, and Lissa found her love of photography by taking pictures of her. She couldn’t recreate Rona’s laugh—which was sometimes hyena-like.

So this project was the only way she knew how, and it’d been her sole focus during the last year.

Lissa looked up when her father spoke again, but this time, his attention was on Angel. “And how’s work?”

Angel was a manager at the Foot Locker in the mall, which was great, since he never wore the same shoes twice. He said he loved retail, but Lissa knew he had dreams of opening up his own restaurant. He tried to say cooking was just a hobby, but Lissa wasn’t buying it.

Angel picked at his beer label. “Good. I hired a new assistant, and she’s working out really well. In fact”—he grinned—“I think she might take my job if I’m not careful. Gotta step up my game.”

Their father looked like he was going to ask more questions, but then he just nodded. “Well then, step it up.”

Angel looked at Lissa and rounded his lips into an O, wiping imaginary sweat off of his face. She held back a smile.

Lissa leaned back, enjoying the comfortable silence that could only be achieved around family, and sipped her wine.

She hadn’t told Angel yet about Ethan, even though she’d been so tempted. But it all seemed like a dream now, what happened at the wedding. She knew he’d never call again, not surly Ethan.

But that didn’t stop her from wondering about his story. There was a huge gap in his life, where he went from E-Rad to Ethan Talley, and not only was she curious, but she also couldn’t stop thinking about the way he kissed her.

She was so distracted that she looked up to see her entire family staring at her. Again. “Oh jeez, what now?” she asked.

“I’ve been saying your name for a good thirty seconds to tell you dinner is ready.” Her mom cocked out a hip. “Can we interrupt your daydream?”

She pursed her lips and stood up in a huff. “Busybody family members,” she muttered under her breath as she walked by them.

“We heard that!” Angel called after her.

Lissa finished off her wine before setting the empty glass on the table. She really needed to get her head together, focus on her project, and forget about Ethan E-Rad Talley.

…

Ethan blinked at the kid—he refused to call this person a man—and waited for the next ridiculous thing to come out of his mouth.

As soon as Alex Hershel walked into his office, he knew this wasn’t the man they wanted as the face of
Gamers
. He snapped his gum repeatedly, and his clothes were sloppy, styled in a way that was clearly on purpose and which Ethan felt was unprofessional.

The guy hadn’t dropped the cocky grin, either. Ethan wasn’t legally allowed to ask how old he was in a job interview, but he would place Alex somewhere around twenty-three. Maybe.

And everyone knew a man’s brain didn’t reach adulthood until twenty-five. Ethan had ruined his life before he hit twenty-five. He should know.

He stared down at the kid’s resume, which used some funky font and colors, for God’s sake. He wanted to explain that Times New Roman was classic, not old-fashioned.

“So.” Alex cracked his gum, which was an unnatural yellow color. “What do you think?”

Ethan gazed at him levelly. “I think no.”

The kid’s expression faltered for the first time in a half hour. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” Ethan handed him his resume. “But you’re not what we’re looking for.”

Alex stared at his resume then at Ethan. “Really?”

Ethan flared his nostrils and counted to five so he wouldn’t blow his lid. “Yes, really.”

“Huh.” Alex reached out and took his resume, then stared at it as if it held the answer to his future. “Have any advice for me for future interviews?”

Didn’t they mentor kids these days anymore? “Yes, next time, wear a suit, get rid of the gum, and apply for a job you’re qualified for.”

A low whistle made them both look up. Grant leaned on the doorframe of Ethan’s office, his hands in his pockets. “Way harsh, Talley.”

Alex just stared at him, and Ethan snorted softly.
Clueless
was probably released before this guy was born.

Grant sauntered forward after shooting a glare at Ethan. “Excuse my partner here. He’s a little grumpy today. Just like every day. I’m Grant Osprey.”

Alex shifted his gaze to Ethan and then back to Grant like he was the second coming. “Alex Hershel.”

“He was just leaving,” Ethan prodded.

Grant took Alex’s résumé out of his hands and smiled at him. “I’ll take a look at this, and we’ll call you if we want to speak to you further.”

“Don’t give him false hope, Grant,” Ethan said.

His friend widened his eyes at him. “Can you cool it?”

Ethan pressed his lips together.

Alex’s gaze was ping-ponging between the two of him, and he was half sitting, half standing in his chair, like he didn’t know whether to stay or go. Ethan was done with this interview, with the day, with the whole fucking week. Grant must have sensed his frustration was reaching a boiling point, because he led Alex out of the office and shook his hand at the door, sending him on his way.

Ethan bent forward until his forehead rested on the smooth wood of his desk. He breathed out, and stayed that way until the squeak of the leather chair across from him and a throat clearing let him know Grant was still there.

“You all right?”

Ethan lifted his head and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah.”

“You look stressed.”

“I
am
stressed. We want to get a decision made on the host for our channel, and no one I’ve had in here is fit for the job. The closest we had was that former gaming champ, but she’s not interested anymore.”

Grant was silent.

“Why aren’t you saying words?” Ethan frowned. “You’re always talking. That’s what you
do
.”

“What’s with you lately?” Grant asked. “You’ve been like this since Austin’s wedding.”

Great, now they were analyzing him. “You said I’m always grumpy, so what’s the difference?”

Grant shook his head. “Sure, you’re usually grumpy, but in an…expressionless way. Now it’s like all of a sudden you’re frustrated and stressed and actually pissed off about something.”

Ethan scowled. “I am not pissed off.”

Grant raised his eyebrows.

This was getting old. “This conversation is over.”

Grant sighed. “Look, you want to know what I think about this whole host search?”

Ethan threw up his hands. “Yes, I’d love to know. We’re partners in this, so—”

Grant jumped up and leaned over Ethan’s desk, his hands braced on the front. “I think the search is fucking dumb!”

Ethan fell back in his chair and looked up at his usually amicable friend. He rarely heard Grant raise his voice. “I’m sorry? I thought you agreed we needed a host—”

Grant met his gaze steadily. “I do think we need a host, Ethan. The problem is that I think we need to be looking in-house.”

Ethan let his gaze slip to his door, where he caught glimpses of some of their staff. “Oh, well then who? Has someone expressed interest?”

“You’re such a dumb fuck.”

Ethan snapped his gaze to Grant. “I think the name-calling is unnecessary.”

“I’m talking about you,” Grant said, his tone deceptively quiet. “You know how to talk on camera, how to appeal to our target audience. You made millions doing it once. You could do it again, you know.”

It was like Grant had dumped a bucket of ice on Ethan’s head. His entire body was frozen solid, like his fingers would crack in half if he bent them. He’d thought Grant understood him. He’d thought Grant was his friend, but he wasn’t so sure anymore, not if he didn’t understand why asking Ethan to go on camera again was like sending him to hell.

He wanted to throw something, or hit something, so it took all his strength to sit motionless and say, “Please leave my office now.”

Grant’s entire body slumped. “Come on, Ethan—”

He turned his chair to face the window, knowing it was immature, childish, whatever, but he couldn’t have this conversation right now. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Grant didn’t move for what felt like a long time. Finally, he knocked twice on Ethan’s desk, heaving a sigh, and then his footsteps retreated to the door. When it clicked behind him, Ethan fell forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

No way could he go in front of the camera again. It wasn’t because of the scars, it was because of what the scars represented. There would be questions about why he’d stopped making videos, and he’d have to answer. He wasn’t the charming, carefree Ethan Talley who could play video games like he didn’t have any cares in the world. He didn’t know how to smile like that anymore, how to exude that effortless confidence.

He wasn’t that person.

And he didn’t really want to be. Because that person killed his sister, broke up his family, and no longer had parents who spoke to him.

He dug the heel of his palms into his eyes and then leaned back in his chair, staring sightlessly out his windows, into the parking lot of the industrial park.