The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(31)
This contest would be something just for me. If I win, I’ll become a household name for geek girls everywhere. I’ll support my fellow femmes and rub elbows with the best. It’s time to take a risk on myself and possibly on my future.
“MG, that’s really impressive.” Ryan looks up, all trace of toddler gone. “Seriously. I thought you weren’t even going to apply.” He stands up and scoops me into a hug. It’s so warm and comfortable, I forget any weirdness between us.
Lawrence is next and swoops me up. MG sandwich. My absolute favorite spot in the universe.
“So you’ll do it, L? I’ll make you look fierce.”
“Will I be the only queen?”
I shrug. “I think so. Cleo definitely won’t be there; that’s for sure.”
“I’m in.”
Excellent. L is the Fezzik to my Inigo, and I need him there with me. “And we’ll need our cheering section. How about it, Ryan? I brought you all sorts of info.” I cut off Ryan’s response before he can roll his eyes. “I know you hate cons. I get it. But this one isn’t a gamer convention. It’s just general geek merriment. I think Jean-Luc Picard is going to be there.”
Ryan’s eyes gain a hint of interest. “I’m not promising anything.” But he takes the brochure from me.
“I have a color at eleven,” Lawrence announces, stretching up and touching the ceiling. “I need to go open the shop. Ry, I’ll see you at the gym later.”
Ryan grunts in agreement. It’s their guy-love language, though I don’t understand how one grunt can say so many different things. It’s one of the things that makes Ryan and Lawrence closer to an old married couple than friends.
Ryan was originally L’s roommate but ended up moving out because a spiteful lover had dumped a bottle of wine on their PlayStation when L beat him at Call of Duty.
Ryan didn’t mind L’s eccentricities—L was the first person who befriended Ryan at the gym after he’d moved to LA, and Ryan seems to have something dark in his past that makes him shy about meeting people. We don’t talk about it much; he clams up big time whenever I ask. Maybe it’s why he and L get along so well: they have that in common. He always says that he has a fresh lease on life here and that he’s making amends for his past any way he can.
Lawrence slips his shoes on, and I note the letter “L” written in sparkles on the black leather. That bitch has been bedazzling without me.
I blow him a kiss as he leaves, lock the door behind him, and walk back into the living room to sink onto the cracked pleather couch. I prop my feet over the end, grab one of the woefully mismatched couch pillows, and settle into Ryan’s side.
Ryan’s answering grunt means I’m clearly inhibiting his ability to make a living today. “Hang on, everybody. I’m going to mute. MG is back.” He pulls the headset off and looks down. All sorts of horrible commentary starts pouring from the TV as the other gamers in his group start catcalling and suggesting video game–based sexual positions. I catch the term “paladin missionary style” before Ryan manages to silence the channel.
“How’s work?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrow, and his eyes say that it would be going better if I stopped interrupting, but he decides to be diplomatic. “The job is more challenging than I could ever have imagined. How about you?” He draws out the syllables, obviously fishing for the reason I’m back on the couch instead of working like a good girl.
Two of the characters on screen pretend to do a striptease, and Ryan runs his avatar forward to knock them over.
“My big presentation didn’t go as well as I wanted.” I tell him about Andy basically stealing my idea.
“You have so many talents. So many skills. You can smell a story a mile away. Fastest brain this side of the galaxy. But maybe this isn’t your superpower. Maybe you’re not General Leia. Do you even really want to be a team leader? Less time on your own work? More time with the executives? Maybe this isn’t the only solution.”
My glance must give away my skepticism because Ryan rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “For instance, if Andy gets the promotion, wouldn’t there be an opening for team captain or whatever? You’d still be Kyle and Simon’s boss.”
I contemplate that. “True.” Before he can crow with satisfaction, I hold up my hand. “But Andy would still get to be executive, and I want the promotion so that I can do costume design.”
“I get that, but . . . surely if Andy gets the promotion, you use that genius brain of yours to figure out another way to do what you want to do? And maybe it will be better than your plan A?”
I press my lips together and meet Ryan’s brown eyes. His hat is on backward over his blondish hair, so he looks like a teenager, but the words coming out of his mouth are surprisingly grown-up—and almost exactly verbatim what I’ve just been telling myself. When did Ryan turn in to the adult of this relationship?
The players in the game are now testing what look like vials of potions on one another, and Ryan leans forward to yell into the mic. “Quit that, you guys. We need to test those against the alien horde . . . Aw, dammit, Lee, now you’ve attracted the band of rogue archers, and you know they’re still glitchy.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” I hop back off the couch and smirk. Ryan is already completely immersed again, his fingers flying over the controller. Something has shifted, though. Ryan seems older, wiser. Have I missed something in his life while I’ve been sidetracked with the case? Must be that girl he’s been seeing. “Love you, Ryan.”