Groaning, I lean back on the bar just as Deanna breaks through the dance floor crowd. She tosses her empty drink tray on the bar and perches next to me, one elbow propped on the marble.
“Could you have run away any faster?” She huffs.
“Probably. You know I’m very talented in heels.”
She rolls her eyes before signaling to the barback for some waters.
“I’m so sorry, Dee. I’ll talk to Lia.”
“It’s fine, I’m her favorite niece. She won’t chew me out over something like this. Plus, we were the ones who asked you for help.”
“Pretty sure what I did was the opposite of helping,” I pout. I hate messing up, and I hate disappointing people even more.
She just waves me off, eyes flitting over the crowd. “It’s fine, hon.”
I grab one of the waters from the barback, tossing it back like a large shot.
“Seriously though, Stevie. Out of every table, you just had to pick The System’s. I mean, really. I thought even you would have steered clear from them.” She snorts.
“The what?”
“The System, the guys in the masks.” She takes a sip from her water before raising her left brow at me. “They’re some of the top streamers. You’ve heard of The System.”
“Uh, I don’t think so.”
“Girl, you’ve been playing video games since before I knew you. How have you never even heard of them?”
“I play farming sims. The only streamer I watch is that girl who also gives cozy game recommendations on YouTube.”
“Liar. I’ve seen you play shooting games before,” she challenges. “You have Death Valley 3 on your shelf at home.”
It’s finally my turn to roll my eyes at her.
“Oh my god. Sure, rarely. I don’t follow any streamers or anything like that. It’s just for fun. Come on, you know this.”
She purses her lips at me, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. I have no idea why she is getting so hung up on this. She only started paying attention to the video game industry recently because her new girlfriend works for some big esports team. I love her to death, but Deanna has a habit of immersing herself fully into whatever her partner is into. I’ll never forget the time she dated a guy on the baseball team during our junior year of college. I spent months being dragged along to games and listening to her explain the rules and run down the season stats. If I never go to another baseball game in my life, it will be too soon.
“Well, wise one, tell me. Who are they?”
The corners of Deanna’s lips turn up as she clasps her hands together. “Okay, so, the guy in the green mask is Shield3d, blue mask is EnglishCoffee, and red mask—your hottie—is NightBlade32.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “But they just go by Shield, English, and Blade.”
Blade.
“They go by their gamertags?”
“Babe, no one knows what they look like, of course they go by their gamertags.”
“Fair,” I pause, “and he isn’t my hottie.”
Deanna laughs, plucking a maraschino cherry from behind the bar and popping it into her mouth. “You were literally in his lap when I arrived, Stevie.”
“So? It’s not like I was grinding on him.” Cause he told you not to, says the little voice in my head.
“A wasted opportunity if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
The bartender returns, sliding the whiskey and cosmopolitan my way. He dips his head toward them.
“Your drinks.”
“Thanks.” I eye the beverages with equal parts joy and resentment. I really don’t want to go back to their table after embarrassing myself, but I also don’t want to pass up the chance to see Blade again. It’s that feeling of having butterflies in your stomach and throat at the same time; you’re not sure if you want to laugh or throw up.
Dee’s voice pulls my attention back. “In any case, they’re pretty elusive. They only turn on their webcams when they stream games together and are chatting.”
“And that’s how they became so popular? Three masked men chatting on the internet?”
“Not exactly. Blade has been around for years now. He got big because he was making content when the market wasn’t so saturated,” she smirks. “He’s never shown his face. Ever. The most anyone has ever seen is his hands.”
“His hands?”
“Yup,” she pops another cherry in her mouth, “hand fetishes are a thing.”
“So is a mask kink,” I mutter.
“Girl, the mask kink is real as fuck, and those boys know it.”
“What about the other two?” I sit up and scan through the crowd.
“Well, English got big because one, his accent, and two, he does that thing where you try to complete a game as quickly as you can.”
“Oh, he’s a speedrunner?” Impressive. It’s a super competitive field and takes a lot of dedication, especially if you speedrun multiple games.
“Yeah, that! And then Shield kind of just appeared one day playing with Blade, the two of them crushing any game they teamed up in. He also sometimes posts himself playing those horror games you know I hate to watch.”
“Guess that makes sense.”
The crowd finally breaks, and I catch a glimpse of bright red, my heart jerking.
“Those cocktails are going to get watery by the way.” Deanna nudges me with her elbow.
I groan, eyeing the growing condensation on the glasses.
“I’m headed back out before my aunt catches us gossiping any longer. You need to stop overthinking everything and just live. Chase doesn’t dictate that pussy anymore, girl, you do.” She picks up her gold tray and disappears into the crowd, leaving me alone.
Shit…I left my tray at their table. Crime scene is probably a better description of the mess I left behind. I’ll need to track down a new one so I can keep serving. I don’t need another reason for Lia to be mad at me tonight.
I take a deep breath, squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can, then I let out a loud exhale. When there is no air left, I pop open my eyes and plaster on a plastic smile.
I’ve got this.
THREE
* * *
ALEKS
“Again, we are so sorry for the inconvenience. If there is anything we can do…”
I roll my eyes behind my mask.
Davis has been riding my ass for years, trying to get me to attend this award show. I have a feeling that if I didn’t show up this year, next year he would’ve gone to Sydney and gotten down on his hands and knees to beg for our attendance, and I didn’t have the patience for that. Davis isn’t a bad guy by any means, he’s just desperate. And I hate the smell of desperation. “The young woman will be heavily reprimanded, rest assured.”
My head snaps up at the comment, and my fingers curl into a fist, black nails biting into the soft leather of my fingerless gloves.
“There’s no need for that, Davis. It wasn’t her fault.”
It was that jackass, Daniel “FlyingFox” Decker. Said jackass was still milling around my table, too. Playing the woe-is-me card, letting the stream bunnies coo over him. Typical two-faced Decker.
“No, Mr. Blade, her actions were inexcusable and a poor reflection on our event brand. Really, we–” he squeaks as my hand shoots forward and squeezes his wrist. I wait a second before raising myself, standing a solid five inches above his eye level.