Alfie opened the door for me as we stepped outside onto the same sidewalk where we’d shared a clandestine meeting the week before.
Chapter 19
As Alfie joined me in the dark, the silver moonlight caressed his face, revealing the beauty I’d only begun to truly appreciate.
He followed me across the street to the sidewalk, then fell in beside me. “So that guy at the bar earlier, was he your boss?”
“He’s not exactly my boss. It was easier to call him that, but he’s the guy deciding my fate.”
“And so if you get his approval, you get to go to . . . what’s the conference called?”
I laughed. Like anyone else would have heard of it. “Gamescon.”
“And what exactly would you do there?”
That was a big question. “We have a slot reserved to demo our newest game to an assortment of people—bloggers, You-Tubers, Twitch streamers.”
“Twitch?”
I’d gone too far. “It’s just a bunch of influencers who can help to make our game a success. There’s so much competition, but if we can hype the game and get these people on board, then we’ll inspire word of mouth promotion that can’t be bought.”
“Got it. So you need to prove you’ve got what it takes to win the bloggers over.”
“In a nutshell, yeah.”
He whistled. “That’s a pretty big incentive to get out of your shell.”
Once again, I wasn’t learning anything about him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you decide to host this event?”
He slowed down to a snail’s pace, like he wanted to extend the conversation. “Nothing so romantic as your reason.”
“Romantic?”
“Heroic, then?”
“It’s not heroic.” My anxiety wasn’t some monster I could slay with the right arsenal of weapons.
“I think it is. It’s brave. And you have a pure and noble goal.”
“You’re not answering my question.”
“I’m not overcoming a personal demon to prove myself worthy of my ultimate dream or anything like that.” He shrugged. “I just wanted bodies in the door.”
“Money?”
“No. I won’t make much money off this. The prize will eat most of my extra profit.”
“But it’s advertising. People will be back once the contest ends. I know I will.”
“I hope so. There’s nothing lonelier than an empty bar.”
Trying to offer unsolicited advice, I thought about what might lure customers. “What about bringing in musicians?”
“Tried that. There’s too much competition in the area, and musicians need to be paid.” He drifted closer to me, and his shoulder briefly brushed mine. “We do karaoke on Saturday nights with a cover charge. That’s usually pretty popular. I thought I’d try something different and see how it goes.”
“Well, it seems to be a huge success.”
“And that’s in large part because of the excellent entertainment. Thank you.” He tipped an invisible hat.
We approached my town house, and I said, “This is my place.”
“So soon.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, like he was going to plant himself in that spot until he saw me safely through the front door.
“Do you have a minute to come in, or do you have to get right back to help Miranda?”
He grinned. “She can manage.”
I unlocked the door. The inside of the house was dark and quiet. Aida must have assumed Tristan would walk me home.
“Come here.” I led him into our living room where the TV dominated.
“Your screen is huge!”
“Yeah, well, it’s useful for split-screen games. Marco and Aida are Call of Duty freaks.” I led him toward the sofa. “Do you ever play Mario Kart?”
He laughed. “Actually, I do, almost every night. After I walk Jasper, I’m usually still wired. Most people get off work at five and run errands, then make dinner and watch TV to unwind. It’s hard to finish work and go straight to sleep.”
While he was talking, I set up the game, with the volume turned down low.
“So.” I bit my lip, hoping this wasn’t going to be a bust. “Earlier when you mentioned you’d considered taking the name Parzival . . .”
“Yeah.” Now he looked a touch wary. “Funny you should mention that.”
“Why? Is it because that’s your user name when you play Mario Kart?”
His eyes widened. “Have you seen me online?”
I gestured to the screen that showed my profile.
“I’m Asuna.”
As soon as I said it, I realized that I may have read way too much into our childlock-restrained interactions. Maybe he hadn’t even paid attention to who he was playing. Maybe he’d coincidentally chosen the preset dialog that sounded like flirting. Maybe—
He leaned in close, a breath away, and said, “I’m using tilt control.”
I burst out laughing. It was the stupidest of all the possible phrases available, and one I’d never had a reason to use. And so I said, “Go easy on me.”
He smiled. “I’m a little nervous.”
I couldn’t think of any other presets all of a sudden. “Don’t be. You wanna play?”
“Hell, yeah.” He shook his head, laughing. “Asuna. Wow. My racing rival in the flesh.”
I held out a controller set into a steering wheel. “You can take it out if you don’t like the wheel.”
“And give you an edge? No thanks. I need all the help I can get to beat you.” His expressions kept registering the surprise I’d felt when I’d heard him say the name. “This is so crazy.”
The game screen loaded, and we set up our race cars. Alfie went with a motorbike as always. I took a wide four-wheeler to handle turns. “You wanna play Grand Prix?” Grand Prix mode consisted of four races against each other and ten computer-generated avatars to win the ultimate trophy.
“Sure. What’s your favorite?”
“You choose.”
He thought for a minute, making a clicking sound with his tongue, before arriving at an answer. “Let’s do Lightning Cup. I want to race you on Rainbow Road in real time.”
“Oh, no.” I made the selection, then crossed my legs and laid my wrists on my knees, ready to take him on.
And we were off.
It was funny to see him in action. When he turned the wheel, he leaned into it as if he could steer with his body. I elbowed him once to make him fly off the course, and he bumped me in retaliation. We switched the lead any number of times and ended up both losing the first race to computer-simulated Donkey Kong.
“I think he cheated,” Alfie said.
“Let’s take him down.”
In the next race, instead of battling each other, we both started lobbing our weapons at the CGI players until we’d established a lead.
I asked, “What’s the deal with the face on your Mii?”
“My avatar’s ugly face? My sister created that.”
“The one in Paris?”