Shit. Wrap this up, Melody. “I want to thank the core team who worked so hard to make UA successful. And to those who downloaded the game, thank you for that. To everyone who didn’t raise his hand, please think about why you didn’t feel compelled to support this game. What are your biases? What made you think, ‘I’ll help Girls of War, and Zooful Nation, but not this other game?’ I think you know why.
“The UA team, despite all odds, proved itself. This game is on track to pass the break-even point this week and will be profitable. Soon, we’ll be competing with Zooful Nation on lucrativeness. So please, go do the right thing. Download and review this fucking game.”
My phone lit up on the podium with a text from Nolan. *****FIVE STAR SPEECH!
I cracked a smile and looked directly at him with my conclusion. “Thank you for your support.”
The jumbo monitors around us lit up with “Congratulations!” messages as ceremonious trumpet music blared on the speakers overhead. Thousands of balloons showered down on the partygoers, many of whom stood silent and stunned. It was kind of like the Stephen King Carrie prom scene, but with balloons, not blood. And no death.
A decent number of attendees snapped into action and downloaded the game. I said what needed to be said. My heart was no longer heavy.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Wedding day. Also known as “Bridezilla’s Bitch for a Day” day.
“Have you seen my phone? I swear I just had it. Can you call it again so we can find it?”
“Can you unwrap this candy? My fingernails are drying. Just pop it into my mouth when you’re done.”
“Ohhhhh, maid of honorrrrrrrr! Can you call room service and ask why they’re taking so long with my lunch?”
Cinderella Melody. And Jane was the evil stepmother and stepsisters combined.
This is only going to be for one day, I told myself, while waiting in the cashier line at the hotel minimarket. The morning began ominously, with my car not starting. Luckily, Nolan was nice enough to drive me to the hotel. With my blessing, he ordered room service up in the bridesmaids’ suite and crashed on my pillowtop bed while we got ready in Jane’s room.
I placed three bottles of cold, lime-flavored Perrier water, an apple, and a banana in a basket. All for Jane, of course. For me, I grabbed a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. My comfort food. Mental note: do NOT touch any bridal shit with flaming red cheese dust fingers.
Revised mental note: pour the Cheetos directly into mouth. No cheese dust fingers!
“Can I get those for you? Or at least charge them to Sean’s room?”
I looked up to find Asher grinning at me. He had a fresh haircut and no beard. He also looked tan and had less of a beer gut. That movie deal had done him wonders.
“Hey, how are you, Mister Hollywood?” I asked cheerily. We’d be walking down the aisle together within a few hours, smiling fakely at the camera and at all the wedding guests. After the reception I could go back to mostly disliking him.
Asher snorted. “Yeah, you can thank my dad for that. He’s the one who brokered all the film and TV deals. He and Ian go way back and had a lot of discussions already in the works before Ian told me our studio was producing GoW. As for hard-earned success, you win hands down. I’m just a plain, lucky white dude at a video game company. You’re Melody Joo, slayer of internet trolls.” He unloaded everything from his basket onto the counter and I added my purchases too. “So, the news isn’t out yet, but I accepted an offer at a start-up game studio in Bellevue. I’m going to be a senior producer! I wanted to go somewhere my dad couldn’t interfere. Want me to put in a good word for you there?”
“Nah, I’m good.” Things at Seventeen were much better now. Great, in fact. My raise and bonus came through, and a few weeks after the UA launch, I was now in charge of Ultimate Apocalypse 2 production with my own small team.
The cashier said, “Twenty-two dollars and ten cents, sir.”
“Damn, Melody, how many bags of Cheetos did you buy?” Asher laughed. “Please charge it to penthouse 1201.” He turned to me. “I heard they have two Jacuzzis in there. You know, one for each of them.”
He grabbed a few infant-size bottles of local artisan handcrafted vodka by the cash register. “Add these, too, please. To celebrate.”
The cashier smiled politely as she handed Asher his liquor and pushed my brown bag full of sundries toward me, with Chester Cheetah peeking over the top.
“Do you need to go up right now? We could have a . . . pre-party.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being gross or not. “I need to go up to the room or Jane will freak out. Candace will be here soon for hair and makeup, and then it’s wedding time. I’m the only one here to help Her Highness.”
“Sean’s been a bit of a prima donna prick today too. He’s stressed, but happy. Sounds like those two were meant to be.”
Asher’s phone buzzed. His eyes bulged as he read his message. “Holy shit, Melody. Look at this.”
Sue from HR sent a shocking email on a Saturday afternoon. “It is with mixed emotions that we announce that Ian MacKenzie has stepped down from the role of CEO of Seventeen Studios. Ian will remain at the company, dedicating his time to special projects. Our interim CEO, Tope Claybrooks, joins our company in two weeks . . .”
“Isn’t this great?” Asher bellowed. “Ian’s getting demoted! Anyone who is assigned ‘special projects’ at Seventeen is basically getting pushed out. It’s a bullshit thing that companies say when they don’t want it to look like that person is getting kicked to the curb right away. Trust me, the only special projects Ian is working on are cover letters and updating his résumé.”
“Wow, I thought guys like him were untouchable.” I never thought someone like Ian could fall so mightily.
Asher grinned. “If enough people complain about you to HR, you become a liability to the company.” He lowered his voice. “You remember how I went to Sue and told her about how he asked me to leak your game info? Well, my dad actually told the board. Other employees have complained about him, too. I wasn’t the only one. I’m actually surprised it took this long for the company to take action.”
I searched online for Tope Claybrooks. Assuming I found the correct Tope with game-related work history, she was a midforties African American woman with chunky dreadlocks. She had most recently been SVP of development at Bigfoot Studios, a huge casual game company in the Bay Area, and she got her CS degree from Spelman, the black all-women college in Georgia. I couldn’t WAIT to see what changes she’d implement at our company.
“Good riddance, right?” Asher said, and held up his hand in front of me, waiting for a fist bump or something. “Hey”—he shot me a pretend hurt look—“you can’t leave me hanging.”
I rolled my eyes.
He put his fist down.
An appointment alert buzzed on my phone. “I’ve gotta go. Hair and makeup time. I’ll see you on the aisle. Don’t trip me.”
He said, “I’m too scared of you, honestly. I wouldn’t dare!” He said it jokingly, but I think he meant it.
Back at the bridal room, the hair-and-makeup artist tapped her foot as I unloaded the sundries. Candace had just finished and looked very glamorous with a half updo and loose curls cascading down her shoulders.
I squealed, “Awww, Candie!” We ran up to each other but we didn’t hug. One sudden move and her makeup could smudge, or a rogue hairpin could get snagged. I awkwardly patted her shoulder. “How’s your kiddo?”
“Annabelle’s great! She’s gaining weight so fast now.” Candace teared up, and she began fanning her face and looking upward at the sky. “Oh shit, I don’t want my eye makeup to run.”
I sat down on the chair and the makeup artist inspected my face. “You need false eyelashes.”
Um, what? “I really don’t think that would be a good idea.” I could barely handle contact lenses. Fake eyelashes? No way.
Jane chimed in with an opinion, of course. “Melody, I think you’d look amazing. She put some on me. It’s mainly for the wedding pictures, to make my eyes pop more.” She walked up to me so I could get a closer look. Sure enough, she had these mile-long thick lashes. But she looked pretty and normal in them. I never even wore eye makeup.
“Candace, did you get them?”
“She didn’t need them. Her lashes just needed some mascara. Her eyes are gorgeous and so big.” The makeup artist lifted her stash of eyelashes from her cosmetic bag.
Thanks for pointing all of that out. “Fine. You can try it, but I can tell you now, you might need a plan B.”
She asked me to open as wide as I could, and with my Korean eyes being shaped the way nature had intended, she had to forcibly hold them open the entire time as she gently glued the lashes onto the top and bottom of my lids. My eyes watered nonstop, which interfered with the glue drying. It’s not like I could help it. There were foreign objects near my eye sockets, and my eyes tried desperately to flush everything out.
After five minutes of this medieval eye torture, she handed me a mirror.
I looked . . . different. Like a hooker version of myself. And not in a good way. Every time I blinked I saw black lines.