Page 24 of The Mastermind
Grayson took care of designing various aspects of the game, such as the city planning and vehicles. Being an architect, he was the perfect fit since he enjoyed sifting through the minute details. I wanted the Bugatti Chiron to be in the game, and he needed to see it in person to get a feel for the innovative machine. Nothing compared to a firsthand observation.
In life, details mattered. In video games, they mattered even more. As creators, we had to make the imaginative world feel as real as possible, so the players could immerse themselves.
Most of the time, I was a big-picture guy, which enabled me to obtain wealth, power, and respect. When I focused on WaterFyre Rising, it forced me to look at the details.
When we were kids, we playedThe Seven Realms.Grayson’s role was the Designer or the Innovator, creating hideouts for us to escape our enemies. Each of us had a critical role to play. I was the Mastermind, and Royce was the Daredevil, also known as the Explorer. Forrest and Arrow had their roles as the Inquisitor and the Enforcer. Sometimes we had to take on multiple roles in order to beat the villains.
Each player was an essential character in the overall journey of the game. We grew into those aliases as life went on. The game had bonded us then, and it bonded us now. WaterFyre Rising was the collaborative dream that linked us together. When it was finished, it would be the next must-have video game around the world.
I supposed my ambition never went away. It had just lingered at the back of my mind, sleeping, resting until I was ready again.
Another issue lurked in my head these days—Audri. A week ago, fear stabbed me in the gut when I saw the terror in her eyes at the Krazee Tavern. Who the hell was stalking her? I’d sent the details to my PI and asked him to look into it when he got a chance. With her phone number, he could investigate with no one knowing.
I hadn’t received a text or voicemail from her regarding any new messages, which was a good thing, but I couldn’t help staring at my phone, wondering when I’d see her name flash on my lock screen.
I rounded the corner toward the home I grew up. The last time I visited this place was two years ago, and that was just to pick up financial papers for my mom, who had left everything in her name to me. Every time I came near this house, I thought about my mom. She had raised me here, and I valued those memories.
The house sat in a quiet neighborhood with multimillion-dollar homes. The colonial-style with the brick exterior came into view. Growing up without my mom and living with a dad who paid more attention to his current wife and stepson had led me down a dark path. I resented him for his inability to be my father. When my mom died, I lost more than just her.
But I’d had my friends and my dream. Those things saved me. Well, sort of.
Pulling into the driveway, I parked along the curb in front of the house and cut the engine. I inhaled and exhaled a breath, putting my “mask” on, preparing myself to deal with Brian.
A white Mercedes pulled up behind my car, and my stepmom, Mallory Miller-Starke, stepped out in a chic coat, expensive shoes, and a handbag with a shiny Chanel logo glistening in the sun. Seeing her jolted a horrible memory.
It’s Friday, and I just got home from school. I get to hang out at Grayson’s house with my friends today. We beat level two of The Seven Realms, and our plan is to get to level three.
As I run toward my bedroom to gather my game stuff, my stepmom exits the bathroom in a pink bathrobe, looking flushed. Her strong perfume overwhelms the hallway. It always gives me a headache. She must have the same scent in her shampoo or soap.
Water from her wet hair drips down her face and neck. It surprises me to see her at home because Dad is at work, and she’s usually out with her friends. I slow my steps and give her a small smile.
“What are you doing home so early, Remi?” Mallory says with a smirk, raking her eyes down my body.
What’s her problem? I don’t like the way she says my name or how she looks at me. I know that look because I’ve looked at girls that way, but not my stepmom.
“School’s out. I’m heading to my friend’s house.”
She removes the belt and drops the robe to the floor, revealing her naked body. I freeze, and she walks up to me. My dick twitches, and I hate myself for responding to her body. It’s not right. What’s wrong with me? I don’t want my stepmom. I don’t even like her.
“What are you doing?” I step back from her.
“For a fifteen-year-old, you sure look like a real man to me.” She licks her lips, and her eyes move down to my jeans. She grabs my hand and places it on one breast. “Don’t you want to touch these?”
I yank my hand from her. “Stay away from me!”
I run off to my room, slam the door, and lock it.
Mallory met me at the front entrance, and the strong fragrance stung my eyes. She curved her red lips, which looked like fat worms from too much Botox. Her hand touched my arm, and I cringed, tossing her an icy stare.
“Get your dirty hand off of me.” I flicked it off like a nasty fly. “Touch me again, and I’ll break your fingers one at a time, then I’ll destroy the glitzy life. So, if you know what’s good for you, stay out of my way, Mallory. Understand?” My face remained impassive as I rang the doorbell, leaving her speechless.
She wouldn’t remain speechless for long. Mallory couldn’t keep her mouth or her legs shut.
The door swung open, and Brian smiled, welcoming me in.
My dad rose from the loveseat in the living room and reached for a cane. He looked more fragile than the last time I saw him.
I strode over. “What happened? Since when do you need a cane?”