Jameson (Face-Off 4)

“Wanna grab lunch with me tomorrow before the fundraiser?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He winks in my direction. “Don’t stay too late. If you want me to walk you out to your car, let me know. I’m hanging around for another hour before I head home.”

“Stop by before you leave. Otherwise, you know I’ll get wrapped up in something and end up sleeping on my couch again.”

I’m a workaholic with a habit of working for hours on end without any breaks or concept of time. After Murph exits my office, he leaves me alone and with my thoughts that Jamie consumes. I have to see him again. But how can I make that happen without calling Coach and looking like a weirdo stalker? How would I even approach the topic? She’d think I’m some crazy person.

A computer nerd…I knew I liked Jamie for a reason. We’re kindred spirits, stuck in the shadows of our famous family and friends. If only there were a way to see him again. I need to make that happen.

Chapter 5

Jameson

I spent my lunch break at a goddamn dress shop. Again. That was not my idea of fun. Like most of my man-of-honor duties, they require me to do things outside my comfort zone. It’s weird seeing Charlie so into this wedding shit. Charlie has always been a tomboy, the girl who would rather rub dirt on her face than wear makeup. Now, she’s in bride mode.

I wasn’t surprised when she had suggested to Alex that they order McDonald’s and have their reception at her apartment. That’s the Charlie I know. Not the girly girl who wants some elaborate reception with hundreds of guests and a dress fit for a queen. She’s doing this for Alex. I know it. Alex wants the big wedding with all of his friends, even though he has very little family.

With our hectic schedules, Charlie and I both had to go into the office on a Saturday, which interrupted Sydney’s plans to visit another boutique. As usual, Charlie didn’t like anything in the store. She would curl her lip upward in disgust at almost everything she’d tried on. I think it’s the idea of wearing a dress that freaks her out. The last time I saw her in one was…never.

I hate working weekends. Anymore, that’s all I do is work. Most days, I grab a sandwich for lunch, and play the new video game I’m working on with my team, testing the kinks before we send out the beta version. We only have a few more weeks before the beta team gets their hands on the latest first-person shooter game our client had contracted us to design. I landed my company the deal after I’d impressed their Chief Technology Officer with my latest algorithm. It also means working around the clock.

Between the demands of my job and Charlie’s appointments, I somehow allowed her to rope me into going to a charity event the Flyers are hosting at the Wells Fargo Center. They do it every year. All the players and their families come out for the day and sign autographs and hang out with the fans. Charlie had to peel herself away from Mickey and the whale of a client they’re close to landing. And I had to promise my boss that I’d work the rest of the weekend just to get away for a few hours.

On our way through the city, the cab driver blasts rap music, taking the turns as if he were on a racetrack, barely missing the people who step out into the street. They jump back and onto the pavement as we pass, startled.

“Can you watch where you’re going?” Charlie yells at the driver, holding onto the headrest in front of her, as she leans forward. “You almost ran them over. I’d like to make it there in one piece and without you killing anyone, thank you very much.”

“Sorry, miss,” the man says, his eyes trained on the road. “We’re almost there. Just a few minutes.”

Charlie sits back in the seat and sighs, irritated. She straightens her shirt and combs her fingers through her long, caramel hair. She glances at me, shaking her head, but doesn’t speak another word.

My phone dings with a message, and I pull it out of my pocket. Staring down at my cell phone, I tap the keypad at a feverish pace.

My team has been texting and emailing me non-stop since I picked Charlie up at DMG. They are decent engineers, but most of them rely on me so much that I never get a break. I’m also their boss, so there’s that. Trying to scan through the lines of code my lead engineer sent over, requiring an immediate response, it’s hard to focus because of the shitty driving.

When the car comes to a stop, the driver announces we’re at the Wells Fargo Center. I pull out my wallet, hand him a twenty-dollar bill, and tell him to keep the change before we exit the death trap.

“That was an experience,” Charlie says, slamming the door, as she looks across the roof at me.

The cab driver peels out, almost taking Charlie’s arm off in the process. She screams obscenities at the man, raising her fist in anger. With a crowded parking lot full of families making their way toward the building, he could have hit someone. This day just keeps getting worse by the minute.

My morning had started with a migraine brought on by my alarm clock, blaring in my ear at five o’clock. After staying up most of the night to test code, I dragged my tired ass from the bed. I still hadn’t worked out the bugs by the time I’d passed out sometime in the early morning. Dress shopping with the girls and that car ride only added to my weekend from hell. I’ve had about all I can take for the day.

“Are you okay, Jamie?” Charlie nudges me in the side as we walk through the parking lot.

I shrug and slide my hands into my pockets. “Yeah, I'm all right.”

“You don’t look good. Every since you picked me up to go to the shop, you’ve been distracted, so unlike you. What’s going on?”

“All I can think about is work and how behind I will be if I don’t figure out how to debug this game. The test cases I setup have all failed.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she says, confident. “I have no doubt you will wow everyone.”

I flash a hint of a smile. “I’m not worried about tweaking it in time for our live demo. That part I can bullshit my way through and make it look decent enough for someone to play a few levels. It’s the later parts of the game that are giving me shit. I’m having trouble with the multi-player artificial intelligence.”

“But you nailed that with your other games.” She seems shocked. “I’m sure a stroke of genius will come to you in no time. You’re the smartest person I know, Jamie.”

“You’re not too shabby,” I say, laughing.