Gaming and IRL Boss Fights

New Game

New Game

MY HEART JUMPED as I saw the cardboard box with the large “fragile” sticker on it leaning to the left. The two guys carrying it were too distracted checking out Salma's ass as she took a box of controllers into my new digs. My best friend was hot, if you were into women, but my cargo was too important to see it destroyed.

"Hey, watch it," I shouted, my eyes widening.

The guys startled, and the box slipped further. Oh s**t, no! Not my baby.

They managed to steady it and the one facing me grinned. "It's all right, all this junk is insured."

"Junk?”

The guy shrugged, and my blood boiled. What the hell was he thinking?

"Dude, that's a five thousand bucks custom made gaming computer. After paying out for the insurance, how long do you think your boss will wait before firing you?"

He gaped at me, eyes wide. "Five thousand... What? This just looks like a plastic case."

Great, so he'd peeked inside. "It's transparent. It's not empty, and it cost more than you make in a day."

"So you're rich and you're threatening our jobs," the other one said as he back-walked into my apartment.

"How did I threaten your jobs? I f*****g rode in the back of your truck to make sure you got here with everything in one piece. I warned you several times those items are fragile. Yet I'm the bad guy?" Okay, maybe I was a bit obsessed with my equipment. Hard not to when I spent most of my time playing videogames and recording it.

"Stop trying, Simon," Salma said, scoffing at the leery movers. "It's easier to blame you for their troubles than focus on their job and not on my ass."

The older one of them had the decency to look sheepish. They went back to the truck and I sighed, needing a moment before following them.

"You should cancel the pizza order," Salma said, crossing her arms over her chest. She snarled, the dark lipstick she'd used making her teeth appear stark white and deadly.

"Nah, that’s overkill. Besides, I’ve dealt with worse."

"Yeah, plus you might piss them off. They might even come back to rob you at night."

I huffed and turned to face her. "Way to see the worst in people."

She shrugged. "Three times. My apartment was broken into three times this year alone. I tend to see thieves everywhere."

I left her inside and went downstairs. As long as I was supervising, I felt better about other people handling all my computers and gaming consoles. Not to mention all the expensive cameras.

I found the two guys of the crew who carried stuff waiting for the elevator. They were carrying another computer upstairs, along with some of my cameras.

"We're being careful," the younger one said.

"Thanks, man. My income depends on this gear."

I walked through the spacious hallway of my new building. We had a doorman who nodded at me every time I passed through. We even had coffee tables and chairs for visitors to wait. It looked super fancy.

Is this the right thing for me? The nagging doubt I felt whenever I spent money on anything gnawed at me. I made my money on YouTube and Twitch, posting game play videos and doing livestreams and, although I partnered with tech companies and game developers now and then, there was nothing guaranteed about my income. An image of my mother with her disapproving glare flashed through my mind. Maybe my parents were right and I should get a real job. Maybe I wasn’t responsible enough and I should have rented a much cheaper place.

Because I doubted myself and my spending choices, I’d given very clear and specific requirements to my realtor. This new apartment wasn't more expensive than my old one, although it was fancier. The location was a downgrade of sorts, as I lived further from the heart of the city, but my commute from my bedroom to my office didn't even require me to get out of my pajamas.

I picked a few camera bags and the backpack with my laptop from the truck and trudged back inside. A few people were waiting for the elevator but meeting anyone new when I had a serious case of self-doubt didn’t appeal to me. What if they asked what I did? One old lady in particular looked like she’d require my life history and a background check before trusting me. What would she think of an adult getting played to play games all day? I took the stairs and regretted it almost instantly. Going up seven flights carrying heavy equipment wasn't the best idea I'd had that day.

It took hours to get everything upstairs and longer still to start setting up my office. I definitely had too much stuff. I’d wasted plenty of time watching decluttering videos and jotting down tips. I’d thrown and given away a significant chunk. Single, living on my own, I really didn’t need all that much. Now that I was seeing it all being carried between two apartments, it still felt like too much. Did I need all of this? Or was I overspending and burning through my money too fast?

"How long till your stream?" Salma asked as she cleared the kitchen table. We'd enjoyed a late lunch with all the movers and she'd been kind enough to help with the cleanup.

"Four hours. s**t, it's gonna be tight." I went through the tasks I'd checked off my list. "I've set up all the lights. And the green screen is in place." Those were the most time-consuming tasks after the lights had been completely disassembled for the move.

"So the hardest part is done. I'll help you with the rest."

I wasn’t convinced. I still had to reassemble my desk and set up my main gaming computers. Plus cameras. I couldn't forget the cameras. I could go with a simpler setup for the stream and only use a couple of webcams, but the desk would still take a while to reassemble.

"Want to guest on the stream if you're here?" If my setup would be more rudimentary, my fans could at least get a little bonus. Streams more than doubled my income, so I put a lot of care into them. I needed three different screens just to make sure I could monitor all the comments from live viewers. If I was ever pressed for time, I’d rather upload fewer videos than miss one of my live sessions.

Salma shrugged as she helped me take out the desk from its box. "Sure, I don't mind. What are we playing?"

"You're the guest, so whatever you want."

"I feel like kicking your ass today. Like drag you on the floor and finish you off?"

I chuckled but wondered if I should keep the power-tools away from her. "So another fighting game?"

"I have a lot of anger to work through."

Salma always had some level of anger to deal with and she usually handled it by savagely beating other people in games. For someone so pretty, she sure was furious all the time. And therein lay her main issue. Salma was beautiful. Classical, all-American beauty, perfect strawberry blond hair, large blue eyes, perfect lips and cute Cupid's bow. Her body had that much desired hourglass shape and she'd toned it to perfection. However, Salma liked loose-fitting clothes, most of them dark and unflattering. She had an immense collection of army-style boots and she favored bold and dark makeup. It didn't mesh well with what people, especially her family, expected of her. Being friends with me and spending so much of her time on her YouTube channel weren't helping either.

We set up the desk and computers in silence, then came up with a nice way of connecting my main camera and the webcams so that we'd both star in my stream. During the actual gameplay, they’d see our faces in the top corners of their screen, then when we’d take a break to address comments, I’d switch the streaming software to my main camera and show us next to each other, chatting. With Salma’s help, I was done with time to spare.

"Okay, let's test this baby." I logged in, typed in the password the realtor had emailed across, and my heart sank. Blood drained from my entire body and my hands shook. "Oh, shit."

"No working Internet," Salma said, her voice meek.

The connection seemed to be working fine. The modem reboot did nothing. I even restarted the system, just to make sure. "Mother fu--"

"Didn't you say you'd already have an Internet connection when you got here?"

I growled, frustrated by her interrupting my cursing. "Yeah, I did. I made the real estate agent check and include it in the contract."

"And didn't you say your landlord lives in the penthouse?"

I nodded, another cuss bubbling in my chest.

"Then go talk to him. Sure beats swearing up a storm over here."

Her dismissive shrug pissed me off. Whenever I was angry or panicking, her cool logic always got on my nerves. She was right, of course. Always practical Salma. But she could have at least refrained from interrupting me mid-swear. The cursing didn't bother her, wasting time on futile things, however, did.

"Fine, I'll go look for him."

"I'd change first." She gave me a once over and scrunched her nose. "You're covered in dust and other dubious stains from riding in the back of that moving truck."

I looked down at my T-shirt and jeans and realized just how much of a mess I was. No one should see me like this, especially not the landlord, given how nice and clean this building was. “Oh, s**t. Thanks for not telling me earlier, Salma. Not like we’re going live soon.”

“I would have told you after you checked everything else. You could have gotten away with just changing your T-shirt, it’s the only thing visible when you sit at your desk.”

I stormed out and headed for my new bedroom. I'd taken all my clothes there, neatly packed and labeled. I’d divided them into tops, bottoms, suits, underwear, shoes, and miscellaneous, which was a godsend.

I picked the first pair of jeans, underwear, and shirt I could find at the top of those boxes and rushed through a three-minute shower. All presentable yet more stressed as the stream go time approached, I headed upstairs.

The elevator took its sweet time to arrive, and when it finally dinged and opened its doors, I burst inside. Luckily, no one was trying to get out. My heart beating like a wild drum, I stabbed the button for the penthouse and tapped my foot as that dumb metal container crawled its way up. Okay, it wasn't a slow elevator. But I had a stream starting soon and no Internet.

The doors opened on the top floor and I stepped into the small hallway. Unlike the rest of the building, the penthouse was the only apartment on this level, the landlord having the privilege of not sharing it with anyone else. Well, at least I did not have to guess which door was his.

I rang the doorbell and waited. Nothing. I knocked and held my breath, my mind going into overdrive as it searched for solutions to make sure the stream would start on time. Still nothing. This couldn't be happening! If he wasn't home, that meant no one could fix my Internet problem. Grunting and running my hand through my hair, I leaned forward and propped my head against his door. What could I do now? Roll myself into a ball and weep?

Salma's disapproving face pushed me to think of something more productive. I could go downstairs and talk to the doorman, leave a message for the landlord if the guy had no clue what to do. I straightened up and nodded to myself, then dashed for the elevator. It arrived quickly, so I took it as a good omen.

And that's where my luck ended. The doorman looked at me with pity in his eyes as I raced through an explanation of my Internet problem. He had a computer with Internet access which he mostly used to keep an eye on the security cameras, but no access to any other part of the building’s systems. To make it worse, he had no clue when the landlord would get back. I checked the time again and sighed. We could make a run for Salma's place, but we'd never get there in time.

I thanked the doorman and turned, speeding away from his desk and hitting a brick wall. I moaned at the impact and fell back. The brick wall moved and caught me, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. "Are you okay?"

As my vision cleared, I realized this was the most beautiful brick wall, I mean hunk of a man, that I'd ever seen. Tall, broad shoulders, a dark blond, messy mop of hair framing his chiseled face, and brown eyes shining with amusement as he waited for me to reply. My attention fell on his lips, stretched in a smile. They were on the thin side, but somehow matched his face.

"Yeah, sorry. I was in a hurry."

"Visiting someone?"

I shook my head, fighting the wave of embarrassment threatening to color my cheeks. Cool way to meet people, Simon. "No, just moved in. I'm Simon."

"Oh, the new tenant in 702? I'm Branden Dahlman. Welcome to the building."

My eyes widened at the name. This was my freaking landlord. Way to embarrass myself on the first meeting.

"Wow, perfect timing! I was actually looking for you."

His smile faded a little. "Anything wrong?"

"Yeah, my Internet isn't working. It's paramount for my work, that's why I requested it pre-installed. I have a password but..."

"You need a different one. I was going to come by later today to let you know. I didn't realize you'd be arriving this early."

Relief washed over me. Great, I didn't need to postpone the stream or run across town to make it to Salma's.

"You okay there? You look like you're going to melt."

I grinned and nodded. Was that? Yeah, his eyes widened at my grin. I hoped it was the dimple effect and not some food stuck in my teeth. Salma always said I had a killer smile. That, my large eyes, and the blessing of pre-styled hair that never looked bad were my biggest selling points.

"Yeah, all good, just super relieved. There was no prompt or login error, so I had no clue what had caused the problem. I was panicking before I ran into you." I scratched my jaw and smiled apologetically. "Well, more like slammed into you. Sorry about that."

He laughed and shook his head. "No harm done. We changed all the routers on your floor and the new ones required us to change passwords. If you give me your phone number, I can text the password to you the moment I get upstairs."

I’d already decided to change routers. If it didn’t prompt me it needed a different password, it would undoubtedly fail on me in the future. For now, I’d make do, so I rattled my phone number fast, eyes glued on how Branden’s muscles moved as he typed.

"Okay, I'll text you in a minute. And if you need anything else, you can call me." He winked and my breath hitched. God, he was gorgeous. And nice and helpful. But mostly gorgeous.

I followed him to the elevator and when the doors slid open, he motioned for me to go in first. He pressed the button for my floor first and smiled. I nodded but didn't say anything more. So close to him, I didn't think I could. He was a bit like the sun, get too close and have your eyes burned out. In the small space of the elevator, his intriguing cologne teasing my nostrils, and all that perfection right in my face, I found it hard to breathe.

"Here we are," Branden said when we stopped at my floor. "Pleasure to meet you, Simon."

"Likewise," I mumbled, my hand gripping his. Bad, bad idea! I shivered at the touch, his strong hold making me weak. I shook myself, hopefully it hadn't been visible, and dragged my feet away from Branden. It was hard, but then I remembered how late it was and stormed into my apartment.

"What's with that dazed look on your face?" Salma said when she saw me.

I grinned and sat next to her, clutching my phone. "I met the most beautiful man in the world. He's going to text me any minute now."

"Simon, we need a password, not texts from cute guys." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Get your act together."

"The text is the password." I laughed at her confused look. "And the hunk is my landlord."

"Why is all the luck in the world wasted on you?"

"Cause I deserve it?" I shrugged, hoping she'd missed the uncertainty in my voice. I'd worked hard for everything, despite accusations of being a lazy bum, mostly from my parents. Yet I still felt like I’d gotten money and recognition I didn’t deserve because I wasn’t wasting away in a traditional job. Other than my fickle career, I didn’t have much going for me. Looks-wise I was the very definition of average. Average height, average built, nothing striking about my features. I’d tried to level up and shield my mediocre looks with some ink and low-key piercings. Nothing too bold, but enough to have some people notice and say they looked good on me. Even so, I was never going to be the type that left men fumbling for words in elevators. I’d never be as hot as Branden.

"Let's get this show started," Salma said.

I nodded and set up the stream for Twitch and YouTube, making sure we could both see the chat windows. I tested the displays we would switch through again, to correct any last-minute glitches, and the switch in focus to settle my mind. Focusing on what I loved to do always dispelled my doubts, even if it only lasted from the start of my live show until the moment I hit the “Stop broadcasting” button.

"Hello, game addicts everywhere. SimonPlays is here for another two-hour livestream of gaming.”