Geek Mafia Read online

  "But you didn't do that?" asked Chloe as she placed a plate with a sandwich in front of him and went back to the refrigerator.

  "No, that's exactly what I did, which was part of the problem."

  "Do you want a beer or a coke or something?" she asked.

  "Coke's fine."

  Chloe brought back two cokes and set them down on the table before taking a seat next to Paul. "So, wait.

  How was doing your job a problem?"

  "I don't work like a programmer," he said. "I don't sit and draw or write for twelve or fourteen hours at a stretch like they program. I can't do it. My brain is done long before then. Four hours of writing in a day and I CHAPTER 2

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  don't have anything left to say. There's nothing there. Alternately, I can draw for about twice that long. Sure, I can do more - a lot more if there's a deadline or it really needs to be done, but then I'm wiped. I'm no good for anything for the next few days."

  "And your buddies at work thought you were slacking off because you weren't putting in the same kinds of hours," she said. "Basically, they fired you for being a lazy clock-watcher. That's the only reason?"

  "Well, that, and the fact that I probably pissed a whole bunch of them off even though I didn't mean to."

  "Yeah, well, that'd do it. What were you doing to make everyone hate you?"

  "I don't think it was everyone - just some of them. To be honest, I don't have a reputation for listening to other people's ideas." Paul stopped her before she could comment, "And yeah, yeah, that would be bad if it were true, but really it's not. I do listen to other people's ideas. I like to listen to them. But if the ideas aren't good, I'm not going to use them just to make people feel good."

  "Besides," he continued, anger creeping into his voice. "They hired me for my ideas. The game itself was my idea, based on my comic book. And of course I listened to other people's thoughts. But I had the vision and, I can tell you this for sure, no one else there had anything remotely resembling a vision."

  She'd nodded, her expression sympathetic. "Ok, Paul, I think I get the overall picture. In a nutshell, they fucked you over."

  "Yeah," he said. Saying it all out loud to her made had him angry again. Angry at what they'd done to him.

  Angry and betrayed and...

  "I do have one question though," Chloe said, interrupting his angry reverie.

  "Shoot," he said.

  "You're talking in the past tense, like you've been fired already, but earlier you said you're getting fired tomorrow. What's up with that? Most people I know who get fired are shown the door right away. Why wait twenty-four hours?"

  "Oh, I thought I explained that," said Paul. "They can't fire me. I mean, they can't just walk in and tell me to leave. I'm one of the founders. I own nine percent of the company and I'm on the Board of Directors. They have to actually vote me out."

  "Really?" said Chloe, a spark of renewed interest in her voice.

  "Yep. Like I said, this whole project - the whole reason for this company - was my idea."

  "So the vote hasn't happened yet right?" she asked. "How do you know you're going to get voted out?"

  "Well, there are only five of us on the board and the others all told me today how they'd vote. They wanted to have a meeting right then and do it, but I'm entitled to twenty-four hour's notice and I said I wanted it."

  "Why?"

  "I dunno really. I was just so shocked. I had no idea they were even thinking about doing something like this.

  Really. No idea at all. And I'm sort of prone to doing rash things - you know, getting angry and stuff. I knew if I went into a meeting right then I'd blow up. I might hurt somebody or get in more trouble. Some part of me CHAPTER 2

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  was smart enough to say 'hey, just get out of here.' So that's what I did."

  "That makes sense," she said. "I'd for sure have yelled and screamed and broke something. Or someone."

  "Those feelings came later - once I was in my car." Paul looked down at his sandwich. This job, this company, had been his big break, his chance to do something that tons of people would see and enjoy. He was supposed to come out of this a millionaire. He'd never have to work again if he didn't want to. But they'd kicked him out

  - some of them good friends of his. They'd stolen his idea and kicked him out.

  That morning, as he'd sat there in his car outside the office, he'd contemplated just throwing it in gear and driving straight through the plate glass door at the front of the office, just flooring it and putting his trust in the airbags to save him. Or not. Whatever. Paul didn't think he could have done it, but he really wished he had. He wished he had it in him to be so grief stricken that he didn't care what the consequences for his revenge were.

  But he did care. He was worried about his future. And for that he felt like a coward.

  "And then you did the only logical thing under the circumstances," Chloe said. "You went and got a drink."

  "Yes I did."

  "But are you sure they're going to vote you out tomorrow?"

  "Oh yeah, they made that real clear. They already offered me two month's severance, which is more than they have to. Plus I still own whatever stock I've vested."

  "That sucks" Chloe sympathized. "But that last part's good though, right? You still own part of the company, so if the game takes off, you should make some money."

  "Yeah," said Paul, but he didn't sound convinced.

  Neither, it turns out, was Chloe. "Of course there's probably a bunch of different ways they can screw you on that right? Like in the movie business where people get a percentage of the profits but no movie ever really makes any profits because of accounting tricks and whatever. I'm sure game companies do the same shit."

  "Yeah," Paul hadn't had this particular depressing thought until now. "I doubt they'll pay out dividends or anything as long as I'm sitting on nine percent of the stock."

  "You know what Paul? They've got you bent over good. They're giving it to you in the ass and all that's left to negotiate is who's going to do the moving back and forth."

  "I hadn't thought of it that way. Thanks for the image."

  "Have you ever been fucked in the ass Paul?" she asked, her voice dead serious.

  "You mean before today?" he asked, not sure what she was driving at.

  "No, I mean actually fucked in your actual ass."

  "I can't say I have no," he laughed. Ok, this is weird, he thought.

  "I didn't think so." She leaned closer in, her face just a foot or so away from his now. "And would you like to be fucked in the ass?"

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  "Um...no. It's not on my list of things I want to experience."

  "You have a list? What's on the list?"

  "Well, I, ummm..."

  "We'll come back to the list. You're wondering what the hell my point is right?"

  "Um, yeah. Definitely."

  "Here's the deal Paul." She put her hands over his where they rested on the kitchen table. Again, the touch of her skin on made him squirm on the inside - squirm in a good way. "You've just been fucked over so bad you wanna scream. Hell, you probably already did scream. But now it's time pick yourself up and move on. Either that, or get used to being the bitch, right?"

  "Ok, sure," said Paul. No matter how in lust with her he was with her right now, he sure as hell wasn't about to let her do anything to or put anything in his ass. Well, probably not. But he didn't think that things were heading that direction.

  "You don't sound convinced," she said.

  "Well, I'm new to this." He smiled. "Be gentle, it's my first time."

  "Don't worry, you'll learn fast." She took her hands off his, making him immediately miss her touch, but she needed them to slice through the air and emphasize her final point. "You know what's better Paul? Better than lying there and taking it like a bitch? I'll tell you. It's much better to be the one who does the fucking. Which is why I'm gonna help you Paul. I'm gonna help you fuck t
hose bastards 'til they can't walk straight for a year."

  "Sounds good," Paul agreed. "But how can you help me?"

  "What kind of help do you need?" she replied. "I've got a lot of hidden talents, but I can't come up with the solution for you. You have to know what to ask for."

  "I think I need a lawyer more than anything."

  "Ok, say I'm a lawyer. What then?"

  "You're a lawyer?"

  "We'll pretend I'm a lawyer. What would a lawyer do for you?"

  Paul thought about this. What would a lawyer do for him? In his experience, not much. Real life lawyers tended to hem and haw and beat around the bush. They seldom gave straight answers and they were never the go-for-the-throat sharks you see in the movies. "Actually, what I really need is someone like a TV lawyer," he said. "Someone to go in there and threaten the whole lot of them into giving me what I want. Make them afraid of being in court for the next decade. But that sounds like it would cost a lot of money and probably wouldn't actually work."

  "And what is it you want, Paul?" asked Chloe. "Do you want your job back?"

  "No, not anymore. I'm pissed at being fired, but I could never work with them again. No, I want what I'm due.

  I've got my stock, but that won't be worth anything for years, if ever. I'd really prefer to just have that money CHAPTER 2

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  now and leave those fuckers behind forever."

  "Hmmmm," mused Chloe.

  "Hmmmm?" asked Paul.

  "I'm beginning to see a plan. A brilliant plan." She smiled wide. "Abso-fucking-lutely brilliant. A way to make them pay you every last cent you're owed and make them do it tomorrow. Truth is, it's really your plan.

  And believe me, it's a very, very good one. At least it will be once we finish coming up with it. But first I have to ask you some questions."

  Paul had a skeptical look on his face. "Okaaay," he said. "What do you need to know?"

  "Do you still have a key to the office and the security codes and all that?"

  "Yes," said Paul.

  "Great," she said as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and started dialing. "What time does everyone go home?"

  "It's hard to say," said Paul. "Most of the people leave around seven or eight, but a couple of the programmers stay until midnight or later." He watched as she held the phone to her ear, "Who're you calling?"

  "I'm getting the gang together. We can't do this on our own. Gotta have the whole crew."

  Then she was talking into the phone, leaving a message for someone named Raff. After that she made four or five other calls while Paul just sat there. He wondered who these people were and if one of them was Chloe's boyfriend (or girlfriend for that matter). If she had a boy/girlfriend at all. She never told any of the people what was going on - just that they needed to get over to the house by six and that they had a job to do tonight.

  "One more thing Paul," said Chloe when she hung up on the last member of this mysterious gang. "I need you to tell me everything you can about your company's lawyers and your partners' legal experience."

  CHAPTER 3

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  CHAPTER 3

  Paul knew that the plan was insane and probably illegal. Certainly the stuff he'd been helping Chloe and her gang of followers do for the last few hours was technically illegal. He'd asked them why they were helping him, what did they hope to gain? They'd told him that this is what they did for fun. Chloe assured him that they "lived for this kinda shit." Ok, fine. He could sort of see that. Once he was there, helping them come up with the plan and then actually carrying it out, it sure as hell was exciting - probably the most exciting thing he'd ever done.

  Now that he was home and alone with his misgivings and paranoia, it all seemed like a really stupid idea. If it weren't for Chloe and her mesmerizing enthusiasm, there's no doubt that he wouldn't be doing this at all. But it was too late now. Or was it?

  It was five in the morning when Paul got back to his apartment. He'd told Chloe that he wanted to get a few hours sleep before the big meeting, but he now realized that there was no way he was going to be able to relax. When he'd stepped out the door twenty-two hours earlier he'd still had his job and was looking forward to a showing the rest of the art team his new designs for some of the higher-level monsters he wanted to add to the game. Screw that, he thought, they're my monsters now. I'll use them somewhere else.

  It could never work. How could it? Right then and there Paul decided that he was going to call the whole thing off. It wasn't too late. They hadn't done anything yet that wasn't reversible. No one had been hurt. No money had changed hands. No one had been lied to. If he called it off right now he could just move on and try and put the whole, sorry state of affairs behind him.

  He sat down on the couch, the sole piece of furniture in his living room aside from the TV, and started to dial Chloe's number. Then he stopped. No, he thought. Not yet. Think about this for a minute. It might work. And if it does work you're set. Everything you want out of this shitty situation.

  Paul decided to make himself a pot of coffee and take a nice long, hot shower. He was supposed to meet Chloe at the office at 9:00 AM sharp. If he called her at home in a few hours he could talk things through with her again and, if he wanted to call them off, he could.

  As he stood in the shower he wondered again why they were helping him. They were thrill seekers sure. But this wasn't skydiving or even graffiti. It was, in a way, theft or extortion, or possibly fraud There might be serious jail time on the line. But Chloe, with her uncanny confidence, had assured him they'd be fine. That it wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded. Not nearly as against the law as Paul thought it probably should be. She'd called some lawyer friend (did she say former-lawyer or former friend?) and run some of the stuff by him. Be cool she'd said. Everything would work itself out. He almost believed her.

  He decided to dress professionally for this final confrontation and would've put on a suit, but he didn't own one. He didn't even have a tie. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure he'd still remember how to tie one if he did. It'd been ten years since he worked at Barnes and Noble and had to wear ties. They didn't even make the clerks do that anymore he'd noticed. He had a white button down shirt that had been hanging in his closet since before his friend Matt's wedding. He'd had it cleaned for the occasion and then forgotten to pack it. He found a relatively clean pair of khakis to go with it - his dress blacks were balled up in the corner and covered in carpet lint.

  By 6:30 in the morning he was dressed and ready, his squeaky leather dress shoes pinching his toes. Looking in the mirror, he decided that he had been right about dressing for the occasion. He wanted to face his accusers with dignity and professionalism, even if he did decide to call the plan off. Which was something he was now having second thoughts about. He'd go over it again with Chloe, let her convince him or not. Then he'd decide.

  But when he called her he only got voice mail. He left a message asking her to call him back, but somehow he CHAPTER 3

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  didn't expect to hear from her. Maybe she was the one who'd gotten cold feet.

  Not wanting to sit still and not wanting to eat, Paul just got in his car and drove the freeways for an hour, listening to Air America, but not really paying any attention. The liberal radio network usually got him good and fired up with leftist indignation, brought on by the right wing's latest outrages, but today it flowed right over him. It had a calming effect nonetheless, keeping his thoughts from obsessing on what he was apparently about to do.

  He arrived on the street where his office sat at 8:30, but pulled into a parking lot halfway up the block. From there he could see the office parking lot, and he could tell that Chloe wasn't there yet. But Greg, his friend and CEO (Former friend? Former CEO?) was there, and so was Jerry, the game's Producer. Frank, the lead programmer wasn't there yet, but Paul would've been surprised if he was. Frank seldom came in before 11:00

  on a normal day (and Paul knew he hadn't left last night until clos
e to midnight), so making a 9:00 AM

  meeting was always tough for him. Also M.I.A. was Evan, the Art Director. There was one other car in the lot, which Paul recognized as belonging to the company's lawyer.

  He sat and watched and listened, waiting for the rest of them to arrive. Evan sped into the parking lot about five minutes later and Paul watched him go inside. Paul had ducked down when he saw Evan pull onto the street, though if Evan had bothered to glance over he might have recognized Paul's car. Oh well, he thought, it won't really make much difference. By 8:55 there was still no sign of Frank. More alarming, there was no sign of Chloe. He checked his voicemail, but no one had called.

  Shit! He thought. What the hell is this about? He couldn't believe she was late. For a fraction of a moment he wondered if maybe he'd imagined the whole thing. Maybe there was no Chloe. Maybe he was having a breakdown and had dreamed up the woman, the gang, the plan - everything. But no, that didn't seem too plausible. Odds were she'd probably just chickened out. Or maybe she'd been playing him all along. Either of those would make more sense than her actually going through with the plan they'd come up with together.

  Paul started his car and drove the two hundred feet to his soon to be former office. Just as he was getting out, he heard screeching tires from the street behind him. Chloe? No, it was Frank's red Miata. Oh well. Paul and the lead programmer saw each other, but both decided it would be more comfortable to pretend they hadn't.

  He went on inside and avoided any awkward parking lot confrontations.

  The conference room was back and to the right, in a corner of the office hardly ever visited. Paul's stomach fluttered and bile crept up into his throat. He felt sweat trickle down the small of his back even though the office was refrigerator cold. This was going to suck, he realized. At least Chloe had given him one thing - he'd spent the last twenty hours planning his revenge and flirting with a pretty girl instead of obsessing about his fate. He was somehow grateful that he'd only have a few minutes of feeling this shitty anticipation before the axe fell.