I can feel Jackson seething beside me. I know the history about his company. He only went public when it was a choice between that or losing half his workforce after one of Empire’s Fall’s expansions underperformed. He saved his company, sure, but he never wanted to be a puppet.
“We need to address the player disappointment,” he says tightly.
“They’re disappointed,” she says, nodding. “But they’re stillplaying, aren’t they? More importantly, they’re stillpaying.”
“Excuse me, but that’s very shortsighted,” I butt in.
Crystal looks at me in disgust, as though a pig has somehow produced speech. I straighten my spine. I want to shrink. It’s easier to be confident behind a camera lens than a sneeringmillionaire. But when I see Jack looking at me approvingly out of the corner of my eye, I’ve got all the support I need.
“Shortsighted, you say?”
“Yes,” I reply, nodding. “While it’s true that hardcore players—players who, like me, will probably never quit the game—are still logging in, casual players are avoiding the Emerald Cove entirely. A flagship zone, with all its enemies, completely wasted, with nothing to fill the void. Sooner or later, the player numbers will start dropping.”
“Then we’ll go the way of our Japanese developers-in-arms,” she says, shrugging.
“If only the board were structured like that,” Jack says, a low growl in his voice. “The deal remains the same, however. I get final say on all US micro transactions.”
“It’s gross that even in Japan people have to pay for stuff, anyway,” I add. “Paying to change your horse’scolor? That’s just insane. In the US version, you must learn husbandry, collect the materials for the dye, and?—”
“You really play this,” Crystal cuts in, looking me up and down. “How old are you?”
I’m dangerously close to snapping. I know that would be bad for Jack. It would invite questions, like,why is this streamer so confident snapping at a shareholder in front of the CEO?
“What does my age have to do with me playing this game?” I ask tightly.
“Our demographic ranges from children to pensioners,” Jack says, his voice just as tight. “I’m sure, as a valued shareholder, you wouldn’t want to insult someone who has not only been aloyal player for many years but also encourages others to play. Would you, Ms. Sagar?”
“How many times must I tell you, call me Crystal?”
“One more, it seems,” Jack grunts.
She tsks, spins on her expensive heels, then walks away.
“Was that a good idea?” I ask.
Jack looks down at me with an almost boyish grin. It feels crazily natural being in person with him. I thought his celebrity might be too massive, a block wedged between us. Or that we might be awkward without a screen separating us.
But no. It feels right.
“Probably not,” he says. “But I’ll be damned if I stand here while she disrespects you.”
I smile and raise my hand. I almost touch him when I see a photographer walk by.
“You’d better circulate,” I say.
He sighs. “You’re right.”
“Keep your phone on,” I tell him. “So, I can torture you.”
He smirks. “Why do I like the sound of that?”
I watch him go, wondering if anybody senses the chemistry between us. The moment he leaves me, he seems grumpier and standoffish. It’s like every muscular inch is roaring at him to come back to me.
I circulate around the booths, saying hello to a couple streamers I’ve spoken to online. We take some selfies and a short video forour fans. Being a streamer gives me a good excuse to be on my phone constantly.
I look across the room. Jack is surrounded by men in suits.
I think about what Mara said. This is, at a bare minimum, my chance to have some fun. Letting the champagne flow around me and my confidence bubble up, I send a text.