“Hi. Why are you here, Dad?”

He placed a hand on the screen door to stop me from shutting it.

“Just want to see my son! Is that so bad? I read the papers, you know.”

“I don’t give a shit what you read. Come in before the reporters take a goddamn photo of you and me together.”

He scratched his shoes on the doormat and turned, waving a jewelled hand at the reporters by the curb. Sure enough, a camera flashed, though I would’ve been almost entirely out of the shot.

I sent Mom a message.

[Wherever you and Dale are, stay out for a while. Dad’s back.]

[Bastard. You can handle him?]

[Easy.]

“You gunna offer me coffee, or tea? Your Mom still make those gingerbread bikkies I like?”

“I’m sure you know how a kettle works; you can do it yourself. And no, they tend to leave a bad taste in the mouth these days.”

“Ahhh well. Suppose that fits.”

I ignored his jibe, instead sitting down at the table and flipping the paper over so the article didn’t show. He pottered around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards.

“You got sugar in this place?”

“Same place it was when you were here.”

He stood back for a moment, no doubt trying to call back some ancient memory. He tried one of the cupboards under the sink, disappointed by the dishwashing liquid and paper towel that he found there.

“Second one to the right of the glasses.”

“Cheers, Underdog.”

We were both silent while he made his drink. He left the kettle sitting on the bench, and the tea bag in the sink. Eventually, he assumed his old position at the head of the table.

“So, you pulled a rabbit out of the hat last night, huh? Bill’s Yard though, eek. You could’ve asked me for an Elthen Fields Pass, you know.”

“As you can see, I didn’t need it.”

“Mhm.”

He slurped his tea and stared at me. Once he’d settled, his cologne was so strong it made the whole room smell like whatever scent he wore. It could’ve been rosehip and tulips, but to me it may as well have been eau de bogwater.

“I bet her boyfriend didn’t make you that offer. I can tell he’s still around — the moon would be jealous of that crater on the couch.”

He slurped again, happy with his analogy.

“Again, I didn’t need it. Is money the only thing you’ve got to wave around? Why are you here?”

“I told ya, I read the news. And as a recruiter I have to say, you caught my eye.”

I almost marched him out the door right then and there. He coolly reached over and plucked the newspaper up, flipping it over. I’d hoped for attention from a recruiter, but not this recruiter.

“Is that the first time? Was it because it was your son’s name in the paper, or because you thought there was some money in it for you?”

“Why can’t it be both? And don’t give me that crap. You and I used to be good old chums, remember?”

He cupped his hands in front of them, reminding me of my single fond memory of him. He kind of tainted it by doing so, especially because it reminded me that there was only one fond memory to be remembered.

“Well, let’s talk business then. Give me your offer, and I’ll either say no or no.”

“You mean yes or no.”

I stayed silent.

“Fine. Business it is. Negotiating a salary with my son like we’re enemies, both trying to get the better of each other. How pleasant.”

He pulled out some papers from a suitcase and placed them on the table. Next came the glasses, carefully unfolded and thoroughly wiped before going on.

“Oliver Matanor? Yes, right here, let’s see. The Final Frontier would like to offer you two-hundred thousand krad, plus benefits, in exchange for 12 months service beginning the first day after the beginner zones close.”

He paused to gauge my reaction. “Are we on the right track? Shall I read on?”

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“If by ‘right track’ you mean a muddy trail leading to the middle of nowhere, then yes, we’re on the ‘right track.’”

“Oliverrrr. Be reasonable. I thought we were talking business. You are an adult, yes? Act like one.”

He rearranged his paper and pretended to re-do his budgeting or something. Eventually, he let out a long sigh and made his second pitch.

“Very well, I believe I can squeeze you through at three-hundred thousand. That is our final offer, and I’ll probably get my head bitten off for going out on a limb like this.”

“You shuffled a few papers and found one hundred thousand krad? No.”

“Four hundred?”

“Not a chance.”

I could tell I was pushing him, and his temper was close to flaring up. All of a sudden, I was very conscious that it was just him and me at home. I’d specifically told Dale and Mom to wait a while before returning.

“You’re a fool, Oliver. Inherited it from your bitch mother, and probably exacerbated it by being around that no-hoper boyfr—”

“Get out. Now.”

“Out of my own house? I can stay as long as I want. Hell, I could tell you to leave if I wanted.”

“Out.”

He rolled his fingers on the table, clicking his nails and twisting his rings. I would’ve been quite happy to see his suit spontaneously go up in flames, but it remained perfectly tight, hiding the ageing man underneath.

“Very well then. Give your mother my regards.”

The papers went back in the suitcase, the glasses were wiped and put neatly back in their box, and he lifted himself from the table and went to the door. I stayed at the table as he lingered, looking around the house he used to live in.

“The original offer remains on the table. Let bygones be bygones, Ollie. Grow up.”

With that, he left.

This time around, I was happy to see him go. There was none of the confusion from the first one, back when Mom had to explain to her child that Dad was going on a very long business trip.

I sent Mom a message.

[All done. Wanted me to join his guild.]

[We’re on our way back. Thanks for dealing with him.]

[:)]

After that blip in my otherwise-peaceful day, I decided to take my mind of things with some spring cleaning. The Pod room needed a thorough air-out, and my bedroom was encroaching on the definition of hoarding. Old textbooks littered my cupboards, clothes that hadn’t fit since I was twelve scattered themselves around the floor, and I’d unknowingly built a habitat for three species of spiders underneath some other old junk.

I went to work, cleaning out my room and dusting my meeting with Dad from my brain. It needed a bit more than dusting — more like a coating of bleach and a scrub with steel wool.

Mom and Dale got back, bearing gifts. We had kebabs and fries for lunch, adding extra tzatziki and my guilty pleasure — mustard. I’d been thoroughly reprimanded by everyone who ever saw me add mustard to my kebabs, but no one ever tried it, so I told them all that they just didn’t understand flavour.

“What did he have to say?” Mom asked.

“Bunch o’ bullshit, pretty much. Did all his little mind games showing off his money and his fancy rings. Oh, and he’s clearly not Dale’s biggest fan.”

The man laughed and continued mixing a mocktail for Mom. He was chuffed to have even been brought up. He said it ‘gave him power over the guy.’

“You said he wanted you to join The Final Frontier? How much did he offer?”

“Well, he started at two-hundred thousand—”

“Holy crap! You’ve only been in the game for what, three weeks? Less?”

She started counting the days on her fingers, pulling a face of horror. “This is the longest I’ve gone without immersing since I gave birth to you! Holy crap, Ollie!”

I let the shock roll through. I was proud of her for taking an actual break, rather than just a long weekend or a single sick day when she was miserably unwell.

“It’s good, Ma, but get this. I basically told him to piss off, and he went up to three hundred, then four. Final offer might not have been legit, but the three definitely was.”

She slumped back in her chair, chewing through the last of her kebab and picking at the crispiest fries.

“Far out. They must be putting something in the water over there. What kind of dungeons are they running to pay their members that kind of money?”

“Big ones,” Dale said. “Large, even.”

She closed her eyes, crunching the numbers and emitting exasperated sighs every now and then. “It’s unbelievable, really. I know I’m not top of the tree or anything, but I always thought I got a pretty decent rate as a [Swashbuckler]. I suppose my guild has the added benefit of encouraging a life outside of B&B, but still. Two hundred thousand would be the Elthen Fields five times over for you, buddy boy.”

“That ship has sailed, Ma. Plus, I’m starting to think that the Fields aren’t so crash hot anyway. The stuff I’ve managed to squeeze out of Duri and Annette suggests that there isn’t much to do at all over there. Joey’s doing raids, I guess, but none of them get the same NPC interaction I’ve had. And that’s the best bit, so far.”

I had to admit that I hadn’t given myself much opportunity to enjoy the game. I’d really only spent a few hours doing genuinely fun stuff, namely the two hunting sessions with Claire. Unfortunately, I’d have to find myself a new hunting partner now.

“Mm. I’d say that raking in krad should be your favourite bit, but that could just be a mother’s concern showing through.”

“So, you’re alright with me not going and working for The Devil?”

“Absolutely, Ollie. There’re thousands of great guilds out there.”

It was good to tick that off the list. I’d assumed Mom would be mortified if I even considered Dad’s proposition, let alone actually entertaining it.

Throughout the afternoon, my mind wandered to my next steps in B&B. It was hard to think of anything else, because I’d basically dropped all my hobbies the minute I immersed for the first time. The only things left were cooking an occasional meal and singing in the shower. I wasn’t terrible at either of them, but it was clear I wasn’t going pro.

So that left me with scraping together a living in B&B. Esko’s teachings left me with a ‘healthy’ suspicion of the Olympics and the thousands of folks who gathered there, but there were far more ways to make a dime in the great wide world of B&B. For one, my courier business could be reproduced on a mass scale, or I could work out the secrets of potion making or blacksmithing. The possibilities were endless, if I just had the decisiveness to choose one, and the foresight to know which was best.

For now, things were going pretty well for me just by getting my foot in the door of every opportunity that came my way. If I hadn’t done those NPC quests, I wouldn’t have met Claire, and if I hadn’t tried to create a date out of monotonously grinding out [Darthogs], she might not have thought of me for the [Dark Naga] dungeon.

Things had a way of working themselves out, and I was content to leave them that way, at least until the next shiny thing walked through my door and distracted me.

Just as I was preparing for bed, my Yurt vibrated. I’d been avoiding using any screens before bed because I was convinced it was one of the factors affecting my poor sleep. Another factor was the giant piece of machinery that transported my consciousness to another world, but it’s the little things that count. I picked up my phone, shut one eye so that I only lost half my tiredness, and looked at the top message.

It was Joey. He wanted to meet.