A few minutes later, Rick had ridden the red balloon back out of the simulation. He’d headed upstairs and taken a seat in Hector’s office.

“So… now he’s good again?” Hector’s voice was low and measured, his question directed to Alex, who again, was present only via telecom. The air-conditioner hummed in the background,

Rick had done well; there wasn’t any other way to spin it. He’d gotten knocked out before reaching the final fight at the center of the map, but no one had prepared him for fist-fighting a T-Rex.

Alex’s disembodied voice echoed off the walls of the dusty office. “He’s really fucking good.”

Rick kept silent. He wasn’t about to explain, and outside that, what else could he add?

Manuel had reappeared for some reason, and he stood, his arms behind his back at the edge of the room, nodding knowingly at Alex’s glowing report. Rick hadn’t thought about it, but Manuel had probably gotten an ass-chewing due to Rick’s breakdown that second day. He cringed. The Latino man’s smile helped Rick assuage his guilt.

“Not a fighter, huh?” Hector smiled and shook his finger at Rick as if he was chastising a family member for a prank.

Rick shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

Alex said, “Yeah, I mean, he got a few lucky bonuses early on, but for someone who hasn’t been a gamer, he really understood the meta-game. He’s got potential.”

Hector folded his arms and leaned back, as if everything that had transpired had simply confirmed his initial faith in his lowly courier. “I knew it.” Rick’s boss clapped his hands slowly. “That poor bastard doesn’t stand a chance.”

Manuel spoke up. “Sonny’s gonna be desperate, though. I don’t think we wanna underestimate how hard he’s gonna fight.”

Hector paced to the other side of the room, rubbing his chin. “It’s do or die for him, but that won’t make him any more talented.”

“And we’ve got tons of video on him,” Alex said. “He’s been in this a long time. He can’t hide from what he is, and I can train our guy—Rick, right? I can train him to punish Sonny’s soft spots.”

Rick chewed his tongue, then said, “Who’s this guy?”

Hector looked at his employee as if he’d forgotten Rick was there. “Santino Esposito—Sonny. That’s your opponent.”

Rick nodded. “And why does he fight?”

Hector, Manuel, and Alex all laughed at that. Hector said, “Why does he fight? That’s cute.”

Manuel said, “Why are you fighting, hombre? Bills to pay, right?”

“He’s desperate because he’s gotta pay his bills?” Rick asked.

“Uh…” Hector took a deep breath

“He should have quit when he was on top,” Alex said. “Now he’s in a hole and he just keeps digging.”

“I feel like I did in algebra class,” Rick said. “What are you not telling me?”

Hector looked at Manuel, then back at Rick. “He’s desperate because if he doesn’t win…”

Manuel drew his finger across his neck, but said nothing.

“They’re gonna kill him?” Rick asked.

Hector raised his hands. “I don’t know about nothing like that, but…”

“But?”

“Jesus Christ, man. It ain’t good.” Manuel shook his head. “But shit, everyone’s got problems. You should stick to fixing your own before you start bailing someone else out, no?”

There was logic in that, and if Rick had learned anything over the last decade, it was that sometimes you just had to put your head down and move forward. He couldn’t let it go, though. “So this guy’s not doing well, but they’re still letting him fight?”

“Look, don’t get me twisted. Sonny’s losing his edge, but he’s put years into simulated fighting across a number of games. He’s just less impressive now than he was in his prime.” Hector raised his eyebrows. “He should have stopped gambling once he started losing fights.”

“So they won’t really kill him if he loses.”

Hector studied the corner of the office, as if there were something unbelievably fascinating there. Manuel wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Right. He nodded silently. “So if I don’t perform?” He let the question hang in the air.

Hector snapped back to face him. “What? No. You’re a replacement, for fuck’s sake.” He laughed. “I’m a big boy, Rick. If I bet on you and I lose, that’s on me. Unless you throw the fight or something.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Rick rolled his eyes. “You’ll just kick me back down to courier again?”

Hector frowned. “I dunno yet. Why the fuck are you focused on losing?” He crossed his arms. “You ever ride motorcycles?”

The question took Rick by surprise. “Not really, no.”

Hector nodded. “I love ‘em.” He shrugged. “Wife won’t let me ride anymore. Says it’s too dangerous.”

Manuel smirked.

“Anyway, anyone who rides learns right away that it’s dangerous, and there’s only two kinds of riders—those who’ve crashed and those who have yet to crash.” Hector paused and sniffed. “An old friend of mine told me that when I crashed—because I loved riding and I wasn’t gonna give it up back then—I needed to remember one thing.” He paused for effect. “Don’t look at the danger.” He shook his head emphatically. “You look at the danger, man, you’re gonna head right for it. Every goddamned time.”

Rick nodded.

“Stop thinking about what’ll happen if you lose. It’ll pull you into a hole you’ll never get out of.” Hector pointed at his temple. “Half of success in this world is just outsmarting your own mind-fuck.”

Rick waited for his boss to say more, but the older man just smiled and nodded. Then he broke the pose and said, “That’s enough life wisdom for today. Let’s talk about money.”

There was the sound of the door clicking shut as Manuel left, and Alex signed off before a high-pitched burst of static announced she’d cut her connection. He was alone with Hector.

His boss paced to the corner of the room and back, then slowly circled his desk before standing in front of the seat in which Rick sat. “I told you this pays better than running.”

“You did.”

Hector crossed his arms and leaned back so he was half sitting on the top of his desk. “What’s your big goal? What’s the thing you really want to happen?”

Rick winced. Should he really say? He shrugged. “I think you know some of it.”

Hector nodded. “Right. Kids. You want kids. A family.” He smiled. “We can make that happen—shit, we’re already halfway there, right?”

Now it was Rick’s turn to find something fascinating in the corner of the room. He gave a slight nod.

“You don’t want to raise them where you are though, right?”

Rick glared at his boss, then gave a small shake of his head.

“And you’ll need to your wife re-qualified.”

Rick nodded again.

“We can make that happen. There’s plenty of money for everyone.” Hector reached into his pocket and gave him a card. “That’s a pre-filled debit card. You’ll find twice your weekly salary there—and your normal hourly will come in as a direct deposit like it usually does.” He frowned. “You do well, you’ll get another one next week.” He motioned toward the door, and Rick stood to leave.

Before Rick’s hand touched the doorknob, Hector said, “I’ll still need you for a few more runs, but only one or two to keep up appearances. Gotta look like I’m paying you for something. These tourneys are”—he tilted his head back and forth—“off the books.”

**************************************************************************************

When Rick got home, Kristina was waiting with leftovers.

“You were gone awhile. Last-minute job?”

He cleared his throat. Have to tell her sometime. “Baby, I got sorta”—he rubbed the back of his neck reflexively and winced when he touched the tender skin around his implant—“I guess you could call it a promotion.”

She tilted her head. “Couriers get promotions?” She squinted. “I used to run, baby. What kind of—”

“Not running.” He shook his head and an awkward tension filled the space between them.

“Not—” Her look was apprehensive.

“No. It’s not… It’s not that.” he said.

“Would you tell me if you did?” she asked.

He sighed. “Don’t even talk that way. I wouldn’t because I would never do that. Far as I’m concerned, that’s a totally different business and I got no interest in… that.” He strode to the table and sat.

“What, then?” She pushed a plate filled with porketta and mashed potatoes toward him.

The scent wafted into his nostril. Home. He sat back and looked into her eyes. “I need you to trust me.”

The skin around her mouth tightened as she clenched her jaw. “Okay…”

“You know how they have those simulated video games now?”

She nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Turns out my boss and some folks he knows run tournaments with them. He needed a”—he stopped to search for a word that wouldn’t upset her—“replacement. Turns out, I’m good at it.”

Confusion played over the features of her face. “He pays you to play games?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. It’s…” Here goes. “It’s a fighting game.”

The confusion on her features deepened. “You? You’re playing… simulated fighting games? How does that… how are you…”

“I dunno. The first time, there was a glitch, and—”

“You—the guy I gotta screen movies for to make sure they don’t trigger your… you know.”

He nodded vigorously. “I think the burglars fucked up my implant. I noticed the AR porn wasn’t having its normal—”

She snickered, maybe more in shock than anything else. “You tried it on porn?” She squinted and looked at the ceiling. “Wait, that’s actually kind of smart… it wouldn’t trigger you if…” She frowned. “I still can’t believe you, of all people—”

“I know.” He let a smile come over his face, but then dropped it when he saw the worried look on her face.

“If you can fight again—”

“Just in the game, honey, not in real life. Something about the screwed up implant makes it seem less real.”

She reached across the table for his hand. “You can’t go back to being that guy. I can’t… I just can’t.”

He sighed deeply. He’d earned that. It was an old wound, but he’d earned every ache and hitch it caused him. “Sweetie, no. Just because I can play-fight in a simulated world doesn’t mean I’m that guy again.”

As if she hadn’t heard him, she continued, “That man was not a good man.” She looked into his eyes and it nearly broke his heart. “I’d rather live in a ghetto and scrape for the rest of my life than ever live with that guy again.”

“I know. Oh, baby, I know.” He swallowed and left his seat to put his arms around her. “I don’t think Alex will let me get that way—she’s pretty good at busting my balls.”

“Who?”

He was so excited he walked right into it. “She’s my trainer. She—”

“Your trainer is a woman?”

Oh fuck. “Yeah, I mean… I think so. I’ve never seen her in person or anything. Her character is a woman.”

Various anxious looks passed over her face in waves. He hugged her closer and breathed more easily when she didn’t fight him. “I’m yours, babygirl. All yours.”

She sniffed and pushed her face into the depression above his armpit between his chest and arm. “You better be.”

He held her for a few minutes, syncing his breath with hers, and her tense muscles relaxed the longer he embraced her. “Honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay if I eat now?”

She laughed. “Yeah.”

He sat and started on the food she’d prepared for him. He looked up at her now and again as he ate, nervous about whether she’d lost faith in him.