Rick was in a daze on the train ride home. No one immediately around him understood, but perhaps some saw that something in him had changed.

To say that he’d gotten the Ruckus Online world’s attention was an understatement. He’d already received ten flat out offers—offers with a lot of money and opportunity attached to them.

There was nothing from Dan, though, which concerned him. He checked his phone again for texts. Nothing. Not from Dan and not from Kristina.

A boy stared at him from the protective proximity of his nearby mother, who hadn’t noticed the object of the boy’s fascination. Rick tried to smile at the kid, but when he did, the boy turned and hugged his mother’s leg. He turned his head. No need for anyone to think he was a stranger trying to get to know kids.

He stared out the window and watched the city float by. Before he got on the train, he’d wandered the blocks near the SR array shop for an hour, figuring it made more sense than going home, stepping inside, and then going right back out to the sushi restaurant.

He’d given himself enough time that, if the train was on time—hardly a sure thing—he’d be there twenty minutes early. There was a slowdown when an old woman crossed the street with zero regard for the train bearing down on her, as well as an extra requested stop or two for the early afternoon route. Despite the delays, he got to the restaurant ten minutes early.

When he stepped inside, he heard a voice call from a nearby table.

“Hey rockstar, didn’t think you’d show up.”

Rick searched for the source of the voice and found it, a fresh-faced blond man sitting at a booth next to the window. The man, assumedly Dan Wasslinger, waved him over. The man’s white teeth projected a megawatt smile that could have powered half of L.A.

Rick sat opposite the man and nodded. “Why would you think I wouldn’t show up?”

The man gave him a playful frown and lightly tapped him on the arm. “You can’t really be that modest.”

Rick played dumb, but a small grin crept onto his face.

Dan’s movie actor smile came back, but to Rick, it seemed earnest. The man was good at meeting people.

“Ah?” Dan nodded slowly, like they were both in on an unimportant secret.

Rick glanced down at the table. “I’ve had a few emails, yeah.”

Dan slapped his arm playfully again, as if he was a woman on a first date. “Oh, bullshit. I’ll bet you got more than a few.” Dan was smirking when Rick looked up.

“More than a few, yeah. Still. I committed to this. I take my commitments seriously.” Rick took a deep breath. “I may need a bit more than anything they can promise.”

That seemed to take Dan by surprise. “Really?” He nodded. “Being a Dokutan company player means being part of the biggest going team, but…”

Rick frowned. “But?”

“It’s a big arena. Best players. Lotta folks think they’re gonna go big, and then… It’s like Hollywood used to be.”

Rick nodded and frowned. He glanced at the table again, then at Dan. “You know I’m an immigrant?” Rick gestured to stop Dan from talking. “I’m legal. Totally naturalized. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Dan narrowed one eye. “Okay?”

“Fighting’s been outlawed here since… shit, since after the split, right?”

Dan nodded.

“Wasn’t where I’m from.”

Dan’s eyes widened. “Ahh… I wondered how you ended up so good so quickly. You have to quit when you emigrated?”

Rick shook his head. “After I moved here, I flew over once a month or so for matches. Did it for a long time, but…” He studied the ceiling. Christ, the guy doesn’t need to know my life’s story. “Look, the point of telling you that isn’t to brag or…” Rick looked out the window, then back at Dan. “I’m telling you this because it means I’m disciplined. I played games back in the day—arcade fighters, mostly—but I’m not really a gamer. I, uh… didn’t have the free time for that.”

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Dan’s smile faded and a soft, serious look took over his face. He didn’t say anything.

“Money’s one thing, and it’s nice,” Rick said. “It’s really nice.” He swallowed. “I’m going to need more than money.” Rick leaned in and lowered his voice. “I need to know if you can help me with a little problem I have with some folks who don’t do everything above board.” Rick exhaled a long sigh. Had he blown it?

Dan leaned in, too. “We’re a big company. Seen a lot of things.” The smile came back, but it was a slyer smile than his earlier one. “Whatever you tell me, whether I can help you or not, it stays here.” Dan raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re cheating at our game.”

Rick took another deep breath and began to tell his story.

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

The diesel train was much more comfortable than the city train. Where the city train had hard plastic seats, the long range, diesel travel train had cushioned seats.

The tickets hadn’t been cheap, but that wasn’t what made it hard for Rick to sleep. He’d turned the light out an hour ago, and the train car was mostly empty. He stared out the window into the blackness, as intermittent lights gave him snapshots of a strange slice of railway California. Every now and again, the train would slow and they’d crawl through a town before the train picked up speed again.

He transferred to a smaller commuter train at four in the morning having had only three hours of fitful sleep. Two hours later, he was in Grass Valley.

His mood had lifted, but nerves still gave him an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. He’d texted Kristina several times on the way, and with each unreturned text, his hope had died some small bit further.

Then, an hour before he got to Grass Valley, she replied, and she wasn’t hostile. It was still tricky ground, and he could still screw it up, but she didn’t tell him to turn around and go home.

He was lucky he’d gotten there early. His wife had mentioned that she might not have been able to get away from her parents’ house if she didn’t go early. Kristina wasn’t a morning person, so it meant something she was willing to get dressed and out the door quickly to see him.

It was a short walk from the train station to the breakfast restaurant where they’d agreed to meet. The air was cooler up north, but he’d worn a hoodie to prepare for it. As the cool air seeped through the garment, he regretted not bringing a sweater as well.

He took a deep breath before he stepped through the restaurant’s glass door, then scanned for her. Though the booths were high, the telltale wiggle of blonde hair that peeked out over the top of the one near the corner was likely her. He approached and sat.

She looked up, and her skin was pinched around her eyes, but then it relaxed and she sighed. Steam rose from a cup of coffee off to her side.

“Hey,” Rick said.

“Hey,” she said.

How are your parents? But he didn’t say it. Instead, he said, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She frowned. “Hungry?”

“Are you?”

She shook her head. “Not really, no.”

Fuck. Is her mom on her about her weight? Abigail was constitutionally incapable of withholding criticism, especially concerning her daughter. If she stops eating again…

He buried the worry. “I got a hell of an offer.”

“Fighting?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s great for you.”

He frowned and looked at the table. “For me, yeah. For us, maybe?”

Kristina fidgeted with the paper dolly on the table before her. “I want my”—she lowered her voice—“biological property back.”

Rick gave her a confused look. “I don’t know if that’s—”

“Hector,” she said. “He’s offering. My parents are… They said they might help.”

Help. You mean pay for the eggs. “Are there strings attached?”

She rolled her eyes. It had been a stupid question. Her mother’s help always came with strings.

Rick had been certain Hector destroyed the eggs—after all, keeping them was a legal liability in California, but the offer made sense.

He placed both hands palm down on the table in front of him, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “The offer I got was from Dokutan. If I prove myself, they’ve promised to cut Hector out of our lives. New house, different part of town.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she knew there was more.

He hesitated. No, she should know everything. “And a resolution to the”—he cleared his throat—“biological property question, too. If I do well and give them some information about other shady shit Hector’s into.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Okay?” He tried to keep the worried look off his face.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“I thought it would be—”

“It’s not going back to the way it was, Rick. Not right away. Can you agree to that?”

He swallowed hard. Would it be worse to have her there and still not have her? It would be painful, but not worse. “Yes,” he said.

She let out a long breath. “You know what? I am hungry.” She got the attention of a waitress, and when she faced him again, there was the hint of a smile on her face. “What do you have to do in order for them to consider it ‘doing well’?”

Rick sat back and his posture softened. The waitress got their orders—he was hungry as well, now that the gnawing anxiety in his gut had eased—and for the next hour or so, he told her everything. Ditto, the yellow light and empty mind, Hector’s cheating software and how they’d traced it, and finally, what he had to accomplish to get them completely clear of his former boss.

He promised to himself one thing: regardless of whether he got her back or not, he’d never lie to his wife again.