“Yes. And I couldn’t continue alone.”
There is so much more to the story, of course. So many details he is not telling me. But why should I expect him to share that? I didn’t even tell him what I want yet.
Erik’s left hand closes in a fist on the table, and I watch as his jaw tightens. “Martin left me to go work at fucking Scorpio Games after I quit.”
What? My jaw drops. No, this can’t—
“Martin? Do you mean Martin Olesen?”
Holy mother of—
“Yes. Martin fucking Olesen.”
I shriek and cover my mouth. Then I bang a hand on the table. Hard, like Erik did that day at the English pub.
“Oh my gosh, Erik!” I can’t believe this. It’s so messed up. I stand, disoriented. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Why did it matter?” He drinks up, eyes narrowed.
Either he thinks I’m overreacting, or he is not grasping the seriousness of the situation. I rest my hands on the table and lean closer to him.
“Because Martin Olesen is my nemesis.” A memory sparks in my brain. I said this to Erik the day we met at the English pub. He was surprised and, right after, decided to give me the room. Probably because he thought that by helping me, he’d be hindering Martin’s success.
Erik’s wish to get back at his treacherous former business partner doesn’t bother me. In fact, he should want that.
“Erik,” I say with a grave tone, seeking his eyes with even more intensity. “I’m competing with Martin for that promotion, as you’re aware.” I take a deep breath before releasing the bomb. “And Martin is going to steal your idea and sell it to Scorpio Games if he becomes the new game director.”
Erik stands up too. “What the fuck are you saying?” His brow is furrowed. Very. We stare at each other.
“I had no idea he was your business partner. But this changes everything...”
Or, well, this gives me more motive to ask for Erik’s help.
We both want the same thing. Martin Olesen to go to h—
“Why are you saying that he’ll steal my idea? How can you know that?”
“Here’s the thing.” I sit down again, and Erik reluctantly settles back on his chair too. “The day Lars told me about the game director position, he said that Martin was talking about a truly innovative idea for an app. ‘A dating game of sorts.’”
Erik’s face twists into a scowl. “Motherfucker,” he mutters, his right hand also clenching into a fist.
“You think he would do that to you?” Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions...
“He would,” Erik says without hesitation. “God, how could I’ve been so stupid?” He hits the table with his fist.
“It’s not your—”
“I didn’t ask him to sign a contract or a nondisclosure agreement, Sol. I took no legal measures to guarantee the idea would remain secret—and mine. I simply...trusted that bastard. Goddammit.” He rubs his face. “And he’s being considered for the role?”
“Lars hinted at that, yes,” I confirm, pained to see his anguish. I would also be crawling out of my skin if I was in his situation. “And Martin is in my Fun Season group.”
“Fuck,” Erik curses again, brushing his hair back with his fingers in exasperation. “But if he pitched the game to Lars, then it’s too late.”
“I don’t think he gave the whole thing away yet,” I say. “Knowing Martin, he’s using it as leverage to seem like a more interesting candidate. ‘Hey, Lars, I already have an idea I’m ready to pursue if you hire me as game director.’” I imitate Martin’s dry, haughty voice.
Erik smiles at my goofy impersonation, which makes my stomach tingle in a funny way. “That sounded accurate,” he says.
“I already hated Martin’s guts,” I grumble. “Now I just...”
Now I want to rip him to absolute pieces. Like he’d done to the last idea I pitched.
Erik looks at me, but I can’t tell if he is moved by my concern for his situation or if he is suspicious of why I brought him here to have this conversation.
“Help me understand, Sol. What do you want from me?”
He crosses his arms on the table. His fists are still tightly closed, though his face looks calmer.
“Before I knew...well...all of this...” I make an encompassing hand movement. “I was going to offer help so you could finish your project in exchange for you helping me with something.”
I look down, losing courage. He leans forward, pressing me. “And now?”
“Now I want to offer you the same deal. But now I know you have strong reasons to help me.”
“And why is that?” He squints.
I keep close eye contact, feeling more breathless by the second. “Because we have a common enemy.”
“Hmm,” he grunts, and I must stop myself from enjoying the sound for the second time in the day. “So, you want help getting your promotion?”
