“You can’t do this,” I hear myself say. All eyes are on me now. Something inside me is making me speak, and I’m unable to stop it. “This idea is not available. It’s Erik’s idea!”
The silence is heavy in the room. Lars is looking at me with his forehead wrinkled, and Martin is a stone carved on top of his chair. Did he think I wouldn’t have the courage to say it?
“It is actually my idea,” Martin says calmly and wets his lips as if ready for a juicy meal.
“It’s a great idea, so we decided to go for it.” Lars interlaces his fingers on the table, blinking in untroubled composure as if they are doing absolutely nothing wrong.
I’m having a hard time hiding the shaking of my hands, both closed in tight fists. I can’t believe this is happening. How dare they—how—
Breathe, Sol, breathe...
Anyone who investigates properly will know that Martin was a cofounder of Erik’s company and was disgusting enough to abandon him, get a job at Erik’s former workplace, and steal his idea... An idea he feels entitled to because he also worked on it. Erik didn’t protect himself with an NDA. What Martin is doing is unethical, but not illegal.
Looking at Lars now, serious and tough in his posture, I feel nauseated. I know very well that Scorpio Games is a capitalist powerhouse that takes popular ideas and surfs on their wave of success. But I didn’t expect them to be so tricky and disgusting.
Erik’s company doesn’t have the same money and resources as Scorpio. It’s just me and him working for free. No matter how much worse Scorpio’s version will be, it will be the one to make thousands, millions, and reach the top of the charts...
I’m so furious now I can barely stay in the room, looking at the people acting like it’s okay to drive over a tiny car with a tank. How silly was I to think Scorpio wanted to do something original for once!
I take a deep breath. I should keep my cool, at least until the meeting is over. I need time to think things through. If I go mad now, Lars may fire me. Or if he doesn’t, I will certainly lose the promotion.
Do I even want to work here though? Do I want to direct Erik’s game at Scorpio when he’s sitting at home, unemployed, working on his own version all by himself for free?
I would be an even bigger traitor than Martin.
Shit. I sigh. The idea of looking Lars in the eye and saying, I quit, has never been so appealing, but it’s also never been as gut-wrenching.
I’m not the same Sol who sat with Lars in late September with the intention of telling him I had to go back to Brazil because I couldn’t find a place to live. Now I not only have an apartment; I have a home in Copenhagen, where I’m comfortable and happy.
I have Erik.
Quitting at this point means giving up on him and the life we could build together in this wonderful city. If I don’t have this job, the visa, and the money it provides me, I can’t stay.
There are no good options. Either I stay at Scorpio and betray Erik, or I give up on my dream and leave him. Neither of the choices give us or our ambitions a fair chance.
So maybe I don’t have to choose. Not right now. Not alone.
Controlling my emotions, I stay still and quiet for the rest of the meeting, picturing all the different ways beetle-turned-snake Martin could choke on the venom of his big, poisonous tongue.
Twenty-Three
I forgot my key, and Erik doesn’t answer the door. Great.
I text him, and he says he is at the gym, coming home in half an hour, so I decide to walk around the block while I wait.
Instead of taking a stroll by the lake, I walk on the other side of the residential buildings and end up in a public playground. Something makes me open the gate and walk inside. It’s getting dark earlier and earlier these days. The sky is already at that mystic cobalt color, going navy within the hour, the streetlamps slowly lighting up.
A handful of kids are swinging, climbing, making sand cakes, and running around loudly. Tired parents call after them, eager to go home and eat dinner. I claim an empty table and watch the activity, knowing that soon I’ll be the only one here.
I take my computer out of my backpack and open the latest files in our shared Love Birds folder. I haven’t touched them in a while. I’m seeing everything as an external observer—and the idea seems weak and incomplete, like a jumble of pieces that don’t connect.
My laptop screen is the lightest thing around when Erik joins me fifteen minutes after texting to ask where I am. When he sits by my side—already showered and equipped for a chilly night—he gives me a kiss and sets a thermos on the table, along with two paper cups.
“I brought coffee.”
I force a smile. “You should have brought liquor instead.” I rub my face, wondering how to begin. I didn’t want to text him about what happened today. This had to be a conversation face-to-face. “We should go inside. It’s cold and dark.”
“Not that cold—refreshing. Not that dark—inspiring.” Erik smiles at me. “I thought you were the optimist of the two of us.”
“Hard to be optimistic after today,” I mumble.
“What happened?” A shadow crosses his face.
I take a deep breath and release the bomb. “They’re stealing your idea, that is what’s happening. Scorpio’s next game is Martin’s version of Love Birds.”
“What?” Erik stands up. “I thought that...” He loses his train of thought, shocked. I pull him back down, and he sits heavily next to me. His face is pale, his chest rising and falling, panic-stricken.
I’ve had my visceral reaction. First in the meeting room, then in the bathroom at work, then leaving as early as I could, walking all the way home so I could put on my headphones and cry while blasting aggressive rock. I wasn’t in a hurry to arrive and tell Erik the news.
“Erik.” I turn his face to me gently with both hands. His eyes are moving around as if he is trying to find a way out. “Erik, look at me. We won’t let them, okay? Martin wasn’t chosen as game director yet. It’s not over.”
The more I think about it, the more it feels like there is no choice I can live with but fighting back.
“It is over, Sol.” He gazes at me at last, wide-eyed, disturbed. “Lars listened to that asshole. They have the resources we don’t have. Trying to beat them is stupid. They won’t give up.”
“Erik, listen.” I bring his face closer to mine so he can look into my eyes. I need to be strong to support him, no matter how scared and hurt I am. “We might not stop them from making their version, but we can finish ours and show them how it’s done. We’ll get it published before them, and they will be the clowns.”
Erik looks down, sighing. Where is the anger that will fuel him?
