you want me to say it, fine, I’ll say it. You’re the strongest, smartest, coolest, most stubborn woman I know.”
The hurt I felt inside didn’t allow me to appreciate his flattering, heartfelt words. “Don’t forget abandoned.”
“Uhhh . . . what do you mean?”
I said flatly, “Ian told me your internship was ending.”
He let out a sputtering exhale. “Oh. Oh no. I’m so sorry. I . . . I was going to tell you, I swear. To be eligible for an internship, you need to be enrolled in school, and I just withdrew enrollment from business school a couple of days ago. My parents aren’t talking to me right now, because I explained to them that I just didn’t see myself taking over the family business, and now I desperately need a job to pay off school debt since they fully cut me off. I did try to stop by at work to talk about it, but you kept saying you were so busy, and I could see you were stressed about GameCon. And honestly, I didn’t know what to say. That I’ll be an unemployed loser, an MBA dropout, and have no direction in life?”
New tears brimmed in my eyes. All this was happening when I was laser focused on work. “I wish you had told me,” I said, letting out a sad sigh. “I wish I had let you tell me.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’m trying not to leave. I’ve applied to some internal full-time positions at Seventeen and Uncle Ian said I have a good shot at them. So there’s a chance I’ll still be working there, just not as a lowly intern. I also applied to some other jobs at local gaming companies and ones in California, since a lot of the big game companies are there. My goal though is to stay in gaming and live in Seattle. I like it here. And . . . I’m happy I met you.”
“Really?” I brushed the tears rolling down my cheeks with my pajama sleeve. His words briefly cheered me up, but hearing that he might move to another state brought me right back down again.
“Really. I don’t dress up like a fake stripper on a moment’s notice for anyone, you know,” he said.
“Thanks for that, by the way.” I laughed. Nolan MacKenzie really knew how to win a gal over. With stripper talk.
“It had always been a fantasy of mine, and you made my dream come true yesterday. If you ever need me for more stripper work, I’m your guy.”
I could feel him grinning through the phone. Could he feel the same?
“Mel, you’ll find a way to get your game launched on time. I’ll be in and out of the office for interviews the next few weeks, but I can help out as much as I can before I go, just ask.”
I don’t know why asking for help was so damn hard for me all the time. Doing everything all by myself wasn’t sustainable, and it wasn’t smart. Long-term success meant having to say no sometimes, just to get the job done. Setting limits, sticking to them, and getting help from teammates when necessary was key to doing well at Seventeen Studios, and I needed to work on all that.
Swallowing hard, I asked, “Would you please help me until you leave? I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”
“Yeah, no problem. I have interviews on Monday and Tuesday, but I’ll pitch in to help when I get back.”
“Thank you. For everything. And good luck with interviews.”
When we hung up, my brain synapses fired like never before. He had always been right; I couldn’t manage all this by myself and I needed to ask for help. My own pride got in the way of my success. But I knew just the person at work to give me advice. Someone to confide in and trust. Someone who could help me get this done.
Kat.
I jumped out of bed and grabbed my phone from my messenger bag. Hey! I know you’re not working weekends but I need your guidance. Would you please help me? Ian is taking all resources away but not moving the go live date. Will set up meetings with you first thing Monday morning. I’ll bring coffee.
Within ten seconds she replied. Caramel macchiato. And get some rest or you’ll get sick.
I could do this. I felt better. Not great, but better.
Like I-could-eat-a-couple-of-glazed-doughnuts better.
“I DIDN’T KNOW if you wanted an iced caramel macchiato or a hot