she knew that. “You do realize I’m trying to launch the new game, right? We’re a little busy.”
“You don’t have to do it all yourself. You have Eric and a staff to help. I’m a one-woman show. I’m begging you.” She arched an eyebrow. “Do you hear that? I’m actually asking for your help.”
That was an old fight, one he was really tired of. He was supposed to wait until she asked for help before—as she put it—“butting into her life.” But at the same time, she acted as though asking automatically meant he had to do whatever she was wanting. “Can’t you just get one of your friends—one of your girl friends,” he corrected as Callie’s eyebrow went up, “to guest blog for you?”
“If I did that, I’d have to tell them who the other half of The Ex Factor is so y’all could communicate. Are you okay with that?”
Not many people—five, to be exact—knew he was the Ex-Man of The Ex Factor. He didn’t need the publicity for Rainstorm, as the Venn diagram of “People Who Read Callie’s Blog” and “People Who Play Zombie Apocalypse Games” didn’t have a large intersection, and it might actually work against him among the gaming community if it got out. And Callie had agreed to the secret—mainly because most people would look askance at dating advice from someone they assumed was socially awkward, Star Trek obsessed and living in his parents’ basement because he designed games. The secrecy of his identity had been played up on the blog so long that the Ex-Man was its own local celebrity. Callie had no desire to leak that info now, but a guest blogger for her would require someone else to know.
Damn it.
It would be so much easier to turn her down by email, which was most likely why Callie had come in person to ask this favor. “Let me think about it. I’ve got too much going on right now.”
Callie started to say something else, but he stopped her. “Seriously. Not now.”
Callie’s head cocked to the side. “What’s wrong?”
He knew exactly what she was asking—he knew her far too well not to—but he’d rather play ignorant and not go diving into his psyche at the moment. “I just told you—glitches. And they’ve got to be fixed before the news spreads and affects the launch.”
“I know that’s what you said, but things have messed up before, and there’s never been a bit of code you couldn’t wrangle into submission. There’s something else going on with you.” She sighed. “First, you blow all of us off on Fat Tuesday without any explanation—”
He rolled his eyes. “Since when do I owe you an explanation for my whereabouts?”
Callie made a face at him, but ignored the comment otherwise. “Eric says you’ve been grumpy for days now. What’s the problem? Can I help?”
The offer was sincere, that much he knew for certain. And while he appreciated it, he had no intention of bringing any more people into this little melodrama. “Unless you have software experience that I’m unaware of—and if so, you can start taking care of your own website—I don’t think you’ll be much help. So...”
Callie got that worried look on her face. “It’s not your mom, is it? Is she off her meds again?”
She was one of the few people on earth who would have guts enough to ask straight out like that. And the only reason she could get away with it was that she’d been there—both physically as a witness and as emotional support for him at some of the worst times. Jesus, the last thing he needed was his mother going manic right now on top of everything else. He paid a neighbor to make sure his mother took her meds, but it had been awhile since he’d checked in...
He didn’t like having a memory leak in the programming to deal with, but it beat the hell out of the kind of chaos his mother could create. “No, Mom’s fine.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but he cut her off with a look. Callie closed her mouth quickly. She had a certain
“You don’t have to do it all yourself. You have Eric and a staff to help. I’m a one-woman show. I’m begging you.” She arched an eyebrow. “Do you hear that? I’m actually asking for your help.”
That was an old fight, one he was really tired of. He was supposed to wait until she asked for help before—as she put it—“butting into her life.” But at the same time, she acted as though asking automatically meant he had to do whatever she was wanting. “Can’t you just get one of your friends—one of your girl friends,” he corrected as Callie’s eyebrow went up, “to guest blog for you?”
“If I did that, I’d have to tell them who the other half of The Ex Factor is so y’all could communicate. Are you okay with that?”
Not many people—five, to be exact—knew he was the Ex-Man of The Ex Factor. He didn’t need the publicity for Rainstorm, as the Venn diagram of “People Who Read Callie’s Blog” and “People Who Play Zombie Apocalypse Games” didn’t have a large intersection, and it might actually work against him among the gaming community if it got out. And Callie had agreed to the secret—mainly because most people would look askance at dating advice from someone they assumed was socially awkward, Star Trek obsessed and living in his parents’ basement because he designed games. The secrecy of his identity had been played up on the blog so long that the Ex-Man was its own local celebrity. Callie had no desire to leak that info now, but a guest blogger for her would require someone else to know.
Damn it.
It would be so much easier to turn her down by email, which was most likely why Callie had come in person to ask this favor. “Let me think about it. I’ve got too much going on right now.”
Callie started to say something else, but he stopped her. “Seriously. Not now.”
Callie’s head cocked to the side. “What’s wrong?”
He knew exactly what she was asking—he knew her far too well not to—but he’d rather play ignorant and not go diving into his psyche at the moment. “I just told you—glitches. And they’ve got to be fixed before the news spreads and affects the launch.”
“I know that’s what you said, but things have messed up before, and there’s never been a bit of code you couldn’t wrangle into submission. There’s something else going on with you.” She sighed. “First, you blow all of us off on Fat Tuesday without any explanation—”
He rolled his eyes. “Since when do I owe you an explanation for my whereabouts?”
Callie made a face at him, but ignored the comment otherwise. “Eric says you’ve been grumpy for days now. What’s the problem? Can I help?”
The offer was sincere, that much he knew for certain. And while he appreciated it, he had no intention of bringing any more people into this little melodrama. “Unless you have software experience that I’m unaware of—and if so, you can start taking care of your own website—I don’t think you’ll be much help. So...”
Callie got that worried look on her face. “It’s not your mom, is it? Is she off her meds again?”
She was one of the few people on earth who would have guts enough to ask straight out like that. And the only reason she could get away with it was that she’d been there—both physically as a witness and as emotional support for him at some of the worst times. Jesus, the last thing he needed was his mother going manic right now on top of everything else. He paid a neighbor to make sure his mother took her meds, but it had been awhile since he’d checked in...
He didn’t like having a memory leak in the programming to deal with, but it beat the hell out of the kind of chaos his mother could create. “No, Mom’s fine.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but he cut her off with a look. Callie closed her mouth quickly. She had a certain
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