Free .5 To Have and To Code by Debora Geary Page A

involved management.”
    Daniel wasn’t at all sure he liked where this was headed.  He grabbed another hot wing.  Talking just gave Pedro more ammunition.
    “The hiring?”
    Whoa.  That was a new track.  Daniel stared at his best friend.  “I have no idea.  Why?”
    “Because you need something to do.”
    He had lots to do.  “Truck has enough work hours for both of us.”
    “Truck has a challenge he loves,” said Pedro, lining up a two-in-the-pockets shot.  “You don’t, and you need one before Chloe has to dispatch cops to bust your ass.”
    Introducing Skate and Pedro had been a mistake—they’d put their heads together and agreed he was one short step away from a life of delinquency and crime.  Which was probably true, but it was hardly news.  His mom had decided the same thing when he was eight and climbing the tree outside his bedroom at 3 a.m.
    He eyed Pedro.  “You think working for a gaming company’s going to turn me into a mature, law-abiding citizen?”
    Truck snorted.  His first act on passing the bar had been to make up a business card and tuck it in Daniel’s wallet.
    “No.”  Pedro’s second shot moved every ball on the table.  “But they might have a problem or two you can solve with that fancy coding of yours.  You keep doing your current gig much longer, your brain’s going to turn into mush.”
    That point had already come and gone.  His work mind had been numb for weeks.  He frowned at the pool table, uncertain why he was resisting.  It wasn’t like the life he had was worth all that much fight, and Realm was the most intriguing thing he’d stumbled on in months.
    Pedro leaned over, talking quietly now.  “You need a team.  Maybe they have one.”
    He had a team.  “What’s wrong with you guys?”
    “Nothing.”  Pedro bent over one more shot.  “But if we were enough, you wouldn’t still be cruising the halls of boredom and delinquency.”
    This conversational track was making Daniel’s head ache.  He grabbed a handful of nachos and kept his surly comebacks to himself.  Pedro only raised an eyebrow and sank his shot.
    “We have company.”  Truck grinned and gestured with his beer.
    Daniel looked up, very happy to see Jesse slide in the door of the pool hall.  Saved by the guy with bigger life problems.  He elbowed their chief psychologist.  “Your next victim just arrived.”
    “Contact them.”
    In another life, his best friend would have made a very good, very persistent priest.  “Fine.  Now go fix Jesse and let the rest of us mess up our lives in peace.”
    Truck snorted.  “Speak for yourself, man.  My life is an easy-flowing river.  No problems here.”
    Right.  Said the guy working fifteen-hour days for a corporate law firm.  He had no time to get into trouble.  Daniel held out the plate of hot wings as Jesse arrived.  “Here—have some sustenance before we wipe the floor with you.” 
    Pedro just rolled his eyes.
    Daniel grinned and handed over a pool cue.  There were many paths to cheering a buddy up.
    Jesse’s slightly troubled look cleared, replaced by his signature “bite me” grin.  “The only way I lose is if I get saddled with you as a partner again.”
    They’d been the four stars of the baseball team, and the campus’s four best pool players.  Sticks and balls.  But in their internal hierarchy, Daniel was the king of baseball—and the worst of them with a pool cue.  “Nope.  I’m Truck’s cross to bear tonight.” 
    The big man looked mournful.  “I could play left-handed instead.”
    Jesse laughed—likely the intention.  “You are left-handed, you big doofus.”
    Daniel decided to give humor an assist.  “Maybe we can borrow the bartender’s bandana and you can play blindfolded.”
    It scared him when Truck appeared to be taking the suggestion somewhat seriously.
    Jesse, however, was back to morose, which was a bad sign.  Daniel leaned over.  “You can spill now, or we can let Pedro