Free New Title 32 by Bryan Fields

“Yeah, very funny. So tell me, David. How does it feel to be a complete loser?”
    I shot back with, “Why don’t you ask your wife how it feels to be rid of one?”
    A collective “Oh, boy…” went up from the guys standing behind him. Neil jumped toward me, trying to throw a punch. Several hands grabbed his arms and I saw two bouncers looking our way.
    Industry gossip had it his wife had just left him for his largest backer. Supposedly, Neil still had to kiss the guy’s ass at every board meeting, too. From his reaction, I’d say there was a good bit of truth to the reports. Neil shook himself loose and stepped away.
    I ignored him and clasped hands with his buddies. “A pleasure to meet both of you. I’ve enjoyed your work for several years. I’d love to chat, but we’re expected up on two. Have a good show.” I gave Neil a farewell wave as we headed upstairs.
    This was where the big names were. Managers and senior designers for most of the top ten subscription-based games in the world. Marketing managers from all the biggest distributers. A handful of celebrities who had done acting and voice over work in some of the big titles. Tim Lawson could have been up here as well; I gave him points for sticking with his friends.
    Right in the middle of the mob, holding court and surveying his realm, was Gordon Norris. President, CEO, and majority owner of Avalanche Games. Lorena, the Damazi from last night, walked next to him, enjoying the spotlight. Good for her.
    We found an open spot and ordered drinks. Our first toast was to enjoying the moment. Whatever else happened this week, we were here now, and that was enough.
    * * * *
    While we were partying, darker events were taking place a few miles away. In the grand scheme of things, this was little more than one brief skirmish in a vast and ancient war, but it made a great impression on those involved. I think of it as the moment in a chess game when both queens take position on the field.
    Even in Las Vegas, few people heard, or cared to know, about this incident. It earned a brief mention on the news, but only after a piece on the desperate shortage of bagpipers available for a new Irish stepdancing production. I’m including this narrative to give later events some context, hopefully without spoilers. Bear with me; it’ll make sense in time.
    There is an official police report on file, but it’s dry, repeats a lot, and the officers clearly didn’t want to hear anything that wasn’t consistent with a drive-by shooting. This narrative pulls from that report, as well as some after-action discussions with witnesses. As Nadia said, “It may have happened, it may not have happened, but this is the truth.”
    Just before nine that Wednesday night, “Bob”, a middle-twenties Caucasian male, got off a bus on Las Vegas Boulevard, several blocks north of Charleston. He was walking east to his apartment when he noticed a group of older-model cars circling the area. He decided to go a few blocks out of his way to a well-trafficked convenience store, feeling he would be safer in a more populated area.
    Bob worked as a waiter for an Italian restaurant on the Strip, and he was carrying a large amount of cash from the night’s tips. The convenience store had a working ATM, so he deposited the cash into his account, just to be prudent. The ATM receipt shows the time as nine thirty-two p.m.
    Eight members of a street gang known variously as the North Vegas 40s or the Rolling 40s entered the shop to purchase cigarettes and beverages. They took no adverse action against Bob or the store staff and left without incident.
    Outside, a Hispanic boy and girl, both nine to ten years of age, asked the gang members for food or money. One gang member brought the children inside the store and told them to pick out several sandwiches and bottles of milk or orange juice. Another called the police from an outside pay phone and reported the children as possibly being lost or in distress. He