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“Thosevultures?” I grunted. “Seriously?”

“Juliana, it’s not my decision,” he reiterated.

“You’re the CEO!” I blurted. “The owner! The founder! The—”

“We went public, and we have shareholders now,” Robert pointed out. “There are a whole new level of higher ups. Higher even than me.”

I shook my spinning head, still trying to understand what happened. Our biggest client. Even worse, our biggest revenue source. Ripped right out from under us.

“I’m sorry,” Robert said for the hundredth time. “I fought like hell for you, believe me. It’s not like you haven’t done right by us, but there other factors.”

“Other factors?” I laughed bitterly. “Like what?”

“Connectivity,” Robert said simply. “Skyline has west coast offices as well as the one here in New York. When it comes to audience they cast a wider net. They have much longer reach.”

“So?” I challenged. “They have double the overhead. And you’re the one paying for it.”

“It’s so much more than that, though,” said Robert. “They have the finger on the pulse of—”

The tag-line was so lame I actually broke out laughing before he could finish it. Long and hard I laughed, but inwardly I was more saddened that Robert was actually buying into this bullshit.

“I hear they’re not even organic,” I practically spat. “Multiple times they’ve been caught buying followers. They use click-farms to bump up their numbers, and make client’s campaigns seem much more successful than they actually are.”

Robert steepled his fingers together. He appeared to be thinking.

“I’ve heard those rumors too,” he said at last. “But the whole thing’s practically done, and the decision’s been made.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “We’ll finish out all current contracts with you, of course. Anything we’re doing with Shameless right now will be seen through to the end, no matter what.”

I let out a short, sardonic laugh. “How magnanimous of you.”

“Juliana—”

“Remember the beginning, Robert?” I jumped in. “When it was just you and me? When you came to me with half a game concept and zero budget and I still took you on and risked everything I had?”

His chin lowered as he looked down at his desk. “I remember.”

“We forged our companies that day,” I said proudly. “From the fires of creativity. You hadballsback then, Robert! We both did. Balls so big we weren’t afraid to take them out of our pants and wave them around.”

At that he laughed. “Nowthere’sa visual, huh?”

His attempt at levity fell on deaf ears, though.

“Goodbye, Robert.”

I whirled, spinning on my heel and launching in the direction of the door. He called after me, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. Maybe, I realized, his heart hadn’t been in anything since his company had gone public.

Remember this moment.

My friend had finally sold out, so to speak. But was he really the wrong one? At least he’d lined his pockets before giving up the mantle of power. Maybe, between the two of us,Iwas the asshole.

Right now at least, I definitely felt like one.

Thirty-Four

JULIANA

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of work and stress, made a thousand times worse by the fact I could only drink decaf. I had to dump out the coffee Aric brought me some mornings, and sneak in my own. I also had to stop our Friday afternoon sushi meetings, by pretending to crave Mexican, or Thai.

Aric and I spent all day every day trying to book new clients, while our teams stepped up to keep the clients we had happy. We sat down with our accountants. Ran the numbers every which way. In the end though, there were no two ways about it: the loss of Legendary Gaming would radically change our business, in ways I shuddered to even think about.