He was good at it. It was definitely lucrative. There was no question about it. But yeah, it made sense that he was bored.
And, like everything else, she wanted to fix this for him.
“Oliver,” Piper said, making her tone more placating. “You can do better than soda. If you want a brand”—she did not roll her eyes—“can’t you come up with something more in line with Warriors? That’s what people know you for.”
He and Dax were the face of the company. They did YouTube videos, discussing the creation of the game as well as more in-depth conversations for fans about the world and the character arcs and what was to come.
People discussed the game as if it were a beloved television show or book series. They knew the main characters and cared about their development and what would happen to them. It rivaled the fans of Star Wars and the Marvel comics and movies. But it was a video game. So the fans could participate in the world. They could truly be a part of it.
“You don’t think people drink soda while they play?” he asked.
She sighed. “Does it matter? Couldn’t you buy a… gaming controller company or something?” She didn’t love that idea either. How meaningful was that?
And yes, with that thought, she realized that she wanted Oliver to do something more meaningful. Not just because the world needed his creativity and intelligence, but because he needed to do more.
He didn’t even care about this soda company.
“There aren’t any controller companies for sale.” He sighed and swiveled his chair. It squeaked when he went all the way to the right.
That squeak made her eye twitch. She was going to have to come in here and fix that later.
“There’s one that wants me to endorse their controllers,” he said, sounding completely disinterested.
“Okay.” That wasn’t great, but it was better than soda. Especially soda called unicorn snot. “Are you going to?”
“I don’t like the controllers,” he said.
“Oh well, then…”
“But maybe.”
Piper blew out a breath. “You can’t endorse a controller if you don’t like it.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I could do some commercials or something.”
It wasn’t that he liked the spotlight, though it would seem that way. He just liked to do things. He liked to travel and meet people and have projects. The gaming cons were fun for him because he got to go places and interact with people who were enthusiastic about things he was enthusiastic about. Dax actually did better on stage and engaging with audiences than Ollie, but Dax could pull Oliver out and make him relax and be charming.
“Oliver,” Piper finally said firmly. “You should not endorse that controller and you should not buy that soda company.”
“They’re already coming on Friday.”
“I can cancel the meeting.”
“Nah.” He swiveled his chair again.
The squeak made Piper grit her teeth. She was going to have a combo headache today.
“You’re determined to go ahead with the soda?”
“Yeah.”
He sounded so enthusiastic.
“And you’re going to call one of the flavors unicorn snot?”
“Maybe spit. I haven’t decided.”
The biggest decision of his day was choosing between unicorn snot or spit.
She should not ask.
“What are the other flavors you’ve come up with?” she asked in spite of knowing that she didn’t want to know.
“Troll blood.”
She took a deep breath. At least there were trolls in Warriors. Maybe the labels could have something to do with Warriors. That was on brand for Ollie.
Ugh, he did not need to be a brand.
“Fairy dust,” he said. Then he frowned. “But that’s not good. Dust isn’t liquid.”
Piper just nodded. Honestly, none of this mattered. None of it was good.
“Dragon fire,” he said.
“Fire isn’t liquid either,” she pointed out. She was on the verge of just laughing hysterically.
He nodded, frowning. “I know.”
“You should just call all of them spit,” she said. “Troll spit, fairy spit, dragon spit, unicorn spit. All different flavors and colors but similar theme. And,” she said, on a roll now, feeling like she was going a little crazy, “you should add unicorns to Warriors in your next story. Then it all goes along with Warriors and can be part of your brand. In fact,” she added, definitely feeling like she was about to crack. And that meant laughing uncontrollably, crying, or ripping the head off of Spark and strewing his innards all over Ollie’s office. “You should talk to Whitney about making some Warriors snack cakes. Troll turds.” She nodded. “Brown roll-up cakes. Or green. Is troll poop brown or green?”
She was breathing hard and her heart was racing.
Oliver, on the other hand, was still leaning back in his chair. He did, however, stop swiveling. And arched a brow.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.
She laughed, sounding manic, but feeling a touch of relief. Ollie’s bar for ridiculous was high but it was good there was a limit.
“We can’t use Warriors on anything officially. We sold it off to Plus Gaming, remember?”
She stared at him. “Of course I remember.”
“They own all the trademarks and logos and stuff.” He sighed as if everything was just too much to bear. “So all of that is out. Though I guess I could still call the sodas troll and dragon spit and stuff. People might make the connection. We could put my face on the labels or something.”
Piper opened her mouth to reply. Then snapped it shut. She started to reach for Spark. Then pulled her hand back. She pressed her lips together. Then pivoted on her heel and marched out to her desk.
She yanked open her middle right-hand drawer, lifted three folders out of the way, and withdrew the crisp piece of paper. She signed and dated it, then stomped back into Oliver’s office. She laid it in the middle of his desk.
He sat forward. That made the stupid chair creak too and Piper pulled a breath in through her nose.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“My resignation letter.”
“Oh.” He grinned and sat back again. “Okay.”
She raised both eyebrows. “I’m serious, Oliver.”
It was true that she’d quit twice before. But both times she’d done it verbally and once had been to Grant only. She threatened to quit about twice a month. It was her fault that he wasn’t taking this seriously.
But a lot of Oliver’s behaviors and attitudes were her fault.
Dax was the master enabler. Grant a close second. But she was easily number three. She could own that.
She could also fix it.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She tipped her head. “For?” She knew he had no idea what exactly she was pissed about. He really didn’t know that she was, in part, pissed at herself.
“For upsetting you.”
“But for what? Exactly?” she pressed.
He looked at her for a long moment. “For not liking your idea about the troll turds?” he finally asked. “It’s not that I didn’t like it. We just can’t do it.”