Rolling for Love Read online

  “What’s she playing in the game?” Blake asks.

  I happily swivel back around. “Nozomi Sato, a dhampir rogue,” I answer.

  “Interesting. D&D is not really set up for supernatural storylines,” Blake answers, neatly avoiding everything and easily distracting me. “Dhampir is half vampire, half human?”

  “Yup, dhampir is a quite powerful race, as far as I can tell. And D&D is more set up for fantasy stories, but there is an amazing amount of material online to help it merge into a supernatural bent,” I respond, happily distracted. “But Joe is running in some weird cross of 3.5 and a lot of homebrew. Even though It’s an old edition, he’s getting the core rules, and there is quite a bit we’ll be working out as we go, I think. More role-playing than numbers, I’m assuming.”

  “Role-playing can lead to some fun times,” Blake emphasizes.

  I think about this for a minute. I had been so nervous around all the new people that I had not really done much with my character during our short introduction to the supernatural world. I overthink what I want to say around women I find attractive. I’m not usually as bad as I was on Saturday though.

  “What are you playing?” Blake asks.

  “I made a human bard,” I answer.

  Blake snorts. “Really?” he says judgmentally. “In a supernatural world, where you can make anything you want, you make a human bard?”

  I flush slightly but am happy with my choice. Blake and I have never actually been in the same campaign together. He should see my character sheet before he judges.

  “I stand by my choice,” I defend. “Strider is an actor, bluffer, and well-connected individual. He might not have the powers of a supernatural, but he can blend in anywhere.”

  “Is he capable of winning the heart of a dhampir rogue?” Blake asks.

  My eyes widen and then narrow. “What?”

  “Can you use the game to get to know her?” Blake presses.

  “Um,” I say. I can feel the gears in my head turning.

  “You are not smooth,” Blake says honestly. “Although scarily observant at times. And if it was a bar, I would happily be your wingman. But Dillon, if you really are interested in this girl, then you have got to show in her some way. I don’t know Joe, but if he already spoke up, that could be dibs.”

  “I don’t believe in dibs,” I answer thoughtlessly. Honestly, I’m thinking about Blake’s first idea. It rings true. Strider could easily be the man of any woman’s dreams. And I’m playing Strider, so by extension I could be. In theory.

  “Well, dibs are a thing, but mostly amongst friends,” Blake says as he stands, returning the chair to its proper place. “Just remember: next time we go out, dibs are a thing. I need to get back to work and it looks like you have seven messages to take care of now.”

  I absently turn and scowl at the blinking box.

  “Thanks, Blake,” I say. I push my ideas for Strider to the back of my mind and am able to focus on work for the first time this week. I have a plan.

  Chapter Six

  Campaign, Secret Demon Casino

  Demons have this modern world figured out. The humans they feed on love to be entertained, to have excuses to act poorly, and to walk the edges of danger. There is not a better place to do that in than a five-star casino where your food pays you …?

  Dillon Dempsy

  “Everyone finds themselves in a room with no furniture, windows, or obvious ventilation, and only one door,” Joe says after we recap last week.

  A partially covered battle mat sits in the middle of his kitchen table. This particular battle mat is textured like stone; white lines cross it in a perfect grid pattern signifying five-foot squares. Joe has outlined the room we’re currently in with blue chalk pen and representations of our characters sit in their own little squares, ready to be moved around. Joe has papers covering up the rest of the mat so we can’t see what’s coming.

  “Have we advanced the timeline at all?” Sandy asks.

  I stop myself from staring at her after thinking about her all week. She was late to Joe’s house and we didn’t get a chance to chat before Joe started. Joe didn’t either, thankfully.

  “No,” Joe answers. “We’re pretty much exactly where you left off last week. You have been escorted to this room and left with no information. You see each other.” Joe pauses for dramatic effect. The D&D player in me can’t help but indulge him.

  We spent the beginning of the game reintroducing ourselves and our characters. I know Sandy’s character Nozomi already, but I give myself a little mental reminder as I go around the table. Zack is playing a paladin gargoyle named Goliath. Steven is playing the sexy blonde succubus Trixy. And Lynda is playing Ruby, a shy redheaded druid/werewolf hybrid.

  I give Lynda, Steven’s wife, an extra smile as I look around. They say couples who are together long enough start to look like each other; this is very true with these two. Lynda is just a few inches shorter than Steven. Her light brown hair is in a clip on the back of her head, and like her husband, she has a few extra pounds of joy on her bones.

  “The other guest at the Go Fish table is also here with you,” Joe continues. “His name is Damion, and if you haven’t already guessed, he’s a vampire.”

  The question signals the beginning of the game. I briefly close my eyes and envision Strider in my mind. He’s average and unforgettable, however, he’s a master of disguise and today he wears the skin of a seelie noble. The most elite of the fey folk in the supernatural community. His usual bland face is painted to bring out high cheekbones and give depth to his eyes. His dark brown hair is slicked back and his pinstriped suit is perfectly tailored and accented with yellow.

  Zack’s attempt at a Scottish accent brings action to my imagination as his gargoyle is the first to speak.

  Strider (Dillon’s character)

  “It’s really not so bad for a holding cell,” Goliath comments absently. “Not that I’ve ever been detained before.”

  “My first time too,” Ruby adds. Her voice is confidant but small, matching her stature. Curly cropped red hair bounces on top of her head, accentuating her tanned face and bright green eyes. Her clothing consists of simple pants and a tank top. Her lack of shoes is indicative of her lack of control over her werewolf.

  Goliath halts his pacing at Ruby’s words. He eyes her approvingly and bows slightly. As he straightens, he crosses his arms over his chest, a gesture to his god, Helm, and then relaxes. His gestures unconscious in their smoothness. “I don’t deserve to be here,” he says as he continues pacing. “I would guess none of us do.”

  “Somebody cheated,” Nozomi points out. A hard statement.

  My breath catches as my eyes drink in her form. She’s sitting on the floor, one arm behind her back, obviously trying to reach something. Her brown hair is braided into a crown on her head and lovely blood red rubies hang around her ears and neck, drawing your attention away from her eyes. Her breasts are neatly tucked into an old-fashioned leather jerkin that connects to a billowing set of skirts, their volume almost medieval, but their cut pure human twenty-first century. I’m drawn to her, and before I know what I’m doing, I find myself kneeling down.

  “Can I help you with something?” My voice is so quiet, even to me. I’m a bard, a performer, confidence usually drips off my every move, regardless of my emotional state.

  She looks at me for a moment and then seems to come to a decision, nodding to herself. “My back. I was injured.”

  “I have some experience with healing,” I reassure. “Your dress is amazing,” I add as I attempt to heal her.

  “Thank you,” she says as she turns her head to meet my eyes. “For both the healing and the compliment. I love fashion.” Her dark eyes are rimmed with a hint of blood red and they meet my simple brown ones openly. I’m close enough to kiss her, but I don’t. I sit back on my heels to give back her personal space.

  “Well, isn’t there some sexual tension here?” a voice purrs.

  I quic
kly stand and scowl at the succubus. Her supermodel body is clothed in tight leathers that leave little to the imagination, complete with three-inch heels. The entire picture is framed by a silver and pink coat that is lightly thrown over her shoulders. She rests her weight slightly on a dire flail, a sort of two-ended scythe, that she looks more than capable of using.

  “I wonder why they didn’t take our weapons?” I ask, turning to Nozomi before my brain can descend below my belt. Trixy is otherworldly hot, but I have my hopes set elsewhere.

  Chapter Seven

  Reality/Campaign, Joe’s house

  D& D is not just a game. It’s a code, a system, and a language all its own. Those that take up the calling find themselves drawn into unimaginable situations. Both fanciful and personal.

  Joe Smartin

  I listen closely as my new players introduce themselves to each other. The vampire Damion, who I’m role-playing out, is just chill’n, I won’t make them interact with him unless they want to. I give them time to mingle in the room, taking notes as to their personality traits and who’s actively paying attention to the details they wrote down on their character sheets. I make notes of people starting on my left. Any other direction would be chaos.

  Steven is playing his succubus, Trixy, like he spent the week practicing. He even takes the time to describe her rolling hips as she both tries to meet and seduce her new ‘friends’. Sandy keeps her dhampir close to her chest, very fitting for a rogue. I would bet money that this isn’t Sandy’s first time playing the class.

  Lynda is on her second glass of wine of the night, her face a little flush from the liquor, and Ruby’s personality seems to be all over the place. But Lynda is new to D&D, so I’m not worried.

  Dillon’s character, Strider, pulled some smooth moves during their introduction. I kept my mouth shut. I was vocal last week about my interest in Sandy. I called dibs. Strider is hitting on Nozomi. Dillon is not hitting on Sandy, supposedly. I can keep this separate. I study Sandy’s face for a second too long, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she mouths ‘help me’. When Lynda isn’t quietly taking notes, she’s asking Sandy personal, out-of-game questions, and Sandy does not seem happy about it.

  It makes me chuckle, but I don’t plan on getting in the middle of the two ladies’ opposing personalities.

  “I’m really here to play D&D.” Sandy’s voice is flat as she turns to Lynda. “We can chat at the end if you want, but the more we talk outside of game, the less gets done in the game.”

  “I don’t think of it that way.” Lynda smiles and takes a sip of wine. “Joe can only really work with a few people at a time and he’s busy with Zack and Dillon at the moment.”

  “But now he’s listening to our conversation, Lynda,” Sandy insists, frustration filling every word. “We have distracted him from the game and we’re still in this room with nothing to do. I want to get to the action!”

  “Dillon,” I say, turning my attention to him and away from the two women, who were, in fact, distracting me. “You wanted to search the room for hidden caches? For how long?”

  “Until I find something, or whoever would like to speak with us comes and gets us,” Dillon answers.

  “What makes you think someone is coming for you?” I ask. It’s an accurate observation that I wasn’t expecting from Dillon. He was so quiet during character creation I had not gotten a good read on him.

  “The room was not made to hold people,” Dillion explains. His eyes meet mine boldly as if he’s making a challenge, not stating observation. “The door has a single, easy-to-open knob with a lock a child could pick. The game was professionally dealt. I think we were set up.”

  I school my features to not give anything away and make some notes. Dillon has created an intelligence-based human bard in a supernatural world. He was even uncreative in his naming, stealing Strider from the Lord of the Rings. I had assumed it was because he was shy and uncomfortable with the setting, but I’m starting to think he’s going to give me a run for my money.

  I let the players chat as I take my final notes about Zack. He even emailed me before character creation to double-check that his character concept was legal. His paladin gargoyle was going to be the most fun to mess with. A shining beacon of good in a world of evil and hard decisions. Zack is even attempting to speak with a terrible but consistent Scottish accent. I finish my notes and refocus on the party.

  “Ok,” I say loudly. “Strider, you don’t find anything. Trixy, Ruby just needs one more push and she will be under your power.” I hear snickers from around the table but ignore them. “Ruby, you don’t smell anything in this room other than the people with you … if others were held here, it was a long time ago. Nozomi and Goliath, did you want to do anything in here?”

  “No,” Sandy answers, and Zack shakes his head.

  “Then let’s get this show on the road,” I say. “An hour has passed when the door to the room opens …”

  Chapter Eight

  Reality, Joe’s house

  Boulder is a very confused place. Families in mansions and families living in tiny apartments all send their children to the same schools. Academics from the university brush arms with the local hippies while using apps written by their next-door neighbors. It’s a constant clash of local tradition, money, and technology.

  Zack Hernandaz

  “I’m psyched to storm the Poogse estate next week!” I exclaim. After getting kicked out of the demon-casino, we learned that Strider had been right. We had been double-crossed; the casino was run by two warring families, the Kaatses and the Poogses, and now the Kaatses were forcing us to go kidnap a witch out of a large Poogse estate, just outside of town. Sandy had suggested that we enter from the back and Steven started making jokes about rear penetration. Our strategizing may not have been super effective.

  Steven looks like he could be my history teacher but, at least during D&D, he sounds like one of my high school classmates. I love D&D, it makes everyone the same age.

  “Goliath is obviously dubious. But I can’t wait. We’re on for next Saturday, yes?” I confirm excitedly.

  “Yes,” Joe laughs. “No one has told me they can’t be here.”

  I look around eagerly for reactions and everyone confirms in one way or another that the game is on. No one has said anything yet about my character. I’m a little disappointed. I based it on a cartoon from the nineties, but I will give it time. Maybe they are all too old for the nineties?

  “Dillon?” I ask, as Dillon starts to get up.

  Dillon turns to me but doesn’t sit. My favorite part of D&D is when everyone knows each other and starts working together. We spent more time bickering then playing today, but we will get there, I’m sure of it.

  “I’m excited to see what Strider can do,” I say.

  “You seem to be excited about a lot of things tonight,” Dillon notes, and starts to move again.

  “Are we all hanging out for a beer?” I ask him. I’m acutely aware that I won’t get the beer part, but I don’t want to go home yet. My parents relax my curfew when I’m with my “adult friends” as they call them. Not that I need that; it’s even early today, only four.

  “That sounds lovely,” Steven answers for Dillon as he stands. “Would you like one, honey?” he asks.

  “Yes, please,” I answer.

  Steven laughs. “I was asking my wife,” he says. “Good to know you respond to ‘honey’ as well. Dillon, come help me with the beers.”

  I flush a little. I forgot Lynda and Steven were even married. Although sitting next to each other, they didn’t interact much and weren’t very touchy-feely. Dillon looks pained and glances over his shoulder but follows Steven. I look as well. Joe is chatting with Sandy at the other side of the table. He literally towers over her and it makes me laugh. She ducks her head and blushes, using one hand to push her hair behind her ear. Unlike their first session, where Joe was in a comfy hoodie, today Joe has turned up the heat in his house a bit. He’s sporting a wide ne
ck t-shirt with short tight sleeves that show off his muscled build.

  “Do you think something’s happening between those two?” Lynda asks me in a low whisper.

  I turn to her with a frown. “I hope not. She has ruined games before,” I respond in a normal tone of voice. I don’t want to talk about other people I want to talk about the game. “Tell me more about Ruby. You were quiet today,” I ask Lynda.

  “You’re such a thoughtful kid,” Lynda smiles.

  Dillon and Steven make it back to the table and Dillon hands me a non-alcoholic ginger beer. I nod at Lynda as she starts to talk about Ruby.

  Chapter Nine

  Reality, Bela Casa Construction, Home Development

  Every outdoor construction site has its own way to deal with administration. Bela Casa uses giant plastic movable rectangle buildings, “pods” that really look like Lego blocks for giants. The inside of each one is tailored to the project, but they have the same basic elements: plastic windows, electricity, filing systems and usually two desks. They are built to get dirty, withstand all weathers, and be easy to clean out and move to the next site.

  Sandy Yuhi

  I yawn as I open what’s hopefully the door to Amorino’s office this time. I can’t believe my luck that Amorino’s new project is off the Diagonal just about fifteen minutes away from my little studio. It won’t keep me from being late every day, but it is still a bonus.

  “You’re late on your first day,” Amorino’s dark, rich voice accuses.

  “I couldn’t figure out where to park or which one of these pods was your office,” I answer, yawning again. I was up later last night than I originally planned. My book had been too good to put down, and despite being a fast reader, I slowed down to savor the ending. Maybe good isn’t really the right word to describe it. Smutty would be better. My attempt to bury myself in the arms of a make-believe romance so I won’t melt into my usual putty form around Amorino.