“See, nothing to worry about.”
I zone out as Game begins his speech and focus on Stevie instead. With everyone seated for the award show, I can spot her a lot easier. She’s propped up against one of the champagne carts chatting with that friend of hers. I watch her move her hands animatedly as they laugh. She’s barely paid any attention to the award show itself, so I know she isn’t a stream bunny, which is a huge plus for me. Stream bunnies have lost their appeal over the years, becoming more trouble than they’re worth. Plus, I hate having to wear the mask the entire time. Even though it would be easy to slip into a coat closet with one of them and be back in ten, I’d rather go through the effort to get my dick wet with my mask off elsewhere. As Aleksander, not Blade.
“We will be back after a five-minute break.”
Game’s speech is over, and Stevie finally turns her attention back to our table. I’d noticed her sneaking glances throughout the show, but just before every break she would dart off in a different direction. Not this time. I lift my empty glass and nod at her, watching as she freezes momentarily. Her lips move, and I’m pretty sure she just swore. Her friend leans close before sliding a couple of flutes onto her empty tray and nudging her in our direction. I smirk at her lazy gait and aloof eyes. The little dove doesn’t like being ordered around.
She’s only a few tables away when I see Daniel-fucking-Decker motion her over. Annoyance bubbles as she changes course to him.
Decker rests his hand on the back of her thigh while she hands him a flute, and my grip tightens on the empty tumbler in my hand. He is talking to her, but her lips don’t move. She just gives him a tense smile and goes to move away, but Decker keeps his hand on her until she grips the tray with both hands and leans forward to hear him better. He whispers something to her, and her face sours. If I thought I wanted to punch Parker earlier for flirting with her, it is nothing compared to the damage I wish to inflict upon Decker. The jackass was the reason she fell in the first place, and she doesn’t even know it. I’m about to get up and intercept when Decker releases her and leans back against his chair. He sips his champagne with a dirty smile.
Stevie’s strides are quick as she makes a beeline to our table. You wouldn’t be able to tell there was anything wrong if not for the way her manicured hands are angrily gripping the tray.
She tosses out an apologetic smile. “Sorry, can I—”
“Are you alright?”
“What?” Her smile freezes for a second. “Oh, no, I’m fine.” She weaves around to Parker and places two new champagne flutes in front of him before plopping straws in them.
“It’s like you read my mind.” He immediately picks up one flute and shoves the straw under his mask.
She tilts her head towards Jackson’s empty martini glass. “Another cosmo?”
Jackson silently shakes his head.
Stevie hesitates before twisting her body toward me. “Another whiskey?”
“A double.”
Her nod is short, and it prickles in my chest. No matter how she tries, she can’t hide the fury that is simmering behind her eyes. I have no clue what that asshole said to her, but it’s set her off.
“And we are back!”
Her honey eyes rip away from my gaze as she pulls back and makes her way to the edge of the event hall. The niggling in my chest only gets stronger the farther she gets. I get up to follow her when Jackson tugs on my jacket sleeve and nods toward the stage. My eyes slip to Adrian as he brings the microphone to mouth.
“I was fortunate enough to receive the Golden Vazer Award two years ago and am so excited to present that award this year to one of my good friends. The Golden Vazer is awarded to those who have created a legacy within the streaming community. They are a pillar for other streamers look up to and have used their career to shape a new path for us to follow. They have made an impact growing their brand, elevating their content to new heights, and leaving their mark on viewers.”
I sit back down as I watch a video compilation of my streams and events make its way across the projector—something I’m sure Sydney approved beforehand.
“Please welcome to the stage the winner of this year’s Golden Vazer Award, NightBlade32, or as we all affectionately call him, Blade!”
I really wish I had that second whiskey right about now.
I get up and hug Parker and Jackson before making my way to the stage. A few people try to clap me on the back as I pass them. I jog up the steps, and Adrian shakes my hand and claps me on the back before the woman next to him hands me the shiny award. Finally. I reach into my pocket for my Sydney-approved speech and look out into the crowd. I can barely see anything through the glaring stage lights directed through my mask as I rattle off my thanks. It’s a little more put together than the other two speeches I’ve given tonight. I make sure to thank my fans before focusing on what my journey has been like as a content creator and streamer over the years. I give a shout out to Parker and Jackson—well, English and Shield. There is also a line thanking Sydney and another for our manager, Mathias.
They allowed me five minutes for this speech since it is one of the bigger awards, but I’m finished in under four. I close out the speech with my classic, “Blade, out,” tagline. Freedom sings as I go to hop off the stage and return to the safety of my table. The award girl stops me, tapping my elbow and guiding me backstage instead, away from the blinding lights and the crowd. But not before I spot Daniel-fucking-Decker pulling a reluctant Stevie around the corner to the bathrooms and out of sight.
FIVE
* * *
STEVIE
Well, this is shit.
It’s just my luck that there is someone here who not only knows Chase, but also knows that I broke up with him.
I stare up at the redhead as he tugs me around the corner and away from the award ceremony. I could step on his foot or pull myself out of his arm and run back, but I have no doubt in my mind that he would spend the rest of the night trying to find a way to pull me aside. I don’t want to cause another commotion tonight.
“I heard Chase cheated on you again.”
“I heard you’ve been ignoring him.”
“What would he say if he saw you here tonight like this?”
Goosebumps break out over my arms as I remember his warm, vodka-soaked breath in my ear. Gross.
“Why don’t we chat in here?”
My lip curls as he proceeds to open one of the storage closets. I recognize it as the one I’d grabbed extra cocktail napkins from earlier. It’s small; you wouldn’t be able to fit more than three, maybe four, people in here at a time, and even that would be snug. The two yellow lights on the ceiling render the room in a somber tone. The walls are lined with wooden shelves that house various event items like tealights, straws, tablecloths, and, of course, cocktail napkins. The guy drags me fully inside before kicking the door shut.
“Look,” I pause, realizing I never caught his name.