Geek Actually Cover Debut and Excerpt

Taneesha shoved her hands into her thin hoodie’s pockets. “Is there a reason we have to go to . . .” She glanced up at the sign above the store. “. . . Dungeons and Die? Stanley’s is closer to my house.”

Bobby grinned, indenting the dimple in his right cheek that had allowed him to get away with all kinds of shit when they were growing up. “Because our usual haunt smells like rancid nuts and mothballs. This one doesn’t.”

“Fair point.” Taneesha bumped her shoulder into her brother’s as she pushed her way through the glass doors and tried not to laugh. Like old bookstores, board game places had a distinct . . . fragrance. Cardboard and plastic weren’t so bad on their own, but they tended to keep the scent of the unwashed masses. Especially in enclosed places that didn’t have good air circulation.

“Still,” she said, “you have to admit Stanley’s is familiar and homey. And he gives us discounts because we’ve been going there for eons.”

“If familiar and homey means—what? What is it?”

Taneesha had stopped just inside the doors to take the place in. Dungeons and Die reminded her of movie-perfect record stores, except with games stacked neatly and displayed with care. There were gaming Easter eggs along the walls. A glass case with controllers lined up by generation hung to her left. Right next to it were dice. If she’d had to imagine and create the perfect game store, this would have been it. Popular . . . novice games were walled off right at the front on a shelf. The deeper one went into the store, the games increased in difficulty and geek cred level of addiction. It was perfect.

“Nothing,” she said, warmed and surprised by the setup. “I just wasn’t expecting something this nice.” Like most geeks, she liked what she liked and had fought hard to find her tribe so she didn’t have to be a square peg in a round hole.

Bobby rocked back on his heels then rolled his shoulders. His shirt stretched across his chest. It read, “Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?” above an image of one of the kids from Stranger Things, Dustin. Her brother had gained weight and had made an attempt to turn it into muscle. He was halfway there. “Your expression tells me you approve.”

She looked around the store again. They weren’t the only chocolate drops in the room, which she couldn’t say about Stanley’s. She had to stop herself from twirling around in the aisles.

“I’m going to reserve judgment for now,” she said in a flat tone.

He snorted, and rammed his shoulder into her as he passed. Payback: the little brother edition. Yeah. A day with Bobby was exactly what she had needed to shake off the stress of work.

“Asswipe,” she muttered, gravitating toward the back wall.

This, too, was a change from their regular store. The owner had laid out a “New and Recommended” display. That could make or break the store. Had they decided to follow trends without substance? Or did they keep their regulars in mind?

Before she could appreciate the offerings, she caught sight of another display: “New and Pays the Bills.” It consisted of the current it games, which changed every season—three stacks of each—but she found herself laughing.

“See,” Bobby said, watching her. “You like the place.”

His eyes glinted with triumph. Her brother was a braggart on the best of days, insufferable on the worst.

“Horrible marketing.” She lifted her chin and tried to fight a smile. “The owner is shaming anyone who picks these games, don’t you think? Like saying these are the games for noobs who only buy what’s popular.”

“Board game people are a different breed. We get the joke.”

She could agree there. “What are we getting? I’m feeling perverse.” She gestured to the pays-the-bills rack. “Let’s buy one of these.”

“You shame me. You shame the whole family. Stand here and think about what you’ve done.”

“I do not shame the family. You know I’m the favorite child. Except for that one time Mom asked me why I was letting my hair go natural and I told her because I said so.”

Like the butthead he was, Bobby flicked at one of her curls. It was the weekend, and that meant her wash-n-go routine. And that meant her hair looked liked Tracee Ellis Ross’s.

“Don’t touch my hair. You might piss it off. You don’t want to see her when she’s angry.”
He tsked and picked up a game from the keep-the-lights-on rack. “For the record, Jamal is the favorite and we both know it.”

“Because he’s the middle child. They wanted to make sure he got attention.”

Bobby shook his head, a touch dramatic. “So petty. I’m so proud.” He glanced over his shoulder. “All that said, what’s going on with work?”

And the other shoe drops.

“It’s good,” she lied without blinking.

“Uh-huh. So what you’re saying is you need a distraction? A force of good in your life?”

Her brother was aware of her work problems, probably more than the average Joe, but he still believed in fixing things—all the things. It was in his wiring. More than once, he’d encouraged her to start her own company. Or move to Germany or someplace—anywhere that embraced her as both a black woman and a coder. Taneesha hated to be cynical, but she doubted that utopia existed just yet.

“I thought that was the general understanding when I called you,” she said. “That’s also why we’re going to blow a Saturday afternoon buying and then playing a whole bunch of games. When will I be done teaching you the ways of life, grasshopper?”

“Uh-huh.” He handed her a couple of boxes he’d picked up while they were talking. “Go buy these. If I find anything else good, I’ll bring them over.”

She arched a brow, because Bobby and accommodating were two words she wouldn’t usually put into a sentence together. The two siblings got along because they could both be stubborn, asinine for laughs, and sarcastic.

“Put your credit card on the top box. You’re paying.”

He didn’t put up much of a protest. Her suspicions grew. Separating Bobby from his money was like trying to convince a Winchester not to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. In short, it involved an ugly fight. Something was going on, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Taneesha braced herself as she made her way to the counter. As they had shopped, people had left with their wares. There was no line. No one manning the counter. She dropped the purchases down and with forced cheer, and maybe too much force, slapped the bell.
“Bobby, you jackass. I told you not to hit the bell like that.”

The owner of that voice came out of the back room. His mouth formed an O shape when their gazes locked. Her brows went up, because she was struck by how . . . cute he was. The Texas sun had kissed his skin to a dark golden shade. His bottom lip was nice and full. She blinked and shook her head to chase away the thoughts.

“Not Bobby.” He smiled and her hormones gave her a nice little gut punch. “You’re not Bobby.”

Her heart did a flip and she had to tell herself he probably gave everyone that same crooked smile. Really, she had to stop reading Aditi’s fantasy and erotic romance recommendations if this was how she reacted to a cute smile.

“I’m not Bobby,” Taneesha said, “but there was that one summer when he had moobs. Puberty, it’s a hell of a thing. Other than that we don’t look alike.”

Of course, Bobby had to interject from across the room, “That’s because you’re adopted. Mom and Dad didn’t want to tell you. Hey, Diego.”

Diego chuckled. “I see the resemblance. The humor, I mean.”