"How can you say that? You don't know anything about Owen," I said.
"I've seen enough guys like Owen. I've had to defend them in court. If he's telling everyone he's made a successful career out of sitting around on his couch, 10-to-1 there is something illegal going on. Sure, it might look good on the surface, but he's cheating the system somehow," my father said. "Your sister understood the only way you get ahead is through hard work. Following your dreams means you're either dirt poor or you are running a scam."
I drove the rest of the way to the pizza parlor without saying a word. I was worried about Owen, but my father's words filtered into my brain like acid. What did I really know about what Owen did?
Chapter Four
Owen
I looked out the window and noticed the streetlights had come on. Most people thought I played in a windowless basement. They would never believe I sat in a third-story loft apartment with a great view of the Nevada sunset. The sky had gone from dark pinks and oranges into a purplish blue, and now it was dark.
As I turned back to Dark Flag, another display of lights lit up my window. The rolling reds and blues of a police car grew brighter. I watched as two squad cars converged and left the lights on. The officers got out and met at the curb. One of them pointed up to my floor.
I logged out of the game just as the sharp knock hit my door.
"Police. Open up."
I pulled open the door wide. "Can I help you, officers?"
"You can step aside, sir. We have a search warrant for this residence. Are you Owen Redd?" the bald and tight-mouthed officer asked.
"Yes, sir. What is this about?" I stepped back and let them in.
Three uniformed officers entered behind the one that spoke. He brandished a folded piece of paper. "We're going to take a look around."
I almost laughed. The loft apartment was a wide-open room. A kitchen island separated one end from a wall of appliances. The other end was divided by a short hallway with two bedrooms off either side and a bathroom at the end. An L-shaped sofa delineated our living room. There was no dining room table, just a wide area rug where a few bits of my roommate's exercise equipment were scattered. Every inch of the apartment besides the bedrooms was on display.
The officers drifted to opposite corners of the apartment and started poking around. One eyeballed the built-in bookshelves that stood against the wall to my bedroom. Another strolled through the kitchen and opened kitchen cabinets at random. He left them hanging open. The third officer walked along the picture windows and I half expected him to wave to his partner on the curb watching the squad cars.
It had to be a joke.
The bald policeman handed me the folded paper before he turned and opened our entryway closet. Suddenly, all of the officers were going through things with both hands. Books were taken off shelves, drawers dug through, and clothes pushed aside to reveal the back edges of the closet. I opened the paper and discovered a very real search warrant.
"You're looking for drugs?" I asked.
The policeman near the windows was running his hands along the top of my television. "Pretty nice setup you have here. Play video games?"
"Online, multiplayer," I said.
"What exactly do you do for a living, Mr. Redd?" the bald officer reappeared from the back of our coat closet.
"I'm a sponsored player for the game Dark Flag," I said.
"You're telling me you sit around all day playing video games and someone pays you for it?"
"Yes,
sir. I have the pay stubs to prove it. Though from the looks of this search warrant, I don't have to show them to you," I said.
"You might want to ask your lawyer about that," he said with a mean smile.
"Why exactly do you think there are drugs here?" I asked.
All four police officers scoffed and continued their digging without another word. Another stereotype of the gaming world: I sat around high while I played or somehow funded my sitting around by selling drugs on the side.
I sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island as they delved deeper into their search. All of the books came off the shelves, and the officer sneezed as he flipped through the dusty pages.
"Yeah, those are more for display than anything. I mean, I don't know what else to put on that many shelves," I said.