He caught my hands and pulled me back. "You're right, I know. I'm sorry. I just have no idea who else would be after me like this."
"Didn't we already talk about it and you thought it could be another player literally trying to throw you off your game?" I asked. "Or, to counter your insane accusation of my father, why don't I point out that it could very well be Anya. A little jealousy might go a long way. She seems like the type that would pay a powerful lawyer."
Owen looked as if he had swallowed a tack and then he cleared his throat. "But the first time happened before Anya started acting jealous, so it couldn't be her. And I'm sorry to mention your father, but it could be possible."
I was glad when the police filed out of the apartment, because it stopped us talking. They walked by without even speaking to Owen, so it was obvious they did not find what they were looking for inside. It took three whole minutes of pounding silence before either of us moved to enter the now-abandoned apartment.
"Do you have any idea what they were looking for?" I asked. "Last time they brought in a K-9, right? They're searching for drugs?"
"Yes," Owen said. He came inside and shut the door firmly behind him. "Someone must be tipping them off that I'm using drugs."
"So, it makes sense if it’s one of your neighbors, doesn't it?" I asked.
"I've never had any issues with my neighbors. I'm on a first-name basis with everyone, including the landlord," Owen said. "The only complaint I've ever heard was that we get a lot of visitors."
"What did you say to that?"
"I pointed out that Jasper and I were both young, single men with active social lives. It was a reasonable explanation," Owen said.
I tried to lighten the mood. "So, you had a steady stream of interesting visitors, huh?" I wagged my eyebrows at Owen, but he was not amused.
"Friends, gamers, and people Jasper works with," he said. "They were never loud or stomping around at inconsiderate hours."
"So, regular friends. Except for the random clients and freelancers that Jasper brings by, right?" I asked. "You once told me you had not seen him with the same person twice for a month."
"Yeah." Owen shrugged. "Jasper meets a lot of people."
"And, they never stay around for long, do they?" I asked. "They hang out here for a bit and then head off to a bar or somewhere, right? Do you ever go with them to the bar?"
"It’s not really my scene," Owen said.
"So, you don't know if he goes off and actually hangs out with these people or if they just leave at the same time?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Well, from the outside, it would be easy to think you or Jasper were dealing drugs out of your apartment," I said. "A steady stream of ever-changing people that never really stick around for long. I could see that being something I would think if it was happening at my neighbor’s."
Owen stretched both hands out on the kitchen island and pressed down hard. "I knew it was going to be something like that. No matter what, people are always going to think I smoke marijuana or do drugs just because I play video games. I swear to God, the stereotypes are the worst part about my career. Even at the tournament, I heard over and over again how surprised people were at how I look. They hear gamer and they think stoner wearing sweatpants and hanging out in a basement."
"So, you think some neighbor found out what you do for a living and just assumed you must be a drug dealer, too?" I asked. "Think about it, there has to be more to it than that."
"No, there doesn't, and that's what really bothers me," Owen said.
"Well, then do something about it," I said. I could not help but be impatient with him. We were just standing around complaining when nothing bad had actually happened to him. Plus, I was working on my own theory that I was shocked he had not even considered.
"What am I supposed to do about it?" Owen asked.
"Do an interview talking about stereotypes. Write a blog post. Get your fellow gamers into a discussion of how negative stereotypes affect them too," I said. "It would give a little balance to the whole 'cops searching your apartment' side of the story."
Owen leaned further down on the island and buried his head in his hands. "It sounds like you think I need to build up a case to prove I'm innocent."
"Well, it wouldn't hurt, because obviously someone thinks there’s suspicious activity here at your apartment." I reached out and brushed his hair out of his face. "Too bad they don't see everything that goes on here."
"I'm sorry I accused your father, Quinn. I just feel like someone is out to get me," he said. He stood up and joined me on the other side of the kitchen island.
"Or maybe they are trying to pin it on you," I said. Owen did not take my hint. His hands were too busy sliding around my waist.
He pulled me in for a fierce hug. "Thank you for coming. I know I'm probably the last person you wanted to see tonight. I thought maybe your father had convinced you I was no good, and that made me think I should give you space at the tournament. I didn't mean to ignore your success or make you feel bad."