Zoey Parker hesitated, her mouth opening and closing three times before she spoke, voice laced with disbelief. "You called me at midnight… for this?"
Walter Parker's voice crackled through the phone, chipper as if it were noon. "Yeah! Isn't this game from your studio? If I need help with a level, who else am I gonna call?"
"Dad, we don't offer 24/7 tech support," Zoey groaned, her eyes practically rolling out of her head. "Besides, Gus designed Plants vs. Zombies. Ask him, not me."
"Hey, what's that tone?" Walter huffed. "It's late—don't you need your rest?"
Zoey's jaw dropped. You're worried about rest? You're the one blowing up my phone at midnight!
She was fuming. Walter got to play the "don't disturb Gus" card, but she was fair game for late-night customer service? Her chill vibe deserved respect too.
"Forget it!" Zoey snapped, hitting speaker and shoving the phone at Gus Harper. "Gus is right here. Talk to him. I'm out!"
Gus froze, his eyes widening. Whoa, Zoey, phrasing!
"What do you mean 'right here' and 'I'm out'?" he muttered, grabbing the phone. "People might get the wrong idea."
He cleared his throat, addressing Walter. "Hey, Walter, we were just watching Yin's stream in the living room, checking player feedback for the Plants vs. Zombies launch. Zoey's headed to bed. I'll take this in the study."
"Oh, good, didn't want to keep you two up," Walter said, chuckling. "Tried your game—pretty fun! But I'm stuck on level 2-9. What's the trick?"
From kids like Lily to middle-aged folks like Walter, Plants vs. Zombies had hooked everyone. Its cartoon style, simple controls, varied strategies, and mini-games like nut bowling and Zen Garden made it a hit. Launched on IndieVibe, it spread like wildfire.
Core players—tower defense nerds, WindyPeak fans, or streamer loyalists—were just the start. Each player sparked a ripple effect:
A kid bugging their cousin: "What's that game? Lemme play!"
"It's Plants vs. Zombies. Put down my action figure, and I'll show you."
"Sweet!"
"Here, new save file. Figure it out."
A friend hyping it up: "That cat plant is adorable! What game is this?"
"Plants vs. Zombies. That's cattail, unlocks later. Want the link?"
"Yes, please!"
"Sent. Search 'plants' on IndieVibe."
A dad roping in his kid: "Homework done?"
"Yup!"
"Great, beat this level for me. I gotta sweep before your mom yells."
A kid schooling their dad: "Ugh, Dad, use the cherry bomb! I've been watching you fail forever."
"Stop backseat gaming! Next level's yours. Go play on your phone."
Even strangers on the subway: "Hey, what's that game? Been watching you play."
"Plants vs. Zombies, on IndieVibe's mobile app."
"Nice, thanks. Wanna swap IDs?"
"Sure, here's mine."
Unlike Titanfall's motion cabin or Outlast's mature rating, this casual game fit everyone. Students played after school, office workers sneaked levels during breaks, and parents joined in. A single sunflower was cute, but fields of them? A glowing, breathtaking sea.
Zoey lounged in the passenger seat of Gus's SUV, sucking on a lollipop and tapping her foot to the radio. Her legs stretched across the dashboard, bare feet pressed against the cool windshield. It was Friday night, and Plants vs. Zombies's first-week sales were about to drop.
She crunched the numbers in her head. Worst-case scenario: 750,000 units sold at $2 each, that's $1.5 million. IndieVibe's 25% commission cut left $1.125 million. The game cost $1.15 million to make, so a $25,000 loss. But the 15x rebate? That's $375,000 in her pocket.
Not bad for a side hustle.
Sure, the official 7+5-day cycle wasn't up, but media would swarm tomorrow. Better to check now than get blindsided. Even a small game like Plants vs. Zombies, not WindyPeak's main project, drew eyes. First-week sales would hint at the total haul.
"What's on your mind?" Gus asked, glancing over as they idled at a light.
"Money," Zoey said, smirking mysteriously. "Good stuff."
If tonight's numbers were solid, she'd be swimming in cash by next week. Nothing sounded sweeter than that.
Gus raised an eyebrow. "Hope you're not planning to flash that grin in public. Your skirt's riding up."
Zoey was in a short silk skirt, just above the knee. Legs crossed, the hem flirted with the breeze, looking risky.
"It's fine," she teased, eyes glinting. "I'm wearing leggings underneath."
She tugged at her skirt like she was about to prove it.
"Whoa!" Gus grabbed her hand, laughing in shock. "Keep it chill, Zoey!"
"You're so nosy," she giggled, blushing slightly. "No peeking."
"Peeking? I'm just trying to drive without crashing," Gus shot back, grinning. "You're too comfortable around me."
Zoey pointed at his hand on hers, still resting on her leg. "And you're not?"
Gus pulled back, scratching his head awkwardly. "Emergency maneuver."
The light turned green, and the SUV rolled on, the moment lingering quietly.
Then Gus's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—an unknown number. He tapped the car's speaker. "Hello?"
"Hi, Mr. Harper, it's Yang from Riverside Heights Realty," a cheerful woman said. "The 2,500-square-foot model you liked is open. Can you visit tomorrow?"
Gus tensed. He'd been eyeing that condo for months, a solid spot near WindyPeak with good schools and shops. He'd settled on it before A Way Out launched but hadn't told Zoey. He wasn't sure how she'd take it.
"Uh, I'm driving," he said. "I'll confirm later. Thanks."
"No problem, Mr. Harper. Call anytime. Safe travels!" Yang hung up.
Silence settled in the SUV.
Zoey spoke first, softly. "Buying a place?"
"Yeah," Gus nodded, eyes fixed on the road. "Still looking."
"Nice area?" she asked.
"Solid. Good schools, stores, not far from the office."
"Cool," Zoey said, nodding. She pulled her legs down, smoothing her skirt, and turned to the window.
The SUV pulled into Riverside Heights' garage, the gate rumbling shut. Gus parked, killed the engine, and the dome light flicked on. He unbuckled his seatbelt, hesitating. "We're here."
Zoey nodded, unbuckling hers. But as Gus reached for the door, she twisted, leaning against it. Her legs stretched across, feet landing in his lap.
"My feet hurt," she said, voice soft.
Under the dim light, her calves were smooth, her feet delicate. She wiggled her toes, playful but shy.
Gus paused, then gently massaged her foot. "High heels all day?"
"Yeah," Zoey mumbled, tugging her skirt's hem. "Not used to them."
"Then ditch 'em," Gus said, smiling. "Stick to what's comfy."
Zoey hesitated, her eyes meeting his. "I'm not used to eating alone either."
Gus froze, their gazes locked. Two seconds passed like hours.
Then he grinned, taking her other foot. "Guess we'll eat together, then. Whatever feels right."
Zoey laughed, her cheeks pink. "It tickles!"
"Top or sole?" Gus teased, pretending to tickle her.
"Hey!" she giggled, squirming. "You're the worst masseur! Give my feet back!"
"No way, boss'll dock my pay if I don't finish," Gus joked.
"Fine, I'll tip you!" Zoey laughed, swatting at him.
In the quiet garage, their laughter echoed, two shadows playing under the SUV's soft light.