LitRPG Tycoon: Bk1 C1: My Sponsorship (Patreon)

Here's the start, hopefully you enjoy the character. Chapter 2 is done, just waiting on some feedback from my Betareaders.

Still working on QuestWright simultaneously. We've got about 20 chapters in QuestWright before it's donezo for book 3.

Anyways, off we go.

Chapter 1: My Sponsorship

I had two hands on the wheel of my 2015 Honda Civic as we cruised down the road. Beside me was my oldest daughter, Celene, seventeen and already wiser about the world than most people. In the back was my youngest daughter, Jennifer, who, at fourteen, had suddenly realized she was interested in boys. One moment, boys were stupid, the next, I was listening to her swoon on her phone about a boy named Galad.

Who names a kid Galad?

Fishing poles stretched across the seat behind me. I’d tried, and failed, to get my daughters interested in our trip out to Cachuma Lake. I wanted to teach them about hooks and the baits and the calm joy of silence. They wanted to show each other the latest viral videos. We clearly did not see eye to eye on “vacation time”.

Pulling around the corner of Mulberry Street, my ex-wife’s mansion appeared through the windshield like a monolith to our divorce. I pulled the car up, and it coughed once before shutting off.

Swinging out of my car, I made it around the side and in front of Celene before she could sprint to the mansion’s door and softer pastures. “I’ll miss you, girly,” I said, grabbing her roughly with a hug.

“Dad, it’s only a few weeks.”

“Yeah, yeah. But whenever we’re not together, I miss you, honey. I’ve only got two daughters, and seriously, you’re only getting older, not younger.”

A hug from behind informed me that I hadn’t been aware of my youngest. Jennifer fake-picked me up as I laughed, doing the same and succeeding with Celene. Then, the Devil with blonde hair arrived.

“You’re late.” A sharp voice announced. It used to sound so nice to me in the past.

I used the same line I always did when she called me out on my timeliness, “I am never late, nor early. I always arrive precisely when I mean to.”

Jennifer unclenched, and I said goodbye to both of my girls. They had their mother’s looks, god bless them, so they’d be trouble for the world. But I was happy to say they had my good nature. Then I looked the devil in the eyes.

“You look nice, Noelle. New sweater?” 

And she did look nice. It appeared that remarried life agreed with her, as, standing side-by-side, you’d assume I was old enough to be her father.

“Don’t comment on my body,” She said with a smoky glare, “Craig’s gonna be here soon, and I need your car out of our space.”

I glanced at the giant parking area in front of her mansion, then back at her. “This parking space is bigger than my apartment.”

“I just don’t want him to have to deal with you.”

“Jesus, Noelle.” I ran my hand down my face, “Can we at least try to be civil? What did I ever do to you?”

Instead of answering, she turned and strutted to her mansion, slamming the door on her way in. I rubbed the back of my neck, then prepared to get back in my car, when I noticed another arriving.

Knowing it was the polite thing to do, I waited for Craig to park his very nice and new Lexus as I stood by my off-gray Civic.

“New car, Craig?” I asked, maintaining my politeness.

“Yeah!” The golden boy said, already smiling as he stepped his fit, six-foot frame out of the car. “Just bought it with my Christmas bonus. It’s nice, right?”

“A beaut.”

He rubbed the top of the car, then smiled as he came around my own to shake my hand. His hands eclipsed mine.

“Great to see you, Evan. Great to see you.” The sun almost reflected off the pearlescent shine of his teeth. “When are we going to do the next family outing, huh? It’s been too long.”

I tried to give him two pumps, then remove my hand, but he just kept shaking as I replied, “I don’t think Noelle was a fan of the last one, Craig.”

“Oh, pschh,” He waved off my refusal, “We’re all family, and I’m just the newest addition. I’m not your replacement, Evan. No sir. Just additional support whenever you need it.”

I nodded, “Thanks, Craig.”

He patted me on the arm with his other hand, then finally released me. “Say, Noelle wanted me to bring this up, but…look.” He paused, putting his hands on his hips.

“My parents are coming up on your weekend with the girls, and I really wanted to take them out to the Channel Islands for a boat tour. Would you mind terribly if I took the girls with us? It’s a heck of a trip. The islands are just be-a-utiful!” He lit up as if something had just occurred to him, “ You know what? I bet I can get Noelle to bring you with us. What do you say? One big, happy family, seeing the sights of the world. Sounds nice, right?”

This guy is either the sweetest person in the world, or just completely oblivious to the fact that my ex-wife hates my guts and wishes I would die in a gutter somewhere. Either way, it’s really hard to hate him…

I worked Craig a little to give me the girls for a whole week when they got back, begged off the boat trip, then made my escape with the excuse of getting to work.

It pained me not to see them for a whole month. But Jennifer was good about texting, and she normally pressured her sister to do the same.

The trip to work was quick, and I’d warned ahead of time that I’d be late today. After finding a good spot and putting my permanent parking pass on the dashboard, I hopped out and made the five-minute walk from the cement garage to the little shop that passed for an advertising agency.

In a digital world where my daughters constantly browsed social media and my ex-wife bought most of her clothing on Amazon, I worked at an advertising agency that was built on real, face-to-face handshakes. That meant, unlike other small business owners in the area, I got to wear flip-flops. You just couldn’t beat California’s fashion sense for work attire.

The silver bell above the door rang as I walked in, the smack smack of my flip-flops carrying loudly throughout the main room. Gladys, Phil’s wife, smiled at me and inquired about my time with the girls. I spent a few moments talking to her before I headed back to my new office.

Only six months ago, this whole place had been Phil’s. But, after a friendly round of negotiations, he’d agreed to sell me the company. Since he and his wife weren’t the kind of people who perfectly retire, they still worked for me part-time.

I settled in, pulling up our plans for the week, just as the old man walked in, “How’re you doing, Evan?’

“Just fine, Phil. How ‘bout yourself?”

The old man had a smooth pate and a bristling mustache. He looked like a main character straight out of the film Cocoon, sweater wrapped around him and all.

“Heard from a friend of mine that there’s a new body collision place opening up in Ventura right now. I may be wrong, but I think they might need a dollar of your time.”

“They might need many dollars,” I replied with a grin.

“And you just might be the man to help them out,” Phil said with a nod. He had a strict policy that every bit of currency taken from the customer be used in the best possible way… except for our salaries, of course. Every penny, every dollar, went toward the customer, not random training tips to Las Vegas as so many other agencies did. Since I’d worked for him for the last 10 years, more than a little of his business practices had rubbed off on me.

“Tell me a little about them.”

Phil gave me a few details, including their phone number, and I rang them up right after. Funnily enough, their phone number was 8675-308. It was just one digit off an old song that stuck in the mind, as long as you ignored the area code.

“Hello, is this Roger?’ I immediately started when a gravely voice picked up. “This is Evan Teller, owner of Meridian Advertising, and I heard you just opened a shop.” I put my hand against the microphone and looked at Phil, “What were we calling the new business deal?”

“Early saver.”

“Right.” Moving my hand, I put on my best friendly neighbor voice, “Well, Roger, that sounds like you’ve got something going on out there. Would you be fine if I dropped by and presented our new business plan? Comes with a hefty discount to get you on your feet.”

Roger seemed amenable, so I scheduled him for a few hours from now, then hung up feeling good about everything. Phil gave me a big smile as I told him that I’d be busy in the afternoon with our new potential customer. Then his expression became morose.

“Evan,” Phil sighed, “I wish you didn’t have to cold call businesses like that. You’ve been doing much better running the shop than I ever did.”

I smiled at him, knowing that he and Gladys saw me as a kind of surrogate son. “Phil, it’s only been six months. Time will fix that. Now come help me load the presentation material into the Honda, then I’ll treat you and Gladys to an early lunch.”

Phil patted me on the back as I walked by to start organizing everything. We got a huge platter of Cobb salad from a nearby restaurant, then ate while laughing about some oddball moments we’d experienced over the last few years.

I’d always had big plans for my life. But when Noelle got pregnant right as we were graduating high school, a lot of those had to change. I’d been a straight-A student, had a great SAT score, and even got a minor scholarship to the University of Southern California. But we needed the money, and even more when Jennifer came around. So I’d gone to night classes, using my AP credits to speed things along, and got an associate's in advertising from Santa Barbara City College. 

It was enough to get my foot in the door at Meridian Advertising, since not many other places would take me with no experience. After a few years, I did have the option to move up and out, but Phil and Gladys had been so nice to me. They’d even helped me out with money the few times I’d needed it, giving me extra time off work when Jennifer came down with pneumonia.

Unlike Noelle, loyalty mattered a lot to me. I couldn’t leave them. And now, I owned the same shop I’d worked at for over a decade. It was a nice bit of reciprocity.

I gave Phil and Gladys the business end of my smile, then loaded up into my car and headed out. If this deal with Roger went through and our income went up just a little, I was looking at hiring another ad man or woman. It’d be nice to see my small enterprise expand. I’d always planned to be a business Tycoon one day, and now, I was finally on the first steps.

The drive to Ventura was quick, being only twenty minutes away, and I amused myself by looking at the beach on the side every so often. I’d already keyed some 80’s rock into my phone, and it was blasting out as I warbled along during my favorite parts.

“Jenny, I’ve got your number…I wanna make you mine!” 

Roger’s number had gotten me in the mood for some Tommy Tutone. I tried not to consider the fact that my youngest daughter was named Jennifer as I belted it out on the road.

The highways around Santa Barbara were a strange affair. Many of them, especially the 101, dangled right next to several seaside cliffs. They jutted out, right over the ocean, with only a thin steel bar covering the sides. I’d never considered it too deeply as I drove along, briefly imagining I was flying.

“Eight six seven five three oh, Jesus Christ!” My vision disappeared as something took its place.

Congratulations Evan Teller!

You’ve received a sponsorship.

Prepare to be shifted to the pre-initiation center.

Good luck!

“Jeesus Christ!” I involuntarily yelled out a second time.

My brain went into overdrive as the text stopped me from seeing where I was going. When my vision cleared, and I could finally see enough to drive again, I was right behind the car in front of me and going too fast. 

I touched the brakes and twitched the wheel a little, but in my haste, that twitch was more of a full-on jerk, which made my car violently turn to the side. Before I knew it, my 2015 Gray Honda Civic was rolling and rolling, and then I felt nothing as gravity lost its effect on me.

My hyperactive brain counted just past three before my seat belt's limits were tested, and my car and I touched down on the ocean far below.

The impact felt like my ribs were snapping, and my shoulder hurt something fierce. As water began to rush in from the vents in the front, I threw several sharp elbows into the side window, managing to break it even as the flavor of the sea began to enter my mouth and nose.

Water kept filling my car, but I couldn’t get the seatbelt off. The thing that was supposed to protect me was now killing me. I pushed against the seat, taking a quick gasp of air from what little remained just above the roof, then struggled against inevitability.

Just as I began to think that this was truly the end, I looked up and took a surprised gasp of air. 

What had been the cold ocean and my fight to survive was now a clean, white room, filled with people. I took in another deep breath, relishing the sweetness of not dying, as a man to my left stared at me.

He looked vaguely familiar as he said, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”