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Comicon First Day
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I didn’t change my mind overnight. Breaking up with Eric wasn’t a new thought for me. I’d been moving toward ending it for a while. Anyway, when I woke the next morning, he was already gone from the suite. I’d have to hold any official breaking up for later.
Today the convention was in full swing, and I was on panels. Despite my special ticket that allowed me quick entry, I would have to wade through the enormous crowds that made getting anywhere in the vast convention center maddeningly slow.
First, I picked up my erstwhile admirer on the sidewalk outside my hotel.
“There you are,” he said. “I knew you’d have to come out sometime.”
I stopped dead and stared at him. My stalker, the second guy I’d shaken off last night, was tall, around six feet, a little on the thin side, and dressed like any typical guy in his twenties: jeans, casual boots, dark t-shirt, a grey hoodie, and another jacket over that. He had curly brown hair, and some facial hair, too. He definitely hadn’t shaved last night. His face wasn’t bad looking. He looked younger than me.
“I have to talk to you. It’s important,” he said.
I glared at him and made a gesture to move on.
His words came out in a rush. “Please listen. I saw you throw that napkin dispenser at the crazy guy in the pedal plane.” He sounded sincere. He even looked worried at my possible reaction.
I had misinterpreted what he’d said last night. He hadn’t meant he’d seen me trip that creepy guy.
“Show me your ID,” I said.
“Okay.” He quickly pulled out his wallet.
“Now take it out and hold it up in front of you so I can compare the photo.”
His name was Ray Herriman. That name rang a bell, but I couldn’t place it right off. The ID he held up was his employee badge from CP Comics.
“Ray, may I call you Ray?” I asked. He nodded.
“I’m going to take a photo of you and send it to my friend who runs convention security. Friendly warning. If you have any funny ideas about harming me in any way, you will be hunted down like a dog.”
I snapped the pic and sent it to Roland.
“No, no. You have the wrong idea about me.” He sighed and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the pavement. “I need your help.”
“Doing what?”
His lips closed firmly, as if he was trying to get up the courage to speak. “I-I think my aunt is the one who turned out the lights in the exhibition hall yesterday.”
My mouth dropped open. This was not what I’d expected him to say.
“Who’s your aunt?”
“Jean Westover.” He didn’t look happy about saying it.
“Wait a minute. I’ve heard of her. She drew for CP Comics. Roland—my friend—told me she was a big deal, a golden girl.”
“She was. Her super popular run on Power Lady single-handedly saved CP Comics going under during the shakeout of comics in the 1980s. Once the company was prosperous again, it was sold, but the new owner fired her. He didn’t like women artists.”
“Do you know that for a fact?”
“It’s what Aunt Jean always told me.”
“Why do you think she was behind what happened yesterday?”
“I recognized her voice,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Even distorted by the PA system and the echo in the huge exhibition hall?”
He nodded. “I’m sure it was her.”
“It couldn’t have been someone imitating her?”
He brightened at the idea. “Gee, it could have been. Although why would anyone want to set up Aunt Jean? She’s such a nice person.”
“Is she here at the comicon?”
“Yes, in Artist’s Alley.”
“You need to tell this story to Roland Kirby, who heads Security.” I texted Roland, and he replied immediately with directions. I told Ray how to contact Roland at the gates. Roland could judge for himself whether Ray was telling the truth or not.
I sent Ray on his way, safely ahead of me. Not that I thought I was such hot stuff, but I didn’t know Ray Herriman.
Considering the thousands of people crowded into the exhibition halls and concourse this morning and the near panic of yesterday, I shouldn’t have felt so relieved to enter. At least the convention center offered the promise of control over crazies.
I checked the comicon app on my cell and the floor plan, and headed for my first panel. Right away, I bumped into Jason. He was dressed as ordinary as Ray, and nobody was mobbing him. The same basic uniform: jeans, suede boots, dark t-shirt, hoodie even in July, another jacket. Jason’s were designer versions, so they fit better and gave him a kind of casual sex appeal. Jason’s head was almost shaved bald, declaring him a hipster, although he had that blond surfer hair. In the strong light of the convention center concourse, he looked younger than he had last night. Handsome, even.
Where did that thought come from?
“Hey, how are you?” he said, smiling at me as if he was glad to see me.
“Better. Sorry about last night,” I said. “Getting hassled on the street was the last straw after the panicked mob scene here.”
“You were in the hall when the lights went out? What was it like?”
“One of those old disaster movies. People screaming, pushing, shoving. A nightmare experience.”
We talked about yesterday’s crazy events as we walked toward the west end of the convention center. He was interested and sympathetic. Nice guy.
Jason said, “I looked up your work. You’re good. Would you consider doing some of the visuals, the storyboards, or the character sketches, for my next movie?”
He said it casually, as if the offer wouldn’t rock my world.
“W-what’s it about?” I asked, cautious about revealing how exciting his offer was.
“A woman with unusual powers, who is called to defend our world from a supervillain.”
I could do that in my sleep, and literally, I had. “Tell me more,” I said.
Fifteen minutes later I told him I’d think it over. If I said yes, my tryout would begin two months from now, when he was back in California to work on his next production. I’d acted cool, as if Hollywood came knocking on my door every day of the week. The financial terms were more than generous, and the timing was right. My commitment to FC Comics would be over by then. Also my commitment to Eric. So why did I hesitate?