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We didn’t get to opening Christmas gifts until almost New Years. By the time we’re all gathered in Matteo’s living room—complete with Christmas-decorated indoor potted palm because no tree lots sell trees after Christmas—most of our cuts and bruises from Christmas Eve have healed.
Ryan got out last week on bail, thanks to the crowdsource defense fund and an anonymous donor who made up the difference. We didn’t want to wait until the court date where charges would be formally dropped, which apparently takes time when you have multiple cases and charges. It also turns out money connected to a case can’t be used for bail after it’s already been taken as evidence so some creative mind had come up with the idea of auctioning off newly discovered original pencil sketches of The Hooded Falcon. No one is quite sure where they came from, though I know fandom will treasure their existence more than if they were to remain locked up in . . . oh, say a dusty dark secret room forever.
I figure that the creative mind will also probably share the secret room with Casey’s son next week. He deserves to see the room, the costume, and to connect with his father’s secret life too. Casey Senior would have wanted it that way.
Matteo is even speaking to me again. It doesn’t hurt that my information led to the search and seizure of five modified UPS trucks and eight high-level arrests, including a Mister Jeremiah Loudon. The baggie of drugs in the briefcase had his prints on it and those of his associate. I can’t claim all the credit, though. The manila envelope in the briefcase included meticulous documentation and research about Uriah Pender’s service to the Golden Arrow as a mole inside the drug ring. And a sworn affidavit clearing Frank LaPitez of any wrongdoing—both in the past and now. It seemed some vigilante hero cared enough to clear the names of the little people involved . . . and it’s swayed public favor considerably.
Matteo’s still upset that I put myself in danger again, but I try to assure him over and over that my days as a vigilante superhero are over.
Unless some twenty-year-old comic-based mystery shows up on my doorstep again, in which case I’ll be forced to come out of retirement, but I don’t tell him that part.
“The ship at the docks was headed to Washington and then Alaska, but you didn’t hear it from me,” Matteo says as we hand out the meager pile of gifts. None of us had done much shopping, given all of the hoopla.
“I . . . cannot imagine Lelani in Alaska,” I say. “Okay, L, open yours.”
Lawrence, dressed in the ugliest light-up sweater that ever existed, taps on the box suspiciously.
“Shark in a box to go,” I say, channeling Matt Smith’s Christmas Doctor.
L laughs and pulls open the paper.
“It’s his and his Egyptian cotton bath towels. And this.”
I pull out the hand-painted sign I’d done for the salon’s front window. It says “La Deux” and features a person with a mullet and a do-rag. It says “business in the front, party in the back” across the bottom. His business has been gangbusters since opening, and Matteo and I are on clean-up duties New Year’s Eve after its inaugural drag show and party. I’m happy to support my friend for a while, after he’s done so much to support my dreams. That, and our first issue of The Sassy Dragon is close to being completed. He’s already cleared a spot at the front for us to sell copies from. I wish him—and us—every success, because Thor knows we’ve worked hard for it.
He laughs and hugs it. “It’s perfect.”
“You know, I picture Lelani on an island somewhere, twisting the local politics to suit her,” L says after Matteo opens a jar of barbecue sauce “for the Hotlanta brisket”.
We all glance at Ryan, who is suspiciously silent.
Pieces of news about the impressive stunt and the masked vigilante at the police event continue to come out. So far, what we can piece together is that Lelani skipped the country with about a million dollars in cash, plus possibly more.
“I . . . I’ll get everyone some apple cider,” Matteo says with a knowing look at me.
“I’ll help,” Whalon offers, and they bustle into the kitchen.
“You doing okay?” I ask, reaching over to hold Ryan’s hand. The cut on his neck from Halloween left a scar, vivid pink against the white of his sweater.
“Yeah. No. Not really, but yes. This is helping.” He motions around us, and we all soak in the sounds of Whalon and Matteo laughing together in the kitchen. “It’s good to be with family again.”
L bites his lip before leaning in. “Are you ever going to tell us?”
“Tell you . . . ?”
“Everything,” I answer. “All of it.”
Ryan studies his hands. “There’s not much to tell, honestly. And at the same time, it would take so much time. I think we’ll do it in pieces.”
L and I are silent.
“What, now? It’s Christmas.”
“Can you tell us anything? You’ve been sort of avoiding us.”
“Not avoiding you guys. I’m . . . settling into a new life. It’s really weird for me right now.” He looks at the door to the kitchen. “I’ll bring you guys with me to the interviews for Casey Junior, okay? They’re talking about writing a book.”
“So, we’re going to have to find out from a book?” I ask, incredulous.
“No.” Ryan reaches out. “Okay fine. I’ve put you guys through so much. Let’s just say I stuck my nose where it shouldn’t be. I was looking into sales in Asia for market research—hacked into Genius’s accounts, which is why I didn’t tell anyone—and realized the sales figures didn’t match what was coming back in tear sheets. I made a meeting at Genius to tell someone about it and . . .”
“And it was Lelani,” I guess.
Ryan nods. “Everything just sort of gained speed from there. She demanded more proof, I started doing research and then . . . I was rereading the comic books for the video game and it just sort of clicked. I had this whole idea, but it was based on me hacking. Lelani and I . . . we loved what we were doing. It was the highest high. We were doing so much good for the city. I did what I could and led MG through the clues. Look—” he holds up a hand “—I’ll tell you guys the whole story. Someday. I’m tired and want to just enjoy Christmas, okay?”
As if summoned, Matteo appears with mugs of steaming cider.
My mouth quirks up at the mug he hands me. It’s emblazoned with a golden arrow across the front, and it was one of four mugs delivered by one Frank LaPitez along with a folio of documents the day after Lelani’s disappearance. Apparently, Lelani’s ownership of The Golden Arrow had been sold to a holding company Christmas Eve. I only know this because I received paperwork the day after Christmas to sign as one of the owners of said holding company. Ryan, Lawrence, Whalon, and I all received paperwork, in fact. Everything was already set up for us—bank accounts, credit cards, paperwork showing the ownership to the media rights, which are currently granted to Genius. Everything.
Which is the least she can do, considering she almost took every single one of us down with—or instead of—her.
Including, Ryan pointed out after some research, direct deposits of profits into bank accounts for each of us. It’s interesting to note, he pointed out, that my mother is co-signed on my account. And that she has access to a Cayman Islands account. My mother never would have signed to a bank account with me, and though I suspect that Cayman Islands account actually exists . . . I don’t think it’s my mother benefitting from the profits of The Golden Arrow. We’ve collectively decided to ignore this fact.
Beyond that, Lelani seems to have gotten what she wanted. L and I have talked at length about why she’d come out publicly. I’ve just decided it’s because she knew what she wanted, and went for it. She just wanted it all. Fame, fortune, notoriety, enduring legacy as a pop culture icon, and pioneer of women vigilantes everywhere. Instead of just being a VP at Genius, she is now a public figure. One openly admired and discussed on Reddit. There’s already a petition started to drop her charges trending online. Rumor has it someone has invoked the K-pop stans’ power behind it.
She’s a hero.
And I hear she’s already secured foreign rights for a tell-all memoir.
And there’s already talk of a Golden Arrow movie, based on her. Based on all of us.
Ryan figures once the hubbub has died down—but not too much—we’ll see her again as the CEO of her own media empire. For better or worse, our wagons are hitched to her star too, and I’m not all sad about it. If you overlook the pragmatic turn of events where she was willing to throw me in front of a speeding taser, she’s the best boss I’ve ever had.
“One more gift,” Matteo says, passing me a small velvet box.
My heart skips in my chest. This is it. It’s a small blue box. My hands sweat, and suddenly L has his phone pointed at me.
“I . . .”
“Just open it, Michael Grace,” Matteo says kindly, rubbing my back. He’s dressed in an adorable maroon sweater, a plaid work shirt underneath, and cute little candy cane socks poking out of his slacks. I couldn’t love this man more.
So, I open the box.
And inside, find . . . “Folded paper?”
“Michael Grace Martin, will you go to ComicCon with me?” Matteo asks, as I unfold the paper receipt of Matteo having registered for two passes. In all the hoopla, I’d indeed forgotten to purchase mine on the day they released.
“Yes,” I whisper, because it’s the perfect gift.
And I look at that perfect person for me—not perfect because of some pre-destined, love-at-first-sight nonsense, but because he’s dedicated to understanding me. Celebrating me. Loving me whole hog. And I just smile. Because never in a million years would I have believed I’d be so happy with someone so different from me. In the words of Elizabeth Bennett, I’ve gone soft and wish never to part from his company. Not when we’re stronger together.
****
NEW YEAR’S EVE AT Lateetee’s will be LA’s best new tradition. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to ring in a new year under a disco ball while you watch glittering drag queens shaking their groove things on stage. And I’m not the only one—there are several notable celebrity guests in attendance tonight, which I take as a sign of impending success.
Our VIP table—filled by all my favorite people from work and home—is up front, and I brought enough tip money with me to float a boat. Not that I’m the only one; Paige has rolled right to the edge of the stage and throws money at anyone who will come over and shimmy for her.
Latifah is in her element, not only a queen surveying her kingdom, but also still a fierce competitor on stage.
I sip my signature beverage—a Sassy Dragon—and lean back against my chair after cheering for a delightful performance by one of L’s youth performers.
“We’re going to start back up with weekly hangouts at my house,” Simon says, taking a sip of his beer. “Or is that weird because now you’re our boss?”
“I’d love to come,” I say with a smile.
“Only if you bring Matteo,” Paige chimes in as she rolls back up to the table. “We like him better than you.”
“No,” I joke back, “you like that you can beat him at any of the nerd trivia games.”
“And Catan,” says Kyle.
“And video games,” Ryan agrees.
“You guys, I’m right here,” Matteo laughs.
“It’s okay, honey, we’ll train in secret and then someday you’ll wallop them with your Battlestar Galactica knowledge.”
He laughs and rolls his eyes. “I’m game. Let the training begin. You already make me watch all sorts of stuff.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I watch Matteo joke with my friends. This is all more than I could have ever wanted. A glittering wonderland of success for L—complete with a custom-made shelf up front where he proudly displays our first issue of The Sassy Dragon—true friends, a career that’s taking off, Ryan back with us. From where I started as a prickly loner, I sure have come a long way.
The picture is complete several moments later when Latifah Nile—fresh off of hosting her first drag revue—collapses in a chair at our table.
“Latifah, darling, this was amazing. Thank you for having us.” I lift a glass of champagne to her, and the rest of the table joins in.
“To a new year and a new chapter,” Latifah agrees, taking a grateful sip before twining her hands into Whalon’s shoulder-length locks. “I think I may need help unzipping later,” she purrs.
Whalon laughs and pulls her into his lap.
Everything is perfect.
“Actually, I have something,” I say to the group. “It’s a belated Christmas gift but it fits New Year’s too.”
I dig in the pocket of my dress and produce a large wrapped box. I hand it to Matteo, ignoring the significant looks being exchanged around the table. Latifah and Ryan are the only ones I’ve told, the rest have only guessed.
Everyone relaxes and laughs when Matteo pulls open the wrapping to find a T-shirt. He unfolds it and holds it up to himself. “Um, thanks.”
He’s so not the T-shirt type. I know that. “It’s Captain Picard,” I say by way of explanation.
“I know.”
“Read what it says.”
“Engage,” he says. “That’s at the end of every episode. You’ve made me watch it a hundred times.”
Kyle and Ryan start laughing about space slugs and sex ghosts, but I don’t get derailed.
“There’s another gift in there.”
Matteo lifts out a small blue box, and opens it to find a small metal ring. Our peanut gallery falls immediately silent. All eyes are on me.
“It’s a promise ring of sorts. I want this new year and every year to be with you. Matteo Kildaire, will you marry me? Someday? It doesn’t have to be right away—”
I can’t finish because Matteo has scooped me up and kissed me breathless.
“Awwwwww,” Whalon and L say together.
Latifah stands up and announces a round of champagne on her, and suddenly everyone in the whole room is clapping and straining to see our table.
“Well, are you going to answer her?” Latifah asks, drawing a laugh from the crowd.
“Whenever you are ready, even if it’s twenty years from now,” Matteo says. And in those words, I see a happy and sunlit future stretching before us—likely with some really rainy spells where my temper gets the better of me—but I know we’ll come through it with work and commitment.
“Is that a yes?” I hold my breath, hoping for the beginning of a wonderful new adventure.
“Make it so,” Matteo answers giving me another kiss.
Dear Reader, thank you for taking the time to read this book! I have enjoyed my time with this group of friends more than I thought was possible. At this point, I wish they were real so that I could hang out with them going forward. I know you didn’t get all of your answers about how exactly Ryan and Lelani accomplished what they did, but I wanted to assure you that it wasn’t an oversight on my part. While I want you to have enough satisfaction and closure for an ending for now, I also envision writing a “tell-all” prequel (eventually)—a retelling of Book 1 from their perspectives. I’m not sure what form this prequel will take, or a release date, but I thought it would be worth mentioning to you loyal readers who want to know everything. Lots of love, and hopefully we’ll meet again in this universe soon, Meghan.