by Baron Sord
“Of course,” Lady Liberty smiled and started signing.
I walked away to give them space.
I had to wonder, had my supposed moment with Lady Liberty been a figment of my imagination? And entirely one-sided on my part?
Probably.
When people had mutual moments, they usually exchanged names, numbers, etc. If one person refused to give something as innocent as their name, that was solid evidence there had been no moment.
I sighed.
Oh well.
It had been a long shot from the very beginning. More importantly, I was here to meet comic book editors.
For the next hour, I wandered from booth to booth showing my portfolio.
The entire time, I couldn’t get Lady Liberty out of my head. I told myself, maybe, just maybe, I would see her again when I returned at 1:30pm. And double maybe she was single. Triple maybe I could offer to buy her dinner tonight after the Con without flailing the ask like I had with Pinstripe.
I knew Lady Liberty would say no because there had been no mutual moment.
But I had to ask.
—: Chapter 4 :—
Lady Liberty, whose real name was Kristy Crawford, walked out of the crowded exhibit hall to use the women’s room. She hadn’t gone pee since getting here at 7:00am. It was now shortly before one o’clock and she was squirming.
Kristy had to wait in line for a stall for-ever before doing her thing, which was a hassle in a bodysuit, but she managed because she’d cleverly added a tassel to the zipper in back to make it easier to unzip herself without help. Then she basically peed naked with her bodysuit down around her knees. Okay, she was wearing her bra, but same difference.
The things women endured to look good.
Zipping up was as simple as holding her hair out of the way while bending over and letting the tassel dangle upside down, a trick Kristy had figured out when she’d made her costume. It also helped she was very flexible and could easily lock her fingers together behind her back, one arm going over her shoulder, the other coming up from under, making it easy to grab the tassel from either direction. Growing up a gymnast did that.
After washing up at the crowded sinks, she walked out of the restroom to the sidewalk outside.
The San Diego weather was perfect, per usual.
Kristy wanted to get some sun and fresh air before she went back inside to the booth. She’d been talking to fans and selling comics nonstop since the show opened. She’d been pleasantly surprised by how popular Lady Liberty #1 was already. Jeff Strickland had been right to announce the comic months and months in advance of release day, which had been yesterday.
Jeff really knew how to market comics and his years of experience had paid off. Kristy owed him big time for all he’d done to help launch her career. She couldn’t believe her good fortune, and wanted nothing more than to keep the momentum going back at the booth, but she desperately needed a few minutes now to take a brief break and decompress.
The show didn’t close for six more hours, which meant six more hours of smiling and chatting, and after that was the Eisner Awards. She couldn’t miss those. Jeff’d told her there was a slight chance she might win something for her Lady Liberty comic.
Slight, he’d said.
But you never knew, and this girl could dream.
Smiling to herself, Kristy knew she also needed a minute of quiet to decide if she’d had a moment with that Doug Moore.
He wasn’t her usual type, but there was something about him she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Something she kind of maybe liked.
When she got outside, she stood in front of the convention center on the crowded concourse walkway and tried not to get run over by the thousands of people walking in either direction.
“Love the costume,” said a random young woman with platinum blonde hair. She was dressed as Captain Marvel and was walking by in the midst of the meandering crowd.
“Thanks,” Kristy said with a friendly smile. “Yours too.”
Captain Marvel slowed and said, “Did you make yours?”
“Yeah,” Kristy nodded. “I make everything myself. The cape too. You wouldn’t believe how long it took to sew on all the stars. And keeping the stripes straight? Forget it!” she laughed and waved a hand.
“Tré lux,” Captain Marvel said appreciatively, eyeing the cape. She grabbed an edge of it and gave it a wave. “You did all this yourself?”
“Yeah,” Kristy nodded and grinned.
“It’s spectacular,” Captain Marvel said with open admiration before letting go of the cape.
“Thanks. Did you make yours? It’s really nice. It looks just like the movie.”
“Thank yoouuu,” the blonde woman sang. “I did.”
“Was it a lot of work?”
“Oh, you have no idea. Crafting the chest piece alone was a nightmare and a half. I swear I—”
BREEP!
Kristy’s smart phone suddenly rang in her hand. She checked the number and offered a polite wince to Captain Marvel, “Sorry. I have to take this.”
“No worries,” the blonde said and faded back into the crowd.
BREEP!
Kristy’s phone showed a picture of Sierra, her girlfriend from work.
“Hey you!” Kristy answered the voice call with a smile.
“What up, dude?!” Sierra said.
“Nothing much. What’s up with you?”
“I missed you, dude! We haven’t talked since work last weekend!”
“I know, right?” Kristy grinned.
“You weren’t at work last night either,” Sierra said with disappointment. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Kristy sighed. “I’ve been super busy with… other stuff this week. I’ll be in next week.”
“I hope so,” Sierra giggled. “Work’s never as fun without you. Wait, you didn’t meet a guy, did you?”
Kristy blushed, “Actually…”
“Tell me everything,” Sierra gushed.
“He’s really sweet,” Kristy smiled, thinking of her brief but interesting interaction with Doug Moore.
“Is he hot?” Sierra said provocatively.
Kristy crinkled her nose, “Mmm… not hot. He’s… cute.”
“Cute?” Sierra snorted sourly. “How cute?”
Kristy frowned, “You say that like cute is a bad thing.”
“It is! Cute is boring, K-Cray! Especially for you.”
“Not always,” Kristy scoffed.
“Please. When have you ever done cute? Or boring?”
Kristy sighed, “I was thinking I need to try something different. No more hot messes.”
“So you wanna date a cute mess?” Sierra snarked.
“Who says he’s a mess?” Kristy said defensively. Doug had seemed very level-headed to her. A bit shy and awkward. Almost innocent, but mature. She liked mature. She was ready for mature.
Sierra groaned, “All guys are messes, K-Cray. Cute, hot, not, it doesn’t matter. They’re men. They’re messes.”
“They can’t all be messes, Sie.” Kristy heaved a sigh, thinking Sierra might not be her best option for relationship advice. “Anyway, I don’t think this one is. A mess, I mean.”
She said, “What’s his name?”
“Doug.”
“Doug?!” Sierra said with audible disgust. “That’s a dad name, K-Cray! Was he wearing dad jeans over his dad ass?”
“No,” Kristy argued. “He’s too young to be a dad.”
“Did he at least have a delicious DILF ass? Or was it a regular fat dad ass?”
“He’s not a fat dad!” Kristy laughed in frustration. “I said he was cute! Anyway, I wasn’t focusing on his ass or his looks. I was focusing on his personality for once.”
Sierra gasped, “Don’t do it, K-Cray! Don’t date him! You’ll regret it!”
“I regret all the ones I’ve dated lately. Maybe I’ll regret this one less. He’s not like my exes. He seems… I don’t know… grown
up.”
“Pfft,” Sierra snorted. “Who needs that?”
“I do,” Kristy said.
“Is he at least rich?”
“I couldn’t tell.” This was definitely not the sort of advice Kristy needed on the topic of potentially dating Doug.
“Bullshit, Kris. You can smell rich across the club. Was he rich or not?”
Kristy groaned, “I don’t think so. But I don’t care! Rich guys can be jerks, same as regular guys. We both know that. You especially. Remember Alec? Or did you forget him already?”
“Don’t remind me about ALMA,” Sierra groaned.
“Who?”
“Alec the Lying Married Ass.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Kristy laughed. “I forgot you started calling him that after—”
Sierra cut in, “I met his slut wife! Total! Fucking! Bitch!”
Kristy wasn’t going to argue who was technically the slut in that love triangle.
“ALMA’s ancient history,” Sierra groaned, obviously annoyed by all things ALMA. “Anyway… does this Doug Dad have a good job at least?”
“He’s not a dad,” Kristy sighed, tiring of Sierra’s insistence. But Doug did seem like the kind of man who had long-term potential. She wasn’t gonna tell Sie that. Sierra was a long way from ready to settle down. Kristy on the other hand… settling down didn’t sound like a bad idea. Between work and her comic, she had two full-time jobs. No, the comic alone was two full-time jobs, especially now that it’d gone into publication and she had to finish issue #2 and get it to the printers yesterday. Some days, Kristy wasn’t sure how she managed. It was like the only thing she did anymore was work and sleep. A stable man sounded perfect.
Sierra said, “Okay, what’s Doug the not-dad do?”
“He didn’t say. But he wants to get into comics.”
“Comics? You mean like stand up comedy? Like The Comedy Store in La Jolla or whatever? That stuff? Is he funny? Like, Dane Cook funny? Funny can be sexy. I guess,” Sierra said doubtfully.
“No… he’s… never mind,” Kristy sighed.
Kristy had never told Sierra or any of her co-workers about her secret life as a fledgling comic book creator. None of them knew Kristy was here at the Con promoting the Lady Liberty comic either. Kristy wasn’t sure they’d understand. Comic books weren’t their thing. Partying was. Heavy partying. The 12-step kind.
Then there were people like Jeff Strickland at Crash Comics. He understood, and so did the fans she’d met today. They were who mattered when it came to Kristy’s comic book career. Not people at work. Kristy didn’t plan on being a dancer forever. In dancer years, she was almost over the hill anyway. She needed a solid fallback option. She wasn’t gonna rely on some rich husband who she probably wouldn’t even like (and definitely not love) to pay her old lady bills when she turned 30. That’s what her comic book was supposed to be for.
Kristy said, “Anyway, I think Doug wants to ask me out.”
“Everyone wants to ask you out,” Sierra said with a hint of jealousy.
“Okay, whatever, but is it too soon since Brock?”
Brock was Kristy’s latest disaster of an ex-boyfriend. After she’d dragged out what should’ve been a one night stand with Brock for almost six months, Kristy had finally kicked that mistake to the curb a month ago. Kristy’s reputation with men had earned her the nickname K-Cray as much as her hot temper had. That was why she knew it was wise for her to get a second opinion about Doug, even if it was Sierra she was asking.
Sierra groaned with audible disgust, “Brock with rocks for brains. I can’t believe he cheated on you of all people.”
“I can,” Kristy smirked.
Sierra sighed, “Still, that man is the most beautiful disaster I’ve ever met.”
“Tell me about it,” Kristy sighed.
On the outside, Brock presented a picture-perfect bad boy book cover. He was literally worthy of a romance novel. On the inside, Brock’s book was worse than the worst one-star read in the history of trashy books. He was a walking manual for how to treat women poorly. But his cover always got Kristy when her guard was down. Had she known better when she’d met him… things would’ve been different. But he and his perfect cover had charmed her pants off that night. Literally. Once that happened, Kristy’s monogamous instincts had kicked in. Kristy couldn’t help it. She was wired that way.
Sierra said with genuine disappointment, “I always knew Brock was dumber than a rock.”
“You said he was hot,” Kristy groaned. “That night I first met him at work, you couldn’t stop talking about how hot he was! I remember your exact words. Brock is hot, hot, hot! Tell me I’m wrong.”
“He is hot,” Sierra sighed longingly. “But he’s really, really dumb,” she laughed.
Kristy rolled her eyes because it was the embarrassing truth. “When did you figure that out?”
“The night you met him,” Sierra said.
Kristy blurted a regretful laugh, “Why didn’t you tell me then?! Before I made a six-month mistake?!”
“Because dumb can be fun,” Sierra giggled. “I’m not gonna come between you and a little man-hunk fun, no matter how big a disaster he is. I’m your friend, K-Cray.”
“Ugh,” Kristy groaned. “Forget about Crock. I don’t want to talk about him.”
Kristy had been calling him Crock since they broke up because it turned out everything Brock had ever said was a crock of shit. He was a liar, a lying liar who lied morning, noon, and night.
Kristy sighed, “I was asking you about Doug, Sie. Is it too soon for me to go out with him after dumping Crock? I’m scared Doug’ll be a rebound. I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt him. He’s… too sweet for that.”
Sierra groaned, “He sounds like a little boy. You need a man, K-Cray.”
“Like Crock?” Kristy smirked.
“No, not like him. I mean, one that looks like him but doesn’t act like him.”
Kristy couldn’t argue with that. Covers will be covers, she thought with a titter while picturing Brock’s luscious abs and impressive pecs. No, she could argue with that. That kind of thinking had dragged out her thing with him for six months. It was that kind of thinking she needed to change.
VROOM!
VROOM!
VROOM!
On the street in front of the convention center, a farting Harley Davidson rolled up to the curb.
Kristy took one look at the muscled man on the motorcycle and grimaced. His familiar bulging pecs were as familiar as his battered attitude and angry tattoos, all of which strained his wife-beater tank-tee to near bursting.
Sierra said over the phone, “You still there?”
“I have to go,” Kristy muttered.
“Did I say something?” Sierra said with her usual insecurity. She was always worried she was annoying Kristy. She wasn’t. They were friends, and Kristy was loyal like that.
Kristy said, “No, it’s Crock.”
“Crock?! Is he calling you again?!”
Brock had called Kristy a thousand times in the first week after she dumped him, and left hundreds of voicemails. Hundreds. She’ d had to change her phone number because he’d turned into such a stalker.
Kristy scowled, “No, he’s here.”
“Here where?” Sierra asked.
“Here at the…” Kristy stopped herself.
Kristy didn’t finish her answer because she didn’t want Sierra knowing she was here at the convention. The only reason Brock knew was because Kristy’d told him about it two months ago, a month before she’d dumped him.
Jeff’d emailed saying he wanted to make a big deal out of her debut here at the show.
Kristy’d been so excited, she just had to share the news with Brock. It was the first time she’d told Brock anything about her comic. For whatever reason, after hooking up with him, she’d held off telling him until that night. She figured out why when she finally did.
Brock’d made fun of her for drawing comics because he t
hought they were for “fucking pussies.”
Actually made fun of her for drawing them!
For twenty minutes straight!
Ranting and raving like an insolent baby.
Kristy’d been horrified he could be so immature. She also thought he might be jealous, which made zero sense because he didn’t even draw!
Talk about insecure.
What, could Brock not accept that Kristy had something going on in her life other than him?
She guessed not.
Anyway, that was the first and last time Kristy’d ever mentioned anything about her comic to Brock. His rude behavior had started a huge fight that night and hastened their break up for sure. Him riding off in a huff and sleeping with that slut Paige that night had sealed the deal. Kristy didn’t find out that little tidbit until a month later. When she did, she’d immediately kicked Brock to the curb.
That’d been a month ago.
Now, Kristy groaned to herself.
Brock ripped his tiny Skid Lid helmet off his tiny head and threw his big booted and denim-covered leg over his motorcycle. He hung his helmet on the end of the handle bars before storming up onto the crowded curb and pushing people aside like bowling pins.
“Move it, Batman!” Brock shouted at a pudgy young man in a Batman costume as he shoved him aside. Brock was twice Pudgy’s size.
Pudgy went flying.
Kristy gasped.
Lucky for Pudgy, the wide-eyed and horrified crowd caught him before he hit the ground.
Kristy immediately ducked her head behind the crowd, hoping Brock wouldn’t see her.
“Babe!” he shouted. “Is that you?!” He was looking right at her.
Kristy muttered into the phone, “I have to go, Sie.”
“What is it? What’s going on?”
“Drama. I’ll call you later.”
“Wait! Is it Brock?! Tuh—”
Boop!
Kristy ended the call with the touch of the screen.
Someone in the crowd who’d helped catch Pudgy yelled at Brock, “Hey! That wasn’t very nice of you!” It was a middle-aged woman dressed as Black Widow. She looked less like the stunning Scarlett Johannson version in the Avengers movies and more like a Mom Widow Roseanne version.
