“All I’m saying is read the whole series before you make a judgment.” Tyson, the young man Dakota had tapped to go opposite Brenden, turned to Dakota. “Don’t you agree with me?”
Privately, Dakota didn’t, but Brenden didn’t need any corroboration from him. He was a one-man debate army while Tyson had all the conviction of a young, rabid fan. Still, it was his job to play each side. “Brenden, you have to admit, comics have been pulling soap opera shenanigans for ages. Whether they want to call it retcon or something else, it amounts to the same thing.”
“You’ve got a point,” Brenden admitted reluctantly, “but I still call it lazy writing. Change-ups are always going to happen, but for real, do it in ways that make sense for the character. For example, erasing Peter Parker and Mary Jane’s marriage because you don’t want to write a married superhero is bullshit. Peter’s never been a damn Tony Starkesque playboy. And on the note of Peter Parker, the whole notion of him revealing his identity in Civil War was bullshit too. Spidey has too many crazy, jacked-up villains. He’s not going to put Aunt May in the crosshairs like that.”
“Okay, that is getting away from the whole Captain America/Hydra issue.” Tyson huffed out his breath as he leaned back on two chair legs. “If you want to start bringing in all that, we will be here for days. And these are old dramas. We haven’t even touched on the new ones.”
Dakota glanced regretfully at his watch. Time sped by when he had a good debate going, and he had no doubt Tyson and Brenden could argue for another hour with no encouragement.
“And on that note, that’s all the time we have today for Geek Wars. Continuing on with our month-long special on comic book controversies, stay tuned for our next episode, where we’ll discuss who really created Batman.”
“Oh, don’t even get me started,” Brenden muttered. Dakota knew that tone; the man was rolling his eyes behind his dumb-ass glasses.
“I swear if you’re a Bill Finger fan, I am going to have to call you out on your bullshit,” Tyson said, leaning around Dakota to glare at Brenden.
Brenden’s lips thinned, and Dakota held up a hand before he could retort. “As fascinating as you two are, that is going to have to wait for another day. This is Dakota Nye, and until next time, get your geek on.”
“You need a new damn catchphrase,” Brenden griped, crossing his arms in affront. He hated to be cut off.
“Please tell me you’re bringing me back for the Batman gig,” Tyson said and pointed toward Brenden. “I will own him.”
“In your dreams, Percy Jackson wannabe.” Brenden held up his pinkie finger. “I know more about comics in this digit than you ever will. Freaking fanboys think they know it all.”
“In your dreams,” Tyson chortled.
“I can’t believe I’m playing peacemaker, but chill, Brenden, just chill. You both made valid points today.” Dakota checked his recorder and flipped it off. “And if you can keep it up, I’d love to have you both on again. Just don’t try to kill each other on the air. Might land me in trouble with the FCC if we ever become popular enough to catch their notice.”
“If you think you can take me, I challenge you to a game of Geek Out,” Brenden said in the smooth tone he used when he wanted to hook the unwary.
“What’s Geek Out?” Tyson asked as Dakota shook his head behind Brenden’s back. As if he sensed Dakota’s warning, Brenden turned a sunglass-shrouded gaze on him, and Dakota grinned.
“It’s like Trivial Pursuit but geek related. One of the categories is comic books. They’ll ask a question like ‘name five comic book characters who smoke.’” As Brenden turned his attention back to Tyson, Dakota shook his head again. The last time Brenden challenged someone, they’d played the game all damn night long. They’d both had comic book encyclopedias in their head. It had been insane.
“Please,” Tyson scoffed. “That’s easy. I could name five now.”
“Wait.” Brenden held up his hand. “There’s more to the game. You say ‘sure you can name five.’ Then I have the opportunity to one-up you. I say ‘I can name six.’ We go back and forth until one of us has to say ‘nah, I can’t do more than that.’ The person who came up on top has to name the last amount he said. It can get crazy.”
“Oh boy, can it,” Dakota agreed. He considered Tyson. As crazy as it might get, the entertainment value of watching these two comic nerds duke it out might be worth the long night. He wasn’t sure Tyson was up to it, though. He definitely had the heart, but he’d only been reading comics for the last five years or so, and he was just starting to branch out into the indies. Brenden had over twenty-five years invested in his comic book collection and an insatiable appetite to read that bordered on the abnormal.
Tyson’s eyes gleamed with challenge. “That sounds like an awesome game. You’re on.”
“I want in on this too.” Dakota smirked as Brenden grimaced. “Hey, it’s been a while. I want to see if I can still make you sweat.”
Brenden’s expression turned sour. “I think that’s a daily occurrence.”
What the hell did he mean by that? Brenden had been off lately, more uptight than usual, which was saying something. The man needed to find a steady boyfriend and get laid more often. Clearly, his current hookup wasn’t doing the job. Dakota frowned. Brenden meeting up with some random guy irked him. Maybe it was all that unresolved sexual tension between them that Brenden didn’t want to acknowledge. Dakota had always believed those little surges of heat were one-sided, but after that moment in the bathroom before Sunday dinner, he wasn’t so sure.
The look that Brenden had given him in the mirror, as if he was two seconds away from turning around and laying his lips on him…. Every time Dakota remembered that expression, he lost the ability to focus, because the only thought in his mind was what if he wasn’t imagining it? He could have Brenden looking at him like that all the time and then following through with his unspoken promise. That would be amazing.
“As much as I’d love to kick your butt tonight,” Tyson said, glancing at his watch and jerking Dakota out of his thoughts, “I’m on the early shift tomorrow morning and I need to wash my uniform. Don’t give me that look, Dakota. I see you judging.” He shot Dakota a pointed glance. “Some of us don’t get to make our own schedules.”
“Punking out is punking out.” Dakota gave him a toothy grin. “When I was in my early twenties, there were many days I went into work with no sleep. Either you can hang or you can’t.”
“That’s not fair,” Brenden said. “You still pull that shit. Maybe Tyson is more mature. Not to mention the state of your own laundry.”
Tyson’s eyes widened as Brenden came to his defense. “Thanks, man. Seriously, I’d love to pick this up again. Let’s plan it.”
“Sure. We’ve got a show coming up the weekend after next. How about after that?” Brenden picked up his phone and scrolled through his missed messages. There were probably a gazillion. “I’m going to be going balls to the wall until then. So will my alter ego.” He pointed at Dakota.
Dakota loved the chaos leading up to a show. He liked chasing down all the last-minute details. He enjoyed coming up with solutions for all the odd complications and snags that popped up. Mostly he loved watching Brenden navigate it all with his usual unflappable skill. He might get testy and intense. He might get in Dakota’s face… though to be honest, Dakota usually started that nonsense. But he never lost it, and there were times when Dakota felt Brenden was justified in losing his cool against some of the asinine problems they ran into.
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Tyson grabbed his backpack and pointed a finger at Dakota. “Text me, man. I want in on the Batman show.”
“Hey, if Brenden is down for it, then it’s a go. You two were awesome.” Dakota set the recorder next to his computer. He’d worry about editing later. He preferred to do it at night when most people were asleep. There were fewer distractions and interruptions then.
“Yeah, I should have a few hours free. When were you thinking
of recording?” Brenden asked.
Dakota drummed his fingers on the table as he ran through his mental calendar. “If you two give me some time Friday afternoon, we’ll record a couple of episodes, starting with Batman.”
“That works for me.” Tyson shouldered his backpack and fished out his car keys.
“Hold it.” Brenden held up a finger, a line etching between his brows as he stared at his phone like it contained all the secrets in the universe. Hell, it was Brenden’s phone. That might be the case. “Yes, I can do Friday afternoon. I’ll just shift a couple things around.”
“What would happen if I hid that thing from you?” Dakota asked, pointing at Brenden’s phone. It would do him good to have it surgically separated from him once in a while.
Brenden took off his sunglasses and fixed him with a baleful stare. “Men would shudder at your fate for generations to come.”
“On that note, I’m out of here.” Tyson slipped out the door before Dakota could comment.
Dakota believed Brenden’s threat. Even he couldn’t get away with a few things. It didn’t stop him from plotting them, though. He knew how to tweak Brenden. “You make a threat sound so sexy. Would it be a lingering fate? Serious question.”
Brenden’s ears turned red as he slipped the damn glasses back on. “You wouldn’t think it’s so sexy when I’m doing it to you.” Dakota grinned at his unintended innuendo, and Brenden shook his head, trying to hide his smile. “You’re an ass.”
“I am. I really am,” Dakota admitted. He waved at Brenden to go on before he gave in to the urge to try to sweet-talk him into a kiss. Brenden’s reaction the other night was seriously fucking with his mental state. He couldn’t stop playing scenarios out in his mind that always ended up with the both of them naked. “I have some interviews I want to nail down for the Kent Island show. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Speaking of Kent Island, did you hear about MacCabe?”
“Isn’t his dad sick?” Dakota asked after he thought back on the latest gossip. “Some lung thing?”
“Yeah, he’s taking care of him now, and it’s really putting a hit on him. I heard he was having a rough time with the new load of bills, at least until he gets his dad’s Medicare worked out. I’m thinking we should comp him the table for this and the next show. Give him a chance to get his feet under him.”
“Fine with me, but your reputation for being a hard-ass will take a hit.” Dakota was all in for helping. MacCabe had been with them for years. He just didn’t want Brenden inundated with a lot of sob stories. “Ask him to keep it quiet, though.”
“I’m thinking you should extend the offer.” Brenden spread his hands. “Then the deed will be done and other people won’t be expecting you to try to convince me to do the same for them.”
Dakota could understand why Brenden didn’t want people to know he was a closet marshmallow, but damn, sometimes it made him sad that he didn’t let many see his true heart. “I can do that for you.” He would make sure MacCabe knew who had the idea, though. “Whose turn is it to cook?”
“Don’t even try. It’s yours. It was yours when you tried finagling out of it this morning, and it’ll still be yours when you’re done working.” Brenden slipped his phone into his pocket and headed for the door. “Suck it up.”
“I just don’t want to hear your complaints about my meal choices.” Dakota’s gaze zeroed in on Brenden’s ass. Brenden hated it and was always trying to do lunges and other glute exercises to rein it in with zero luck. Dakota loved it. It was an ass that begged to be grabbed all wrapped up in a demeanor that said back off.
He plopped down at his makeshift desk and shot off emails to Bill Tucci and Louis Smalls to nail down their interview times, then checked if Morris had gotten back to him about the after-party. Brenden wasn’t the biggest fan of after-parties. He was usually pretty wiped out at the end of the day and felt honor bound to at least show up when there was one. But they were usually a lot of fun, a way to blow off steam… if you weren’t an introvert.
Brenden hid it well, but that’s what he was, and partying didn’t re-energize him. Sitting alone in his hotel room catching up with wrestling or curling up on the couch with a brand-new stack of comics he’d bought during the show did. So this time Dakota would organize the event and run it, leaving Brenden free to be Brenden. And everybody would win.
See… he could be a good little foster brother. If a good little foster brother had fantasies like Dakota did. He sighed and rubbed at his aching temples. When had this gotten complicated?
He was a fan of his aunt and uncle taking them in as teenagers. As much as Brenden annoyed the fuck out of him at times, Dakota had been elated to get him as a companion. Brenden had helped him survive the worst time of his life, trying to juggle his momma’s abandonment after a lifetime of neglect all while realizing he was a gay jock. He definitely wouldn’t have handled the loss of his professional baseball dreams so well if Brenden hadn’t been there for him.
Brenden had been hurting so much then too. First his mom’s affair, which led to his dad disowning them both and trying to claim Brenden wasn’t his. Which was bullshit if anyone looked at the two of them. Brenden couldn’t be anybody else’s son. Then her sudden death. He had been a shell of a teenager when he arrived in the Nye’s household. Dakota knew he’d helped draw Brenden out of that.
But this whole pseudo-blood-related bullshit hampered Dakota’s efforts to get Brenden into his bed and keep him there until they were both satisfied. If Dakota had anything to say about it, it would take a long-assed time before they were sated.
Chapter Five
BRENDEN FROWNED at the map of the convention floor as he made final adjustments. And they would be final, dammit. Once he posted this online and sent the proof off to the printers, he refused to entertain any more tweaks. Even as he made the vow, he knew there would be changes once everyone arrived. Those usually were manageable, considering there were always some no-shows and that gave them room to play around.
The kids’ zone should pay off. He grouped the artists geared toward children together and put them near the area set up with tables for drawing and a small place for miniclasses. It would provide a funnel point for the artists’ target audience. And it should be a good break for both parents and their kids. Then Brenden wouldn’t have to worry about child meltdowns. The whole scene could be overstimulating for some. Brenden needed a break himself at the end of a convention day, so he empathized.
He sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers together as he considered the layout. If he moved the two photo-op places to either side of the entrance in the front corners of the building, they would encourage people not to linger at the doors. Nor would they detract attention from the vendors. It was hard to sell to someone when they were busy ogling the ECTO-1 or the Mystery Machine.
Brenden had to move Dakota to the back of the hall, and he would bitch, but if he shut his mouth and thought about it, the location was better for him. He’d be near the panel rooms and the VIP section, which always attracted people. Dakota wasn’t trying to sell; he was trying to advertise, and that would be prime. He’d put the other podcaster at the opposite side of the row and the tables for upcoming cons interspersed throughout.
Brenden studied the tweaks for another few minutes, then saved and closed the program. As much as he longed to send it off, without Dakota’s signoff he couldn’t do that in good conscience. Dakota was his not-so-silent partner. He shot off an email to him, glanced at his watch, and consigned his dinner plans to hell. A week until Kent Island. He had too much to do.
His phone rang, and Brenden wished he could ignore it. That worked when Dakota lived in Baltimore. Now he’d march down the hallway and yell at him in person. Silent partner his ass. With a sigh, Brenden picked up the phone. “Hey, before you freak—”
“Why the fuck did you move me from the front, Brenden? You promised I could be front and center this time.” There was an ominous pause. “And don’t you
dare say my ego is front and center all the time.”
Brenden clamped his lips shut before he could utter those exact words. Several other smart-assed answers went through his head. Some guaranteed to piss off Dakota enough that he wouldn’t have to run into him until the con started, which might be a blessing to his sanity until he felt guilty. “Why don’t you study the layout again and then let me know if you want to be up front. Or do you want to keep shooting off at the mouth until you get what you want?”
Dakota growled a sexy rumble that usually terrified his opponents but always had the opposite effect on Brenden. Damn the man. Living with him again after a couple of years apart had only made his reactions to Dakota’s ways stronger. “I don’t have time to study your layout, Brenden. Stop being an ass and just tell me.”
The door to Brenden’s office banged open, and Brenden spun around in his chair to face him. Dakota glared, his hair standing on all ends from untended cowlicks and bags darkening his eyes, as he shook his phone at Brenden. Disheveled and tired, a state Brenden mirrored. The week before a show was always insane. He’d been avoiding Dakota, and there he was, his presence hitting Brenden with a visceral blow. He had the crazy urge to stalk over to him, fist his hands in Dakota’s mussed-up hair, and kiss the scowl right off his face.
Brenden looked away, setting his phone aside before Dakota could read the intent in his gaze, and busied himself with organizing his notes onto the clipboard. He should’ve anticipated Dakota’s arrival and put on his sunglasses. Dakota was the only one who sometimes saw right through him. “Everyone would bypass you if you’re up front. I remembered the bottleneck we had last time we were in this hall, so I designed this layout to get people moving away from the front and deeper into the con.”
“But all the way in the back? It’ll be like I’m in study hall again.” Dakota paced in the tiny space as Brenden took a cautious peek at him. “I like seeing everyone as they come in. I feel like I’m missing out in the back.”
A Beautiful Disaster Page 4
