A Beautiful Disaster

by Marguerite Labbe

  Weddings were annoying. It wasn’t like they’d really get to hang with Trask and Felipe. Morris would be running around handling everything on the back end when he wasn’t making googly eyes at Theo. They’d get to see their other mutual friends, but in the process, they’d have to deal with bad food, bad music, and okay booze. Fuck no. This was Trask’s wedding, so it was a dry one. Dammit.

  “I hate weddings.” Dakota had attended too many at his momma’s side, forced to go through all the rituals with a smile while knowing it wouldn’t last. Attending weddings made him cringe in memory.

  “I hate you hating weddings,” Brenden retorted. “Can’t you be happy for them?”

  “I am happy for them,” Dakota snapped right back. “So don’t try to make it like I’m not because I think the whole shtick is bullshit and boring.”

  Brenden regarded him with narrowed eyes, and Dakota shoved his sweating palms into his pockets. He hoped this didn’t mean Brenden was worried Dakota would walk away from them just because he didn’t like the stupid things. They didn’t have to be married to be completely committed to each other.

  Married to Brenden…. Dakota’s heart caught with a sudden want that scared him all over again. It was the next logical step. Brenden was his. He was Brenden’s. Marriage… weddings, it was enough to have him flailing. He’d have to contemplate it later.

  “What would I have to bribe you with to get you to go? No sulks, just enjoy the time with our friends?” Brenden finally asked. “If the introvert can go party, you can too.”

  “Felipe and I are exes. Isn’t there some unwritten rule about staying away from the wedding of your ex?” It was a weak excuse, and the withering expression Brenden shot him stressed that weakness, but it was all Dakota had to duck out of another wedding.

  “If there were still romantic feelings on either side, then that might be an acceptable excuse. But Felipe is clearly in love with Trask and perfectly happy.” Brenden paused and gave Dakota a pointed look. “Unless you want to try to convince me that you’re harboring regrets.”

  “Fuck no.” Dakota leveled a finger at Brenden. “And don’t get jealous again. I’m serious, Bren. Felipe and I wouldn’t ever work in a million years.”

  “Then as a friend, you have no reason not to go.” Brenden crossed his arms. “So what’s it going to be?”

  Dakota bit back a groan. Brenden was serious, and he’d backed himself into a corner with his argument. And when he was serious, he wouldn’t let it drop. Dakota tried to think of a bribe that would make the aggravation worth it. “You dance with me anytime I ask, slow song, fast song, whatever. No bitching.”

  Brenden drummed his fingers on his desk with a pained grimace. Dakota was sure once Brenden got used to the idea their friends knew about them and were okay with it he’d relax. He enjoyed slow dancing with Dakota when they were alone. Brenden had decent rhythm when he didn’t overthink it, and he unconsciously got into it when he was singing. It was every other time he was self-conscious and moved around like a drunken marionette.

  Dakota crossed his arms and met Brenden stare for stare. If he had to go to an unnecessary wedding, Brenden had to dance.

  Brenden heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine.”

  Dakota couldn’t believe Brenden had called his bluff. “You’re serious. Every dance I want?”

  “Don’t rub it in that it was necessary.” Brenden glared at him, his mouth settling into his prissy, lecturing line. “You should be going because Felipe and Trask are a part of your crew. Loyalty and all that, not because you’re getting your rocks off embarrassing me.”

  “Whatever, you’ll enjoy yourself.” Dakota brushed aside Brenden’s words. He was still a little irked he’d tricked himself into agreeing.

  “So will you if you let go of the past and embrace it,” Brenden said in exasperation. “Suck it up.”

  Dakota bristled until he realized Brenden referred to him sucking up to enjoying Trask and Felipe’s celebration and not the depressing memories of weddings past. However, he had to say something. He couldn’t let a comment like that lie. “You know what you can suck, Bren?” Dakota narrowed his eyes at him as Brenden raised an inquiring brow. “My dick.”

  “You realize one day, you and I are going to be next to each other on our deathbeds, refusing to go because we’re determined to get in the last word over the other,” Brenden said dryly.

  Dakota’s irritation vanished. He loved the thought of being with Brenden until the end, and he could see Brenden’s prediction coming to fruition. They were both stubborn and snarky. “You’re probably right. Until Aden smothers us both.”

  Brenden’s smirk returned full force. “Which means I’ll win because he’ll smother you first.”

  Dammit, Brenden was right again. It meant he had to spend the rest of his life wooing Aden over to his side. “Jackass.” Dakota retrieved his coffee mug. “I’m going to go lick my wounds in my studio. I’ll check in before I head out.”

  “Please do.” As Dakota reached the door, Brenden called out to him again. “Hey, I love you.”

  Dakota glanced over his shoulder as warmth filled him. Brenden offered that so freely, and every time he did, Dakota had the same feeling. Only it was a hundred times stronger now because he understood what Brenden meant by it and what he meant in return. “Yeah, I love you too.”

  Dakota refilled his coffee, scooped up his wandering kitten, and retreated to his space. He checked the presales first, and his heart jumped with excitement. Holy fuck, they were doing it. The presales were up 200 percent from their biggest show to date. He’d been watching it grow in disbelief and awe. He knew Brenden had run shows this big before for his day job, and they’d attended ones even bigger, but to have these numbers attached to something they created humbled him.

  He understood Brenden’s little moments of panic. They were on the cusp of the biggest wins of their lives, both professionally and personally. And it could all crumble down.

  Sharp claws dug into his leg as Toothless clambered up onto his lap and then onto his chest. Dakota couldn’t wait until the little sucker was big enough to jump, but he supposed then he’d have to deal with the weight of a cat landing on him. Toothless settled himself with a low rumbling purr, watching Dakota with unblinking eyes.

  “Do I look like I want comfort?” Dakota demanded even as he scratched Toothless’s chin.

  The absolute worst that could happen at the con would be nobody showed up, but they’d still have the monies from the presales. Or they could have a world-ending disaster scenario, but at that point, they’d have bigger worries than ticket sales and unhappy guests. They knew what they were doing. They were constantly monitoring the industry, studying ways they could change and improve, while keeping Chessie Con feeling like it was a friends and family good time. Maybe this step wouldn’t pan out the way they wanted. If they didn’t enjoy it, they could step right back into their zone and call it a lesson learned.

  Dakota considered that a Brenden-level pep talk. He had to stay calm to keep Brenden calm in his moments of panic. It would be funny if Brenden was doing the same thing for him. Dakota finished updating his report and sent it to Brenden. Hey, check out those sweet numbers. Going for a grand slam there.

  The reply was quick. Don’t get ahead of yourself. The show’s still 8 weeks away.

  Spoilsport. Dakota followed it up with a meme of an angry baby screaming.

  I’ll admit, it’s exciting, but I don’t want to let that run away with us. We’ll celebrate in style after the show.

  Dakota gave the suggestion more thought as he went through his emails. His inbox seemed to double every day they got closer to the convention. No wonder experts said event planning was one of the most stressful careers out there. Fun, though. Mad fun.

  He and Brenden should take a vacation after the con. Someplace quiet and restful with no fucking technology. He wasn’t an antitech, rural-loving guy most of the time. But after all these crazy months, he wanted to unplu
g and get a chance to enjoy and explore this new connection he had with Brenden.

  Dakota opened a travel website and searched for options between emails. He’d keep it as a surprise and kidnap Brenden when it was over. He’d agree they needed a break, but he’d hedge on actually going. They could allot a couple of hours a day to whatever wrap-up work that needed to be done. Otherwise, nothing but the two of them, drinks and relaxation.

  He paused as he perused one of those spa-resort-type joints in the middle of nowhere. They should tell the family about their relationship before they took off. Then there would be no lingering worrying shadows or guilt to hover over them while they relaxed. Getting Brenden to see that point would take a little doing, though.

  Dakota frowned as his phone beeped at him, reminding him of his gigs. He’d better get moving faster if he wanted to be on time.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  BRENDEN LOOKED around the convention room with a sense of pride. This was their Chessie Con staff. Many of these people had been with him for years, ever since he and Dakota launched with their dinky-assed con in Bowie. The number of people they could call on and trust had grown, including their newest member, Lincoln, who had been the first to show up this morning, waiting for Brenden and Dakota outside of the convention hall. He admired that level of zeal and work ethic.

  There would be more volunteers over the convention weekend. The people who would sign up for several-hour shifts in return for free tickets or swag, whichever they chose. But the people here, they were the ones who’d provide the framework.

  “Well, what do you think?” Brenden asked after they’d settled at the tables and quieted down. It had been worth the cost of the rental for the day to give them a chance to meet and for them to see the area reserved for the convention.

  “The space is huge,” Corinne said from the back. “I’m going to beat my family in my step counting that weekend.”

  “That’s one way to look at it,” Dakota said with a chuckle. “It is big, but it’s all just space now. The map has been finalized. According to Brenden, there will be no final changes, no matter what sob story we hear.”

  “The map and its corresponding legend is the second document in your packet,” Brenden added as he consulted his clipboard. Dakota had done a good job putting the paperwork together, and Brenden felt a rush of gratitude for him for taking it over. He had been unable to stop himself from tweaking it.

  Lincoln looked up from his own clipboard, where he was taking studious notes. Brenden really loved that kid. He reminded him so much of himself, and he was one of his most diligent volunteers, which was why Brenden had upped him to staff even though he was the youngest one present. Brenden knew if he set him to a task, Lincoln would not only make sure it got done, but he would be proactive in going beyond that. And despite his shyness, he wasn’t afraid to ask questions when he was unsure of something.

  “Are we going to have copies of the vendor, exhibitor, and artist spaces to hand out at the setup and for attendees when we open the doors?” Lincoln asked. “I get a lot of questions about where people’s tables are located.”

  He would not let this stress him. Brenden repeated the words in his mind. He handled big shows with thousands of attendees all the time when he did the promotions for other people’s conventions. This would be no different. Even if it was his con.

  “There will be copies of the map and the schedule at the check-in tables. Both are also available on the website. The vendors, exhibitors, and artists all had their locations emailed to them weeks ago.” And afterward, Brenden and Dakota had been inundated with complaints and requests for changes.

  “But—”

  Brenden held up a silencing hand. “I know. We’ll still get questions. However, this convention hall has strict loading and unloading times. Which means the chaos of questions that are going to come regarding their spaces should be mostly confined to that period. They are not going to allow people to come trundling through with loaded handcarts after the doors open, so if a vendor has not set up by that time, they are out of luck unless they plan on carrying everything in one at a time.”

  Lincoln’s eyes widened. “I’ll make sure Morris knows.”

  “Please do,” Brenden said dryly. Though ever since Morris starting bringing Lincoln with him to the conventions, he’d been showing up on time. He was surprised Morris hadn’t come to this meeting too, instead of letting Lincoln borrow his car when he remembered Morris was in the middle of last-minute arrangements for Felipe’s wedding next weekend.

  And Brenden would not think of Dakota and his asinine views of weddings and marriages either. It would irritate him. Not that he expected Dakota to marry him. Some things would never happen, and he was perfectly happy knowing he had Dakota’s heart.

  “Please note, the convention center is not providing Wi-Fi.” Brenden made a placating gesture as the volunteers groaned. “I’d hoped, but I wasn’t expecting it. The vendors were informed they’d need to provide their own hotspots, and Dakota has the info on our website, but you’re going to get questions, so be prepared.”

  Brenden had negotiated for it, but he’d been certain the final reply would be no. That’s the way the trend had been going the last several years for every con he worked. Some were willing to offer it to individual vendors at an additional rate, but the price tag could be eye-popping. They were better off bringing their own hotspots or sharing with their neighbors.

  “They don’t even have it for staff?” someone asked.

  “Nope,” Dakota replied. “Not even for my bad-ass self. The hotel has internet connections for the bedrooms and suites. We negotiated that into our block so you don’t have to pay extra there, but the conference space has its own connection, and they aren’t budging without a lot more money from each vendor. The cell service reception is excellent, though. Let’s hope that remains when we’re packed.”

  “A few more things to note,” Brenden cut in before the grumbling could grow. Nobody was going to have time to peruse the internet anyway, and the veteran vendors knew to bring their own hotspots.

  “There has been a duo attending the big cons the last couple of years who are targeting vendors. The woman provides a distraction while the guy makes a grab for the cashbox. I’ve provided a description of them, but there are going to be a lot of people streaming through the convention. If you see something weird, inform security first, Dakota and me second. I do not want to hear about any of you acting like you’re some action movie hero. Got it?”

  “No fun.” Dakota grinned as the staff laughed and Brenden shot him a repressive frown, which only encouraged him. “I was thinking of taking them down Lethal Weapon style. You want to be my Murtaugh, Bren?”

  Brenden could picture them dressing up as the duo if they ever did cosplay, but that was his limit. “Not at one of my—no our—cons. The couple may try to take advantage of the fact this is a new big convention and bank on us being distracted and disorganized. If everyone is informed, from us down to the vendors, we may thwart them.” He’d love for them to be caught. They’d wiped out an acquaintance, stealing all the cash he’d made on a busy Saturday.

  He exchanged a look with Dakota, and his partner in crime nodded. “Okay, everybody who is on the staff for guest handlers and panels come with me to the other side of the room,” Dakota announced. “Everybody else gets to stick with Brenden.”

  The older volunteers who had been with them the longest filed after Dakota, and Brenden didn’t miss the expressions of disappointment on some of the remaining faces. If they kept at it and worked hard, Brenden wouldn’t have any problem promoting some to those tasks if they came back next year.

  It wasn’t like they were getting nothing out of the experience. For a shift each day, Brenden and Dakota made sure they received extra perks, from a discount on their hotel rooms if they weren’t commuting to meals during the con and a ticket for a meet and greet for the star of their choice. Both of them had felt they should reward the pe
ople who had stuck by them through the crazy years of their growth.

  Next year they’d need applications and to figure out a different way of organizing their volunteer pool if it continued to grow. But Brenden had to stop thinking ahead to next year’s con. He had to get through this one first. Still, he made a careful note to address it post-con.

  “Okay, I know being the leaders for check-in and the point of contact for security and all that is not as exciting as the rest, but it’s still important,” Brenden said as the rest of their staff gathered around him.

  “It’s okay,” Lincoln said as he clutched his clipboard to his chest. “I’d be a nervous wreck meeting anyone famous. I’d worry about everything I said or did.”

  Several others nodded, and Brenden smiled. “I still fret about the same thing. Okay everybody, get out your agenda and we will pick leaders. Corinne, you’ve been with us the longest out of this group, so you get first choice.”

  “Yes!” Corinne grinned. “I’ll lead the cosplaying team, make sure the signup table for the costume contest is managed and the panels are going smoothly.”

  “Nice.” Brenden noted that on his chart. “Don’t be afraid to reach out to Felipe Suero and Abby Albion regarding the panels. They’re in charge of them, and they know what they’re doing.”

  “I can help with that part,” Lincoln said. “I wouldn’t be comfortable leading a team, but I’m an expert helper.”

  “Yes you are,” Corinne agreed with a relieved smile. “I’m glad you spoke up because I was going to volunteer you before someone else nabbed you.”

  Brenden approved. They’d work well together with zero drama, and they both had pretty cool heads. Sometimes the cosplaying competition got heated, and tempers occasionally frayed over waiting in lines or an argument about whether a weapon would be allowed past the prop check.

  “That reminds me. Doug, I said I was letting people pick their own jobs, but would you mind heading the team on prop checking?” Brenden met the gaze of the ex-Marine who still had the demeanor even out of uniform. If he was called on to make a final determination, most would not have the balls to argue with him.