A Little Side of Geek

by Marguerite Labbe

  Morris was supposed to go out later with some of the guys from the 501st Legion, but he made a note to not get carried away. He did not want to run the table tomorrow with a hangover, and he definitely did not want a four-hour drive home after the con still suffering from aftereffects. He remembered a time when he’d ignored such considerations, and he hoped this wasn’t a sign he was growing old.

  He nodded to a passerby as they glanced in his direction, but they moved on without stopping. Morris’s stomach rumbled. It was too late for lunch, breakfast had disappeared hours ago, and he couldn’t see getting away to grab a bite until after they shut down for the night. One of these days, he’d remember to pack something.

  Morris pulled out his phone and checked his empty text messages. Dammit, he had it bad. One afternoon of screwing around with Theo Boarman, and he couldn’t stop thinking about when it would happen again. He was in serious trouble if he didn’t get this under control. He knew himself. His heart got engaged too fast. Maybe it was time to pull back. The thought jolted him with a little surge of denial and rebellion. They’d really just started their fling. It was too early to pull back now. One more hot and heavy date. Then he’d let common sense return.

  A shadow fell across his table, a welcome distraction from his thoughts that refused to obey. Morris glanced up at Brenden and grinned. “Hey there.” He rose, clasping his hand, and noted Brenden’s guest badge. “You doing a panel this weekend or scouting?”

  “I’m moderating the wrestling panel.” Brenden picked up Morris’s latest book and flipped through it. “And promoting the next Chessie Con, which brings me to you.”

  “Oh? The next one is in Newport News, right?” Morris went through his mental calendar and tried to remember if he’d paid for that table yet or not. He really needed a better system than this half-assed one he had.

  “That’s the one. I wanted to do a role-playing panel. I know you and some others had that gaming group. I thought it might be interesting to get some players and gamemasters together for a discussion of favorite games.” Brenden paused on a comic page and half smiled with a shake of his head.

  “Dude, that would seriously be awesome. I’d love to.” Maybe it would even help them find a new good gamemaster for their group. Morris really missed it. “Who else do you have in mind?”

  “Well, Trask from the Magick Den already agreed to fill in one of the gamemaster spots. Dakota hasn’t given me an answer yet about his schedule.” Brenden tucked the book under his arm and pulled out his wallet. “That one chick who always does the kickass cosplay, Abby, I think, she agreed to take the other GM spot.”

  “You should include Felipe,” Morris suggested, glancing around for his wayward friend. Felipe was going to kill him for this. Though once he got over his dramatic fit, he’d relish the idea. Abby made him twitch, and Dakota was his ex, but maybe ogling Trask would make up for those irritations.

  Brenden grimaced. “I’d rather not.”

  Morris laid his elbows on the table, debating whether to address Brenden’s ambivalence. Brenden wouldn’t meet his eye as he carefully counted out his cash, and Morris decided against bringing it up. It really wouldn’t serve any purpose, especially since Felipe was showing no interest in letting Dakota back into his bed.

  “Felipe and Abby are dedicated rivals. They thrive on outdoing each other. They would make the panel lively.”

  “Yeah, and what’s to keep them from going over-the-top?” Brenden asked with a cool glance in his direction.

  Morris shrugged and took Brenden’s money before scrounging around for a bag. “They don’t usually get too out of hand, but if they do, I’m used to moderating squabbles.” Not only Felipe and Abby. There were a few others Morris could name who needed someone to step in from time to time.

  “Trask would shut it down quick too. He’s not the kind of guy to put up with a lot of bullshit.” Brenden handed Morris the book, and Morris signed it with a flourish. “I’ll think about it. So are you on any panels at this con?”

  Morris sighed as he slipped the book into the bag and handed it back. “They won’t let me participate in the pop culture trivia panel.”

  “That’s because you always win,” Brenden said with a grin. “It’s insane how much off-the-wall, obscure shit you have lodged in your brain.”

  “What can I say; I have hidden talents.” It was a shame he couldn’t enter because he coveted the prize, a sweet, pristine edition of Neal Adams’s Batman #232. Morris loved Neal Adams’s work, and the edition he’d had since he was a kid was banged up. “Daughter of the Demon” introduced his favorite villain. Okay, one of his top five. There were many kickass villains, which only reminded him he needed a new bad guy for a long arc he wanted to do for his own comic. “They’re having me run it, though, and believe me, I’m going to make them work for a win.”

  Brenden laughed. “Okay, I’m going to have to sit in the back of the room for this. Who’s watching your table? Your bosom buddy?”

  “One of the volunteers. Felipe is working on a costume emergency for a friend of his. He’s sewing his fingers off in the lounge they set up in the club.” Morris glanced at his phone to gauge how much time he had before the panel started and couldn’t stop himself from seeing no new messages had arrived. He really needed help, possibly therapy, all because of a gray-eyed cutie who had more charm than anyone possibly needed.

  “How did the date go?” Brenden asked. “You didn’t talk yourself out of it, did you?”

  “It was amazing.” Morris propped his chin on his hand, and Brenden laughed. “What?”

  “You should’ve seen the look of dreamy adoration that came across your face.” Brenden’s smile widened, warming his usually stern expression. “You could be the poster child for a Hallmark card.”

  “It’s not like that. It’s just a fling.” Morris glanced at his phone. Theo’s quiet only proved that both of them wanted to keep it casual.

  “I need a fling like that.”

  “So how goes the plans for your big con?”

  Brenden’s eyes lit up. “Good. We have the venue lined up in Annapolis and rooms blocked off. Struck a few agreements with some stars, and I have meetings lined up with others to try to lure them. I want to get a few more names in the pot.”

  Stars. They were cool and all—Morris met a number of really laid-back people who had made his day, others he would care to forget—but cons weren’t any fun when all the focus was on the stars and cosplayers. “Are you inviting any guest artists and writers?”

  “I have a few in mind. Tom King is local, and he agreed. There are others I’m reaching out to. Do you have any names you want to throw into the pot?”

  Morris thought about the trivia prize with a rush of yearning. “Invite Neal Adams and I’ll be your best friend.”

  “I thought I was your best friend,” Felipe said as he sauntered up, stiletto heels clicking. How the hell anyone walked in stilts like that was a continual mystery to Morris. A long red wig fell to Felipe’s waist, and the Dawn outfit he’d made was a fantastic rendering of skulls and roses, leather and lace. He cast Brenden a wintery look. “Wade.”

  “Suero.”

  Morris rolled his eyes. He did not want snark to break out at his table, and both of them were masters at delivering a cutting line. “Did you get the emergency fixed?”

  “Yep.” A satisfied grin crossed Felipe’s scarlet-red lips. “And managed to make some sweet cash on the side. I’m getting blitzed tonight.”

  Morris was definitely getting older, because he did not want to contemplate driving back with a hungover Felipe any more than he wanted to deal with the symptoms himself. “Not too blitzed or I’m sticking you in the trunk for the ride back.”

  “Please, bitch, ain’t no way I’m fitting in your trunk with everything you bring. It won’t matter how fucked-up I get.” Felipe’s grin widened before he turned an insolent stare on Brenden. “You coming out for a drink with us tonight, or would that require an excavator
team to get that stick out of your ass?”

  Morris closed his eyes. They had actually managed to stand next to each other for fifteen seconds without incident. Which was probably a record and he should applaud them, but he did not want drama at his table, at least not this kind of drama. Maybe if they had capes and swords, that at least would be entertaining.

  Brenden’s eyes flashed, and when he spoke his voice was several degrees cooler. “I’ll be there. The entertainment value of watching you make a fool of yourself as you attempt to replace Dakota in your bed will be more than enough compensation for having to put up with you.”

  Felipe’s spine stiffened as his mouth fell open. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You sit there and judge me, imply I’m easy, when what really pisses you off is Dakota wants someone hot-blooded, not a dried-up block of ice like you.”

  Morris stood up to intervene before Brenden flayed Felipe open with his tongue or Felipe stabbed Brenden with a stiletto. “Hey, why don’t we take a step back here and—”

  “Don’t bother to try to mediate,” Brenden said to Morris in that same cool, dispassionate tone without taking his eyes off Felipe. “I don’t give a damn who he fucks. And I never called you a whore. Desperate maybe, but not easy. Clearly, you’re projecting as well as overcompensating considering you have your ass hanging out one end of your costume and your fake tits hanging out the other end. If you want to go ahead and keep trading shots with me, I’m game, but I’ll eat you alive, Suero, so you might want to reconsider.”

  Felipe flushed an ugly red, his gaze glittering, but to Morris’s surprise, he turned on his heel and stalked off instead of retaliating. Brenden watched him go, his face still set with scathing dislike, and then he sighed, an expression of shame crossing his face. “I’m an asshole.”

  “You both were assholes,” Morris said with a shake of his head as he sat back down.

  “I don’t know what it is about him that gets under my skin so.” Brenden rubbed a hand over his scalp.

  “You’re too different and too much alike at the same time.” And they were fighting over a guy whether Brenden wanted to admit it or not, and that always got ugly.

  Brenden shot him a baffled look. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’re both fiercely protective, passionate, and have a tendency to say exactly what you think regardless of the impact. Neither of you back down from a challenge, and you’re both masters of the cutting insult. You’re as hot-blooded as he is, you just hide it better. He wears his emotions out there for everyone to see, while you only share it with a select few. Despite his age, Felipe knows exactly who he is, and what he wants out of life, and I think you’re not entirely facing that. I think that’s what irks you the most.”

  Brenden looked away, his jaw tightening. “Maybe you have a point,” he said after a long moment. “So where do you think the little diva has gone? I need to apologize to him.”

  “I’d wait until tonight if I were you. Give him some time to cool down. He’ll make you bleed if you try talking to him now.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Brenden sighed again as he studied where Felipe had disappeared. “Sorry for that bit of drama. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Morris watched him walk away in the opposite direction, soon disappearing among the crowd moving through the narrow walkway lined with makeshift booths. There were a couple curious onlookers who quickly moved on when Morris caught their eye. Morris set up a sign announcing he’d be right back, grabbed his cashbox, and went looking for Felipe. Despite what he’d said to Brenden, it wasn’t a good idea to let Felipe stew either. He was one who needed to bitch things out in order to move on.

  Felipe couldn’t go sulk in their hotel room since Morris had the car keys. Upset or not, he was not one to miss a costume contest or a chance to promote his work, so he had to be around somewhere.

  The bar was darker than the restaurant, with smaller windows and cool tones in the marble-top bar and chrome-lined shelves behind it. The bartender was doing a brisk business, every round stool taken, and half the booths filled with attendees and vendors. Morris nodded to another vendor who had a sampler lined up in front of him, half the little glasses empty. The man wasn’t going to be able to find his table again.

  He found Felipe tucked back into a hidden corner booth, diving into a plate of nachos. He stopped by the bar, ordered a root beer, and joined his friend. Morris set Felipe’s discarded wig aside, then slid into the booth across from him. Felipe glared at him as Morris selected a cheese-and-bean-filled chip and popped it into his mouth. Damn, he was hungry. He picked out another as he waited for Felipe to talk first.

  “I’m the one who’s emotionally eating,” Felipe snapped, slapping Morris’s hand away. “Go find your own booth and nachos.”

  “A true friend wouldn’t let you emotionally eat all by your lonesome.” Morris dipped a chip into some sour cream and studied Felipe’s face. For all of his snaps and snarls, there was no anger in his eyes, just a vast frustration. “So what gives? You don’t walk away from a fight you started.”

  Felipe flushed and glanced away. “Whatever. It was a stupid argument anyway.”

  “I’m glad you both recognize.” Morris sat back, trying to figure out what made Felipe run. “Your costume is kickass. Don’t mind what he said.”

  Felipe rolled his eyes and stabbed a nacho into the guacamole so hard the chip broke. “Fuck, for real? I’m not upset about the crack at my costume. It’s amazing, and Brenden can suck my balls if he thinks otherwise.”

  Speculating would only irritate him more, so Morris decided to wait him out and hoped it wouldn’t take too long. By the time they finished the plate, Felipe had slouched down in his seat, his expression changed from frustrated and angry to woebegone. If there was one thing that could punch Morris right in the heart and make him want to do anything to fix a problem, it was a pair of sad eyes.

  “Come on, talk to me. What is it?” Morris finally asked in a low voice. “You’re going to have me crying in my root beer in a moment.”

  That almost made Felipe smile. Morris saw the twitch, but then his friend bit his lip and glanced away. “Do I come off as desperate?” Felipe asked so softly Morris almost didn’t hear him.

  “As you would say, ‘bitch please.’ You’re too confident in what you want to come across as desperate. If some guy doesn’t want you, you don’t give him another thought.” Morris frowned. “Is that what’s bothering you? Brenden’s desperate comment? You’re not still pining over Dakota, are you?”

  “Fuck no,” Felipe said, but it lacked his usual heat. “I’m not pining over him. I’m pining over what could’ve been if he hadn’t been such a fucknut twit. I’m cool with Dakota.”

  Now Morris was really confused. He hated seeing Felipe like this. He could handle him hungover, pissed off, manic, and sulky. He could not handle him looking so damned sad. There was too much joy and passion in everything he did for him to be this upset. “So what gives?”

  Felipe sighed and braced his cheek on his fist. “Don’t you want happily ever after?”

  Morris started to say no, it hadn’t crossed his mind, but then he sighed as well and mimicked Felipe’s pose. “If I admit to it, you’re not going to rag on me, are you?”

  A hint of Felipe’s old mischief crossed his lips. “Afraid of ruining your rep?”

  “Not really. I’m fine by myself. I’ve got things set up the way I want, and I don’t have to compromise with anyone but my crazy cat.” Morris met Felipe’s gaze. “Sometimes, though, I think it would be nice. If I ever found someone who I can put up with and who can put up with me for an extended time. It’s not something I put too much thought into, really.”

  Maybe those thoughts had been in his mind a little more lately, and Morris blamed it entirely on a gray-eyed white boy who was too damned adorable for Morris’s peace of mind. It was irritating.

  Morris glanced at Felipe and suddenly he understood. For all of Felipe’s sass and livin
g for the moment attitude, he was a romantic sap. He was a homebody. Morris could easily picture Felipe with a husband, fostering half a dozen dogs, and running a house. He’d be ecstatic dealing with all that domestic stuff that made Morris want to cringe.

  “Don’t rush it, man.”

  Felipe’s eyes hardened. “If you remind me how young I am, I’m going to brain you.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Morris leaned forward, catching his gaze. “What I’m saying is don’t jump in and commit to the wrong guy because you’re impatient for your happily ever after. You might miss the right guy. And that would suck worse than this limbo you’re in now.”

  He saw it sink home, and then Felipe’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, since we’re here nursing our love lives and dispensing advice, let me give some of my own.”

  “I’m doing fine,” Morris insisted, even as his gaze strayed toward his phone. Dammit! It was embarrassing to know he was being obvious. He was never obvious.

  “Text the man before you bore a hole through your phone with your X-ray vision.”

  “It’s a fling,” Morris replied in a lofty voice. “I don’t want to give him the wrong impression. That would be mean, and I don’t do mean.”

  Felipe snorted and smirked as he grabbed his wig. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. You’ll be begging for my wisdom. Just you wait. Begging on your knees. Until then, text the motherfucker. You’ll both be happier.”

  Theo was busy and Morris had told him he’d be out of town, so he probably assumed Morris was busy too and didn’t want to bug him. What would it hurt to send one text? Morris picked up his phone before he could spin his thoughts into more circles.