Almost Jamie (The Jet City Kilt Series) (Volume 1)

by Gina Robinson

  I laughed. "Is that so?"

  He nodded.

  "Very noble. I appreciate it," I said. "I think."

  "You joke," he said, "but I know these guys. A large percentage of them are nerds and geeks with few social skills, especially when it comes to hitting on women." He grinned. "No finesse. They haven't had the coaching of a matchmaker like the guys and I have. You'd better stay close by or risk the come-on of the nerds at your own peril." He offered me his arm.

  I laughed. "So far I've found the Comicon men most charming." I paused, remembering my run-in with the first space cowboy. "Well. Most of them." I frowned and laughed. "That one proved your point." I took his arm.

  He looked me in the eye. "You've already experienced the awkward come-on? Why am I not surprised?"

  "Dylan rescued me. That's how we met," I said as we stepped into the crowds. "The guy just wouldn't let me get past him to get in line for Jamie. In retrospect, it all turned out for the best," I said, flirting, though I knew I should be careful. It was hard not to flirt with such a hot guy.

  "He was dressed as a space cowboy, like Dylan. Dylan knew him. Randy somebody?" I said.

  Austin got a hard look on his face and scowled most handsomely. I know. Scowling shouldn't have been sexy. But on him, it somehow was.

  "What?" I said. "You know him too?"

  "Yeah." Austin slid his phone back into his pocket. "You might call him my nemesis."

  "Nemesis?" I laughed. "As in archenemy? That's very dramatic."

  "As in pain-in-the-ass douchebag," Austin said, not sounding as if he found it funny at all. "If you see him, warn me. It's best if I don't confront him. I don't want to be thrown out of Comicon."

  "That bad?" I said, amused and intrigued.

  "Much worse," he said. "Let's forget about him. Talking about him puts me in a bad mood." He imitated Connor's signature wink.

  And damn if he wasn't such a good imitation of Jamie that it was almost like traveling back in time to a period of romance and adventure. He really was almost Jamie.

  "Where would you like to begin?" he said, interrupting my admiring thoughts about him.

  I looked around. I wasn't interested in most of the booths. Was that bad? Inconsiderate? But he had asked. "The places most likely to find Jamie souvenirs."

  He nodded. "That's why we're here. This way."

  I had a hard time making it through the crowded aisles with my big skirts. I was grateful to Austin for the way he protected me, and my dress, and escorted us expertly around, blocking for me like a lineman.

  The show floor was really nothing more than a trade-show floor. But with fewer tchotchkes, samples, and giveaways. Everything had a price. Booth after booth sold T-shirts, action figures, cosplaying supplies, and posters.

  "Is it just me, or are things expensive here?" I glanced around. The shoppers around me seemed happy enough to pay the going prices. But it was like the airport or a stadium or an amusement park—a captive audience would pay any price.

  "They are expensive," Austin said. "But there's everything a Comicon goer could want in one place with immediate access. A marketplace you only get once a year.

  "Buy it. Take it home. Try it out. That alone is worth the extra cost. Some of the custom-made things you can only get here. And you have experts at the booths who can show you how to use some of the trickier products."

  Yes, they had everything. Everything, that was, except a Jamie booth.

  Austin took me to his favorite booths and all the places he thought we might have some luck finding a Jamie figure. Nothing.

  "There's a shocking lack of Jamie merchandise," I said. "I'm disappointed. How come nobody realized what a killing they could make here? Especially if they had a booth or table set up at the main stage exit right when the Jamie panel got out. Where's the merch department from the Jamie show? They dropped the ball on this one."

  "The booth slots are expensive," Austin said. "And sell out years in advance. You almost have to be a legacy to get one."

  I laughed at that. It seemed ridiculous.

  "You think I'm joking," he said. "I know people who are just waiting for an old-timer to either die or retire so they can grab their spot.

  "Jamie is a relative newcomer to Comicon. The booths cater to the established crowd they know they can profit off. Even if someone had wanted to get a booth spot after hearing the Jamie stars were coming, it would have been impossible."

  He made sense. But it was still unfortunate.

  "But why haven't any of the regular booths stocked at least a few Jamie items?" I said.

  "You got me there." He guided me out of the path of a crying toddler dressed as a famous space villain, narrowly saving my dress from a collision with face paint, sticky fingers, and a half-licked stick of candy.

  "Don't give up yet. There are a few more booths we can try," he said.

  We walked past a fabulous booth with a life-sized replica of an orc and a live actor playing a fierce dwarf. I stopped and took pictures of Austin with the orc. One with him standing in front of it as if it was sneaking up on him, another with him pretending to be about to cut its head off with a swing of his sword.

  "Your medical tape is ruining the effect of your costume." I frowned. "What we need is a dirty strip of muslin. Something that looks like it's ripped from a slip or an old shirt. Something Jamie would be wearing."

  He glanced at his hand, looking rueful. He nodded.

  A dwarf at the booth overheard us. "Looking for a bandage, are ye? Are ye a healer? A witch?"

  I smiled as beautifully at him as I could. "In a manner of speaking." I bit my lip to keep from laughing at his serious manner. "I'm no witch. But I do know a fair amount about herbs and the healing arts."

  "Well, then," the dwarf said, "I have just the thing."

  He walked over to a nearby station, where a professional makeup artist was turning an everyday person into an elf, describing the process of putting on silicone ears as he did.

  "Do ye mind?" The dwarf picked up a discarded rag. "Is this scrap? Are ye done with this?" he said to the makeup guy.

  "It's yours," the man said, continuing with his ear installation.

  The dwarf was really quite impressive, although regular size. The braids in his beard and hair were a work of art in themselves. He held the soiled rag out to me. "Will this do?"

  "Perfect!" I smiled at him. "How much do I owe you?"

  "For such a beautiful lady, a kiss on me cheek will do?" He leaned his bearded cheek toward me. I kissed it softly. He winked and handed me my rag. I thanked him profusely.

  I pulled Austin aside, ripped the rag into strips, and tied it over the medical tape, repairing his costume to an authentic state. "There! Now you're a wounded warrior." I laughed. "Can you imagine wearing such a soiled bandage on a wound that most likely hasn't even been cleaned? And no antibiotics to treat infections." I shuddered.

  "A desperate man will take what's at hand." He studied my handiwork. "This is very good. Thank you."

  "You're welcome, soldier." I hadn't had this much fun and laughed so much in a long time.

  "Speaking of costumes," he said, "we should take a picture of you in yours and post it to the app for your write-in campaign."

  His look was so admiring that I almost blushed.

  "The more men here who get a look at you, the better your chances of winning." He took my arm. "It's almost cheating." He positioned me in front of a forest backdrop the fantasy booth had set up for people to use to take pictures.

  He positioned me. "Now, just stand there looking breathtaking."

  I shook my head. "Flatterer!"

  "I want a good picture," he said. "I want one of us to win."

  I stood and stared directly into his lens.

  "All right," he said. "Now give me the classic Elinor come-hither look."

  "What?"

  "You know the one." He shot me a Jamie smolder that made me weak in the knees.

  Turnabout was fair play. I knew ex
actly the look and did my best to imitate it. Looking at him and making bedroom eyes wasn't exactly taxing or hard.

  He snapped a couple of pictures, glanced at them, nodded, and took my hand to help me step over some fake rocks.

  As the next party took my place, Austin showed me the photos. "Perfect. These are going to be winners." He nodded. "You're going to be the first of my friends to win the competition."

  I barely heard what he was saying. My gaze was transfixed by the way he'd captured my image. My hand flew to my heart instinctively. I really was making bedroom eyes at the camera. Which meant I was making them at him.

  Through his lens, I looked like Elinor. Not as beautiful. But much prettier than I really was.

  He scrolled through the photos. "This one's my favorite. What do you say?"

  "I—"

  "I agree." He posted it before I could protest. "The guys at this con will eat this up."

  As we left the fantasy booth, a zombie with realistic decaying skin called out to Austin.

  Austin stopped. "Trent! How the hell are you?"

  He and Trent shook hands and did a one-armed guy hug. Austin introduced us.

  "What is such a beautiful woman doing with this ugly mutt?" Trent said to me.

  Austin leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I bet you're glad now I'm here to protect you from crude come-ons. Zombies are some of the worst. They have no soul." He turned to Trent. "Leave the lass alone, Trent. This is her first Comicon. We want her to enjoy it."

  Trent's laugh boomed. "Yeah, of course we do. Which still doesn't explain what she's doing with you." His gaze raked over me appreciatively. "We could use more of your kind around here."

  He shook his head sadly and said to Austin, "I checked your app, buddy. Slim pickings here this year."

  Austin nodded sympathetically. "Comicon has been trying to attract the women. You should have been at the Jamie panel. Plenty of women there."

  Trent sighed and frowned as he looked at Austin, blowing past the comment about Jamie. "Nice costume. Who the hell are you supposed to be? Is there a new game I missed?"

  Austin shook his head and laughed. "See, this is why you're still single. I'm Jamie. From the books and show Jamie. The panel I just mentioned? And Blair is Elinor. The stars of the show are here. Its audience is, like, ninety-five percent female."

  "Ah," Trent said. His gaze swept over me again. "Smart." He tapped his forehead. "Kilted guys appeal more to the women than zombies, then?" He turned to me for confirmation.

  I nodded. "In the general population, yes."

  "Point made." Trent grinned. "Wise man." He paused. "I thought you were going to be a space cowboy again this year. You almost won last year. Tough luck. You lost by just three votes. You should have won."

  Austin looked embarrassed.

  "Someone should have told Dixon," Trent said, then laughed as if inspiration had struck him. "Ah." He nodded. "You outsmarted him." He kept nodding. "He dressed as a space cowboy this year, thinking he could ace you out."

  "I heard," Austin said, grinning. "He doesn't have a chance against Dylan."

  "Dylan's a space cowboy this year?" Trent laughed again. "That's rich. Cowboy from Omak plays a cowboy from space." He paused. "Stay clear of Dixon. He'll be furious."

  Austin nodded.

  Trent pulled a promotional button out of his pocket and held it out to me. "For you, my lady. In honor of your first Comicon. It's an auspicious occasion."

  I took it from him. The button had the Jet City Comicon logo and the year on it. "Thank you," I said, mindful of the honor and the thought behind the gift.

  I pinned it firmly on my badge lanyard.

  "Wow," Austin said after we left Trent. "You made a big impression on Trent. He makes those buttons every year and only bestows them on the worthy."

  "I feel honored," I said. "That Dixon guy really doesn't like you, does he?"

  "And everyone knows it. This way."

  We came to the last booth he thought might have what we were looking for—the maker of the pop figures. They had a fabulous booth. But all it stocked were the Jet City Comicon collector's figure for this year's conference, none of its popular character figures. The little Comicon figures were cute and came in about six different styles, all featuring the Jet City logo and colors.

  "Oh, cute," I cooed. "I want one to go with my button."

  Austin stepped up next to me. "Which one?"

  "Any of them," I said. "They're all darling."

  He pointed. "You have to get in line and pay for one, then the clerk will hand it to you." He stood aside. "Shall we?"

  The line was long, but moved quickly. I wasn't paying much attention to it. Instead I was busy watching the people walking by, and chatting with Austin, asking him a million questions about all of the Comicon characters and things I didn't know or understand.

  When we got to the counter, Austin flashed his phone at the clerk before I could get my credit card out. "I got this."

  Before I could protest, the clerk handed him a figure. Austin took it, then my arm, and guided me away. He handed me the figure.

  "You didn't get one for yourself?" I said just as I saw a sign saying that the figures were sold out. The only way to get them was if you had ordered one before the conference. This was a pickup for preorders only.

  I looked up at Austin and tried to thrust the figure back into his hands. "I'm such a conference newb. I didn't know you had to order ahead. I can't take this. This is yours. You probably have a collection, one from each year."

  He refused to take it and shrugged. "It's yours. My gift. I have plenty of them. As Trent said, a first Comicon is something special. You should have a figure to remember it by."

  My emotions were still raw. I got sentimental and mushy out of the blue. I got tears in my eyes. His gesture really touched me. I could have continued to force it back on him. But that would have ruined the moment.

  I looked up at him gratefully. "Thank you."

  Just then, Dylan, Cam, and Jeremy came around the corner and spotted us.

  "Where the hell have you been, Austin?" Dylan slapped Austin on the back.

  "You missed Stan Lee," Jeremy said.

  "Like hell I did." Austin gave me an intimate sideways glance.

  "Like hell he did," I said. "He got Stan's autograph."

  Chapter 9

  Blair

  By the time we arrived at the party, the venue was already crowded. I overheard that many of the VIPers had lined up hours in advance.

  I hung out with the guys the rest of the afternoon. And wouldn't trade a minute of it for standing in line. They took me to a couple of interesting workshops on cosplaying and gaming. They were mostly scoping out the competition. I was mostly there to rest my feet and sit. Unless you reserved a gaming table, intent on playing old-fashioned Dungeons & Dragons with the many-sided dice, there were very few seating areas at the convention center.

  I did learn a few things. But most of them were during the breaks between sessions. Having met him first, Dylan was my fast buddy and confidant. When Austin stepped away to use the men's room, I was tempted to take advantage of the moment and ask Dylan about Randy. And what had happened between Austin and Randy to cause the bad blood. I managed to keep my mouth shut. It wasn't my business.

  But big ears can be a very good thing. The guys brought Randy up as they talked among themselves. None of them had a good opinion of him.

  "Douche. Snake." Dylan shook his head as he spoke to me. "Liar. One of those guys who's a suck-up, a brown-nose, and ass-kisser to those above him. Takes credit for everyone else's accomplishments. Uses the royal we to include himself in projects and success that he had no part in."

  "We wrote that code. We brought the project in on deadline. When he did squat." Jeremy's expression was hard, like the mere thought of Randy was unpleasant.

  "It's a long story," Dylan said. "Early on, Randy nearly ruined Austin's career. We all worked at the same company right out of college. It
was a major, cutthroat place. Toxic atmosphere. Long hours. Plenty of stress to perform. But paid well and had plenty of prestige in the industry.

  "Everyone starts on contract as an at-will employee. You don't get full employee status until after a year-long probation period."

  Jeremy snorted. "If you last that long."

  Dylan raised one eyebrow and nodded. "Randy spread rumors, placing blame for a major coding fuck-up on Austin. Austin had nothing to do with it. In truth, he was the guy who fixed the code. But the stink of screwing up stuck with him. He was basically forced out."

  "Randy treats everyone like shit," Jeremy said. "For some reason, he particularly has it in for Austin."

  I knew the kind of person they were talking about. Sooner or later, everyone in the workforce runs into one. They were insidious, sly, and hard to get rid of once they were hired. They were the kind that filed lawsuits for wrongful termination when they were the villains.

  Cam added, "He's jealous of Austin's talent. And has a sick obsession with him. More accurately, with ruining him."

  "Why doesn't someone do something about it?" I looked around at the men, already knowing the answer. A person like Randy almost always had a protector somewhere in the executive suite or on the board. Or a benefactor in the community. Someone with power. Or they came from a powerful family and rode through the company on a golden ticket, untouchable. Someone else would always take the fall for Randy's mistakes.

  "Duke Sanders," Jeremy said. "He's protected by one of the most powerful execs in the biz, the Duke, as we call him."

  I knew nothing about Duke Sanders. "Duke is his first name?"

  Dylan nodded. "His parents were big John Wayne fans."

  "Ah," I said. "The Duke."

  "Randy thinks he's a maverick. A cowboy." Cam sneered at the thought. "No matter how charming Randy is to you, stay far away from him."

  "That won't be a problem," I said. "He hasn't been very charming so far." I had a hard time imagining he could ever be enchanting at all.