by Joy Penny
Now it was Archer’s turn to blush. He couldn’t help but think of how his critics wondered if Todd was just a self-insert character. They weren’t entirely wrong. But half the world seemed to say “write what you know,” while the other decried anyone who wrote a Mary Sue (or Gary Stu, in his case). He hadn’t mastered the right balance, and besides, writing wasn’t his strong suit. He was halfway through drawing Todd’s wheelchair when Pembroke spoke again. “Um… Have you been dating Brielle long?”
Archer felt like she’d just dumped a glass of cold water over his head. “You know Brielle?” He glanced back to where he’d seen her last, but she was still missing. Or she’d morphed into a man a head shorter and with twice as much girth flipping through the latest Captain America.
“We went to school together.” Pembroke fiddled with the handle on her plastic tag. “Um, college, that is.”
This girl is the same age as Brielle? He’d pegged her for seventeen at the oldest. Suddenly, he felt incredibly relieved. “You’re the friend she saw when she got here?”
“I guess?” she said. She looked over her shoulder, maybe looking for Brielle, but she didn’t seem to find her, either. “We didn’t talk much before the panel started.”
Archer finished his drawing of Todd and blew on it, trying to seem as casual as possible. “Did she tell you we were dating?”
Pembroke’s lips pinched. “Not explicitly, no. But I knew she was your cleaning lady, and she said she came with you… And after the messages she sent me about you, I just assumed the two of you would wind up dating.”
Archer’s eyebrows arched as he smoothed the title page on the copy of an older volume of The Mystified—the first volume he’d done the art for, actually. “Now I’m curious.”
“What?” said Pembroke, clearly confused. “The messages?”
Archer’s Sharpie halted at the top of the page. He tore his gaze away. “You said they led you to believe we’d be dating. You’ve got to admit, that’s pretty intriguing…”
Pembroke clutched her plastic bag. “I probably overthought them,” she mumbled.
He wanted to keep prying, but it was clear he wasn’t getting anywhere with her. Besides, anything he said might get back to Brielle. If he wanted to know, he should really just ask the woman herself. He focused on finishing his drawing, trying not to think about Brielle and how much he wanted to ask this girl.
“Um, she was really worried she’d been rude to you,” said Pembroke, unbidden. “That first day.”
He winced. It was like a punch to his gut. He suspected—he basically knew—that first day hadn’t gone well, but he’d tried to move past it with Brielle. It hurt to have it confirmed again. He blew on the drawing and pushed the book toward her. “Well, we, uh, talked about it.”
“Oh, good.” Pembroke smiled, flustered. “That’s… good. Um, thanks.” She scooped the books up and cradled them against her chest.
“Thank you,” he said. She stared a bit longer—she may have shared that look he’d seen in Gini’s eyes—before nodding and turning to leave.
“Hey, babe.” A guy sidled up to Pembroke from somewhere in the crowd. “You see your… comic guy? Ready to go?”
George said something to Archer, but he was, wrongly he knew, too intrigued by the couple next to him to fully pay attention. They were just a few steps away, so it was hard not to hear them, even with the buzz of the crowd in the store.
Pembroke spoke so quietly, even her boyfriend didn’t seem to hear her. He hunched over. Archer found his khakis and polo shirt a little at odds with his surroundings, although there was something about that ever-present smirk on his face that helped it make more sense. “What?”
“…go,” hissed Pembroke, more loudly. “We have to go. Like this second.”
Now Archer was really intrigued.
“…Is that okay? Archer?”
Archer snapped his head back toward George, noticing for the first time that his mother was no longer seated in the front row. “What? Sorry?”
George stepped around the table, moving several piles of books closer to him. “Can you sign these to keep in the store for selling later?”
“Oh, sure.” He picked up a Sharpie again.
“Thanks, man.” George left, heading toward where groups were already setting up several tabletop games.
“Okay, okay, chill.” The guy next to Pembroke looked disgusted. He scanned the crowd and put an arm around Pembroke’s shoulder absentmindedly.
“Stop. Not here.” Pembroke shrugged her way out of the guy’s half-embrace, going so far as to shove his arm away.
He looked down at her like she’d slapped him. “What? So you’re going to pretend we’re not dating whenever we’re in public? I don’t care if you saw her. Let her see us.” He put his hand back around her.
“Stop,” said Pembroke, shrugging herself out of his reach, moving farther away this time.
The guy looked like he wanted to slap her.
“Hey,” said Archer before even realizing he’d been outright staring at them. He wheeled around the table to get closer to them. “She said to stop.”
The guy stared down at Archer and then laughed. “You’re serious? You think you can take me or something?”
“Not every conversation needs to be a pissing contest,” snapped Archer. He looked at Pembroke. “You okay?”
Pembroke adjusted her glasses. “Yeah, I just… I want to get out of here.”
“Why don’t I call someone over—”
“Mind your own business!” said the guy, stepping between Archer and Pembroke. He sized the man in the wheelchair up and down, one hand clenched, almost like he wished he could hit Archer but knew he could never get away with hitting a man with a disability. It was the old “would you hit a man with glasses?” to the nth degree. “This is my girlfriend, and I wasn’t doing anything to hurt her—”
“No, you were just making her extremely uncomfortable. And she told you so. And you went ahead and did it again anyway.”
The guy opened his mouth.
“Daniel?”
He turned and Archer followed his gaze as well.
Brielle stood behind Pembroke, her plastic bag hanging limply from one hand.
Chapter Eleven
As if finding Pembroke and having to deal with her acting like Brielle had stabbed her in the back somehow wasn’t crazy enough, then there was the matter of the older woman she sat next to who asked her if she worked for the store. When Brielle said no, she asked her if she was really a fan of her son’s work because she looked almost as out of place as she did—Brielle hadn’t known what to do other than to say “yes,” silently thank god that the presentation started quickly so the woman stopped talking, and then jump up almost the moment it was over to hide in the corner of the store to avoid any more questions. She just wasn’t ready to speak at length to Archer’s mother.
She’d spent a while staring at Archer from afar, watching him interact with his fans and light up with such a smile, she almost forgot she’d ever seen him as anything but cheerful and charming. She felt like an idiot just slack-jaw staring, though, so she quickly ran to buy a copy of every one of Archer’s books for sale there (the line was much better after the presentation than before) and took her spot back in the corner, burying her nose in the book that most caught her eye—the one about the guy in the wheelchair. She noticed as soon as she opened it that Archer had written, not just drawn, that one, so it made her even more eager to devour it. She kept looking up to see Archer sketching, smiling at fans, and laughing. She knew she didn’t imagine the women and maybe even a few men flirting with him. She couldn’t blame them. She wondered if half of them were only here because he was hot, not just a good artist.
But soon, she was actually genuinely engrossed in the book. She kept turning the pages, reading about Todd and his squirrel and knowing how odd that sounded in her head, but it was really a gripping tale. When she finished, she looked on the side of the book for a volu
me number and was disappointed that there wasn’t one, so the chances of a sequel seemed slim. She put the book down and pulled out her phone to Google more information, but she saw a text from Gavin.
His date had gone poorly… To say the least.
Brielle wondered if hearing about Pembroke would cheer him up.
She texted him back. So sorry. I need to hear more details. Bad timing, I know, but I’m out and I ran into Pembroke. She’s acting weird.
Brielle could see Gavin start typing almost immediately. How so? Brielle felt bad that they weren’t talking about his problem, but she supposed Lilac would be there for him later. She wasn’t responding to the group conversation right now.
She ran from me, Brielle typed, her frustration causing her to type a little harder than usual. Literally tried to escape from me after we made eye contact and I called her name. Then she wouldn’t talk to me. She said she’d gotten my messages but thought I wouldn’t want to talk to her anymore.
Brielle was getting more annoyed the more she thought about it. A girl bumped into her without even saying sorry and she decided to head to a less congested part of the store to finish her conversation. She spared one last glance at Archer—he still had a bit of a line left, including, she noticed, Pembroke herself—and retreated toward a hallway leading to the bathroom.
Gavin sent a frowny emoji. She’s hiding something.
What? Brielle typed. I don’t get why she’d even think I’d be mad at her. For not answering my messages? I didn’t think I was being ignored. I assumed she was busy. Although now I KNOW I was being ignored.
Where are you? How’d you run into her?
Brielle entered a wink emoji. Sort of on a date? With Archer. He invited me to a comic book signing he’s doing in town. Pembroke’s apparently a fan.
OMG!! How could you not tell me you were on a date?
I may have been exaggerating. It’s not an official date. We’ve never been alone once the whole evening. His nurse even drove us and… I sat next to his mom.
Awkward. Gavin paused. What’d she have to say?
We didn’t talk much. She doesn’t even know who I am or that I know her son personally. I just wasn’t ready for that conversation.
Go introduce yourself. It’s going to be more awkward later once he introduces you and she realizes you sat next to her without saying anything.
Brielle typed a line—You’re assuming there will be a time when he introduces me…—and then erased it. A big part of her was hoping, maybe even assuming, there’d be a time like that anyway.
I’m going to wait, she typed instead. I know the types of questions she’d ask and I can’t deal with any more moms judging my career prospects or lack thereof.
That bad with your mom, huh?
You don’t know the half of it, she typed. But she knew that made it all sound so much more dire than it was. Anyway, I should try to catch Pembroke before she leaves. Any advice?
Gavin typed for a bit and then paused. Just tell her I miss her and if she gives you more attitude, I’m going to drive back up there and shake some sense into her.
That eager to escape Chicago already?
You don’t know the half of it.
She and Gavin probably were overdue for a heart-to-heart. But there was so much going on. She typed her farewells and decided to make her way back to the line to see if she could catch Pembroke before she left. She took only a few steps toward Archer’s table, though, before she saw… Daniel.
Daniel. In a comic book store. He’d never had the slightest interest, had made fun of Brielle for even halfway entertaining Pembroke’s excited ramblings about the latest release of this or that issue.
“Daniel?” Brielle said his name before she could stop herself, like he was Rumpelstiltskin and saying his name aloud would make him vanish in a tantrum.
Daniel whipped around and smirked at her. “Ah. Hello, Elle.”
Brielle noticed as Daniel shifted that Archer had been behind him and he was staring up at Daniel and Brielle in utter puzzlement.
Daniel slid his arm around Pembroke and Pembroke looked at the floor. He was clearly gloating without even saying anything.
“Pem?” Brielle said, stepping closer. “What is going on?”
Daniel ran his free hand through his hair. “What’s going on is this is my new squeeze.” He squeezed her shoulder on cue, as if reveling in the pun.
Despite wanting to ignore his existence, Brielle looked up at Daniel. “She’s your fiancée?” Brielle kept glancing back and forth between Pembroke and Daniel, waiting for either Pembroke’s embarrassed face or Daniel’s smug one to morph into something that remotely made sense. She’d spent graduation with Pembroke. Well, some of it. Daniel hadn’t been in the picture.
“No, that bitch broke my heart.” Daniel leered down at Pembroke, side-hugging her tighter. “Broke picked up the pieces.”
Oh, gee, I wonder why. “You were still engaged a week ago.” Brielle readjusted her cross-body purse’s strap, suddenly irritated immensely by the way the strap dug into the side of her neck.
Daniel shrugged and nuzzled Pembroke’s neck. He had to bend over quite a bit to reach it, so he looked ridiculous. Pembroke leaned away, avoiding his kiss.
“Give me a break,” said Daniel, his mouth twisting. “Why do you care so much about people seeing us? You’re making me look like an abuser.” His mouth soured around the word.
Archer wheeled forward and Brielle couldn’t help but feel swoony at the determined look on his face. “Then maybe you should stop acting like one, okay?”
“Lay off,” said Daniel. He looked at Archer and then Brielle and back again. “So are you a fan of this crippled douche, too, Elle?”
Brielle didn’t even know how it happened. She didn’t remember dropping her bag to the floor and then slamming her palm against Daniel’s cheek, but her hand was out and it stung, and Daniel cradled his cheek and stared at her like she’d just raised the dead. “What the hell is wrong with you, you jealous bitch?”
He took a step forward and then screamed, bouncing with one foot in the air. He stared at Archer. “You wheeled over my foot!”
“You walked into me,” said Archer, gripping his wheels tightly.
“I could sue you!” Daniel pointed at Archer and Brielle. “I could sue you both!”
“Try it.” Brielle crossed her arms, feeling stronger than she had reason to.
“Messed up.” Daniel shook his head, limping slightly as he shuffled around Brielle and made his way to the door. “You are all messed up. Get your own damn ride home, Pembitch.”
As soon as he was out of sight, Brielle rounded on Pembroke. “Seriously, what the hell—” She cut herself off the moment she saw Pembroke dissolve into a puddle of tears.
Brielle thought about walking out on Pembroke right then and there, never knowing what the hell had gone through her head to date Daniel for even a week, to be so secretive and withdrawn over Daniel—big fucking mistake Daniel—and leave her to deal with the problems of her own creation.
But that wouldn’t feel right. She owed Pembroke a chance to explain herself, to do better. She at least owed her a freaking ride in her time of need.
Only, she hadn’t driven herself.
“I most definitely want to take her home, but…” Archer tapped his lips with his finger and Brielle tried to push aside all her thoughts about wanting to jump him. Wrong time, wrong place. “I’d feel terrible asking Pauline to drive an hour away and back this late at night. She’s already on special overtime for me as is.”
Brielle had a thought. “Plus, there’s only the one seat in the back…?”
“I can sit in my chair in the van, that’s okay.”
“Don’t worry about it,” mumbled Pembroke, her eyes still glued to the floor. “I can call my dad or… Uber or something…”
“That would be one expensive Uber ride.” Brielle sighed, waiting for Pembroke to look up and explain herself, but she didn’t. “If you do
n’t mind her riding back with us to your place, I can just take her back home from there once I get my car.”
“What’s all this…?” The older woman—Archer’s mother—appeared out of practically nowhere, slithering through the dwindling crowd with a Starbucks coffee in her hand. “Archer,” she said, gazing down at her son coldly, “did these ladies come with you?”
Archer ran a hand over his head, stifling a sigh. “Mother, this is Brielle and Pembroke.”
Mrs. Ward shifted her purse and switched her coffee cup to her left hand in order to extend her right. “Charmed,” she said as Brielle took it, although she didn’t seem charmed at all. She took one look at Pembroke, still gazing at the floor, and forewent the handshake entirely.
Brielle straightened her back. “I came with Archer and Pauline, but I just wanted to give my friend a ride back home.”
“Huh.” His mom stirred her coffee with the little green rod sticking out of the small hole. “I just met Pauline at the Starbucks down the road and she didn’t mention it.”
Archer slapped his palm against his thigh. “Because she’s not a gossip, Mother, she’s my nurse and a friend. What are you doing here anyway?” Archer looked positively flabbergasted. “You promised me you wouldn’t come.”
His mom sipped her coffee calmly. “I said I had a charity dinner tonight.”
Archer stuck his hands in the air, as if she were stating the obvious and it proved his point.
She shrugged. “I didn’t say I was going to it instead.”
Archer tousled his hair roughly and Brielle wanted to kick herself for thinking inappropriate thoughts within a few feet of one of his parents. “Does Dad know you’re here?” he asked.
“Of course.” The way she covered her face with her cup, the corners of her mouth twitching, made even Brielle suspicious of her declaration. “And I would cool it down, dear. I’m your ride home.”
