Were-Geeks Save Wisconsin

by Kathy Lyons

  Chapter 3

  “GODDAMNED TECH support! Fucking idiots.”

  Josh Collier’s brows went up as he joined Wednesday Addams, aka his best friend since high school, Savannah Nielson, where she sat at the hotel coffee bar. She was glaring at her phone, and he gave it even odds she would throw it across the room any moment now.

  He sipped his triple-sweet black coffee and waited.

  “What kind of losers take a job answering moron questions all day? I’ll tell you who. Losers who can’t read emails, who won’t give a straight answer, and can’t think for themselves, that’s who.”

  “Wow. Quite a statement about an entire career path.” He glanced around the room at a couple of Klingons, two wizards, and three scantily clad elven princesses. Given the usual gaming convention crowd, a good half the room had probably worked tech support at one time or another. Savannah obviously didn’t care.

  “You know what I mean,” she huffed. “My Destined Mayhem game keeps throwing me out at the final battle. I can’t figure out why, and tech support is all, ‘Did you update your software? Do you have the latest version? Perhaps if you turned off your machine and restarted it?’” She rolled her eyes. “Like I didn’t think to do that before I contacted them.”

  He winced, knowing her problem immediately but reluctant to give her the bad news. Hell, he’d lost a few months of his life in the exact same way only to discover the horrible, betraying truth.

  She sighed as she pulled at her dark black Wednesday Addams hair. Given that she was normally all curls, it had probably taken her an hour to straighten it… as opposed to the hundreds of hours it had taken him to make his seemingly benign wizard cape costume.

  “Okay,” she groaned. “Tell me what the problem is. And laugh that I didn’t ask you first before I tried so-called customer service.”

  “You need a faster rig to play the final level.”

  She shook her head. “No, I checked that. The game specs—”

  “Are a lie. The latest expansion requires more, and they’re behind on updating the website.” He gave her a sarcastic grin. “But they will sell you a cheat for a mere fifty dollars.”

  “That’s obnoxious!” she cried, and he agreed.

  Games were one of the few places in the world that followed rules. Even in-game surprises could be discovered ahead of time if one scoured the internet hard enough. That a gaming company would do a bait-and-switch like this was heinous, which is why he’d initiated a revenge campaign out of sheer moral outrage. He didn’t have the technical skills himself, but he did know who to contact to point out the company’s perfidy. He expected that sales of Destined Mayhem were about to tank due to an insidious malware infection, but that didn’t help Savannah.

  She eyed him over her mocha. “Tell me you have the cheat.”

  “I don’t play that game.” Anymore. He figured out the truth two weeks ago and sold all the games he owned that were made by that company. It cut his game collection, but it was the principle of the thing. Plus, he needed the cash to pay for MoreCon.

  “But you know it, right?”

  He flashed her a grin. “I might know a guy who knows a guy.” He pulled out his phone and texted her the steps.

  “Why is it always a guy? Why don’t you know a girl who knows a girl?”

  He arched a brow at her. “Me? Girls?”

  She snorted. “You have to get out of the lab sometime.”

  “No,” he laughed. “I really don’t.”

  She was the only person in the world who knew all his secrets—except for this one. She knew his father was an asshole, that Josh had cheated all through AP English, and that their romantic relationship in high school had never worked. They were too good at being friends, and all that sex stuff had ruined things—or nearly ruined them. What she didn’t know was that he’d given up on girls completely and had started dating guys.

  It was a new thing. He wasn’t about to come out of the closet just yet because he hated labels as much as she hated tech support. But he’d thought he’d broach the subject during their annual weekend at MoreCon. He imagined telling her that he’d met a guy at a bar and that something had stirred. Part of him had heated and thickened, and all those things that were supposed to happen with a girl, but rarely did with him, happened with this guy.

  Did that mean he was gay? He was exploring the possibility. He’d gone to a movie with the guy and found out he was a jerk. But that had opened a door, and so he’d gone on a few more dates with a few different men. He’d even kissed a couple.

  All new. All exciting. And he wanted to share it with his best friend, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the topic.

  Then she changed the subject.

  “So you’re part of the opening ceremony extravaganza, huh?”

  His eyes widened in mock surprise. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She laughed as he knew she would. “Usually you hate the opening event, but this year you’re all about how I have to take Friday off and be here in time for the 7:00 p.m. kickoff. That can only mean you finally wore down the management team enough that they let you be part of it.” She eyed his cape, no doubt seeing some of the badly hidden pockets on the inside. A seamster he was not. “Is that some of your dad’s special fire-resistant fabric there?”

  He looked down and saw the exposed shimmery green fabric called Volcax that he’d stolen from his father’s factory. Years ago his father had teamed up with a brilliant chemist named Craig, and together they developed a fiber that was impervious to heat up to five thousand degrees. He’d been a kid at the time, sitting on the lab bench, listening to what they said, watching all the mixing and blowing up of stuff, and he’d gotten hooked. Chemistry was his jam, thanks to all those wonderful afternoons watching his father and Craig make things go boom. Eventually they’d figured out the formula and Volcax was born. Soon afterward they sold it to the government, and the fabric was now so hush-hush, Josh could end up in prison for what he was wearing.

  Josh adjusted his cape. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  She arched a brow. “You’re not going to set the hotel on fire again, are you?”

  “That was one time!”

  “Twice.”

  “A stink bomb does not count as fire,” he said stiffly.

  “The hotel manager didn’t see it that way.”

  True. And he’d had to do some major pleading not to be banned from the entire hotel chain for the rest of his life. “No stink bombs this year.” Just pyrotechnics, some cool electrical effects, and a sleight of hand that he’d spent months perfecting. He grinned. “And the con comped my hotel stay.”

  “That’s cool.”

  It didn’t come close to covering what he’d spent creating his costume, but every bit helped. Especially since he was a lowly PhD student on a University of Michigan stipend. That covered rent, cheap food, and a heavy winter coat, but not much else. She, on the other hand, had gotten the holy doctorate at Michigan State and was now working in Big Pharma for more money than he’d make in years as a student.

  “How goes the dissertation?” she asked.

  “Need a couple more experiments.”

  “That’s what you said last year.”

  He shrugged. That was the problem with research. There was always more to learn, more to do, and more ways to delay writing the dissertation that would end his comfortable life in Ann Arbor and send him off into the big bad world looking for a job.

  “You can’t spend your life doing rando experiments in a basement,” she said.

  “I do them in a university lab now.” In their basement.

  “I do them in a multimillion-dollar lab, and they pay me lots of money to do it.”

  He nodded. “But they tell you what to do, when, and how to do it. I’d rather go where my curiosity leads me.” And right there was his problem. He liked exploring chemistry and was damn good at it. And he hated having anyone else tell him where his mind should go. There was no compelling
reason—other than money—to pick their research over his own. He could live with a tiny bank account. He couldn’t live bored.

  She sighed. “No one will pay you for that.”

  “Yet. Eventually someone will recognize my genius.”

  “You have to do something cool to be considered a genius,” she drawled.

  “I won the Chem Hack Contest again this year. Five years straight. That’s pretty impressive.”

  “And no one outside of the university even knows what that means.”

  Yeah, that was the problem. He’d had rotten luck in his research as he tried to invent something better than Volcax. It didn’t exist, and he’d spent years figuring that out, though he did learn all sorts of cool stuff about how things burned, blew up, or melted. But rather than talk about that, he dove into their usual round of what-have-you-been-doing questions.

  About halfway through her latest tale of coworker stupidity, his phone alarm went off. He thumbed it off, then drained his coffee.

  “Gotta go.”

  “This early?”

  He nodded. It was going to take him hours to get the stage set just right for his show. “I’ll save you a front-row seat. Promise you’ll be there.”

  “Of course I’ll be there! This is our weekend. I look forward to it every year.”

  “Good, because afterwards….” He swallowed. It was time to take the plunge. “I’ve got something I’d like to tell you. About me. And maybe dating… or something.”

  Her brows went up. “Dating… or something?”

  “Yeah.” Then, before she could ask any one of the thousands of questions he saw in her expression, he got up from his chair. “Afterwards. Don’t miss it.”

  “Like I could miss this now?”

  He laughed as he headed off to the main stage. He’d been planning this show for a year now. By tonight, he was going to be the talk of the con.

  Chapter 4

  IT TOOK Josh two hours to get all his pyrotechnics set right. He went through them twice for his own peace of mind, then again for the hotel manager. Everything was perfect, and his belly was tight with excitement. After a year of planning, this was going to be amazing. He was going to step on stage as a drunk wizard throwing mismatched spells everywhere. But then, when the master of ceremonies tried to throw him out, he would disappear in a burst of multicolored flames.

  Thanks to the low balance in his bank account, planning this had been his entertainment for the past year. He’d spent nights dreaming about this glorious moment and days searching for the cheapest, best way to do it. Some might think it lame, but he’d rather spend his time figuring out how to safely blow up a stage than binge-watch the latest Netflix offering.

  He was setting his wizard’s staff behind the curtain, stage right, when a deep voice interrupted him going through his mental checklist for the billionth time.

  “Josh?”

  A shiver went down his spine at the resonant sound of his name. It was the kind of voice used by grand wizards in video games or old trees dispensing wisdom. It silenced every random thought in his head so he could listen, and he quickly turned around to find the source. In so doing he nearly collided with a stripper warrior and Doctor Strange.

  They were in costume, obviously, and he really hoped the mesmerizing voice was from the Benedict Cumberbatch wannabe. It would fit with the wizard costume. But even so, his gaze was caught and held by the warrior guy.

  The man was huge, as in mountainous. He wore a simple leather vest, no doubt to show off those ripped abs, and surprisingly good quality tearaway pants, hence the “stripper” tag. His face wasn’t model-beautiful, but there was a craggy beauty to it. Hard jaw, slight scruff of a beard, and a sharp cut of a Roman nose. Truthfully, he would have fit better in a Trojan skirt with a sword, but Josh wasn’t quibbling. Honestly, he wanted to get a look at the guy’s legs.

  Then there were those eyes. Technically they were brown, but the coolest brown he’d ever seen. There was red and yellow there, and rich, dark mink. Like a hawk’s eyes or a lion’s. Maybe a werewolf from some movie. He got momentarily lost in them, trying to see if they were real or contact lenses.

  “Josh Collier?”

  Okay, so Warrior Guy was the one with the voice. Sweet. “Next time go for the Roman centurion look. You’ve got the shoulders for a cape, and stripper pants cheapen the look.” Josh grinned. “Besides, skirts are better advertisements anyway.”

  He might be new to his own sexual orientation, but he’d learned the lingo at his first con. No one judged preferences here, and the dirty jokes usually worked for any orientation.

  But clearly the warrior wasn’t used to conventions, because he blinked in confusion. Eventually he stammered out a “Wh-what? No!” He looked down at his pants. “Not stripping.”

  Josh shrugged. “I’m not judging. Well, I guess I am, but just of your costume choice. Hey, if you’ve got the build, I say flaunt it. You probably worked hard to get all that muscle definition.” Then he tried a flirtatious smile.

  He was new to flirting with guys and his gaydar wasn’t even close to 100 percent, but anyone who wore stripper pants to a con had to be hoping for something. And Josh wasn’t opposed to testing out the guy-on-guy waters with a con neophyte. Especially one who looked like he could bench-press a bus. And who blushed like he was a vestal virgin.

  Wasn’t that adorable?

  Then Doctor Strange had to interrupt. His voice was dry, classy, and had the perfect ring of arrogance. “We are here to offer you a job.”

  Josh nodded, surreptitiously looking around for whoever was filming this. He saw the regular con staff, but none of them were paying any attention.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What kind of job at which con? And most important, who told you I was looking? You haven’t even seen my show yet.”

  “It’s fulfilling work,” said Warrior Guy in that beautiful voice. “Life-changing stuff. Your science background is impressive, and we’d like you to start immediately.”

  “My science background?” He’d published two papers, both in midlevel journals. Not exactly a NASA-level résumé. But he supposed to most people, even being in a PhD program was an accomplishment.

  “We looked at your papers. The ones on carbon chains and um…. Look, I didn’t understand a word of it, but—”

  “I did,” interrupted Doctor Strange. “And we need your help. We offer excellent benefits and—”

  Josh laughed and held up his hand to stop them from talking. Whatever this was, it had already eased his nerves before the show, and he was grateful for that. But they were about to open the doors, and that meant he was in the last few minutes of preparation. He was beyond excited for his big con moment, and these guys were distracting him from living his glory to the fullest.

  “Mr. Collier—” Doctor Strange said.

  “Guys, I have no idea what you’re trying to do, but I don’t have the time to discuss it now. You can buy me a drink afterwards and—”

  “It would be really better if we talked now,” Warrior Guy said. “This is going to happen, Josh. You’re going to love this job, but it has to happen now.” There was a clear note of desperation in his voice as he added, “Please, just come with us. Take the pill, step through the magic mirror, grab on to adventure with both hands.”

  Josh smiled. He had to hand it to Warrior Guy. He certainly delivered corny lines with true passion. “Okay, sure,” he said. And at the sudden brightening in the warrior’s eyes, he laughed. “Right after the show. I promise, you guys get to buy me the first drinks.”

  “Wait—” the warrior began, but Doctor Strange shook his head.

  “Save it,” he said. “We can’t give him enough details to convince him of anything. It has to happen the hard way.”

  That sounded threatening, as did the way the warrior’s face shut down before he gave a clipped nod. Josh frowned and then gestured to the stage manager. Her name was Megan, and she couldn’t do anything to either guy, but she had a walkie
-talkie and a direct line to hotel security. “Megan, you need to call hotel security. I don’t think these guys are registered attendees.”

  Megan nodded from as far back as possible. She knew she was no match for these guys if they ended up belligerent, but she was quick with her walkie-talkie. Fortunately, there was no need. The warrior held up his hands in surrender.

  “No security necessary,” he said in that still-beautiful voice. “We’ll find our seats.” His expression was so locked down that his glorious eyes seemed even brighter.

  Not one to be a full pushover, Megan nodded. “That’s great, but I’ll need to see your con badges first.”

  The warrior shot a dark gaze at his wizard companion. “I told you we needed to buy badges.”

  “For thirty minutes?” the other one countered. “We have a flight to Seattle in three hours.”

  The warrior grimaced. “Josh, please help us out. Look, my name is Nero, and this is Wiz. We came here just to meet you.”

  “Me.” The word was heavily laced with skepticism. “Why?”

  “To offer you a job. On the level.”

  Josh didn’t believe a word of it. This was not how his life worked, but his game-loving soul wanted to believe it could happen. Wasn’t that how all good stories started? With a call to adventure? He still thought it was a joke, but he wasn’t immune to the flattery of it all. These guys had gone to a lot of trouble to do whatever-it-was to him. He could give them a break.

  “Megan, let them watch the show.”

  “They don’t have badges—”

  “I’m allowed a couple guests.” And since his family wouldn’t be caught dead at a fantasy convention, he was here solo. “Put them in the front row, keep an eye on them, and I’ll make sure they leave right afterwards.”

  She frowned at him. “Are you sure?”

  No. He hadn’t a clue how he would get these guys out if they resisted. But that was a worry for after his show. “Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”