Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue
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Copyright
A Whole Latte Sass
By Marguerite Labbe
Geek Life: Book Two
It’s no secret cosplayer Felipe Suero is looking for his happily ever after—in his love life as well as his career. He’s getting his degree so he can quit his miserable job and start his own costume business. Now he just needs to land the sexiest silver fox to ever attend a con.
Trask Briscoe’s life revolves around staying clean and sober, running the Magick Den, and attending local cons. His rules haven’t left much room for romance. But he can’t deny Felipe has caught his complete attention. He’s just not sure what he can offer a man so full of joy and sass.
When Trask finally accepts Felipe’s offer for a cup of coffee, he soon finds himself on a second date and a third. Between cosplay projects and role-playing games, they discover a deeper connection than either of them expected. And Trask realizes that sometimes rules are made to be broken.
Now Felipe just has to convince his family—and Trask—that Trask has more love to offer than he ever dreamed.
This is for my mama and my sister Amanda. You both are an inspiration. I admire how you keep fighting the fight, and I cannot tell you enough how much I am proud of you. I love you.
Chapter One
TRASK BRISCOE dug through the boxes of role-playing accessories stashed underneath the convention table. He had dice here somewhere. He should have anticipated needing to replenish more often and kept them on top. This show boasted a game room for diehards who had to have another fix and several panels covering different tabletop and role-playing topics. Including a well-attended one on gamemastering that featured Trask as a panelist. Dice were fundamental.
He shoved aside a box of various card decks and another one of role-playing modules, and huffed when he found the one he needed. He opened the box, noting the array of dice, dice bags, and other paraphernalia. Finally. He needed more structure. He organized his store. He should bring more of that system to the shows. He made a mental note to discuss the issue with Ryan.
Trask peeked out over the table and caught the customer’s gaze. “Did you want to see the sets, too, or just the loose dice?”
“Do you have any of those boxes of six-siders?” The man peered over at him. “I’m getting killed in Warhammer. I need a new set before we get together if I don’t want to come out dead last in our tournament.”
Trask pulled out several in a variety of colors and stood up. “Have you tried out War Machine?”
“I keep hearing about it, but I don’t know. I’ve invested a lot of money over the years in Warhammer,” the man said as he picked up a plastic box full of tiny six-sided dice.
“Haven’t we all.” Trask plucked one of his business cards and handed it to him. “If you’re in the area and have time, stop by the shop. We have a regular group that gets together for various war games. They’re doing War Machine right now if you want to see what it’s like.”
“I might check it out.” The man tucked Trask’s card in his back pocket and held up a set of bloodred dice. “I’ll take this one. I have an orc army. This has to give me good luck.”
Trask rang up the sale and made small talk with the man before he wandered off to rummage through another booth. For the first time all day, no one browsed at the Magick Den’s table. He checked his watch with a sigh. Three more hours before they could begin to pack the van. At least he didn’t have long boxes of comics to load like he used to back when he first started doing cons. It was the last day of the show. He could relax tonight with a video game and sleep in tomorrow.
He glimpsed Ryan’s tall, slumped figure making its way down the aisle, balancing a tray of coffees in one hand and a grease-stained box in the other. “Here you go.” Ryan edged around the booth and handed Trask the tray. “I’m sorry it took so long. Everybody was getting fresh donuts today and the line was out the door.”
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” Trask picked up the largest coffee and sipped it. He could practically feel the aroma and richness charging up his blood. This was one of the few indulgences he allowed himself, and he enjoyed it to the fullest.
“I don’t understand how you can drink it black and decaf.” Ryan slid the carton of donuts beside their cashbox and popped up the lid. “What’s the point?”
“The taste. The scent.” Trask took another appreciative sip. “A good cup of coffee is a gift from the gods. An amazing dark roast, brewed just right, can change my whole day.”
Ryan stuffed half a donut in his mouth. “You are weird, man,” he mumbled around his bite. “After all these years, I should be used to your oddities.”
“You’d think.” Trask had given Ryan a job when nobody else would after he left rehab. Since then he’d become one of the rare people Trask considered family. He crouched down again to reorganize the boxes he’d mixed up. “This weekend may have started out slow, but we made a killing today.”
“Sometimes they want to shop around before committing to buying.” Ryan pulled out another donut and closed the box. “Did we make up for the last show?”
“Yeah, I think so. I suspect we might get a few online orders out of this weekend too.” Trask pulled out more card sleeves. They were getting low on those. “And if there are new repeat customers at the store, that’s the real win. The last guy I talked to might come by and check out the war game merchandise.”
“Oh boy, here comes trouble,” Ryan said with a soft groan. “Literally the harbinger of doom.”
Trask glanced up to see a familiar figure clad in almost nothing but silver paint from head to toe and carrying a silver surfboard. Somehow, Trask could picture Felipe Suero on a beach, hitting the waves from dawn till dusk. He could also picture Felipe being the herald of an impending disaster. Still, something about the young man made Trask sit up and pay attention.
“He’s not all that much trouble.” Trask stood up. “He doesn’t hang out for thirty minutes in front of the table posing and distracting people from browsing through the games.”
“No, he only hangs out for thirty minutes to flirt with you,” Ryan muttered under his breath. “That kid is fixated on you.”
Felipe was a flirt, no lie, and he didn’t just flirt with words. He did it with his eyes and whole body. Harmless fun and nothing t
o take seriously. He sure as hell wasn’t serious about flirting with Trask. He was old enough to be the young man’s father.
There was nothing kidlike about that broad-shouldered, lithely muscled body in those teeny, tiny silver shorts or the smirk of that heavy-bottomed mouth. Felipe sauntered toward them, completely at ease with the stares directed at him. Felipe knew the power of his looks and reveled in it.
“Hey, Felipe,” Trask said as the young man stopped by their table. Even Felipe’s scalp was silver. Trask tried to ascertain if it was only a trick of makeup and prosthetics. Felipe was a master. He was also dedicated enough to nail a role by shaving off his gorgeous black hair. Trask hoped he hadn’t but had to admire his dedication if he had. “Did you stop by to try to strong-arm me into running a game for your group?”
“Among other things.” Felipe cast a slow smile and a caressing glance at Trask. “You’re looking delicious today. I see that the fall weather has brought out your lumberjack style.”
“Lumberjack.” Ryan snorted. “The flannel may be right, but I’ve never met a hipster redneck. The hair is all wrong.”
“Looks fine to me.” Felipe set the surfboard down, angling it out of the way so it didn’t block the table. “You haven’t had a dedicated group in a while. You must be craving a good game.”
“It has been a while,” Trask admitted.
Felipe eyed Ryan’s getup. “Nice Eleventh Doctor Who jacket. Where’d you get it?”
“My fiancée bought it for me as an engagement gift.” Ryan eyed him, apparently deciding that since Felipe kept the snark down, he ought to be nice in return. He held out the donut box. “Want one?”
Felipe eyed the box with an air of longing regret. “Can’t but thanks, man.”
“Worried about your figure?” Ryan asked with an incredulous expression.
“Please. My figure kicks ass and asks who’s your daddy.” Felipe flexed, striking a pose. Trask took another sip of his coffee to hide his smile of appreciation. Felipe did not lack for confidence. “Nah, it was a pain in the ass getting all this paint on. I had to call in reinforcements. If I eat or drink, it’ll come off my lips and I’ll be pissed. I’m doing a photo shoot in an hour.”
“’Scuse me.”
Felipe glanced down, and a sweet smile crossed his face at the sight of the little girl at his side. He should smile like that more often. It suited him. “Yeah, kid?” His smile widened. “Want a picture with me?”
The little girl nodded vigorously, her hair flopping in her face as her parents stood off to the side with beaming smiles. “Come on.” Felipe stepped away from the table and laid the surfboard down in the aisle. Moments later the girl balanced on the board with Felipe crouched behind her, both their arms spread wide in imaginary flight as the mom took pictures.
“Say what you will about cosplayers—” Trask began.
“Oh, trust me, I do,” Ryan cut in.
“But they do bring people in.” Trask eyed the delighted little girl. “And they make it magical for them.”
“If only the people they brought in bought more instead of ogling,” Ryan said sourly. “Then I’d say it’s a plus. And if there weren’t so many jerks who think the show runs around them.”
It was a familiar argument, one that Trask had heard from many other vendors. The small cons were changing in response to the megacons. They tried to draw in more mainstream people. As a result, attendance increased, but the mainstreamers weren’t interested in the cost of original art or searching for rare comics. It was a double-edged sword. Not all cosplayers were prima donna assholes, despite Ryan’s opinion. Most of them were pretty chill.
Felipe rose with the surfboard in hand and gave the girl a last wave before turning back to Trask. “I don’t often use props like this. I hate maneuvering through a crowd and getting through prop check, but it has attracted attention.”
“How’d you do in the costume contest?” Trask asked.
Felipe shrugged. “Fourth place. I kind of expected it. This was fun and the makeup was a pain, but there isn’t much to it other than the paint. There were some elaborate contenders today.”
“True.” Trask eyed the skintight silver shorts. “But you are more covered than the man who ran around as Conan the Barbarian a few months ago.”
“I loved that dude.” Felipe grinned mischievously. “I hope I have the balls to wear nothing but a loincloth and fake sword when I’m seventy. Seriously, back to our discussion. We’re an awesome group. We’ve been together for years. You know Dakota and you know me. I’m not sure about the others, but if you can hang with Dakota and me, you can hang with them. They’re more laid-back.”
Trask missed playing a long campaign versus the one-offs he was doing now at the shop. His last group had fallen apart after two of the members who’d been dating had a nasty breakup. Players took sides. Drama ensued. And Trask had zero patience with drama. “Didn’t you and Dakota used to date? How’s that working out with your group?”
“Oh fine.” Felipe gave a dismissive flick of his fingers. “Dakota’s all flash of temper and then clear as a summer day. He’s not one to hold on to issues.”
“I notice you didn’t mention your attitude in all that,” Ryan said with a bland look.
“Bite me.” Felipe shot him a glittering smile. “Don’t you have inventory to take?”
“You make it so easy to bait you.” Ryan moved to take care of a customer who had wandered over.
Ex-boyfriends would be precisely the kind of drama Trask wanted to avoid. But it seemed to him, from his observations of Felipe, there was far more bark to him than real anger over his split with Dakota. “He does have a point, you know. You didn’t mention how you’re handling the breakup in your group. I’ve dealt with that as a GM and it’s no damn fun.”
“Yeah, I get it. We wanted to avoid that too. I saw the writing on the wall long before Mr. Clueless did.” Felipe glanced away with a shake of his head. “We’re cool. We’re friends.” Then that sharp, wicked smile came into play. “I kick his ass in board games, honey, and it’s fucking sweet.”
Trask’s lips twitched. “I see.”
“A bunch of us are getting together after the show for dinner. I need sustenance for the drive back home.” Felipe cocked his head. “Why don’t you join us? We can discuss the pros and cons of our group then. And I can fortify my lonely heart for the next week by ogling you through dessert.”
Trask hesitated. He wasn’t one for hanging out after shows. Many of those dinners included an excuse to get sloppy drunk, and that wasn’t his scene anymore. “I don’t know. It’ll take a while to pack up the van and get it back to the store. I can’t leave it sitting outside the restaurant. You heard about Pete getting robbed, didn’t you?”
“No worries. It’ll take me a while to wash off this makeup and get my gear together. You’re not the only one who’ll want to get their things back to the store. That’s why we set it for eight.” Felipe grimaced. “Which means I probably won’t be on the road until ten and home till almost midnight, but whatever. We won’t linger because Morris has got to get his fiancé’s brother home. School night and all that. I could’ve driven my car, but that’s one boring-assed drive after dark. Nothing but trees and winding roads.”
Trask followed Felipe’s rambling as he finished his coffee. Felipe did love to talk, which was okay by him because it meant that he wasn’t expected to talk much himself. He liked people, liked interacting with them. He just preferred listening. And Felipe did not seem at all bothered by Trask’s short answers.
Felipe cocked his head and gave Trask a sly smile. “So, what do you say? A wild night of dinner and discussions of gaming joys?”
Ryan snorted and shot Trask an amused glance. “That might constitute a wild night for this man.”
Felipe had been after him every show since midsummer to check out his gaming crew. Persistence did deserve a reward. “You’ll keep at me until I say yes, won’t you?”
“You do under
stand when no means no, right?” Ryan cut in, and Trask stifled a sigh. His friend was determined to stick his nose into this because of his irritation toward cosplayers. The same friend who hounded Trask about getting out more.
“I haven’t heard one ‘no’ from Trask.” Felipe gave Ryan a cool glance. “There have been ‘maybes,’ ‘ask again later,’ ‘I’m busy,’ ‘not sure,’ and a hundred other noncommittal answers. I can tell when I’m not wanted in a conversation.” He flicked his hand at Ryan. “Unlike others. Go play, Ryan. Trask doesn’t need your white knight bullshit.”
It might do Trask good to get out once in a while. Somewhere that wasn’t a meeting, work, or a show. He’d gotten too used to silence, and it was a little lonely. “Okay, kid, you’ve worn me down. I’ll be there.”
“You keep calling me kid and I’ll start calling you old man. I’m no longer a kid.” Felipe’s eyes glinted with naughty intent as he leaned closer and gave Trask a slow, raking glance. “And you most definitely are not an old man.”
Felipe was trouble in metallic paint, and Trask had not been attracted to trouble in a long time. At least he made life interesting when he was around. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that.” Felipe picked up his surfboard and winked at Trask. “I’ll text you the directions, but it’s that BBQ place on Broad Street. You can’t miss it. You’ll smell the goodness from the road.” He glanced at Ryan. “You’re welcome too if you want in.”
Felipe didn’t wait for a response, as if it was a given they’d attend. Trask’s gaze slipped down to Felipe’s tightly muscled ass as he sashayed off. Absolute trouble. Ryan crossed his arms, giving Trask a resigned look that he caught out of the corner of his eye. “You of all people are going to a BBQ joint?”
“Seems that way.” Felipe disappeared into the swirl of attendees, but Trask could track his progress by the surfboard sticking up over everyone’s heads.
“You’re vegetarian.”
“BBQ joints have vegetables too.” Trask shot an amused glance at his employee and friend. “And usually amazing mac-n-cheese.”
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