Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
C al meets me at the Hell’s Kitchen, an awesome little food hall filled with small independent street food vendors. It’s usually a rotating group of vendors, so you can come here and have entirely different kinds of cuisine pretty much every visit. But there are one or two vendors who are always here, including honestly one of the best places to get tacos in all of Midtown.
“How was meeting Arran Wilson?” he asks as we take our seats at a long communal table. We take the seats at the end as it’s the closest you can get to having a table to yourself without actually having a table no one else can sit at. That being said, there’s like just five other people in here at the moment, so we’re pretty isolated to just ourselves.
“Oh, really good. He’s super chill and really nice, and his workouts really have been doing a number on his body, he looked really good when he came out of the shower,” I say, slightly absently, only coming back to the room when I hear Cal gag on his drink.
“What?”
“Long story, but basically I dunno if it was nerves or if I just was really enjoying myself a little too much, but I got fully wasted and completely exposed myself to him in his hotel room.”
“Did you…?”
“No, I’m a professional,” I gasp, scandalized.
“You literally just told me you stripped off naked in front of the talent on the first night meeting him,” he deadpans, eyebrow raised as he picks up his first taco.
“Yes, well, be that as it may, no, me and Arran did not sleep together. He was a gentleman, and slept on the couch. On the first night in his own hotel room. Oh my god, how did I not completely fuck that up?” I bury my head behind my taco bowl, hoping it will hide me.
Cal just looks down at me, chewing thoughtfully. “Well, did you screw up? I mean, you still have a job, right?”
I sit back up. “Amazingly, yes. He’s signed on, and I’m being praised as the savior of Excelsior Pride ,” I embellish a little, not like Cal will know any different.
“Awesome. Well, enough about that, let’s talk NYCC. You ready for the weekend?”
Weekend was a bit of a misdirect: the convention is actually four days long, starting on the Thursday. That used to be a half day I think, but with the popularity of the show and rising ticket demand, they expanded to a full day on the Thursday in recent years.
“As ready as I’ll ever be…”
“Okay, well, I was thinking maybe you could meet me and Manny over at my place, help us bring the stock to the show and set up Thursday morning? I’d do the pre-con set up on Wednesday night, but I have my blacksmithing club and then a shift at the bar.”
It still amazes me that Cal not only managed to find somewhere in the city that does blacksmithing in the 21 st Century, but also that he’s really into it.
“I, err, can’t. Interns have to help set up the booth for the show, and, like, it’ll pretty much all be constructed but we have to be at the Excelsior booth two hours before doors open. I’m not really going to be free to set up our table.”
Cal lowers his taco, and sighs.
“Jesse, look. I get that the internship is a big thing, and I get you don’t get to choose what jobs you do and all, but this keeps happening. You’ve missed writing meet ups, you’re behind on your scripts, I just…do you even still want to do this with us? With me?”
“Of course I do,” I yelp, incredulous. “What do you think all this is for? The internship is getting my foot in the door!”
“With Excelsior, sure. But without more comics work, will you really be taking advantage of it? I mean, your foot is in the door…as an editor. Not as a creator. Because lately, you’ve not been creating so much.
“And even if you did get a writing gig with them, that’s just them. Don’t you have aspirations for independent stuff? The comics we did, the ones you did yourself, aren’t you proud of them?”
“Of course I am, Cal! That’s unfair, and you know it. I’ve got a lot of work on my plate, and I’m just swamped, I can’t really get my head together for writing right now is all. After the con, maybe…” I trail off, aware that this is not the first variation of ‘after such and such event or milestone’ that I’ve offered up in regards to my own creative endeavors.
“It’s just…we’re partners, Jesse. Or at least, we’re supposed to be. But it hasn’t really felt that way for a while now. Hell, even Manny came over from the Phillipines for this. You’ve just not been very…present of late,” Cal softens. “Is everything okay?”
For a moment, I have a small panic party in my head: do I tell him? Do I bring him into the little personal nightmare that’s been haunting me for almost a month, or do I not risk losing him entirely when I probably need him the most?
Or do I tell him about the other thing?
“Well, as it happens, this whole thing is leading to an opportunity. At Excelsior. Hank offered me a chance to do a story in the book.” I say the last bit with a curt nod and fold my arms.
“Oh? Hank? Henry Wolowitz?” Cal looks taken aback. HA!
“Yes, Hank said I did such a good job securing Arran, and he really liked my comics too,” (at least I think he said that, didn’t he?) “Well, one good turn deserves another, and if I keep up the good work on the Pride issue, he says there could be a place for me in it too.”
Cal ponders for a moment, an initial look of happiness and surprise, but it falters. His brow screws up like he’s trying to work out a math problem that’s a little too much for him, “That’s really cool and all, but this is just from getting Arran on board? I mean, that’s kind of your job anyway isn’t it?”
“Well, not exactly, it was a little more than my usual responsibilities actually,” I pause, thinking if I should tell him what I think Hank is aiming at. I know Anna told me to keep it quiet, but if I can’t trust my best friend, who can I turn to? “Hank, he, well, he kind of suggested I might need to do something more…”
“Like what?” Cal turns his head on the side.
“Well, Hank is gay too, it turns out. And well, he likes guys like me, apparently. And he said if I scratch his back, he’ll scratch mine…and he let me know he’s staying in the city for the con…”
I watch the gears turn in Cal’s head, as pieces click into place and I can tell he’s come to the same conclusion I did.
“He propositioned you? Dude, that is so not cool!” Cal says, lowering his voice as I frantically motion for him to turn the volume down.
“Yeah, I mean, I know, but I mean, we’re both gay guys in the industry, and you know how hard dating can be when you’re spending so much time on creative endeavors, so maybe he doesn’t get out much to meet guys, you know.”
Cal scrutinizes me, before pushing back from the table in shock. “You’re actually considering it, aren’t you?”
My head drops slightly, and I rub the back of my neck sheepishly. “No? Maybe? I mean, can you blame me? I’ve been trying to make an in there for years, and now this has presented itself, and well…Hank’s not a bad looking guy, a little intimidating?—”
Cal slaps a hand on the table, startling me, and all the other diners in the room, whose heads snap in our direction, before slowly returning to their own meals. Cal rubs a hand over his face, and takes a deep breath. “I cannot believe you, Jesse.”
While I know the suggestion is slightly shameful, I find myself actually filled with a burning fire of anger in the pit of my stomach. Of all the people I thought would be open to helping me talk this out, I thought it would be Cal. He’s been with me through so much, but this is what boils his blood?
“Uh, what is your problem, Cal? I didn’t go looking for this, you know. But the opportunity is here, now, whether I like it or not, or wanted it or not, and you know how hard this industry is. This could be a way in, the first real tangible one I’ve ever seen or had?—”
“Oh, fuck you, Jesse,” Cal hisses, and I’m taken aback. “You, you of all people are trying to act like you have no other options. You with the high profile publishing parents, with the internship at one of the biggest comics publishers in the world,” he seethes.
“You know how much privilege that takes? Aside from the fact that lucking out on location is a big part of if someone can take up one of those internships, there’s also the affording to actually do one when it means so much of your time being taken up by unpaid labor. You know how impossible that is to navigate for some people?”
I can practically feel the heat coming from Cal. We don’t talk about it much, but Cal’s upbringing was not without its struggles. His family didn’t have much, and what they did have they had to scrape and scrimp to get. Cal lucked out on college with a scholarship, that he worked hard to get. He often came up against other students who were living an easier ride at college thanks to their parents being able to foot the bill, but not Cal. His folks put all they had into keeping him in school though, a fact they’re proud of but I know it’s a sore point for him.
But he’s never held my own upbringing against me. Never .
“How dare you, man! You know I don’t rely on privilege to get anything, the fact you think I did hurts me more than I can ever say,” I spit out at him.
“I’m not saying you actively did, but the opportunity is there. The door can be held open, any time you needed it. And instead, you’re thinking of riding a dick into the gig? I thought you had more pride in yourself than that.”
I slap him.
Again the heads in the room spin into our direction. Cal sits there, mouth hanging open for a moment. Slowly he turns his face back towards me, and I watch his cheek already starting to glow red, as I feel the burn in my own eyes.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer out.
“It’s fine,” he sighs, pushing his chair away from the table as he stands. “I just thought you were better than this, Jesse.” He throws his napkin onto the table, turning to leave before shouting back. “Come find me when you want to be a real fucking creative again.”
I watch him slam open the door, it swinging shut behind him as he stalks off down the street. As I follow him with my eyes, mouth agape, I find the shock burning up again into anger that he can judge me right now.
He doesn’t know what I’m going through, what I’m trying to achieve. He knows how much writing and hell, writing for Excelsior Comics means to me. How can he judge me just for taking a moment to consider this opportunity, if it has in fact been presented to me at all.
Fuck Callum.
I stand up, grab my bag, and march out of the building and head for home. I’m going to shower, change and then?—
I look down as my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Can’t wait to see you tonight, dude
That’s right. Will. I’m meeting Will tonight.
Maybe that’s a good thing. Perhaps it will be just what I need to release this tension building up in my head.