Chapter 32 Lee #4
My laugher must have been contagious because Mason started laughing too. I loved this side of Mason. He seemed stronger, more confident than I’d ever seen him.
I stepped close to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling our bodies close together.
“A kiss for good luck?” he asked.
“As you wish,” I whispered. Our lips met in a searing kiss, full of hunger, happiness, relief, and every other good kind of feeling.
When we finally pulled apart, his eyes were glassy, his beautiful lips pink and swollen.
And I didn’t think I looked any better. It was what I was coming to think of as Mason’s “freshly fucked” glow.
“Good luck,” I whispered, then turned to walk away from him and take my seat, questions still whirling through my head.
As I left the stage area, I saw Conyers arguing with someone outside the stage door.
The man he was yelling at was a tall man in his early forties, dark hair with just a few lines of silver running through it.
He was wearing a black t-shirt with the word “Security” emblazoned across his extremely well-muscled chest. Not that I was looking, of course.
“Who am I? I’m Bill Fucking Conyers, you overgrown gym reject,” he spat at the man guarding the stage door. “Now get out of my way!”
I didn’t remember seeing the man with the convention volunteers before, but I figured he could have been hired as additional security for the event.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you are no longer on the approved backstage entry list for the event,” he said calmly.
“Approved entry? Who made an ‘approved entry’ list? This is my con, goddammit,” he insisted. “I’m here with the speaker, John Dowling.”
The Security Guard eyes glanced over at Conyers and I swore the man growled.
“John Dowling is not the speaker for this event, Mason Cameron is. I know Mason Cameron, sir, and you are not Mason Cameron,” the guard continued.
Conyers scowled. “Of course not, I’m not that degenerate piece of filth! I am with the replacement headliner, since Mr. Cameron was not able to attend.”
“Ah! I see the mistake now,” the guard said. I thought for a moment he was going to let him through, but instead he stretched his arm out to completely block the way through the door.
“Your mistake, that is. Mr. Cameron is here, and should be going on stage in about, oh, thirty seconds. If I were you, Mr. Conyers, I’d take your seat.
You don’t want to miss any part of the show.
Afterward, I’ll be more than happy to escort you to see Mr. Dowling. I’m sure it will explain everything.”
Conyers fumed and swore, but I saw him and a couple of his church buddies moving out to the auditorium to take seats on the far right side.
I made my way out the stage door to the seat reserved for me in the front row. To my surprise, Weaver was seated on one side of me and Jeri on the other. I eyed her for a moment.
“How’d you get in here?” I asked. “I thought it was eighteen and overs, only.”
She grinned at me mischievously.
“I have my ways…” she replied enigmatically.
Before I could question her further, the lights lowered in the hall and the applause started. After a moment, the emcee for the event walked out onto the stage.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to Akron!”
The crowd roared, the applause and noise momentarily deafening.
I looked out across the crowd. I’d already heard numbers from the con attendance director, and this was definitely the biggest crowd they’d ever had. And it was only day one!
“Hope everyone’s having a great time out there! I’d like to send out some big congratulations to the winners of our Cosplay Contests!” About a half dozen people in various costumes with make-up and props were brought out and received their awards for their efforts.
The MC then came back on and everyone quieted, “Ladies and gentlemen, as you all know, we have restricted entry tonight to those who are eighteen and over, because we are going to be talking about some very adult topics. We are happy to welcome the fantastic counselors from Vista Counseling Services as they join us this afternoon. After the presentation they will be available in the food court to speak with anyone who feels the need.”
Now I was the one confused. What the hell was he talking about? Counselors?
“Now, all the way from Seattle, please join me in welcoming artist and writer of the hit graphic novels, “Dark Angel”, Mr. Mason Cameron!”
The crowd went wild. I saw rainbow flags flying across the auditorium, a few hand-made signs saying “We Love You, Mason!” as well as a variety of other signs of support.
Then I saw a few rows of seats that were occupied by people who were seated with Bill looking around angrily, refusing to stand or even applaud.
Some of them seemed to be holding books of some kind on their laps.
Could they be Bibles? I couldn’t tell from this distance, and I quickly forgot all about them as Mason took the stage.
He walked across the stage, hands out, waving at the fans, looking like sex on a stick.
A faded black Crossroads Gin band t-shirt hung snug against his lean frame, his black jeans hugging his ass as if they were painted on.
Had he been wearing that on the way in? Damn, how had I not realized how hot he looked?
On the drive here, he had been quiet, subdued, and incredibly preoccupied. Now he was all smiles, his face open and oddly happy. Not what I was expecting, considering how things had gone the last time he had spoken publicly.
Again, that weird feeling churned in my gut as I saw him smile, felt his gaze catch mine, not to mention the sudden rush as my cock thickened inside my jeans. Behind Mason a montage of pictures began playing along with a bluesy song that I thought might also be one of Crossroad Gin’s.
“Hello, Akron!” Mason purred into the microphone. It was the strangest feeling… It almost felt as if his voice held weight, like fingers brushing against my skin.
“So, I hear you folks kinda like comics… Is that right?” he asked.
The crowd went wild. Behind Mason the projector screens began flipping through montages of his work.
I wasn’t that familiar with all of it, hadn’t even read any of it until recently, just heard what my brothers had talked about.
The video was jarring, pictures of beauty and reality interspersed with ugliness and hate.
The music volume dropped and Mason began to speak.
“Some of you have heard of my books, Dark Angels,” he looked out over the hall, his eyes catching on mine as the crowd cheered. His voice, which had seemed a little thin at first, strengthened as he spoke.
“I was supposed to come in here today and give you a really generic rah-rah speech about Dark Angels, comics, and entertainment in general.
But thank you, Professor White, for saving all these good people from that boring speech.
You reminded me that if I wanted people to understand, I had to share something I was passionate about,” he stated, nodding his head toward a back corner where I saw Professor White and a group of college students seated, all with notebooks in hand and I remembered, extra credit. Check.
“I will warn you, some of what we are going to talk about tonight is very disturbing. But when I decided what I wanted to share with you this evening, I was told… well, threatened, really,” he said, his voice gaining clarity and strength as he glared at the side of the room where Bill and his cronies sat, “That if I came up here and shared my presentation about LGBTQ characters in comics, that I would be exposed.”
Mason’s voice deepened ominously at the last word, and the crowd murmured uncomfortably. What was he doing? Threatened? By whom? Over what?
I saw confused glances going back and forth between attendees, no one quite sure where this was going. Weaver’s hand slipped out and wrapped around mine, squeezing.
“All my life, I’ve had choices taken away from me, and I’m pretty damn sick of it. So, I decided to do some ‘exposing’ of my own,” Mason continue.
A video appeared on the screen behind him. It appeared to be a cell phone video. It showed a red-faced angry looking… Dowling? That was the cop who was investigating the hit-and-run on the boys. What the hell was this about?
The video began, and Dowling’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers.
“Bill here has been an excellent partner in the business. He found me a unique way of laundering some of the business money that was deeply in need of cleansing,” he said, jerking his head over at the man I could see at the corner of the video.
“For a fee, of course,” Conyers added. Dowling nodded in agreement as Conyers continued.
“Idyllic Midwest. Churches on every corner… No one looks too closely at the money that goes in and out of a church. Not even the Feds. I can run just about any amount of money through the church books I want. Drugs, guns, whores. Doesn’t really matter.”
The screen buzzed for a minute, as if there was interference, but then continued.
“Bill will reach out to the Convention Committee and tell them you’re sick, or your pet goldfish died… I don’t really give a fuck. You aren’t going to be speaking at that convention. I can make much better use of your mouth elsewhere…” his voice dropped off as his gaze roamed Mason’s body.
Helpless fury began building in me as I sat there in shock while the video played.
“Let me explain what happens if you disobey me in the slightest. If you are late, one of them dies. If you run, someone else dies,” he said, nodding towards the photos of my family, along with some people I didn’t recognize, but from Mason’s descriptions, I would guess they were Zem, Lizzie and Evan.
“You’ve made so many friends, Mason, I’m not even sure who I would pick to go first.”
The audience gasped and I heard several people yelling, “Boo!” toward the back of the room. Weaver’s hand squeezed tighter. She’d seen the pictures of our family as well.