3. Good Behavior
Chapter 3
Good Behavior
Cece - 3 Months Later
Sometimes good behavior pays off. I couldn’t convince my father to let me keep my car for the semester. But he oh so graciously granted me an early release to attend the Great Lakes Fan Con I’ve been waiting for all year. He kept me so busy with community service, and doing grunt work at his office, I only hung out with my friends at home a handful of times over the summer. Turns out I wasn’t as upset about it as I thought I’d be. After what went down at Cornell, all the pieces have been falling into place. I’m realizing the toxic friends who share my privileged background are not the ones who are going to stand by me in a crisis.
But other than looking down his nose at my online “nerd friends,” my father doesn’t consider them a threat. Hilarious. If he knew the things I’ve done at comic conventions, he might reconsider. But I’m not telling .
And now I’m free. The convention is in Detroit, not far from my new school, so I told him I wanted to settle into the house before my roommates show up. The roommates I’ve only met on a video call, by the way. I’m sure it’ll be fine. If not, I’ll hang out at Beau’s house. I’m not so into hockey after being dragged to chilly arenas a million or so times during my childhood, but the hockey players? I can get behind those smoking hot athletes. Not that Beau will let them go anywhere near his precious twin sister, but he can’t stop me from looking.
The closer I get to the hotel, the taller I’m sitting. I’m staring out the window, watching each tree pass by, bringing me closer to the con. The bus was a no go. Dad wouldn’t even let me take the train. So, I’m watching the world go by from the passenger seat of a sedan driven by Holmes. Poor guy.
“Sorry Dad made you drive me, Holmes.”
“Oh, I don’t mind, Cecelia. I don’t get on the open road as often as I like, anyway. City driving is not the same.” Having known me since I was a baby, he’s one of the few people I haven’t been able to convince to use my preferred nickname.
“I still appreciate it. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“Too bad Colin couldn’t come with us.” Holme’s son is only two years older than me, and he’s a major comic book fan. I’ve always gotten along with him.
“Yes. He would have enjoyed that.”
“Right? How’s his new job going?” After graduation, he got a job with a new tech start up in Boston. He’s my go to fixer for all computer related problems. I’m out of options if turning it off and back on again doesn’t work.
A smile spreads across his face, and his brown eyes gleam. I’m one hundred percent sure I’ve never seen that much pride on my father’s face. “He’s loving it. I don’t understand a word when he tells me about all the computer stuff, but it’s going great.”
My smile is a little tight, but I nod. I’m so happy for Colin, but I can’t stop a twinge of jealousy from creeping up. If only my dad and mom were as accepting as Holmes. But it’s fine. After I graduate, the world is wide open. I can do the artist thing. Just have to get through this last year of college without getting into any trouble.
We pull around the curved driveway, stopping at the drop-off zone in front of the convention hotel. As soon as the tickets went on sale, I locked in a room. Since I wasn’t expecting to bring a chaperone, the hotel predictably filled up fast. Holmes is staying somewhere on the outskirts of the city. He’ll make the trek back to Pittsburgh tomorrow. At least my father didn’t make him stay to babysit me at the con.
I drop a hand on the older man’s jacketed forearm as he rises to help me with my luggage.
“It’s okay. I got this Holmes.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he tips his hat at me. “Embarrassed to be seen with this old man?”
“Obviously.” I laugh, but yes, I am. Not because of him, specifically. He’s fantastic. Although I try not to let people’s opinions of me cut too deep, the little scars I’ve accumulated over the years often break open under scrutiny. And showing up with my family’s chauffeur at a comic book convention is a little too direct a target. Not that anyone will even notice me yet. Hopefully.
“Well then. You enjoy yourself and have a great school year.”
“I will. Thanks again for the ride. I’ll see you at Christmas, if not before.” Probably not. There’s not much reason to go home before then. I can beg off Thanksgiving. Fingers crossed. Schoolwork is always a solid excuse. And with the only family member I care to see on the regular at the same school, I’m good. Although Beau will probably drive me up the wall within a week if he gets all protective brother on me.
I tug the brim of my black baseball hat down lower, adjusting the white-blonde ponytail sticking out the back. I’m not usually a ball cap kind of girl, but there’s been a media target on my back since the “incident” and my hair is like a beacon. The flurry has died down, but I’m still on constant high alert. The spotlight on my family is always there, but when it’s focused on me, the unflattering light they cast me in is oppressive. Those are the times I envy my brother. He gets caught coming out of a club looking a little disheveled with a girl on his arm and he’s a hero. If I’m caught in a miniskirt with smeared lipstick, I’m a drunk hot mess whose thighs are looking thicker than usual after putting on the frosh fifteen. Assholes and their double standards.
All the negative thoughts dissipate as I pass through the slowly revolving front door into the bustling hotel lobby. It’s not the usual crowd of hotel guests. The business people in their tailored suits and crisply ironed blouses look out of place surrounded by the fans in jeans and graphic tees. It must feel like an invasion of their natural habitat. A colorful array of unnatural but gorgeous hair colors is represented. Maybe I should have dyed my hair before I got here. That would be a surefire way to disguise my signature locks, but I’ve got to be on my best behavior. And that one time I experimented with royal blue hair had me in tech jail for an entire semester of high school. I’m hoping to earn my car back by the new year.
I join the lineup of people shuffling around as they wait to check in, avoiding the VIP desk. That would shine a glaring spotlight on me, and I’d probably get identified. Not the way to start off the weekend.
The small group waiting in front of me is debating the merits of the newest Game of Thrones spinoff series. One of the girls has shimmery metallic pointed ear cuffs that are giving me jewelry envy. If it wouldn’t draw attention to me, I’d ask her where she got them, but that kind of conversation can wait until tomorrow when I can melt into the crowd and hide under a wig. Thank goodness for cosplay.
My knuckles are aching from clenching my huge rolling bag, and I force myself to relax my grip. The next desk agent flashes me a smile that puts every inch of his bright white teeth on display as he calls me over.
Excited jitters are twisting my insides as I step forward, sliding my credit card across the smooth surface of the desk.
“Cece Whitaker,” I whisper, eyes darting left and right.
I hate the way his smile falters for a second before he composes himself, turning his eyes down to stare at the screen in front of him as he taps away on his keyboard. His dark brows draw together.
“Miss Whitaker, you’re a VIP member of our rewards program. There was no need to wait in this line.” He turns to look at the lonely-looking agent manning the VIP desk.
I sigh, leaning forward to drop my elbows on the smooth surface of the desk. “Listen. I’m trying to keep a low profile here. I would appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself that I’m staying here. Please.” I lean in a little closer, pleading with my eyes. I’m not afraid to beg.
His shoulders straighten as his professional smile snaps back into place.
“Of course, Miss Whitaker. I would never give out guest information. Privacy is our policy here at the Four Winds.”
“Thank you.”
I sign my scratchy signature on the paper he slides over and slip him a hundred after he hands me the little envelope with my room keys.
He doesn’t flinch, dropping a casual hand over the bill. His cuff slips up to reveal a mid range gold watch.
I duck my head down again as I pad along the shiny lobby floor to reach the bank of elevators. Twenty-third floor. I keep my head lowered the entire ride up as people come and go, shooting through the doors as soon as they slide open.
My shoulders don’t relax until I tap my key on the door pad and the green light flashes .
My first move is to hang the do not disturb sign on the door before I slide the bolt and latch home. I spin around, letting out a squeal as I spot the huge white bed. Finally. I’m free.
I make a run for it, jumping onto the bed with a soft bounce and a giggle.
Spending the summer on my best behavior left me drained. I’m going to enjoy the fuck out of myself anonymously this weekend before I head off to my new school. Beau will do his best to keep his eye out for me. The way he acts, you’d think he was born two years earlier not two minutes. Nope. But he’s so busy with school and hockey, and we’re living in different houses, so it shouldn’t cramp my style too much.
If I thought the hotel lobby was a fun place yesterday, today it’s like an explosion of beautiful chaos. Zombies are mingling with vampire hunters. Anime characters huddle in a group around a full-blown transformer with working mechanical parts built into the suit. The colors, sound, and energy are electric. I’m with my people for the first time all summer.
The energy of all these passionate, creative types fills me up, replenishing my soul. My fingers are twitching to work on my own graphic novel. I brought the usual assortment of notebooks, sketchbooks, and my tablet, but I don’t expect to use them much over the weekend. I’ll be too busy absorbing all the sights and sounds, maybe making a new friend or two .
I follow the crush of people down the tunnel to join the registration line. The wait is going to fly by. I stretch my neck out, standing on my tiptoes, searching for my friend Tess. She said she’d meet me in line at nine, and I know she’s planning on dressing up as Storm. There are a handful of heads with long white hair, but not hers.
It is hard to see over the massive guy standing in front of me. He makes a better wall than the temporary panels dividing the conference area into sections. His black tee clings to unreal back muscles, and I’m tempted to reach out to trace a finger around the ridges of his delicious, muscled arms. But that would be rude, so I resist the urge. An assortment of tattoos sneaks out below the short sleeves, and a shiver clenches my gut at the same time my phone has the audacity to ring in my pocket. Should have muted it.
At least I sewed pockets into the tight bodysuit of my costume, so it’s accessible. I drop my eyes to my knee-length black boots as I answer the call.
“Cece. I’m glad you answered. I’m so sorry, but I have to cancel. I’m in the hospital. It’s a nightmare. I’m so pissed I’m going to miss this weekend.”
My stomach flips over. “Tess, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I’m fine. You know I was at the regional finals this week?”
“Yes.”
“Welp. I landed badly, and my leg is a mess. Now I’ve got to have surgery. Ugh, I’m so mad I’m going to miss the con.”
“What? I’m so sorry.” Tess is a gymnast. She competes at a high level, but she sounds more upset she’s missing the expo than the fact her season is likely over.
“It’s fine. Hurt like a beast, but I’ll recover. It doesn’t really matter.”
Disappointment eats away at the high of excitement I’ve been riding. She was one of the first people I met when I started dabbling in online fan groups and we’ve been tight ever since. But we’ve only gotten to meet in person a few times since she lives on the other side of the country. “You look after yourself.”
Her voice is way too chipper for someone with a broken leg. “I’ll be fine. But I’m going to need you to do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Have twice as much fun. And send me pics. Maybe bang a hot dude. Just make sure he takes his mask off first. Remember Iron Man? Ugh.”
I laugh. I do. She met up with some guy dressed as Iron Man two years ago. It was an unpleasant surprise when she brought him back to our hotel room and he took off his mask to reveal a sweaty, bald dude twenty years older than us.
“Will do. And don’t worry. I’ll never forget. He’s imprinted on my brain for all eternity, thanks to you.”
There’s a beeping sound and a voice in the background. “Kay. I gotta go. My doctor’s here. Talk soon.”
“Bye.” I click off the phone. While it’s disappointing Tess won’t be here, I’m going to take her advice and have enough fun for both of us.
Someone shoves me from behind as I’m sliding my phone back in my pocket. I stumble forward, clipping the brick wall of a guy waiting in front of me. I step past him, trying to regain my balance.
Two warm, calloused hands close around my biceps as I’m heading toward a treacherous sea of feet.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize, looking up at the guy who’s gotta be a full foot taller than me.
“Not your fault.”
His brow is pinched with anger, and I’m about to shy away from his glare when I realize it’s not directed at me. He’s focused on the pair of guys behind me still goofing around and body checking each other, but they freeze mid headlock, heads tilting up to take him in.
“Watch it.”
“Sorry, man.” The shorter one drops his gaze, shuffling his feet.
“Just be careful.” He nods at them, turning back to me.
“You okay?” His voice is deep and rough, as if he doesn’t use it often, and his eyes are a rich brown color I could melt into. His jaw is so sharp you could chop wood with it and there are hard muscles packed across his massive chest and arms as well. Like a sexy lumberjack. He can chop my wood any day. Yum. This is not an Iron Man situation. Tess would totally approve.
I take a hot minute to drag my eyes away from the ridged muscles visible under the black tee. It’s hanging on to his chest for dear life. When I do, a white skull symbol snags my attention .
“Punisher!” The excitement has me bouncing up and clapping my hands. I scan the handful of guys jostling each other in front of him and the assortment of anime characters behind me, but it doesn’t look like he’s with anyone. “I think this was fate. Me standing behind you in line today. We were meant to be friends.”
He raises one brow, tilting his head to look down at me, and a barely audible grunt comes from his mouth.
He doesn’t look hostile, just confused by my random burst of enthusiasm, so I keep going. “I mean. Obviously, I’m Black Widow. You’re the Punisher. We should team up. Are you here all weekend? Or have you got a single-day pass?”
His lips twist the slightest bit at the corners. Pretty sure he’s trying to hold in a laugh, but he finally gets a couple of words out. “All weekend.”
“Amazing. Are your friends here yet, or are you meeting them inside? My con bestie bailed on me, so I’m in the market for some hang buddies.”
“No friends. I’m here alone.” The smile is visible now. He couldn’t keep it in.
“You don’t have any friends? I’m so sorry. I bet you’re glad you’ve got me now.”
He shakes his head, but then his eyes trail down the skintight latex encasing my body. The heat in his gaze is another sign I’ve got him. A buddy for the weekend. What kind of buddy is still to be determined.
If he turns out to be a complete weirdo, I can ditch him. But if not... well, maybe I can make use of the solo room I’ve got now and really enjoy my last weekend of freedom before it’s back to school.
The mass of people shifts in restless anticipation as the doors swing open and the line inches forward as people step up to the registration table. It’s on.
My new friend doesn’t seem to notice the shift of excitement in the air, his eyes still glued to me in bemusement.
“The line’s moving. Come on. We’ve got to get ready.”
“To move three inches at a time?” he asks.
“Yup. Limber up.” I reach over my head, but my attempt at a stretch fails as the tight fabric groans. I shrug, flicking the red wig over my shoulders.
A short bark rips from his chest, and his shoulders shake. I broke him already.
“I thought that was going to be way more of a challenge.”
“What?”
“Making you laugh.”
His shoulders put extra strain on the shirt when he shrugs.
“Since we’re going to be spending the weekend together, I should at least know your name. I can’t call you Punisher all weekend. Although I will in company if you’re a purist about staying in character.”
His mouth opens, closes, and opens again as if he’s reluctant to give me his name.
“I promise not to steal your identity.” I tell him.
“Dev. My name’s Dev. And you?”
“Cece.” There’s no hesitation for me. Sometimes I’m more cautious about giving out my real name. Especially after my most recent spectacular escapade. But there was not an ounce of recognition in his eyes, and he scanned me so intently it was almost like he could read my thoughts.
I hold out a hand to shake on it. His warm palm closes over mine, swallowing it up, and a tingle of excitement shoots through me at the contact. This is going to be an epic weekend. Maybe even life changing. I can feel it.