Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FINN
Kavya and Zooey hold hands beside me as we walk through NiagaraCon.
I’m sporting my vintage Reading Rainbow T-shirt, Zooey wears a shirt featuring Poison Ivy from the Batman comics, and Kavya’s carrying a bag for the new Interview with a Vampire show.
With plenty of snacks and full water bottles, we’re ready for a day of pop culture fun.
I look through the schedule as we stroll. “Oh! The dancing old guy from that Six Flags commercial is going to be here.” I lower the paper. “Do we care about that?”
Kavya deadpans the song, “Buhm buhm buhm buhm buhm buhh-dun,” she says, then shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
“You told me there would be minor celebrities,” Zooey says, “but there are some fantastically obscure pop culture figures on this schedule. I’m impressed.”
“It’s part of the fun of a very small con,” Kavya explains to her girlfriend. “That, and all the homemade costumes.”
People dressed in falling-apart Pokémon costumes walk in the opposite direction.
“Cool,” Zooey says. “I’m into it.”
“Speaking of minor celebrities,” Kavya pauses and points at the schedule in my hand. “Did you notice the director of Galaxy Demons is here?”
“What!” I look and see that she’s right. “He never does appearances. After the last season bombed, he retreated from public life.”
“I remember that show,” Zooey says. “People really hated it.”
“Not Finn,” Kavya adds.
“I loved it! Most audiences just have no appreciation of camp. The show was always best when it was silly. I mean, they put demons in space suits! And after they teleported the high school to the Mother Ship Beelzebub at the end of season one, sillier was the only possible direction to go, in my opinion.” I tap the schedule.
“I’m going to tell the director myself. I bet he never hears that. ”
The show makes me think of NotAnOgre. One of our first heated debates was about the second season, which he counted among the worst in sci-fi TV history.
I remember how much I enjoyed discussing the merits and drawbacks with him, and while we each only solidified our initial opinions, the conversation did help me realize things about the show that I’d never noticed before.
“Oh!” Zooey says, excited, and points across the con. “There’s an entire booth of Miyazaki stuff!”
The three of us eagerly head over to check out the booth, and the day starts to slip away.
There’s a lot that I love about NiagaraCon, but my favorite part is seeing all the genuine, unashamed enthusiasm.
People are here to have fun and celebrate their favorite stories and characters, and the sense of joy spreads easily.
By the time I break away to attend the Galaxy Demons discussion, I’m buzzing with happiness, the stress of the gayborhood left far behind.
The panel is set in a side room, away from all the main action.
When I get there, I see that it’s actually no more than a hotel suite that’s been dedicated to the purpose.
There’s a small sign announcing the director’s name and the series, and the door is left half ajar.
I adjust my tote bag on my shoulder and walk in, excited that a small crowd means that I’ll have lots of opportunity to talk with the director.
When I enter the room, though, I see only one other person, scowling away.
“Riley?”
There are folding chairs set up, and he’s sitting in the last of the three rows, arms crossed over his chest and legs spread. He’s in a black T-shirt and worn jeans, and he jerks his head to look at me.
“Unbelievable,” he says as he throws his hands up. “Just absolutely unbelievable.”
“You’re a Galaxy Demons fan?” I ask, incredulous.
He stands. “No. Almost no one is a fan of that show. I’m here to tell the director why the final season pissed me off.”
“Naturally!”
Riley glowers. “The newspaper called this morning. They’re doing a story.” He arches an eyebrow, studying me. “Although I doubt you’re surprised to hear that.”
I am surprised to hear it, and disappointed, considering our plan was to hold off on that step until we moved along with the letter. The newspaper must have decided to move forward on their own. Still, I quickly process the information, not wanting to show him any hesitancy.
I clear my throat. “They’ve got their fingers on the pulse of the neighborhood. Of course they’re interested.”
“Because the big, scary garage is ruining the vibe.”
I bristle, recalling our last argument. “You know, I wasn’t enforcing silence when I had the ice cream social. My silence didn’t enter into your garage and make it impossible for you to hear the metal show.”
“No. But you are willing to rally the entire block against us. Bikers deserve a place of their own, too.”
“No one said you don’t!”
I’m breathing heavily. Somehow, Riley and I have moved closer to each other, and I see the flush across his cheeks as he glares at me.
Two minutes ago, I was lost in geeky bliss, but just a glimpse of him and I’m ready to scream.
“You make me want to…” He trails off as his nostrils flare. “You make me want to...”
The door opens behind us, and a woman dressed as an orc comes in, followed immediately by the director of the show. Heinrich Zimmerman sports a tweed suit jacket, tight on his slim frame, and his bald head shines under the hotel light.
“It’s time for the panel,” the woman says brightly and glances at her clipboard. “The creator of the iconic and controversial show Galaxy Demons, Mr. Zimmerman is here to answer all your burning questions, including long-simmering rumors about that canceled feature-length reunion special.”
The director stares at us, mouth slightly agape. “Two people? There are only two fans in the audience?”
Riley crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t assume we’re both fans.”
“This isn’t an anonymous message board,” I say, flabbergasted. “This poor director didn’t come here to listen to all your critiques.”
“He should be so lucky.” Riley frowns at the director. “Maybe you’d learn a thing or two about tone. And pacing! And setting expectations!”
“It is a show about demons on spaceships. The whole point is to have fun being ridiculous, which is exactly what he did.” I give the director an encouraging smile and two thumbs-up. “Expectation fulfilled. I loved it.”
Riley doesn’t drop it, and turns to talk directly to Heinrich Zimmerman. “The worldbuilding in season one was intricate and surprising. Why go through all of that if you’re just going to throw it out the window for a season two love triangle?”
“I am zero percent surprised that you hate the love triangle,” I blurt out.
“It was superfluous.”
“No. It was charming and delightful, and it added emotional depth.”
“Oh god,” Zimmerman says. “This is even worse than the time I got stuck in an elevator with those television critics.” He pulls his nametag off and hands it to the woman next to him. “I’m done. I’m out!” he declares and races out the door.
The woman slaps her hand to her forehead. “I can’t believe this happened again,” she mutters before shooting her eyes to us. “Well, I hope you enjoyed the panel. Make sure to clear the room in a couple hours. A crew will arrive then to set up the evening Magic tournament.”
She exits just as quickly, and Riley and I are left standing next to each other, both fuming.
I’m not sure why I’m still here. I should turn on my heel and exit, too.
But the frustration from the last weeks is boiling over, all the conflicting emotions tingling like electricity through my body.
The fact that Riley has been basically reiterating NotAnOgre’s opinion of Galaxy Demons only adds to the turmoil in my brain.
Damn it, on top of everything else, I’m turned on right now!
“You terrorized that director,” I tell him, “but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised!”
Riley growls. “He shouldn’t do a panel if he doesn’t want to hear opinions.”
“You’re treating the con just like you treat the gayborhood. Your experience is the only one that matters.”
“Me? Because you’re hot and well-liked, you think you own all of Allentown.”
I scoff, but I feel a blush rise. “I’m hot? Well you think you’re the stud of the garage.”
“The stud of the garage?”
“I see the way you strut around that place. I’ve been watching you from across the street.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been watching you, too!”
“Then what are you going to do about it?” I shoot back.
Without another word, Riley grabs my face and pulls me into a kiss.
His big mouth closes over mine, and his stubble scrapes my skin as a surprised jolt of pleasure goes through my core. For a heated, fleeting moment, I kiss him, too, even leaning up into his weight, but then I let out a yelp of surprise and stumble back.
“Riley!”
He gasps. “Oh fuck!” He throws his big hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know…”
When he lowers his hand, we stare at each other. I can feel my heart pounding, and there’s a slightly crazed, hungry look on Riley’s face.
“Is that what this is?” I manage. “Are you interested in me?”
“What? No.” He frowns. “You kissed me back!”
I did kiss him back. What the hell?
“Because you get me so worked up I can’t think straight.”
“Neither can I! If I knew I was going to end up alone in a hotel room with someone, believe me, I wouldn’t have picked you.”
Offended, I tighten my brow. “Even when you’re comfortably across the street, it’s sometimes too close for me,” I counter.
“Not when you’re staring at me, apparently!” He raises his chin, like he’s winning an argument. “You called me a stud.”
We’re still standing only a foot apart, and my eyes are locked on his.
Neither of us moves away, and desire burns through me.
“So what? You think that means I want to make out with you in a random hotel room?”
“Might as well! Considering I can’t turn around without seeing your annoying pretty face.”
“That’s one way to purge our mutual annoyance.”
He grinds his jaw and leans in. “It would mean nothing.”
“Less than nothing! It would have negative meaning.”