Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
“ Y ou fucked three guys last night?!”
Friday morning, and I’m at Galactic Basement, a comic store a few blocks down from my apartment. I stop here once or twice a week to pick up my pull list, and also hang out with Pun, the assistant manager.
Pun is in his late twenties, a Chinese American guy whose knowledge of comics even far surpasses my own. And I’m a total nerd. He’s actually about my height, but a lot broader and rounder than me, a point I have let him know on more than one occasion makes me jealous.
“Do you know how much candy I put away last week? And I have not put on a single pound!” I told him, bemoaning my skinny frame.
“Oh, woe is the pretty twink! Whoever will like his perfectly chiseled abdominal muscles and photo-perfect smooth cheeks. Who will break that hairless, smooth back as they wreck his,” he paused and looked down for a second, “bony ass.”
“My ass is not bony, you bitch,” I gasped, mocking shock as my hand reached for my imaginary pearls in outrage. “It’s just lean.”
We laughed, but that’s just what our relationship has become. When I first found this place, I didn’t have many friends in the area yet, so I was still a little quiet and sheepish. Cal was in Brooklyn, sure, but he encouraged me to meet people in my area and find somewhere close by to indulge my fetish for comics and superheroes, instead of schlepping over to his every week. When I walked in, Pun was working the counter, and gave me a curt, polite nod as I came in. None of the usual, oh-so-American exaggerated and enthusiastic greeting.
As I browsed the stacks, we kept flicking glances at each other, Pun squinting his eyes at me like he was trying to work something out. Like there was a sense of familiarity brewing that I didn’t quite get, but I felt it too.
Then my phone trilled with the telltale chime of a Grindr notification.
“I knew it! You’re Geeky Looking!” Pun exclaimed, throwing the comic he was reading down.
I jumped back, then eyed him too, removing his t-shirt with my mind. “Big Hero Dicks?!”
We laughed over the absurdity of knowing each other from headless Grindr profile pics, and I joked about my amazement he got away with that username on the app, and it’s geeky, well, pun.
Since then, I stop by multiple times a week, talk comics and Drag Race and boys with Pun, who’s become like a big comfort bear for me. Not that we ever hooked up in the end, we’re just friends.
“No, I did not fuck them last night,” I tell him, handing over the cash for this weeks stack of comic. “I’m not hooking up right now, anyway.”
“Why not?” I realize then that while I’d told him about the previous night’s unexpected turn, I haven’t yet told him why I was taking myself off the sex market (if not out of the dating pool).
“Just focusing on me for a bit. Like, I want to make sure anyone I’m dating likes me for me and not just because I have incredible oral skills,” I fudge the truth a bit.
“Uh huh,” he says, glaring through me like he can see right through my mild deception. “Whatever, don’t make it last. You know I have to live vicariously through you.”
“Ew,” I laugh, scrunching up my nose. “You could, like, actually ask someone out.”
“Eh, why bother. They’ll either just ride the bounce house for an hour then leave me on read forever, or just block me as soon as they see my waist size,” Pun says, not defeatedly, but sarcastically. But I know there’s an element of pain there. We both have it, about our own bodies in our own ways.
I throw him a lopsided smile before moving on. While we’re close, and we give each other shit, we still don’t get too real with each other. Though sometimes I think we’re close to that. “Anyway, my dance card is full enough lately. I got loads of work with NYCC. Plus, I got to pick up Arran Wilson tonight.”
“Oh? You gonna fuck him too?” Pun raises an eyebrow at me.
“Hey! I’m a professional!” I defend myself. “Anyway, isn’t he, like, forty?”
“So,” Pun cocks his head, in a ‘what’s that got to do with anything’ way, “he’s daddy. You seen the pics he’s been posting on Instagram lately?”
“Since he’s been hitting the gym? Yeah, I have. Glad that works for some people…”
“It’d work for you too if you actually went, twinky,” Pun comes around the counter, shooing me forward. “Anyway, mister too busy to ride some choice dick and tell his good friend Pun all about it, get going. And hey, ask Arran if he wants to do a signing here next Wednesday. It’s short notice, but I have a few copies of his books, and I wouldn’t mind the extra business.”
I wave at him a one fingered salute as I head out the door and up the stone steps onto street level again. Galactic Basement is a literal basement, turned into a comics shop, underneath a popular bagel place. So popular, I can never actually get a bagel here as there’s always a line down the street.
I head to work, and figure I’ll let Arran know about Pun’s offer. Who knows, he might be up for a little signing before NYCC starts, and would look good for him to post on his socials too - now an internationally renowned and popular comic writer that he is etc etc.
Hey Arran. So no need to answer now, I know the time difference is killer and you’re probably packing for New York, but I have a friend who helps run a comic shop in Harlem, and he wondered if you might wanna do a signing there next Wednesday
I mean, I can’t see why not, I guess. Do I need to bring any stock for it? My weight limits are pretty tight
Oh wow, I wasn’t expecting you to answer so fast
Dude, it’s like 3pm here. I’m about to get on my flight. You’re only five hours behind us lol
Oh cool. Well, I’ll let my friend know you might be interested. He said he has stock of your books, and people will bring some for you to sign, so you don’t need to pack anything special
Cool. Well then, yeah, would be cool to do a signing while I’m there
Not long now! I can’t wait to see NYC for the first time
Lol you can just say New York, we know you mean the city
See that’s why I’m lucky to have my own personal guide. Already teaching me so much
Ha, you’re sweet.
My friend also thinks you’re cute, btw
Oh. Ha. Well, I suppose it’s nice someone does
Oh don’t be silly. You’re a handsome guy, I’m sure you got plenty of interest
Um, if that’s okay to say
Lol no worries
I guess the gym selfies have been getting some more likes lately
My friend says you’re daddy
…
And now I feel old again
Well daddy’s have to be, right?
I take back what I said, you’re a terror
Just preparing you for New York. City
I’ve been in the office nailing down an itinerary for Arran and tying it into Excelsior’s New York Comic Con plans, so I can make sure I can get all my work done, and show him around and lock him in for the Pride comic.
It’s tight, but I think I can make it work. Then I get a text from Cal:
You got your own pass to get into NYCC, right? I don’t have any spare and you said you’d have some time to help cover the table
I’d completely forgotten about our Artists Alley table. I’ve not scheduled any time for that, and I don’t know if I can make it work.
I’m in the middle of tearing my hair out when I’m aware of a presence hovering over my desk. I look up to see a rail thin, hawkishly handsome, warm skinned man standing over me. Looking like Dev Patel’s younger brother, but without any of the fashion sense, as he stands there in beige slacks, a white shirt with a knitwear vest over the top. He has a filled in black goatee on his chin, and a fine mustache framing full lips. His wavy ink black hair has been evidently combed into a smart parting, but you can tell his hair is naturally unruly, and a clump has fallen into his eyes.
He continues to hover there, watching me, clutching a clipboard to his chest, before puffing air at his rebellious lock of hair and clearing his throat.
“Mister Abelman?” He asks, in a slightly quiet voice. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”
“Err, no, no. And please, it’s just Jesse. Can I help you?”
“Actually, yes, I’m rather hoping that you can,” he moves around the table, pulling a spare seat over to sit next to me, before pausing and motioning with his hand in a gesture asking permission to join me. It’s incredibly…proper. I of course nod, and he sits down. “My name is Mister Kla—Shahid. I’m from Admin and Human Resources.”
“Oh,” my stomach suddenly twists and my mind races wondering what I did, “I hope I haven’t done anything wrong?”
“No, no, not at all, Mi—Jesse. No, I’m here to clarify some of the details for Mister Wilson’s visit to the offices, and arrange for his pass. Also, I’ve been asked to give you this.”
He hands over a New York Comic Con pass to me, baffling me because I already have one so I can cover the stall. My eyes widen when I look at it closely.
“This is a Professionals pass,” I look to Shahid, “I thought interns only got a booth workers pass? To cover the Excelsior booth.”
“They do,” Shahid nods. “But Mr Wolowitz has said that you’ll need greater access so you can deal with the talent directly, and he’s asked us to give you one of the spare Professional passes we have.” He puts his clipboard down on the desk, before turning his head back to me like he’s just remembered something he was supposed to do. “Congratulations.”
“Oh,” I look back to the new pass, a gift from Hank. My hand absent-mindedly goes back through my hair again, wondering what this means. What it really means, that is.
“Jesse, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you seem stressed,” Shahid is leaning forward, drawing my attention to his eyes. They really are deep, like pools at night.
“Uh, yeah, I guess I am. I’ve just got a lot of work over the next week, I guess.”
Shahid sits up. “I suppose you have. But it doesn’t seem like you to let it get to you like this.”
I give him a quizzical look. “How would you know that?”
He coughs nervously, his hand shooting to his collar before he thinks better of it and rests his hands in his lap and breathes out. “We actually started on the same day. We were in the same intake meeting. But I was an intern for the company’s administration teams, as opposed to editorial. I’ve…seen you around since then. You were very nice to me on that first day.”
I look at him again and try and think back to that day. And then it comes to me. Shahid was the very uptight, and visibly nervous kid furiously writing notes in a little notepad, trying to take every single bit of information down and probably running himself into an early grave on his first day.
I remember the meeting ended and he started flustering, having missed the last part of what was said, so I took him by the hand and looked him in the eye and said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to be perfect on your first day, you know. Just relax and go with the flow.”
“But what if I make a mistake?” he asked.
“Then you make a mistake. It’s your first day. They’ll be expecting that,” I smiled back.
“But I missed what she said just then,” Shahid sunk into himself, admonishing himself internally, I figured.
“She just said we’ll break for lunch now, and then we’ll break off to our departments. You’re all good, man. Probably more prepared than most of us.”
I remember he seemed calmer then, before I got swept away by Anna who had come down to meet her new intern over lunch.
Back in the present, Shahid nods slowly, like he could see the memory playing in my head. A gentle smile plays at the corners of his full lips.
“I remembered that kindness you did for me. I’m sorry I have not had the chance to spend more time with you,” my eyebrow raises at that, and the flustered Shahid resurfaces. “To thank you! Of course! But I guess our paths don’t cross much in our departments.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you again, Shahid. Seems like you got into your stride after all,” I smile. Is he blushing?
“Yes, well. I’ve always been very good at organization, despite what I looked like on my first day. I proved my worth in the end and got fully onboarded to the admin team earlier this year, actually,” I smile in congratulations for him, and he quietly nods back an acceptance. “Perhaps...perhaps I can help you with whatever is stressing you out now?”
I fling my hands up dramatically and push back from the desk so Shahid can get a closer look at my planner. “Sure, why not. Basically, I’m supposed to also be spending some time helping my friend out on his table at Artists Alley, but between helping out with Arran Wilson, and my booth responsibilities, I don’t know how I’m going to make it work.”
Shahid wheels his chair closer to the screen, which actually puts him just inches from my chest, my legs having to spread around his chair as he nestles in between me and the screen. “Let me look at this. I love a good puzzle.”
I’m aware of my breath all of a sudden, and wondering if he can feel it on his neck as he works away at my schedule.
We go back and forth discussing some of my entries, and measure up my responsibilities, what is vital and what can be passed along to a colleague.
“You just need to remember, Jesse, that you are not alone at the convention. There’s other interns and colleagues happy to help out, even helping Mr Wilson if you need to take a break for some personal time.”
“I know,” I sink into my chair, sheepishly rubbing my neck, “I just worry if I don’t show how much I bring to the table, I might lose this opportunity, you know?”
Shahid looks me over, knowingly. After all, I guess this is how he felt on that first day, and now here I am, feeling the same way and not even taking my own advice from that day. I must sound like a total idiot.
“Would you like to join me for lunch, Jesse?”
I look up and meet his eyes again, surprised at the sudden question.
“Um, sure. I guess I could eat. Maybe I won’t feel so stressed.”
“Excellent,” Shahid says, rising to his feet and holding out his hand to help me out of my seat. “It’s a date.”