Chapter 9 Albuquerque Comic Expo
Albuquerque Comic Expo
The booth for Into the Blue was in the remotest crevasse of the Albuquerque Convention Center, so far from a natural light source it was oddly reminiscent of the crale set itself.
Apparently, in the hierarchy of the autograph section, “Into the Blue: Assorted Crew” ranked below a lesser-known Ferengi DaiMon, the star of a nineties monster-of-the-week drama, and a child actor who was now so unrecognizable he had to wear a T-shirt depicting his nine-year-old self.
Dave, Toni, and Xiaobo were already seated at a long table bedecked in a metallic-blue foil cloth, autographing photographs for a small queue. They were all mid-signing as AJ approached, but Dave and Xiaobo winked at her; Toni did not look up from her conversation.
AJ and Toni had carefully steered around each other for about a year after AJ’s humiliating exhibition at Capri Social Club; then Toni had moved to L.A.
, and AJ hadn’t seen her since. According to Dave and IMDB, Toni and Xiaobo had walked on and off various network shows for the past few seasons.
Neither had yet done anything as significant as Into the Blue.
“Age, you made it!” called Dave. He had offered to meet up with her beforehand, but she hadn’t wanted to intrude on his weekend with Toni and Xiaobo. Judging from Toni’s glacial vibe, AJ had chosen wisely.
“Look, everyone,” Dave exclaimed louder. “It’s Ana Tar!”
AJ waved to the handful of fans, most of whom seemed confused by her, which was fine. AJ didn’t need to be recognized for Ana. Or for “No.”
What she needed was ten thousand dollars, which was technically the floor of what she would earn today, her appearance fee. She would also get a cut of whatever autographs she signed. So, in AJ’s estimation, she was hopefully looking at fifteen thousand dollars for Patrick and his family.
“You can throw your backpack over here,” said Dave, showing AJ a small nook behind life-size cardboard cutouts of Navi, Captain Quentin, and Rho.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Great,” said Dave, and AJ instantly knew that Toni had been shit talking her.
She didn’t have to wait long to confirm her suspicion. When AJ approached the booth, Xiaobo stood to give her a hug, but Toni held her seat.
She gave an artificially apologetic shrug. “Yikes. I don’t think we can all fit.”
AJ gave an equally artificial shrug in return. “Weird.”
Dave glanced outside the booth. “Harumph. I told our row staff that we were expecting you, Age. We’ll remind him when he loops back. In the meantime, why don’t you share with me?”
Toni sniffed at this suggestion. While not in costume, she was in full glam and sporting what Zora would have worn if she had existed in 2012: a blue leather jacket over a black bodysuit.
AJ considered her own T-shirt, jeans, and messy bun; she definitely had missed the memo.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll just stand until the staffer comes back.”
Xiaobo and Dave exchanged looks. “Are you sure?” said Xiaobo.
“Absolutely,” said AJ.
Dave produced a box of headshots AJ didn’t even remember taking: a breathless image of her twenty-four-year-old self in Ana’s white robes. Molly Magnusson of WME must have sent them.
“I guess you can just hold a couple and get more when you need?” said Dave.
“Sounds good,” said AJ, situating herself a few feet from the table.
Toni winced. “You’re kind of blocking us.”
“Oh, sorry,” said AJ, taking a big step back.
For the next hour and a half, she lurked a short distance from the others, clutching three of her own headshots against her chest like flyers for the most unpopular club in high school.
Most of the fans who came by were enthused to see the captain, Zora, and Pete, and puzzled by the strange woman skulking behind them.
But this wasn’t high school, and AJ wasn’t here to fix her relationship with Toni or anyone else from the show. This was about ten thousand dollars minimum.
At least Noah wasn’t here to see this. They hadn’t spoken since their April run-in, which AJ took to mean he had reconsidered. She did not blame him. Frankly, she was just grateful that SNL hadn’t been their last goodbye.
AJ’s right foot had just fallen asleep for a second time when a preteen girl dressed as Navi appeared at the booth.
Her cosplay was so precise it made AJ smile, a perfect replica down to the blue body armor, face paint, and candy-apple-red miniskirt.
When the girl finished at the table, she glanced nervously at AJ.
“Excuse me,” she said, approaching. “Aren’t you Ana Tar?”
AJ nodded. “I love your outfit.”
“I l-love you,” stammered the girl. “I usually come as Ana, but I’ve been working on this Navi costume for two months…
oh my God, in ‘Horses’…my parents have shared custody, and they were doing this thing last year where they had me and my brother on different nights, and watching you stand up for Rho helped me talk to them. They’re not doing that anymore.”
“That’s great,” said AJ, stunned by this intimate deluge from a stranger.
“Do you have a picture?” asked the girl.
“Yes,” said AJ. She glanced down at the photos she’d inadvertently molded to her chest. “Er, let me get you a new one.”
As AJ dug in the box, she asked the girl her name.
“M-E-A-G-A-N.”
“All right, Meagan,” said AJ. She looked down at the image of her own face and uncapped a Sharpie. She deliberated, then wrote To Meagan, from AJ Graves.
“Thanks,” said Meagan, taking the photo and looking up at AJ brightly.
“Thank you,” said AJ. “You’re my first autograph.”
“Wow, really?” Meagan handed back the photo. “Could you write that on here?”
As AJ added the words my first autograph awkwardly above her name, she felt rather than heard Meagan’s earsplitting squeal of astonishment.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh. My. God,” she said. “You’re Rho!”
Noah had arrived at the booth.
He wore a black Henley and jeans and looked every bit the star he was. He was flanked by an attractive, no-nonsense woman in her mid-thirties—probably his publicist.
Their absentee row staffer had also appeared. He was beet red, sweating profusely in his Comic Expo tee, and visibly awestruck by Noah. Noah glanced at the table, where Dave, Toni, and Xiaobo sat equally agog, then to Meagan, then AJ.
AJ held his gaze. He’d actually come. Heart pounding, she broke into a disbelieving smile. Noah’s eyes lit.
“Wow, Ana and Rho,” Meagan said, looking between them. “Did you two, like, plan this?”
AJ and Noah answered at once.
“No,” said AJ.
“Yes,” said Noah.
Meagan stomped her feet in excitement. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I have to tell Oona and Otto—they’re going to flip.”
With that, she sprinted away from the booth, body armor clanging joyously.
“Hey!” AJ called after her. “You forgot your—” She looked down at the photo in her hands and sighed. Noah reached for it, and AJ quickly pulled it away. He grinned at her.
“We’ll need another table, of course,” his publicist was saying to the staffer.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Drew,” sputtered the staffer. “I-I don’t know if we have any more—if only we’d known you were coming…”
“We can make room here,” said Toni.
Noah took the measure of the situation in a blink. “Nice of you to offer,” he said coldly.
Then he put his hand on AJ’s shoulder and turned his back to them. AJ enjoyed this way too much—both the look she imagined on Toni’s face and the very real feel of Noah’s touch through her shirt. AJ had to fight the urge to rub up against him. Stupid big hands. Stupid delicious smell.
“I’m sure you can find something,” Noah said to the staffer. “We’re not picky.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Drew,” stammered the staffer. “Right away, Mr. Drew.”
He backed out of the booth, head bobbing.
“Did he just…bow to you?” said AJ.
Noah laughed, taking his hand from her shoulder and running it over his face. His publicist stepped forward and showed Noah her phone.
“Now, I’m not suggesting you start doing social media, but if you were to consider it, this would make a hell of a kickoff post.”
It was a photo of the moment AJ had seen Noah arrive; the juxtaposition of the way Noah towered above her and the tenderness in his eyes was compelling. AJ’s cheeks warmed as she took in her own face, so obviously affected by him. She might have been any lovestruck fan.
“Well, it’s good you’re not suggesting I do social media,” said Noah firmly. “AJ, this is Risa, my publicist.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Risa, her eyes sweeping over AJ, lingering on her flyaway hair and glasses. Then her expression changed. She grabbed AJ’s left hand.
“Oh my God, that’s gorgeous,” she said effusively.
“Thanks,” said AJ, her cheeks scalding.
“When’s the big day?” she asked. Now they were best friends.
“We haven’t set a date yet,” said AJ, taking her hand back.
With AJ doing the cons and Brian crisscrossing the country for baseball all summer, they had tabled the conversation until the fall.
She glanced at Noah, who was watching this exchange with detached interest. As far as AJ knew, he was still seeing Allison Seabring.
The staffer reappeared with two folding chairs.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Drew,” he said, dusting off the seats. “I still have feelers out about a table.” He made a squeezing motion with his fingers.
“Great,” said Noah.
They situated themselves a little way from the others. Toni did not renew her complaint about being blocked.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” said Noah, nodding toward AJ’s headshots.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Drew. I don’t know if we have any more…”
Noah smirked. “I’m going to see it eventually.”
AJ felt a tremor of warmth—a fresh green shoot in the scorched ley line of their bond. Noah didn’t seem to think Comic Expo was beneath him at all. In fact, he was in a very good mood, as if there were no place he would rather be than sitting beside AJ on a folding chair.
AJ grimaced and handed him the photo she’d signed for Meagan.