Chapter 11 San Diego Comic-Con
San Diego Comic-Con
Inspired by AJ’s fundraising quest, Mike had arranged to join her for Comic-Con. Frankly, the rates he could command as a Dungeon Master put AJ’s appearance fees to shame.
They flew out together on Thursday afternoon. Later that night, he sat AJ down for “the talk.”
“Age, the people who go to the panels at Comic-Con stay all day,” he warned her. “I’m sure there will be some Blue Coats, but…I wouldn’t expect, you know, a lot.”
Clearly, Mike wasn’t familiar with the likes of Oona and Otto. AJ awakened the next morning to a photo collage on the Blue Coats site of fans camping out to get seats.
Indeed, AJ arrived in the greenroom to find a tan, svelte Em Tyner regaling the rest of the cast with tales of his visit to that very fan line the previous evening.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Em said, shaking his head. “Not even for Haunted High.”
In the far corner of the room, Noah whispered in AJ’s ear, “A real man of the people.”
AJ soaked in his scent, keeping her eyes on Em. “You’re one to talk, Byron.”
Noah made a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat. Standing beside him now, it was impossible not to relive the way he’d held her backstage in Miami. But on the whole, AJ had taken the most recent Noah hangover in stride. She’d barely thought of him over the past month.
Unless you counted repeatedly watching the trailer for his newest release.
AJ had first encountered it while taking Emily to see Ted. She’d been searching her bag for their contraband Sour Patch Kids when Noah’s voice murmured over the speakers in a British accent.
“She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies.”
AJ sat bolt upright. No wonder he’d looked so entertained when she’d floated a Lord Byron biopic; he was already doing one.
It was painful how good he looked onscreen. In The Contract he’d been emaciated, but this film had made a meal of his body. As AJ watched the trailer, she felt like she was submerging in ice.
Byron flashed across the screen, followed by Noah’s name and the names of a dozen other A-list actors…including Allison Seabring.
By AJ’s calculations, Allison was due for Noah’s three-month relationship cutoff, but a quick google revealed they were still an item.
Knowing they were working together hurt almost as badly as knowing they were sleeping together.
AJ’s only defense had been an aggressive offensive: that night, she’d all but tackled Brian.
Had that stopped AJ from occasionally rewatching the Byron trailer and judiciously checking the Blue Coats fan forums? It had not.
Blue Coats Society: Arho\\Summer Cons\\2012
BadRhomance33: That Byron trailer makes me so excited for the reboot.
MadameRho: Noah Drew is
CurvyArho122: It’s never as good as it is with AJ.
BadRhomance33: It’s true #Arho are #fatedmates.
Right now, though, Noah was the least of AJ’s concerns.
Em Tyner was approaching them, his eyes trained on Noah. AJ realized too late he hadn’t seen her—she veered out of his path just as he was about to step on her foot.
He blinked at her, surprised. “Age—sorry. Didn’t see you there. You’re looking well.”
“Em, hi,” said AJ, her voice shooting up an octave.
Em had already refocused on Noah. “Tough break last year on The Contract,” he said, unable to keep the smugness from his voice. “I’m sure you’ll get another shot with Byron.”
“Thanks,” said Noah, casually shifting his weight so that his left shoulder was now directly behind AJ’s back. “What’s next for you?”
“Oh, me? You know, this and that,” said Em with false modesty. “E—get over here, will you?”
Ian was currently employing a defense AJ knew well: chatting with Dave to shield oneself from Toni’s death glares.
He looked unchanged, despite his recent move to L.A.
—California had done nothing to diminish his trademark pastiness.
As he shuffled over, AJ felt a strange mix of nostalgia and contempt.
Ian’s fawning over Em had eventually paid off; according to LinkedIn, he now worked for him full-time. AJ wondered if it had been worth it.
“Age,” Ian said with a small smile. “You look well.” He even spoke like Em now.
“Hey, E,” said AJ.
“I was just about to tell Noah about the Hydraulics franchise,” Em prompted him.
Ian looked a little startled. “Oh sure, right on.”
Then, the two of them began to pitch Noah as if AJ weren’t there.
“It’s just a cameo in the first one, but he’ll have a much bigger part in the second,” said Em, his back now fully to AJ.
Noah was visibly uncomfortable. “I don’t know the property. Age, do you?”
As AJ responded, she watched Ian and Em tune her out, already thinking of their next remarks.
AJ couldn’t believe how rude they were being. She was a staff writer for SNL for fuck’s sake.
But as they resumed speaking over her head, it began to sink in. Her accomplishments didn’t matter. To Em, she would always be a depthless twenty-four-year-old girl. A pawn.
And to Ian, she was just a show pony. He’d been willing to champion her so long as she made him look good. But the second she stopped jumping through hoops, he’d cut her loose.
By the time a staff member came to line them up, AJ felt about as valuable as a pressed penny.
“I’m sorry about that,” said Noah quietly as they stood together offstage.
“Don’t be,” said AJ. She forced a smile when she saw the concern in his eyes. “I’m just sad I didn’t get to pitch you my diabolical Hess Truck movie.”
As Noah laughed, the room beyond erupted in welcome.
Ballroom 20 at the San Diego Convention Center was ten times the size of their venue at Florida Supercon. And Mike had been wrong. This place was packed with Blue Coat blue.
From the stage, AJ spotted Otto’s bald head a few rows back and assumed that Oona was wedged in beside him. Today, their sign read You Have No Idea What’s Possible. Two rows behind them, Mike gave AJ a double thumbs-up.
She waved as she took her seat beside Noah at a long table dotted with mics.
Their moderator today was Vice journalist Geoff Chandler, a tall hipster who was deeply in Em’s thrall. His long introduction lauded not only Into The Blue but the whole Tyner-verse. From there, his questions were a vehicle for his own pretentious, worshipful commentary.
“For those of us who know your full oeuvre, Em, Rho falls somewhere between the loveable-but-sophomoric Baron on Haunted High and James Dean–esque Dante in Ninth Circle on the antihero scale—how intentional was that?”
His questions about the female characters were misogyny masquerading as cultural critique.
To Toni: “Zora and Navi were the original space dykes—it’s all good, guys, my sister’s gay. Level with me—was there a real attraction or were you two just doing it for the attention?”
To Dave: “You can’t tell me there was nothing going on with Pete and Navi. I mean, he’s basically her gynecologist. He must have looked under that body armor during routine maintenance…or is Pete not an advocate for women’s health?”
Then Geoff turned to AJ. “So. You write for SNL.”
No name. No apparent question attached. Just a fact he felt she should explain to him.
“Yes,” said AJ, her voice unnaturally high. Beside her, Noah tensed.
Geoff was eyeing her now, sizing up his prey. AJ didn’t need to look at Toni to know she was cringing; being a woman in comedy had a way of triggering fragile male egos.
AJ’s heart was racing when Geoff finally said, “I wanted to ask you about ‘No.’ ”
The sound in the room rocketed to a fever pitch. Blood rushed to AJ’s cheeks, her mind suddenly gluey. Holy shit. He didn’t think she deserved her job, and to show it, he was going to put her on trial for “No” in front of five thousand people. Including her little brother.
Geoff Chandler could scent her fear. His eyes glinted as he said, “It’s such a strange moment.”
So many eyes. AJ cleared her throat, attempting to shrug it off. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Another whoop from the crowd.
“What was going through your head?” asked Geoff with fake interest. “Forgive me for saying this, but it’s so out of left field—the show is so cerebral, and that shot is just so…base.”
AJ blinked.
She had heard him word for word, but all she could think was, You do paint quite a picture.
And she was tired. She was tired of feeling judged. She was tired of judging herself.
Noah was sitting forward now. He was going to tell Geoff Chandler to fuck off.
To AJ’s surprise, Ian also looked like he was about to interject.
And that’s when she realized: she no longer needed a champion.
AJ’s heels dug into the stage as she said, “Geoff, can art not be cerebral and hot?”
A frisson traveled down the table. AJ looked up to see Toni giving her a small nod.
Geoff Chandler sniffed. “There is a line between sexy and sexual. Art is on one side. Sensationalism is on the other,” he drawled. “That clip went viral for a reason. Ana is an archetypal virgin—‘No’ completely taints the character.”
AJ chewed her lip. “No” sure had tainted Ana for AJ. She hadn’t been able to take an ounce of pride in the character because of it.
Which was a real shame.
“I don’t think Ana can be reduced to a single moment,” said AJ evenly. “I mean, I assume that clip was included to empower women, not objectify them. Right?”
She stared down the table, and Ian and Em both jumped.
“Yes. Right,” said Ian quickly.
“I love girl power,” said Em. “It’s in all my shows.”
AJ leaned forward, speaking to the audience directly. “Any of you have a problem with ‘No’?”
Giggles rang around the auditorium. It took AJ a moment to realize that it was because Noah had placed his arm on the back of her chair.
AJ laughed softly. “Oh, right, you guys just want me to mount him.”
A deafening silence fell.
Then came the biggest laugh of AJ’s life. The room detonated like a frenzied, shrieking warhead.
Nothing is funnier than the truth, Ezell had written in Laughter & Death.