Chapter 20
For years, all Cade wanted was to be a regular guest around the convention circuit. He begged Kevin to get him into the big ones—SDCC, WonderCon, NYCC—and there’d been no luck. I feel an alarming sense of pride in the fact that I have been asked to attend a convention before he has.
Of course, Cade would not be caught dead at CON-Spiracy—and several months ago, neither would I, but I’m on a panel .
Take that, asshole.
“I’m typically not one of the more normal-looking people in a room.”
Blue hair makes me stand out everywhere I go and makes little children think I’m cool and adults think I am a witch. While Hayden has opted for his usual casual uniform of jeans, an offbeat T-shirt (today it’s a Majestic 12 T-shirt), and a flannel shrugged over his shoulders, I’ve tried to look as serious as I can. Jeans and a gray turtleneck with a black blazer on top. I look like a contemporary Dana Scully, which explains why Hayden hasn’t been able to stop eyeing me.
But compared to the attendees of CON-Spiracy, I look like I should be taking calls for a very important lawyer or something. It’s a convention in LA, exclusively dedicated to the strange and unexplained. It’s not a place I ever expected to be, but I fit in alarmingly well.
“You know,” Nora chirps, fixing a stray hair coming from my bun, “me either!”
“Everyone misses you because you’re too tiny,” Jamie says, propping his elbow on her head. Her face and entire body scrunch in annoyance. She wiggles out from underneath his grip and clutches her notebook.
“ You don’t,” she replies.
“I must have taste.”
“You go to Fathom Events at the movie theaters.”
Hayden steps into our meeting room at the LA Convention Center, four badges in hand.
The small plastic badge is shaped like an alien head, but in place of big beady eyes, there’s a sticker at the center:
HALLIE BARRETT
TALENT
THE OUT THERE
Giddy energy courses through me. I guess I never expected to be known for the things I did, not publicly. My name was on Skroll videos for years, and I appeared in some of Cade’s videos here and there, but it did little more than garner me a small bundle of Twitter and Instagram followers. I was “The Girlfriend.” I just happened to be there.
Since The Out There ’s premiered, my following has expanded tenfold. I feel more pressured to post because people care what I have to say. They want pictures of the two of us goofing off and our B-roll. For some reason, they want to know what hair dye I use.
People ask my opinion, and when I give it, it’s valued.
This is all new and unfamiliar, and if it brings me to a conspiracy theory–themed convention, so be it.
I do wonder if I’m going to be a pariah here with my sheeple aura. Will they know right away I am the resident skeptic? Granted, I’m less concerned while reading the program than I would have been months ago.
Worms from Space: A Dive Underground
Portals another random man asks him for an autograph. A third random man intercepts us entirely. I’m lost but listen intently anyway. There’s something about monoliths in Antarctica and ley lines. Hayden answers politically, saying he can’t offer comments on the matter right now.
We make our way to our exhibit hall, a small room with a hundred or so chairs rowed up against an elevated stage with a long panel table. Attendees filter into the room, and other panelists claim their seats behind the placards. Hayden casually chats with the individuals he knows, introducing me as his “partner.” I like this better than “co-host.” We are partners. What we do is ours .
We find our seats and I snap photos of our nameplates because this is fucking cool, and a sudden rush of anxiety sweeps over me. I’m about to face an entire gaggle of conspiracy theorists with my skepticism and I don’t know how that’ll be received. I wonder if they’ll throw tomatoes. I’m afraid of the kinds of questions we’ll be asked.
When we’re blocked mostly by the table, Hayden gives the small of my back a rub, sensing my nervousness. Meanwhile, he’s in his element.
The topic is “The Unexplained in the Digital Media Age,” which I feel confident I can talk about from a technical standpoint. My producer background might come in handy here. I know how to market a lot of things. I even know how to market cryptids and monsters.
The moderator runs down the panel, listing renowned ufologists and demonologists who’ve gone viral or hit it big with their shows on streaming sites. Hayden covertly informs me how the moderator, Nina, got famous reacting to scary videos on YouTube. As she reaches Hayden and me, she notes quickly that Mark Larkin couldn’t make it and sends his apologies.
“No, he doesn’t,” Hayden whispers away from the mic.
There’s a smattering of applause before Nina begins leading the panel. Her first question centers on how the panelists choose to use more contemporary mediums to display their work. Hayden offers a curt response about how it allowed him to do what he loved but be close to family. We volley through questions about work histories, most intriguing finds. Finally, Nina refers to Hayden’s earlier statement and directs the next question to him.
“Now, Hayden, I am glad you brought up what you did earlier. Obviously, we’re at a point in time where everyone has a smartphone, everyone’s heard of YouTube, all in the palm of their hand. How would you say the digital age has made hunting for the otherworldly more accessible?”
He leans forward, clearing his throat. “Well, the most important part is that anyone can do it now. I think about people’s viral videos and their experiences that they’ve documented, and these are normal people. You don’t need fancy ghost-hunting equipment or anything to share what you’ve lived through. I think it highlights how odd the world is and how often people encounter these types of things.”
Nina laughs. “Now, considering what you’ve said, I want to hear from Hallie—he says the world is odd. Meanwhile, you are a known skeptic. I’ve been having such a fun time with The Out There these past few weeks, so congrats on the quick success. But you are dismissive of a lot of the things Hayden wants to talk about.”
I lean forward on the mic. “Well, isn’t that evidence enough that anyone can get involved in this?”
A small series of giggles. “I suppose so. How did you get involved in the first place?”
“Well, I’ve been with Skroll for several years now, and a lot of what I did was produce other series and other things behind the camera. When I was looking for a prospective show, I stumbled upon Hayden on Cosmic Conspiracies .”
“Great episode,” one of the other panelists says.
“Hayden here was talking about how Bigfoot might have been an alien and, granted, it was super late at night, and I might have been inebriated, but it was the most captivating thing in the world—”
“But you don’t believe in it,” Nina argues.
“Sure, but orcs and elves and stuff aren’t real either and we watch twelve hours of Lord of the Rings without question. And whether you believe in it or not, it is interesting. Plus, Hayden is a spectacular writer. He made someone like me want to work with him right away.”
“So maybe it’s genetic?” Nina proposes.
Hayden shifts in his seat and bites on his lip as she says this. He’s had people ask him to sign his dad’s books here, which he kindly refuses, understandably so. Instead of opening up about his dad, he leans into the mic. “It’s either genetic, or all the X-Files fan fiction I wrote in high school.”
“I knew it!” I shout, garnering laughs. Then I pivot back to the actual conversation. “I wasn’t initially supposed to be on the show with him, but—”
“Everything’s better with her involved,” Hayden interrupts. “ The Out There would only be half of what it is without her co-hosting. She brings a charm and perspective to the show that it never had before.”
I bite my lip and his hand rests along the inside of my thigh. I know the look I give him is telling, but I can’t help it. I spent months questioning if anything I did was worth it, if anyone wanted to hear what I had to say. I did stand out, and I did matter. I made things better .
“No one can antagonize me like Hallie can,” Hayden continues. “And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s good to have someone challenge me, otherwise it’s just me talking in circles. It tests the rigor of my theories, too. As much as I tried to be well-rounded, nothing humbles you like someone telling you you’ve lost your mind in front of God knows how many viewers.”
“And how does that translate off-screen?” Nina asks.
We’re silent for a moment. How does that translate off-screen? Taking each other’s clothes off, banging while we’re supposed to be Bigfoot hunting, me only getting bits and pieces of The X-Files between kisses.
“I don’t take the arguments we have personally,” Hayden asserts.
“And I don’t hold the weird parts against him,” I finish. Clean save. “Where we butt heads is where the magic happens. Regardless of what weird shit Hayden says, I respect his right to say that weird shit. He’s also great in that he doesn’t let the harmful conspiracy theories have much attention. If he does, he’s going to point out why they hurt people. I can respect that. And he does make you think…sometimes I don’t know what he makes me think about, but I am thinking.”
“As someone who listened to the podcast beforehand,” Amara, one of the other panelists, adds, “I think it’s made the show more personable. And the way Hallie pushes your buttons is hilarious. Honestly, she has some good points.”
“Uh, but I do too,” Hayden scoffs as I cheer, “Thank you!”
We wind down the panel. Most of the Q I am full of ideas and excitement, and I thought that part of me had died out.
What’s happening now isn’t a short fling between us that’ll fizzle out if we get canceled. For the first time in so long, I believe there’s a chance I could love again. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to say it, but the itching, tugging feeling in my chest tells me it’s not as far away as I think.
“The more attention on us, the more they have to use against us.”
Hayden rounds the counter and takes the barstool beside me, tugging it closer to my chair. “What do you mean? Are we not allowed to date? Is that a Skroll rule? I thought we just couldn’t get arrested.”
“No, there’s no rules about that. Everyone knew I was dating Cade, but now that I’m with you, that’s two in a row. That might look…”
“I get it.” His fingers trace up and down my arm. “I’m not ashamed of anything we’ve done together, or anything we’ve built. The two of us are a team. Whatever someone throws at either of us, Hal, they’re going to throw at both of us.”
I know he’s formulating scenarios in his head. Since I’m a woman in the media, the guillotine will always come down much harder on me. There’ll always be someone commenting on how I dress, what I weigh, if my voice is annoying or not, and I’ve learned to live with that. Fuck, I learned to live with someone doing it in my own home. But I don’t have to anymore.
“If anyone tries to say anything that hurts you, I hope you know I’d be the first person to fight back,” Hayden promises.
“I know.”
Hayden brushes my hair out of my face. “There isn’t anything we can do now that the cat’s out of the bag—”
Somewhere, deep in the apartment, Cthulhu mewls, and we both laugh.
“He’s mad we’re eating and he isn’t.”
“Feed your child, Hayden.”
“He has kibble.”
“He needs wet food,” I say, leaning in. Hayden toys with the bottom of my sleeve, parting his lips as he meets me in the middle.
“He has kibble . Let a man eat his noodles first.”
He finishes with a kiss before cracking open a can of cat food that has Cthulhu bolting faster than a shambling cat should. He leaps onto the counter, ignoring me, but mewling eagerly as Hayden feeds him. He flops happily on the counter. Hayden gives him a soft belly rub and a kiss on the head.
For the moment, I forget about our furiously happy fans and the people who might use our relationship against us. All I can think about is the rest of tonight: eating takeout, drinking beer, and curling up with Hayden as we work our way through The X-Files together.