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“This is Will,” Patrick told them, his voice clearer and steadier than any line reading of his career. “He’s my date. Actually…he’s my boyfriend.” This invited more clattering and a constellation of camera flashes. More questions, too. How long have you two been involved? Are you coming out right now? Are you a member of the LGBT community? Are things getting serious between you?
Is this love?
Patrick turned to look at Will again—his prince, his queen, his favorite person in this or any universe—and simply said: “I’m his biggest fan.”
Acknowledgments
I spent well over a year working on my Difficult Second Novel™, convinced that I had some very serious and important thoughts to share about queerness, identity, and the state of the world. Thank god, then, for the people who reminded me that a rom-com is supposed to be fun.
Love and thanks, first and foremost, to my dear friend Sam Sedgman, who helped me figure out countless thorny plot and character details over margaritas while on a “research” trip to LA, and who pretty much has shared custody of Will and Patrick at this point. Look at our boys, Sammy!
A lot of the drag queens in We Could Be Heroes are products of my own imagination, but some names are borrowed, like Julie Madly Deeply and Alesha Tryed. A great big kiss to them and all the bastard queens of Birmingham.
While April and her dream job at FanFam were fabricated, her story was inspired by so many amazing Black, Latinx, and queer creators I’ve had the pleasure of following in the fandom space, not least of all DJ BenHaMeen, Tatiana King Jones, and Ian Carlos Crawford, who I am now lucky to count as a close friend.
We Could Be Heroes has benefited from an Avengers-style team-up of real-life champions in publishing on either side of the Atlantic, including Daisy Watt at HarperNorth, Kate Dresser at Putnam, Florence Rees at A. M. Heath, Maria Whelan at InkWell, and Emma Obank at Casarotto.
This story wouldn’t exist were it not for the inspiration of one of my favorite novels of all time, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then consider We Could Be Heroes my own humble attempt at cosplay.
It goes without saying at this point, but I’ll say it anyway: thank you to my family, biological and otherwise, for all that you do. I also happened to fall in love while working on this book, and can’t pretend some small part of the final product isn’t art imitating life. Kieron, thank you for being you.
And because no superhero movie is complete without a
post-credits scene…
Epilogue
One Year Later
“Could somebody zip me up, please?” Will called from his seat at the High Table.
“I’ve got you,” said Faye from his left. To his right sat one of the new girls: a quiet, skittish thing called, ironically, Wanda Talk. She’d painted so dreadfully her first night here that Will had exhorted “Absolutely not” in a tone that was not unlike Margo’s, and steered her away from overhead lighting and onto the stool next to him so he could help her fix her face. Now Wanda followed him around like a baby bird that had imprinted on its mother, and Will pretended to be annoyed whenever she asked his advice.
Behind them, facing the back wall that had finally been fitted with vanities, Julie Madly Deeply, Raina Shine, and Sadie Chatterley lovingly took in their own images like budgies. The Village had been given a temporary stay of execution, but as long as at least three witches sat before the mirrors in the shoddy dressing room, Will felt it would not fall.
Maiden, mother, crone. It was the way of things. Not that he particularly liked the idea of being anyone’s mother. It made him feel old, and he could not remember any valuable lessons his own might have taught him. A big sister, perhaps. Everybody should have one of those.
There came a tap from the doorway, but Will was too engaged in attaching a particularly recalcitrant eyelash to pay much attention until Faye cleared her throat.
“You’ve an admirer at the stage door, my duck.”
Will looked past his own reflection, and there, over his shoulder, standing on the threshold holding a single red rose, was Patrick.
Wanda gasped silently, but the other queens paid no mind. Patrick had become a frequent visitor over the last twelve months, and while his first appearance still lived on in internet infamy, the queens were no longer impressed. They were the headliners here, after all. What was one more star in such a bright sky?
“You’re here!” Will rose from his seat and embraced him. “You’re early. I thought you weren’t getting here until tomorrow?”
Patrick laid a gentle kiss against his ear, where it would least disturb his makeup.
“I wanted to surprise you,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you perform. It’s not the same watching the videos.”
“You are the sweetest man in the world.” Will took the rose and tickled Patrick’s chin with it. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. A lot. I can’t wait to be full of Grace later.” Patrick’s grin was impish.
“I am taped in too many places to be having this conversation,” Will scolded. “And as a matter of fact, I will have you know I am a very pious woman.”
“That’s not what I’ve read on the bathroom wall,” quipped Wanda, seemingly surprising even herself with this gibe. Faye cackled.
