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“Honestly, for me,” I started, “it’s about reading. It’s about absorbing as much source material as I can. Regardless of the project, I always speak with the director. I want to know what inspired them, where their ideas came from, and I go down that rabbit hole until I feel comfortable enough. I think at this point, I’ve read every Koil comic and as many of the other Velram ones that I could get my hands on.”
That was the fun part about the job. Reading comic books to prepare for a role where I played a superhero; it was honestly a dream come true.
The panel continued with more questions, stories, opinions, and behind the scenes information.
There was always a question-and-answer portion at the end and small lines were being formed down the aisles where microphones had been placed.
The Q&A portion was always a crapshoot as well; we were either met with marriage proposals or unique and legitimate questions that actually pertained to our career or characters.
The first several were benign enough, with each of us being asked something in regards to what our favorite scene was, but spoiler alerts prevented us from sharing. One girl asked if our character’s storyline had forked and gone in a different direction, would they still be the villain or the hero? Another wanted to share her fanart and had it passed up to the stage where we all signed it and another asked what was in store for us next.
It wasn’t until the last group stepped up to the mic that the fine hairs at the back of my neck stood erect.
It was the same group of girls that had badmouthed Lucy a few hours ago.
“Hi! This question is for Jake.” I recognized her as Peyton 1. “Ok, first off, we love you and our photo turned out great!”
“Glad to hear it,” I commented with what I hoped was a genial nature.
“Yeah, so anyway,” she hastened to say, fumbling the microphone, causing a bit of feedback noise, “what we’re all curious about is if you are dating that photographer from the photo ops.”
The room fell silent and I felt the weight of Mjolnir pressing against my chest, constricting my breathing. Just then, another round of alerts came from my phone.
Peyton 2 and 3 were muffled behind her, but their voices carried over the microphone. “Weknewit,” they hissed.
I reigned in my mounting annoyance and answered. “I’ll neither confirm or deny that at this time. In this line of work, privacy can be hard to come by, so I appreciate in advance your consideration on that matter. Thanks ladies…”
The emcee, feeling the seismic negative vibes rippling off me, concluded the panel by thanking the audience.
We all stood and waved, then headed backstage. I was the first one off stage, tearing at my mic, eager to get it off. It was one step closer to retreating back to any semblance of normalcy.
“Oh shit,” Liam murmured. “Dude, Jake. You’re trending on Twitter. You and Lucy I mean.” He was glued to his phone, it most likely alerting him like mine had throughout the panel.
Pulling out my phone, I was met with way too many notifications. I loathed seeing the red alert with the number in it, so I swiped the app open to at least clear it. It would be the last time; I’d delete the app after this.
There, in the home timeline was a picture of Lucy and I in the photo ops, albeit a tad blurry. My back was sideways to whomever snapped the image, but it was unmistakable that it was me. The angle made it look like we were centimeters apart, but I recognized it from when she leaned in and joked if she could hang off my bicep later. It was accompanied with the hashtag #WhoIsShe.
The inevitable was now reality. It just happened a little sooner than I imagined.
Chapter 19
Jake
Chicago
During the lastfifteen minutes of the panel, Meryl had concocted a plan. Damage control was her specialty and in times like these, she shone brighter than a star in the night sky.
“Do you think she’ll back out?” Meryl was pacing in front of the balcony doors in my room, tapping, swiping and scrolling on her phone.
“No; we’ve already had a discussion about this very possibility,” I replied. Though, talking about a hypothetical situation and living it were two very different things.
“And you think she can handle the pressure?”
“Meryl, what are you implying? Lucy isn’t a meek, withering flower. She’s…sprightly.” And kind. And beautiful, interesting, and vulnerable.
“I hope you mean she’s more like a duck and lets the water roll off her back and not an impish fairy.” Meryl paused long enough to glare at me.
“Get it out now; I’d rather you be curt with me and not her.” Lucy was expected any minute; I had sent her a quick text and asked her to meet me in my room.
