That it might do. “A dollar. How do the other tenants in the mall feel?”
The movie theater was a block away and he was finally getting some answers.
“I don’t know that they’d really care as long as it was run the same. I wasn’t planning on kicking them out so I could sell it. I just wanted to keep Arcadia open.”
He parked but made no move to get out. “An old man sells a young woman prime realty for a dollar and you don’t think they’d mind?”
It’d taken a lot of effort to keep the scorn out of his voice.
She frowned at him. “It’s not like Sam and I were anything more than friends, so I don’t really care what they’d think.”
Nothing more than friends. A helluva favor his dad had been doing a friend.
A delicate eyebrow cocked. “Are we going inside?”
He softened his features, but they didn’t match his roiling emotions. “It’s a Marvel movie. Are you really in a rush?”
Her laughter delighted him when he should be seething. “Trust me. Any loyalties are suspended when it comes to blockbuster movies.”
He walked with her into the theater. Flashes of his childhood bombarded his mind as soon as the popcorn aroma swamped him. Every weekend, Sam would take him to the movies, and not just to escape his mother. It was their bonding time. Legit time together and an activity they both loved. If there wasn’t a new movie out, they went to an old one. Sam had even looked into purchasing a theater, or even building a new one.
Then Wes’s mom had struck. Whether it was jealousy or pure manipulation, she’d made sure to be caught in flagrante with Sam’s realtor. As a kid, Wes had blamed the other man for the marriage’s demise, but as an adult, he recognized his mother’s machinations. No man was stupid enough to drop trou and get head in his most lucrative client’s office.
As Wes sat for the movie, he asked the question that’d plagued him for over a decade. His mom. The realtor. Mara. Had Sam been gullible his whole life? The only person in Sam’s life not out to use him had been Wes, and he’d been dumped in a hot second after the divorce.
Chapter Nine
Wes stared dubiously at the clothes Helen had picked up at his request. Bless the lady, she hadn’t batted an eye.
It’d been a good idea at the time.
I have plans to take Mom to the TC Comic Con this Saturday. Want to go? You get discounted entrance if you dress up. Mom always goes as Leia from Star Wars. I’m going to dig out an old Batgirl costume. Wanna come?
The red jacket with black shoulders and black slacks didn’t taunt him so much as the Star Trek combadge.
He’d been out of his damn mind when he’d agreed. Dress up?
The line of thought he’d run away with was that he could dress like Wesley Crusher and get a little satisfaction from being Wesley when accompanying her as Sam.
Walking around in a costume didn’t drum up anxiety like meeting her mother, however. Not just meeting her, but busting her out of the home and carting her all over town. Give her sick mother an afternoon to remember before bringing her back… No pressure.
He jumped into the shower only because he needed wet hair to slick over like he remembered on the character from the show, but it’d been many, many years since he’d watched it.
Satisfied with his look, he thought he looked more like Number One, Captain Picard’s first officer, with his black hair, but there weren’t enough pips on his collar for the rank of commander. Besides, that crowd would know who he was.
He packed an overnight bag and headed to Mara’s. She was driving because she knew how to load the wheelchair in her car and didn’t want to find out his trunk wasn’t as chair friendly. Her offer to pick him up was dissuaded by him plainly telling her he was overnighting.
No way could she see his obnoxious house. She’d know he was no normal sales dude when she drove up to his multimillion dollar mansion.
He parked in his normal spot and trotted up to her door, feeling ridiculous in a costume. Twenty years ago it had been a different story.
All thoughts vanished when Batgirl answered the door wearing knee-high, shiny black boots and a miniskirt that allowed a peek of thigh. He’d grown used to her baggy shirts, so the yellow utility belt cinched at her waist induced fantasies about what their sleepover would entail.
“Wesley Crusher! Awesome. I love costumes that are a little more obscure.” She grabbed her mask and stepped out.
He found his tongue. “Aren’t you cold?”
“I’ve got a cape.” She grinned and sashayed away.
They climbed into her car and she backed out. “You know what you’ll have to do? The Picard maneuver.”
“Excuse me?”
“Every time you stand up, pull the front of your jacket down.”
Yeah, he remembered the move, but leave it to Trekkies to give it a name.
“I don’t want to break character.”
She laughed, but their banter didn’t break up the case of nerves he’d suddenly developed. He had a vague idea of where Golden Meadows was and the closer they got, the more his hands trembled.
“What’s your mom’s name again?”
“Wendy.” She glanced at him, at the road, then back at him. “You sure you’re okay with this?”
“Of course, but come on, it’s meeting the mom.”
She smiled and her next words seemed timid. “I’m sure I’d feel the same way if I met yours.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you.” And he wouldn’t, no matter how much resentment and suspicion he harbored.
She sobered and turned her gaze back out the window.
“It’s not you, Mara. She’s…a different creature. Doesn’t make people feel good about themselves.”
“I understand.” She didn’t sound like it.
A sprawling brick building with timber framework came into view. With startling honesty, he determined his place was bigger.
“Are they ready for us?” He meant to lighten the mood, but he didn’t know if that was more for himself than her.
Meeting a parent. He’d known dates’ parents from his social circle. But dressed for a comic con? That was a first.
“They’ll love it.”
He followed in her wake as she smiled at the staff that randomly appeared from offices and residents’ rooms. She waved to other residents as they meandered by, some with no assistance, many in wheelchairs and a smattering of walkers. Wes nodded in greeting. Mara was right, they enjoyed the show.
They turned into a sunny, quiet room where a thin woman who looked no younger than his mom waited in a wheelchair. Wendy Baranski had hair a similar color as Mara’s natural hue, only with a sprinkling of gray. Her eyes radiated kindness, but were weary, as if every day was a struggle.
“Are you all set, Mom? Oh, we have to do your hair.” Mara went straight for a narrow closet door, but stopped before she dove inside. “Mom, this is Sam.”
Her mom smiled and held out a frail hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you. Call me Wendy.”
“Likewise, Wendy.” Wes grasped her hand lightly. Wendy’s skin was soft and warm with more strength than he expected, but when he let go, the subtle tremor of her hand returned.
Several things ran through his mind, but all sounded like inane dribble. He talked up girls at his club, prospective buyers and sellers, and his friends during his few get-togethers. But he’d never…just chatted, not without an agenda. Wendy wasn’t the guys he went out with, neither was she Franklin or Helen, not that he small-talked those two.
Wendy’s gentle smile eased his case of what-do-I-say. “Have you been to TC Comic Con before?”
“It’s been a while. I don’t believe I’ve ever been in a costume as an adult.”
She chuckled. “This is an annual tradition for Mara and I, as long as I’m up for it.”
“Found it.” Mara popped out of the closet. In her hands was a wig with stereotypical Princess Leia buns and a draping white dress.
“I’ll s
tep out.” Wes scurried around the corner, but instead of hiding, he’d made himself the center of attention.
A young nurse’s aide walked by with a demure smile, gazing at him under hooded eyes. Her hips kicked out more as she passed him. An older aide trailed behind her, but her look had a maternal quality that he rarely saw in his own mother.
“You two look delightful,” she said as she charged past Wendy’s room.
He threw her a “thanks” and nearly jumped out of his threads when an elderly man spoke behind him.
“Busting Wendy out of here today, eh?” The man’s wizened hands leaned on his metal walker.
“Yes, sir.”
A grin lifted the man’s wrinkled face. “Good. Good. Too young to be stuck with us old people. You kids have fun.”
“You as well.”
He shuffled off.
Was Mara able to bust Wendy out of here often?
After the convention, he could treat them all to dinner. Even if Mara was trying to use him, the simple cost of a meal was nothing for Wes. He’d be starving and convention snacks wouldn’t tide him over. And…they were busting Wendy out of a pretty boring place; he wasn’t in a rush to bring her back.
Mara wheeled a giddy Wendy out into the hallway.
“Do I need to bring the car up front?” he asked.
Mara lifted a shoulder without removing her hand from the handles of the chair. “There’s no snow so the parking lot is no issue. They tend to make the parking spots wider here. Kinda nice.”
Exiting was the same as entering. Mara and Wendy were wished well by nearly everyone they passed. Did the whole facility know?
He sat in the backseat. Mara had offered to let him drive, but the idea of sitting up front with her mother must be what his staff experienced before a board meeting.
Oh god, what do I say? What’s she going to say? How do I respond?
Plus the back had the added bonus of watching the profile of a pink-haired Batgirl.
“Mom, can you get the handicap parking pass from the glove compartment?”
A task that should’ve taken seconds took a few solid minutes as Wendy worked the latch, dug the pass out, closed the cubby, and hung the pass up.
He glanced at his own hands, so strong and competent, then at Mara’s young and healthy body. A new respect for Wendy bloomed.
What Mara had tried to do to Sam wasn’t okay, but…it was more understandable.
As she found a spot to park, he stared at everyone walking by. He might’ve stood out anywhere in Minneapolis, but here, he was the norm. Underdressed even, as every superhero imaginable, aliens, monsters, and other unidentifiable creatures strode by. When he turned forward, Mara had donned her facemask.
More fantasies about what the night entailed.
Again, Mara sent his gold-digger radar off-kilter when she produced three tickets as they entered the convention center.
Sam had brought him here when he was a kid, but Wes still looked around with the wonder of an eight-year-old boy. Things had grown—on a much larger scale, with more variety. Costumes ranged from furry to cosmic to barely there. Many were obviously handmade or thrown together; several people walked by in getups that must’ve cost hundreds of dollars. The age range of attendees varied more than he remembered. Every age was represented and groups roamed, either families or college-aged kids, along with a ton of couples.
Wes smirked. The couple that dresses up together stays together?
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Mara whispered as they wandered shoulder to shoulder.
She pushed Wendy, whose grin was infectious to all who passed.
“So what are your plans?” He tried to remember what he and Sam used to do. Panels, new toys, shows, there had to be all that and then some now.
“We mostly walk around. It’s the costumes that are our favorite.”
He had to tell Flynn about this shit. Because while Mara’s costume was sexy as hell, there were women aplenty who strutted by in barely-there costumes. His friend would tear through the convention and leave with triple digits in phone numbers, and maybe a quick hookup in a secluded spot.
“Oh look, Mom. That guy with the vintage action figures is here again.” Mara plowed through the crowd, apparently unafraid of using her mom’s chair in the same manner the prow of a ship cut through water.
She talked excitedly with her mom as they perused old merchandise that had never been removed from its box. Wes hung toward the edge, more than mildly interested but not wanting to show it.
The booth next to the action figures was fan art and he went over for a look.
Two women were whispering next to him. Their giggles drifted over the din.
Weren’t they cold in those outfits? One wore full-body spandex in powder blue. No clue who she was supposed to be. The other was in black spandex with holes randomly torn through, mostly across her rounded butt cheeks.
Flynn would love this.
Mara glanced over toward him, then bent to speak to Wendy. As he was turning away to meet up with them, one of the girls called to him.
“Wes?”
His eyes widened and his feet stalled. The floor could be wet concrete for as well as his legs worked. His right eye twitched.
“Wes, right?” Her pitch rose in excitement.
Mara had noticed the exchange, her glance going between them.
He pivoted back and pointed to the small, round pip on his collar. “Yes, Wesley Crusher. Good eye.”
The ass-less girl stepped toward him, her mouth stretched in a seductive grin. “No, not Cr—”
His sharp glare made her smile falter.
“Don’t you remember me, from my friend’s”—she indicated blue Lycra girl—“bachelorette party…at Canon?”
Aww, damn. If he tried really hard, he might remember her.
He kept his demeanor pleasant, didn’t sneer like he wanted. She could ruin everything. But it wasn’t her fault he thought his sex partners were nothing more than passing entertainment.
“I’m sorry, but I’m escorting two lovely ladies around today and I must go.”
He spun back to Mara as she approached. “What would you like to see next?”
***
It was all Mara could do not to stare at the girl with her ass hanging out of her costume. She was sexy and sultry…and incredibly hurt by what appeared to be a brush-off from Sam.
An ex? A former fling?
Current fling?
Whoever she was threw a disgusted look at Sam’s back as she walked away with her friend.
Sam was watching Mara, waiting for an answer, but she so badly wanted to sate her curiosity.
“Well, there’s a huge line where they’re giving out swag T-shirts, or I’d give it a try.”
Her mom raised her face to them. “If we’re going to wait in line, we might as well try to get into a panel. Unless you want to walk around and get ideas for Arcadia?”
Mara’s eyes shot to Sam, who arched a brow but didn’t say anything.
“No, I think there’s some interesting panels.” She handed the schedule of events to Sam and wove her way out of the exhibition hall.
He was subdued the rest of the afternoon. No, that wasn’t right exactly. He wasn’t saying much, but he walked with tight shoulders and scrutinized everyone who sat by them or walked past.
They found seats at a panel of graphic novel artists. Sam sat on one side of her and her mom on the other.
“Is everything okay?” Mara murmured to him.
“Just thinking about where to take you two for dinner.”
Her brows shot up. “Oh, you don’t have to.”
His piercing gaze brooked no argument. “I’d like to.”
Dinner out sounded divine and, ordinarily, it’d be a treat, but eating wasn’t the easiest for her mom.
She turned to her other side. “Sam wants to take us out for dinner. Would you be okay with that?”
Her mom had the same reaction. She wanted to be thri
lled, buuut…
“I think I’ll be fine, as long as I order something soft like mashed potatoes. The tremors aren’t terrible today.”
Mara gauged the truth of her mom’s words. She often mentioned how frustrating her meals could be. Many of the foods she loved were too hard, too chewy, or too gooey for her to enjoy anymore. And with her tremors, soup was best sipped out of a cup.
Her mom leaned in close. “Are you sure you two wouldn’t rather be alone?”
Mara couldn’t fight her grin. “He said the two of us.”
“Well, okay. But you know what I always say.”
Don’t let him break your heart.
“Can’t forget.”
After the panel, they exited the convention center. Mara missed her jacket, but it wouldn’t have done much good with the bitter breeze blowing up her skirt.
“Where would you like to go?”
They sat in the idling car and Mara twisted around. “Where do you usually go?”
His expression froze. Tough question?
“I don’t get out much.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. Another girl might not question his behavior, but he was acting odd enough to set off her spidey sense.
Giving herself an invisible shake, she forced herself to brush it off. Not every male interested in her was deceitful.
Maybe that’s why she’d gotten along so well with Sam Robson. Not once had she gotten anything other than a friendly vibe from him.
“I’ll drive and Mom can shout out a place she’d like.”
Her mom chuckled. “Sure, put the pressure on me.”
A simple family restaurant won out.
Mara didn’t miss the subtle lift of Sam’s forehead when he scanned the menu. He might not get out much, but she was confident that when he did, it wasn’t to places like this. With his nice car and sharp clothes, he likely ate at more expensive places.
He ordered seamlessly and as she relaxed to enjoy the meal, she couldn’t help but think of how little she knew about him.
Unmistaken Identity Page 8