by Alexa Davis
“I just had to know what that felt like!” She shouted into her microphone. “Her costume may have been dangerously unconventional, but her rendition of War Angel was flawless, with one exception. War Angel didn’t have wings.” The crowd booed her, and she waved them silent again. “It was that departure from the original that allowed people to connect with the character, and made her memorable. By deviating from the original, my friend and student,” she paused while the crowd erupted in screams and cheers that made my knees jelly and my heart pound against my ribcage like a drum, “by flipping the script, she made people want to know more about the character. She made people go to Google to learn more.” She turned to me and whispered. “War Angel is trending because of you, did you know?” I shook my head and she continued. “C.J. Rivers is War Angel, and War Angel is the winner of the top honors in the Gamercon Cosplay Competition!” Her voice crescendoed as she spoke until she was shouting above the screams and cheers of the fans in the audience.
I wavered on my feet and felt the strength in her small hand as she held me upright, as the presenter held out a trophy and an envelope. The trophy was my favorite, a play on the Oscar, with a feminine humanoid shape, toting a gun belt and, as a bonus, a set of wings unfurled at her back.
I held the trophy up as the camera zoomed in on it, and the audience went absolutely berserk. The screaming and stomping were so loud my head was ringing, and the nausea that threatened to undo what little I’d eaten forced me to take only shallow breaths through my nose, as I clenched my jaw hard and tried to stay upright.
Yaya waved to the crowd and rushed me offstage just as I lost control and vomited behind the curtain. Strong hands grabbed me under my arms and held me up while I dry heaved until my legs collapsed and I was helped down the stairs to sit on a backless stool. A cold, damp cloth was placed on my head, and I leaned into the broad chest behind me, knowing without looking that it was Jackson who held me steady and saved me from falling.
Voices were speaking around me, but between the shaking chills and nausea, I couldn’t force myself to focus on whether they were talking to me. I let Jackson hold me until the shaking subsided, and breathed into the paper bag that someone gave me, grateful that it only smelled slightly of oranges, and not something more odious. I’d once had a fainting spell while modeling, and the bag had contained tuna fish salad before I’d used it.
I pushed my nose deeper into the bag and inhaled the clean, tangy citrus until my head began to clear. I sat up slowly and turned to look at Jackson, who was watching me so intently, and holding me so carefully I thought I’d turned to glass without realizing it.
“How you doing, Gorgeous?” he asked quietly.
I sighed and took mental stock of my stomach and head. The heaving swells had faded to minor turbulence, and I braved a small nod, happy when the world stayed in its upright position. “I’m doing better. Should I have checked the expiration date on that protein bar?”
Jackson kissed the top of my head, and warmth spread from his lips to my face and neck. “No. if I were a doctor, and obviously, I’m not so don’t get mad at me for saying this; but if I were a medical professional, I’d probably call this a textbook panic attack.” He kissed me again. “I’ve seen a few of those in my time.”
“You get panic attacks?”
“No, but they’re pretty common among the ‘Under twenty and already getting my Master’s crowd,” he assured me. “You went through a whole lot in a short time, and you didn’t get a chance to process it in a healthy way.”
I sighed and looked around me. A stagehand was just finished cleaning where I’d been sick, and Yaya was watching me from a distance with Shelby. I held up my hands, and they weren’t shaking anymore, but I still felt cold, anywhere that Jackson wasn’t touching me.
“Sorry Yaya. I don’t know what happened,” I admitted. “I feel like my body is in shock, or I have hypothermia. This isn’t normal performance anxiety for me.”
“Of course, it isn’t. I know you better than that,” she reminded me. “But, even if it was just nerves, it would still be okay. No one is perfect, and I don’t expect you to be made of stone.” She crouched next to where we were sitting and touched my arm, drawing back with a gasp at how cold I felt.
“You really are in shock, aren’t you?” Shelby asked, even as she threw a sweater over my chest and tucked it in to the brace that held the wings on.
Jackson helped me to my feet, and together, the three of us made our way to the dressing station, while Yaya peppered Jackson with questions about how much I’d been eating, if I’d been working out too hard, and even how much sleep I was getting. Jackson answered questions I hadn’t even realized he’d been paying attention enough to know the answers to. He multi-tasked while answering her, carefully removing my wings and hanging them on a nearby mannequin.
Even Ray came around to check on me as Shelby and Yaya peeled my clothes off me, and Jackson brought me the sweatpants and tank top I’d arrived in. Jackson started to protest the other man in the room as I changed, but I shook my head. Ray placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a light squeeze, then rubbed his shoulders while he asked how my guy was holding up. Jackson raised his eyebrows at me, his mouth a round “O” of sudden and uncomfortable understanding, before he gently assured my friend that we both were okay, and sidestepping just out of arms’ reach, thanked him again for his help earlier.
“Anything I can do for my girl C.J., I’m on it,” Ray promised. He left to get a cart for my bags and costumes, and Shelby started to remove the wig and makeup.
“What about pictures and press release?” I gasped. “Yaya, I have to get back in costume.” My mentor shook her head.
“We have lots of pictures of you in costume. You go ahead and get out of makeup, I’ll send a pair of jeans down, and we’ll just do the exit interview whenever you’re ready.” She thought for a moment and smiled. “I think the juxtaposition of you in costume, to you with no makeup at all will be a nice touch,” she added. “But, no sweatpants. I’m disappointed that you even wore those here today.” Jackson cleared his throat and I felt a blush creep up my neck and cheeks.
“We were, ah, running just a little behind this morning,” he chimed in, in my defense.
“Gross,” she grimaced. “Just, just don’t say anything else. I’ll get you a pair of pants or something.” She air-kissed both my cheeks and strode off on her mission to make me interview appropriate.
Jackson held my hand and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles, a habit I’d noticed when he was worried about me, or when he was thinking. It only took a minute of that gentle rhythmic touch on the back of my hand before I had all but forgotten how sick I’d felt on stage. I had to admit to myself that, once again, Jackson was probably right, and I’d let my anxiety get the better of me. It was a bitter pill to swallow, that I’d choked at the exact moment of my biggest victory and most important life success.
Ray touched the earpiece in his ear and took off with a small wave, only to return within a couple of minutes with a micro-mini skirt in denim, and a button-down shirt. I put them on and Shelby finished altering my makeup and brushing out my hair, but it had been wound up so long it looked like a corkscrew coming out of the back of my head.
Instead of brushing it out more and turning it into a thick, frizzy halo around my head. Shelby pinned it back up and put it back under the blue wig with the bobbed haircut. I looked in the mirror. Gone were the perpetually furrowed eyebrows and pursed, thin lips. I was gazing at the reflection of a woman with strong features and cheekbones, who knew what she wanted and went for it.
I loved competing, but each time I did, win or lose, it seemed harder for me to immerse myself in the love of the craft. I wanted to cosplay until Jackson and I were the old couple on the stage, still making beautiful designs and selling them at a premium to young upstarts like Lacey and the next generation of C.J.s. Jackson made me feel that again. Allowing him into the part of my life no man had ever entered was t
he best part of the whole damn competition. I would give back the trophy and the check that was in the envelope, another twenty thousand, to be exact, to go back to the hours we spent together in my costume room, working together while he sang country songs under his breath (mostly).
I glanced at Shelby, who was watching me with a thoughtful expression. She raised an eyebrow and scoffed, as though she knew exactly what I was thinking. That drum beat resounded in my chest again and I stole a peek at Jackson out of the corner of my eye. He was chatting with Ray, completely unconcerned now that he knew I was going to be okay. I met Shelby’s eyes again and shook my head, and she smiled in sympathy.
“Glad you’re finally figuring it out, Sweetie,” she said gently as she brushed imaginary flecks off my shoulder and patted stray hairs into place. “I hope I get to see the look on his face when he realizes you’ve caught up to him.” She paused, then corrected herself. “No. Scratch that. Ew, gross, I just got a mental image of exactly what will happen when he knows you love him as much as he loves you. I cannot unsee that.”
I laughed and shook my head. He hadn’t said anything about love. He had a plan, and he’d already let me change it more times than I would’ve if our situations were reversed. There was no way he felt the way I did. I glanced back at him, laughing, and comparing biceps with Ray. No, this feeling was mine alone. But I was going to do everything in my power to make him see that I was exactly what he needed. Somehow.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jackson
Carina won, but she was so sick from the stress of the break-in and my visit and her big debut, there had been no chance to celebrate or feel good about the amazing thing she’d accomplished. I gave her and Shelby some space, as Shelby took extra time to get her put back together and calmed her down. Every different look that she wore seemed to turn her into a different person, but when she was home and she took it all off, she was all mine again.
I checked her out in the blue wig. She was every geek’s fantasy: a hot, nerdy chick who could build a computer, did her own leatherwork, and could lead a raid on the enemy capitol, cussing with the best of them. I nudged Ray, who was doing his best to keep an eye out for trouble, without letting his worry for C.J. get the best of him.
“What are the chances that the gaming world would let me claim that girl in public?” I asked, laughing as Ray’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.
“Show me them guns again,” he replied, flexing his arm. I did, and he laughed. “Well, you are big enough for them to pause before calling you out. Can you play a first-person shooter?”
I laughed. “Isn’t that the truth? If I can play video games as well as they can, I might get a pass on dating their favorite spank bank fantasy, but they’ll never stop the catcalls or the harassment, and that really pisses me off.” I sighed. I knew what she was from the start, and it wasn’t her fault that she was hot, and fun, and sexy, and smart.
“Fuckboys are everywhere, Man. I’ve been married for two years, and even I have to back guys down every so often.”
“Comes with the territory, I guess. Think she’s going to be all right? That was some bad trip she just went on.”
“Yeah. She’s softer than she comes across. A lot gentler too.”
“I’ve noticed.” I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced over at the girls who were cleaning up the makeup and stuff. C.J. waved and held up a finger to wait one more minute, which, knowing those two, meant they’d be done in ten.
“I gotta hit the beer garden for a shift breaking drunk skulls. Tell C.J. I love her, and that I already texted Dwayne. He’s gonna want you two to come over to celebrate.” He looked at me and shrugged. “He’s a gourmet chef. How else could I survive? I can’t even boil water without burning the pot.” I laughed and he sighed. “True story, bro, true story.”
I promised to give C.J. his love and Dwayne’s, but I passed on the dinner invite, and Ray took off. Fortunately for me, just as an official came back looking for C.J. for her interview, both she and Shelby walked up. She glowed, and I breathed a small sigh of relief at the improvement. She took my arm, and I glanced around to see if anyone could see us.
“Are you sure?” I whispered as we walked to the heavy steel doors that stood between us and the barely controlled chaos of the convention floor.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she whispered back with a smile.
The pretty blonde attendant led us to an area that was staged with lights and cameras, and we waited to one side as the convention commentators interviewed a group of guys who had just won a tournament for some online game they all played together. C.J. squeezed my hand and I returned it with a good luck smile. Another attendant started talking to her, prepping her with the questions she was going to be asked, and giving her guidelines for answering. I barely heard them talking over the din of excited gamers. The convention floor was so thick with bodies that I couldn’t see the booths or displays, and the smell of sweat and many mingling colognes was heavy in the air, despite the air conditioning.
The guys finished their interview, and I let go of her so she could step up to the lights for her turn. Her eyes widened and she pulled me with her to the very edge of the small, raised platform, and I kissed her as I disengaged her hand from me.
“You are so beautiful, and I’m so proud of you,” I whispered as I stared her emerald eyes. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.” She rolled her eyes and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, smudging a shiny pink scar across my cheek from her lip gloss.
She stepped up to the platform and took the microphone that was handed to her. In an instant, her visible anxiety disappeared as she smiled brightly and flirted with the interviewer. Two scantily clad girls dressed as some kind of anime characters brought out a giant copy of the check I currently held in my inside jacket pocket for safekeeping, and flashes went off as more pictures were taken.
The attendant handed me a large bag full of swag from the conference, and asked me to follow her over to a couple guys waiting off to one side. C.J. was full swing in her interview, so I agreed, after asking her to make sure C.J. knew where I was if her interview ended before I was back.
The bag on my arm was heavy, and I resisted the temptation to look inside in front of the bearded hipster gamers watching me walk toward them. One of the guys held out a hand as I approached, a slick salesman smile pasted on his face. Instantly, I wished I hadn’t agreed to leave C.J.’s side.
“Jackson Hargrave, right?” he said loudly, making my jaw clench. “Or, should I say, Jack Black hat?” I took a breath and managed not to wipe the smug look off the idiot’s face with my fist, but something in my face telegraphed my thoughts, because the second guy stepped forward quickly and stepped between us.
“Jackson, it’s a real honor to get to meet you,” he extended his hand, and I shook it after a brief hesitation. “I’m Carey, and my associate here is Phil. It’s so cool that you’re here today. Obviously, we’ve done a lot of research into you, especially after the big announcement that C.J. Rivers made at her panel discussion.”
“Well, I was never really a black hat hacker, so if you want something hacked or stolen you’ll have to go elsewhere.”
“We heard you could get into the Department of Defense. Or was that just an empty brag?” Phil interjected. I started to reconsider punching him and walking away, but Carey shot him a look and he snapped his mouth shut and stood there looking petulant. I raised an eyebrow at them both and shook my head.
“Well, I never told anyone that I’d gotten into anything, so I’m not sure who was bragging. But, any wall can be broken, if you pick at it enough. Even the security of game developers isn’t foolproof.” I stared at Phil in challenge and his face turned red.
“Well, that’s where you and C.J. come in, actually.” Carey explained. “Someone with your street cred, and from what I understand, your multiple degrees,”
“Just the one, so far. I have a semester left on my masters, and I’m talking to Stanford about my doctorate.”
I corrected.
“Jesus. How old are you?” Phil gasped. He seemed more exasperated than impressed with my resume.
“I’m twenty-three, why, how old are you?”
Carey chuckled and Phil glared at me.
“Seriously, guys. If you want something from me, I’d suggest a different approach. Like replacing you,” I pointed at Phil, “with someone who’s got a smaller chip on their shoulder, or nothing to prove.” Phil stepped forward and I clenched my fist by my side, ready for him to take the last step between us so I could knock him on his ass. Carey put himself directly between us and put a hand on Phil’s chest.
“Take a walk Phil, and maybe send Paula over? We’ll head toward C.J., her interview should be almost over.” Phil grunted something and stormed off, and Carey pointed toward the platform, where C.J. was shaking hands with the interviewer and getting hugs from the anime-girls. She stepped off and walked towards us, flushed and happy, and jumped into my arms, wrapping her leg around my waist.
“I did great, did you see?”
“Well, I saw that you looked hot as hell, and you made your interviewer sweat, but I’ll have to get online later and listen to the interview.” She looked over my shoulder at Carey, and slid down to her feet as a woman with a severe scowl, presumably Paula, approached us.
“C.J., this is Carey, with, I don’t know who, actually.” She smiled and gave a little wave.
“It’s nice to meet you. Paula, glad you could join us,” Carey added as the older blonde woman marched up and stood with her arms folded. “Jackson, this is Paula Daley, the new VP of Bandai America. Paula, this is Jackson Hargrave and Carina Rivers. Jackson is the security expert I’ve been telling you about, and Carina is a very successful streamer and cosplayer, as her win today proves once again.”
“So, you’re some hacker, right?” Paula wasted no time in her attack.