I DRAG MY suitcase down the hotel hallway and curse my six a.m. wake-up call as I hit the down button for the elevator. It’s a miracle I’m functioning this morning considering how late I stayed up last night reading—
No. Do not think about what you were reading.
Rico ambles up to me and slaps me on the back. “Mornin’, hot rod.”
I try not to blush, but I can already feel the blood rushing to my face. I avoid his eyes and hope he doesn’t notice.
“Hey,” I mumble. The elevator doors open, and I get on as he follows me, way too chipper for the hour.
“What’s up with you this morning?” he asks.
“Nothing, late night.”
“Oh man, I fell asleep at like nine watching QVC. Good thing, too, because I was one more caller away from ordering a squid-ink anti-aging facial serum and moisturizer set.”
I really wish he wouldn’t say facial right now. Or serum.
“What do you think?” he asks, touching the skin next to his eyes gently. “Do my wrinkles make me look distinguished or elderly?”
I ignore him because the elevator doors just opened to the lobby and I see Claire… and she’s not alone. She’s with this girl who must be Tess. A smile grows from deep inside me. Rico follows my gaze.
“Who’s the chick with the badass haircut?”
“I’m guessing that’s Claire’s date from last night.”
“Her date?” Rico’s eyebrows shoot up. “And she’s still here?” Rico looks over at them and chuckles. “Well, well, well.”
Claire and Tess are taking a quiet moment to themselves, talking by the front doors, oblivious to us watching. Claire tucks her hair behind her ears and says something that makes Tess laugh. Claire looks nervous, and that’s even more adorable.
“They’re cute together, aren’t they?” I say, and Rico just laughs. “What?” He shakes his head. “What, man?”
He looks at me, endlessly amused, his eye crinkles on full display, and I think, Don’t get the squid ink serum, dude, you’re fine without it, and he says, “You ship them.” Oh my god, I would be happy to never hear the word ship again in my life, but Claire looks so cute talking to Tess that I can’t help it.
He’s right, I kind of ship it.
Rico knocks my shoulder. “Go say hi, you dummy.”
I tug my suitcase toward them, trying to think of what I’m going to say, but Claire’s mom, Trudi, swoops in before I can get there and interrupts their moment.
“Claire, stop dillydallying and get on the bus! We don’t want to make these nice people wait on us,” Trudi hollers as she wheels her suitcase past us on her way toward the doors. It breaks Claire and Tess from their bubble, and they notice me hovering.
“Looking good, Forest!” Trudi says with a wink.
“Good morning, Trudi.”
“It is now, sweet potato.” She wheels her suitcase out the doors toward the idling charter bus waiting outside.
I turn to Claire. “Who’s this?” I ask with a big smile.
Claire looks nervous, like she doesn’t want to be here right now, but I figure she’s just embarrassed to introduce her new girlfriend to me.
Claire says, “Forest, this is Tess.”
Tess is staring at me, agape. Oh yeah. I’m famous. I forgot for a second.
“Hi,” I say, and put my hand out. She shakes it, trembling. This is not the cool, confident girl Claire described to me last night. I guess I have that effect. Claire looks bleary-eyed and unimpressed, but hey, I also remember a time not so long ago when Claire was nervous around me, too—standing up at that convention in Boise, voice wavering, scared shitless. Now look at her, a little hellion, getting in my way, bossing me around. How quickly they grow up.
I don’t think Tess has breathed in a full minute, so I say, “I’m Forest Reed. If I look familiar, it’s okay, that’s normal. It’s because I’m a television actor.” And I’m relieved to find she laughs at that.
“I know who you are,” she assures me.
“Oh, good. Demon Heart fan?”
“She’s a huge fan,” Claire says. Tess shoots her a look. “Tess is an amazing artist; she does this fanart that’d blow you away.”
Is it pictures of me kissing Rico? I don’t want to see it, but at the same time I am overcome with curiosity.
“Claire—” Tess says sharply.
“What? I’m not showing him, I’m just saying. You’re a good artist.”
There’s something going on between these two—a tension that I can’t quite put my finger on. I wonder what happened last night. Did they hook up? Did they not?
“I draw other things, too,” Tess says to Claire, “not just fanart.”
“That’s awesome,” I say, and watch Claire for clues, but she’s giving me nothing. “So what’s up, Tess? Am I gonna see you in Seattle?”
“Yeah,” Tess says. “Well, I mean, I’ll see you. You’ll have to look pretty hard at the audience if you’re gonna see me.” She laughs nervously. “I’m just praying that my old shit-bucket makes it home.” She points across the parking lot, where an ancient red Toyota Tercel is parked. Yikes. It reminds me of my first shitty teenage pickup truck. I loved that terrible pile of rust, but I wouldn’t want to take it cross-country.
“That’s a gorgeous set of wheels.”
She smiles shyly. “Yeah, I should probably get rid of it, but I can’t really afford to. Besides, my ex-girlfriend gave it to me and she lost the title, so at this point it’s practically stolen.”
“Oh!” I say, acting surprised. For I am a professional actor. “Are you gay?” Claire rolls her eyes, because of course I’ve assumed Tess is gay, like I assume Claire is…something. But this is the perfect opportunity to find out more about these two, and I’m dying to know what the deal is here.
“No, I’m not gay,” Tess says. “I’m queer.”
I look at Claire, who keeps her eyes firmly on the glossy marble wall behind me.
“What’s that mean?” I ask, because one of us has to.
“Well, to be specific, I’m a homoromantic pansexual,” Tess says matter-of-factly.
“So you’re attracted to cookware?” I ask.
“Pansexual is when you’re attracted to all genders.”
“So you’re bisexual?” I ask, suddenly far more confused than I thought I would be for this conversation.
“Well, bi means two, but it’s similar,” Tess says, whatever nervousness she may have been feeling toward me somehow dissipating.
“Wait, how many genders are there?” I ask, and then I laugh—I can’t help it. This is the weirdest conversation to have at seven a.m. in a hotel lobby, with other guests passing by us on all sides.
“Gender is a spectrum, Forest,” Tess says, and I suddenly feel bad for laughing; this is really serious to her. I glance at Claire again, and she is definitely not engaging in this conversation. I look around the lobby to make sure there aren’t any other fans listening in to our conversation, but the coast is clear.
“So when you say homo…” I prompt.
“Homoromantic. It means that even though I feel sexual attraction toward all genders, I only feel romantic feelings for women.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Like, I’ll have sex with whoever, but I’m really only ever gonna marry a lady. I know, it’s complicated. You can understand why I usually just say queer.” She laughs.
“Yeah. Totally.”
“People think sexuality is like a light switch: you’re either gay or you’re straight. It’s not. It’s not even a dimmer switch. Sexuality’s more like… a Tesla Coil. Bzzzzz.” She gestures electricity everywhere. “It’s up to you to figure yourself out. I just happened to figure it out early. Claire’s still working on it. But I think maybe we made a little progress on that front on our date last night,” Tess says, playfully elbowing Claire.
“Stop it,” Claire whispers to Tess.
“What?” Tess says.
“Stop trying to impress
him,” Claire hisses, and I suddenly feel very awkward standing here.
“I wasn’t.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine. Hey, I think I should get going.”
“Yeah, me too,” Claire says, reaching for her suitcase.
“You’re not going to ride with me?” Tess asks.
Claire hesitates. “I think I’m going to take the bus.” She shoulders her backpack.
Tess frowns but plays it cool. “Oh. Okay, that’s fine.”
“Sorry. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Okay. Well, um, text me when you get there.”
“Yeah,” Claire says. Tess goes for a hug at the same time that Claire turns away and Tess’s arms fall to her sides. It’s awkward and horrible to watch, and I feel like I should do something, but I barely know these people, and what the hell would I do anyway?
“Let’s go, Forest,” Claire says.
“Nice to meet you, Tess,” I say as I follow Claire out the front doors, and Tess just looks mortified.
Outside, we cross the parking lot toward the idling bus, suitcase rumbling on the pavement.
“You okay?” I ask Claire.
“Yeah.”
“Did you know all that? About her, like, sexuality?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says flatly.
I stop walking. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, because I’m not sure what’s going on with her, but I think she’s about to sabotage something that seemed pretty good.
She stops, too, and turns to look at me with that fiery expression that I’ve come to expect from her when she doesn’t like what I’m saying.
“What, Forest, what is it?”
“I just think you should, you know, chill a bit. I kind of got used to you being mean to me, but I didn’t think you’d be like that to her.”
“You don’t know me,” she says, and boards the bus.
She’s right, I really don’t know her at all.
OBVIOUSLY, TESS IS allowed to be anything she wants to be.
Queer homoromantic pansexual? That’s fine.
She knows herself really well.
And that’s supercool.
It’s great that she knows who she wants to have sex with.
Who she wants to freaking marry.
I’m really happy for her.
I mean, obviously I knew she was gay, she said so, but I didn’t know she, like, had it all figured out so clearly. I didn’t realize she’d be so sure about everything. Goodie for her.
But then she had to go and tell Forest that we were messing around last night? Or, I guess she implied it. But I saw the look on his face; he knew exactly what she meant.
Look, we never said last night was a date, and we never said we were gonna tell other people about it. I never would have done any of that if I thought she was just going to go around telling everyone we kissed and making them think stuff about me that I’m not ready for them to think. I thought she understood I didn’t want to define anything, and then she just goes and blurts out all that stuff to Forest? Forest, of all people, who I was just starting to feel like was taking me seriously. Now he probably just thinks I’m some closeted lovestruck teenage girl who just wants to make fictional characters gay because she won’t come out herself.
No, I’m not doing this. I’m not here to confront major life questions about my sexuality, I’m here for one reason, to make SmokeHeart canon. And I can’t let Tess get in the way of that.
That feeling in my stomach I get when I’m with her? I fold it up small, put it in a box, and throw the box into the sea. Tess isn’t what I’m here for.
Where’s Jamie?
I sit up in my seat. We’re on the charter bus, speeding up I-5, headed for Seattle. Out the windows to our right, there are hills covered in evergreens stretching as far as I can see. To my left is the Columbia River, sparkling in the morning sun.
I glance around the bus. Most of the staff members are dozing in their seats. Toward the back, Rico and Forest are separated. I briefly wonder if everything’s okay between them. I don’t see Jamie at all.
I do see my mother making her way down the aisle.
“So,” she says, sliding into the seat next to mine.
“Mom, what are you doing? You’ll get sick if you’re not at the front.”
“I wanted to say hi. You know, talk to my daughter whom I never see.”
“You’re the one who’s never around,” I mumble.
She shrugs. “Conventions! Who knew they were so happenin’?”
“Please don’t say happenin’.”
“So, Tess…” she starts.
“Mom,” I say sharply. I so don’t want to talk about this. With her or with anyone.
“She’s a…?” She trails off with an expectant look.
“Friend. Stop being weird.”
“Okay, I just thought…”
“Well, stop thinking.”
“Okay, but you know you can…”
“If I want to talk, I know where you’ll be, okay? Please leave it alone.” The last thing I need right now is my mom asking me to categorize everything I’m feeling into digestible sound bites. Stop. Go away. Leave me alone. I am a small, unhappy rodent, and I will bite the hand that feeds me. Don’t open my cage.
The bus lurches around a corner, and she starts to look a little queasy.
“Okay, good talk,” she says.
“Good talk,” I say sarcastically, and she heads back to her seat.
Since Jamie is apparently MIA, I maneuver down the aisle and lean on the seatback next to Caty, who’s nose-deep in her phone.
“Hey, Caty, do you know where Jamie is?”
She looks up. “Oh yeah, he had Paula rent him a car so he could drive himself to Seattle. Said our bus smells like an old gym bag.” She shrugs. “I don’t smell anything, though. Must’ve been his crusty self.”
Of freaking course. I sigh. Jamie’s been avoiding me practically since we started this trip, why should I be surprised he’s ducking out now?
“Thanks,” I mutter, and turn to go.
“Hey, Claire, wait!” Caty says. She pats the seat next to her. “Can we talk a sec?”
“Uh, why?”
“I was just wondering how you were feeling about the panel coming up in Seattle,” she says.
I furrow my brow and sit. “What about it?”
“Well, I just know how upset you were after the whole ordeal in Portland, with the moderators Forest set up, and all that.” She gives me a sympathetic look. “I saw your posts. A lot of people did.”
It’s weird that my blog is suddenly public knowledge, but hey, this is what I wanted, right?
“I’m not going to apologize for what I said on my blog.”
“Oh god, no. I wouldn’t want you to! I think it was great! In fact, I’m wondering… do you have anything planned, in, like, retaliation?”
I just stare at her. “What do you mean?”
Caty exhales, then glances around the bus, and lowers her voice. “Look, Claire, I get what you want to do, and I think it’s really great, but due respect? I think you’re going about it all wrong.”
I’m…what?
“Look, here’s the thing. You came over looking for Jamie just now, right? Because you, what, want to try to convince him to make SmokeHeart canon?” I shift in my seat nervously. Well, yes. This chick is reading me like a book. “You gotta stop thinking of this as something you can just sit down and convince him of. Trust me, Jamie Davies is never going to willingly turn any characters gay just because someone asked politely; that’s not the way he works. When it comes to Jamie, you gotta make a scene. You gotta be so loud and public that he feels like he can’t say no, because he definitely wants to say no.”
She has a good point, but I have no idea why she’s telling me.
“And if I do this, if I make a scene,” I say, sorting out my thoughts, “you’re not going to send me home early?”
“Girl, you’re a
lmost done with us anyway!” she exclaims, then lowers her voice again. “But no, no way. Not if I have anything to say about it.” She sighs deeply, like she’s been down this road many times. “Not everyone agrees with me about this, but listen, when we flew to Boise, I was convinced that Demon Heart was dead in the water. That this whole trip was a dying gasp. But then you happened, and suddenly we had a prayer. The chatter online about you is off the charts! I’m sure you’ve noticed it.”
It’s true, my mentions have been through the roof since I was chosen for this trip. My follower count is higher than I ever imagined it would get.
Caty wiggles her pink phone at me and smiles slyly. “We had more social mentions for that one panel in Boise than any other moment for any of our shows last year. And then after Forest pulled that shit in Portland and you went on a blogstorm about it, we had more social mentions than we had in Boise.”
“And you’re happy about that even though most of what people were saying was, you know, bad?” I ask.
“TV’s not the same business it was before. There’s a thousand channels out there for people to choose from, and a million shows to watch. Literally anything that makes a show stand out from the crowd is a good thing.” Caty puts a hand on my shoulder. “People were hearing about Demon Heart for the first time because of you, and that’s massive.” Caty nudges my elbow with hers. “You have one shot left to make a splash before the finale. I suggest you start thinking about how you’re gonna do it.”
My brain is swirling with thoughts. I can’t believe she wants me to make a scene. What can I do? How can I get Jamie’s attention in Seattle? Should I stand up in the middle of the panel and just start yelling? Could I get the other panel attendees involved? Maybe we could start a chant, or a song. Maybe we could all hold up signs at the same time. But no, all of that would just drown him out, make him shut down.
I’ve seen Jamie when he’s confronted, he does the diplomatic thing—starts telling you what you want to hear, starts getting slippery, starts lying. He did it to me in Boise after I won this trip, practically told me SmokeHeart was a great idea, got my hopes up. He was bullshitting me then, but what if I get him to say it again, onstage, in front of witnesses? What if I got him to commit?
Ship It Page 17