by Alexa Davis
I was so grateful to see Jackson hadn’t been kicked out, or worse, arrested, that I wanted to jump into his arms and cry. Instead, I put on my big girl britches and sucked it in again while Shelby did up the rubber-covered under brace that supported my wings. At the same time, Jackson lifted my feet one at a time and slipped my blue flame spanks up over my hips, pausing at the top just long enough to get a handful of ass before moving on to the boots.
He remembered to switch them on before pushing my toes in, and Shelby snapped at him to hold me still, as she whitened my face and neck and added blue eyeshadow, and blue sparkling flames up the sides of my neck and face. Jackson slid the gloves up my arms and Shelby tried not to stab me in the head too much as she secured the black and blue striped wig to my head, which was already beginning to ache from the previous wig changes. The real leather whip was attached to my belt, Jackson helped by plumping up my breasts, earning an eye roll from Shelby and I, and I stomped a few times to make sure the flame-effect was working.
Shelby air-kissed my cheeks for luck, and Jackson kissed me full on the lips, smearing dark blue makeup over his mouth, forcing Shelby to redo my lipstick. I took a deep breath and cocked my hip, while Jackson and Shelby stepped back to watch. Jackson nodded and I flipped the switch I had sewn into the lining of the costume. The new brackets that Jackson had built let out a whoosh, and the wings spread to the sides in a smooth motion. Shelby let out a whoop and Jackson clenched his fists at the sides of his head in victory, letting out the breath I’d seen him holding.
“You’re up, Gorgeous. Go get ‘em.” We fist bumped and I turned off the switch that kept the wings unfurled and they dropped back into place with a hiss. One last look over my shoulder showed me Jackson and Shelby holding hands, wearing twin expressions of nervous hope. I waved to them and made the walk to the judges’ chambers all alone. I got a nod and two thumbs up from the beefy security guy manning the door before he said something into the microphone. He paused, then flashed me a quick smile and opened the door for me.
I cranked my head to each side to pop my neck and breathed out. By the time I walked through the door, I was War Angel. I uncoiled and snapped the whip, praying that all the practice had paid off and I wouldn’t hit myself or anyone else. I could hear pens scratching on paper, but I ignored everything but the security guys standing against the far wall. I wasn’t the first competitor in for the day, and the guys holding up the wall had their game faces on. I wondered how many geeks before me had used them as props as I uncoiled the whip again and dragged it behind me as I stalked forward. One big black man, his “Security” stamped t-shirt pulled tight across his pecs and upper arms, stepped forward with a grin.
I gave him a wink as a thank you, then we circled, pretending to size each other up, while giving the judges a chance to see the costume from every angle. I played it up more than other cosplayers, but it was already afternoon, and I couldn’t even imagine how many of us they’d already seen. What had always set me apart was that I did more than just strut around like a catwalk model, even though I was one of the few who’d done fashion week. I nodded and stepped back like I was going to strike, and waved the security guy forward. As he feinted a lunge, I popped my hip and let the wings go. There was an audible gasp as they opened to their full wingspan, and I saw him give me a little fist clench and a wink of encouragement before he returned to his post against the far wall and I stood with my hands on my hips and stared down the judges in turn.
My mentor and friend, Yaya Han, looked like she was about to explode right out of her too-tight corset with pride. She had discouraged me from doing the War Angel project because of sheer difficulty and how new I was to cosplay, but I could see nothing but sheer appreciation for the hard work I’d put in.
The judges all had questions about my materials, my building process, and how much I’d hired out. The one fear I had with the private judging was that I had to admit that Jackson had helped me improve the wings. I explained the initial process, and how Jackson had used an idea from his own experience to make the wings lighter for me, and I confessed that the opened and closed better as a direct result of the changes. I saw a couple of the men make some notes, and tried not to let my disappointment and fear show in my face. So much of these competitions was based on the artist’s ability to be innovative and creative themselves from start to finish. Letting Jackson improve my design might well have cost me the entire competition.
Yaya dismissed me and wished me good luck, and I made my way back to the dressing area, where Jackson and Shelby waited anxiously.
22. Jackson
“Any idea how you did?” Shelby blurted out as C.J. sat on a tall backless stool to take the weight off her feet for a minute before heading back out into the mad throng of people that had flooded the convention center.
“I was good. I got help from that one security guy who is always helping with costumes… Ray, I think his name is? Anyway, he was in there, and let me play off him for a minute.” She sighed deeply. “They asked how much of the work I’d done on my own. I don’t think they liked that Jackson helped me with the wings.”
I cursed and kicked the nearest clothing rack. “Well, you should’ve just said you did it. I didn’t build anything, I just helped with some final additions. I wouldn’t have had the first idea how to build that from scratch.” I took her hand in mine and rubbed my thumb across the back of her glove.
“It’s better to be honest, Jackson. If I won because I was supposed to do these amazing designs, and then I couldn’t replicate them without you, how would that make me look?”
Shelby nodded. I looked for something else to kick.
“It’s better to get a slower rise to success than a fast drop to infamy for being a fraud.” Shelby reminded us. I shook my head, but kept my feelings to myself. I was worse than an idiot for not asking her to leave me out of it. That costume was her baby. She’d spent hundreds of hours on it; I’d spent maybe six. It wasn’t fair to her to lose out because of that.
“It’s okay Jackson. Besides, you have bigger things to worry about. What happened with you and security?”
I pulled up another couple of stools so Shelby and I could sit with C.J. and told my story in short form. “I thought I was going to be eighty-sixed. The guys were sympathetic, but that was a lot of muscle, and once they got me out of the line of sight of the audience, I was up against a wall with my arm pinned so high I thought they might actually break it.” C.J. gasped and a stupid grin split my face. “They asked what I was thinking, and I explained that I was not going to let any asshole threaten my girlfriend with rape. Dude was lucky to be alive, and conscious,” I shrugged. “They agreed. Said you take a lot of crap because you’re a legit model, not just a cosplayer.”
C.J. shrugged and looked at the floor, and Shelby nodded. “Hell yeah, she does,” she drawled. “Mostly from the same guys who stalk her and end up at whatever functions she’s doing.”
I clenched my fists in my lap. My brain was on fire, jaw clenched tight.
“Hey, it’s no big deal,” C.J. added quickly. “Especially now that I have my very own “hacker tracker” business with my new partner.”
“Really? When did this happen?” I squinted at her.
“About five minutes after you left with security, when my lips moved faster than my brain and I said you and I were going to start our own private investigation business.” She raised her face and gave me a sheepish smile.
“I’m going to chase cheating husbands?”
“No, you’re going to chase cyberbullies,” she corrected.
“Well, fuck yeah I am. I do that all the time already. I’ve uncovered fraud, embezzlement, and one of your viewers who was making big donations, then stealing the money back.” I locked my hands behind my head. “Well, he tried to get it back. He won’t be bothering you or anyone else anymore.”
She clapped her hands and wiggled on her stool. “So, you’re not mad?”
“I’m a little s
urprised, but this time your lack of a filter has worked out pretty dang well. I’d still love it if you worked on that, though.” She frowned, but it passed quickly and was replaced with sheer, fierce victory. I felt like I’d been had, but damn, if she wasn’t the finest thing ever to put on wings, I didn’t know.
“Well, shit,” Shelby looked at us in turn with an expression of sheer disbelief. “You have a job here now.”
C.J. nodded at her, but the weight of what she said almost dragged me off my stool. “You’re staying.”
“Well, I do have that meeting at Stanford…”
“Screw Stanford, you’re staying in LA with C.J., and being geeks together, and having geek sex, and being parents to that smelly fur ball together.”
“Stiles isn’t stinky!” I groused. Shelby just held out a hand, like I’d proven her point.
“Whatever. My point is, I was planning to come to California before I was coming to visit C.J. If we have a plan and I can make money,” I looked at C.J. out of the corner of my eye, “and we can make a lot of money, then why shouldn’t we go for it?” I jumped off the stool and sent it clattering to the floor. “I’m staying in California. So, LA better be ready for cowboy boots and Duluth trading company, because I’m not giving it up for all y’all’s surfers and such.”
Shelby laughed and C.J. covered her face with her hand.
“You know,” Shelby mused, “the cowboy thing could be your signature. It’ll make you stand apart and people will remember you. I mean, we don’t exactly expect a slow drawling, sexy as hell cowboy when we call the GeekSquad.”
C.J. peered over her fingers. “The model and the Marlboro man,” she quipped.
“Hargrave Rivers LLC,” I corrected. She and Shelby grinned in unison.
“Well, my break is over, and I would love to get the next two hours of pictures and ass-grabbing over with. So, my tall, dark, and handsome cowboy, how’s about we go play nice with our future customers?”
“With these guys, it’s more like future nemeses.” I added, rolling my eyes.
“We need to get you a duster with pockets for your tools and stuff, then bring you to these dressed as McCree from that shooter game.” Shelby looked me over like she was taking my measurements already.
“Or, we could not, and I could be taken seriously,” I replied, waving her off. I’d seen the way people looked at me when they saw how I walked, or my boots. Even Shelby and company when I’d started talking the night before. Everyone was surprised that I was a techie because I talked like a Texan. The last thing I needed was people underestimating me more because I looked like a damned caricature of a cowpoke when I was working.
C.J. gave Shelby a look that shut her up, while I picked up the stool I’d knocked over. I held out a hand to each lady, and they hopped down from their seats and we walked out onto the convention center floor. A wall of noise hit us as I swung the steel double doors open to let C.J. and her wings through, and I took a couple shallow breaths before I took up a position at her back. Two men joined us, large enough to make my six and a half feet feel small.
C.J. was incredible. She opened her wings to the amazement of the children who flocked to her, and managed to keep their handsy fathers at bay without losing character or charm. She had her picture taken with fans of every age, and then the pseudo celebrities and past-science fiction heroes came forward to take their pictures with her too.
When one or another of my favorite actors wandered by, C.J. even wrangled pictures with me in them, for my own collection. She seemed to be right in her element. Meanwhile, just being around all those people, even though they were ignoring me completely, made my skin crawl and my palms damp. At a word from one of the security guys walking with us, she extended her floor time, but told Shelby and I that we could wait for her back in her dressing area if we were tired.
I almost took her up on it, then looked her over, from her sweat beaded forehead down to her stripper heels. If she could stick it out, so could I. I told her so, and Shelby agreed. Shelby added that it was a high, watching people love her work, so she always loved staying with C.J. for as long as possible, feeding off the amazement at what they accomplished together. As I watched that signature hip pop and felt, more than heard, the gentle whoosh of the wings as they opened, I understood exactly what she meant.
Finally, C.J. was finished, and we all dragged ourselves back to the changing area. I carefully tucked the winged costume away and double locked the case, using both the provided combination lock for the locker, and adding my own digital signature to the inside of the locker itself, in the form of a monitor that was synchronized to C.J.’s phone.
“I really lucked into it with that cool security system you have installed at your apartment,” I declared as we secured the bags and shut the locker, spinning the combination lock to reset it. “I added a battery pack so your monitor will work here. So, in effect, your system thinks that this is home, and your cell phone is away. If anyone opens the locker, it will immediately tell you, and you’ll see their face and everything.”
“I’d rather no one mess with my stuff. You know, we can just take it home and bring it back,” C.J. worried out loud.
“No, honey, you can’t,” Shelby quietly reminded her. “The judges are cracking down on people who make changes after the competition has started. If you take it home, you’re disqualified, automatically.” C.J. folded her arms and stared at the locker door. For a moment, I thought she might demand to stay the night.
“Thank you, Jackson, for understanding how important this is to me,” she said quietly as she took my arm. “I will make sure my phone goes directly on the charger and turn the volume all the way up for the rest of the night.” I leaned down and kissed her carefully. She was still in full makeup, and as hot as smeared lipstick sounded in my head, having encountered it earlier, I’d realized the reality was just waxy and strange.
C.J. was still on her weird “no real food” kick, so I begged her to let me pick up salads for us and promised I’d help her work it off, as Shelby gagged behind us. I let her drive the Jeep, since she knew the area so much better than I did, and she was far more alert.
“I swear, if I hadn’t spent the last six hours almost exclusively by your side, I’d think you’d been snorting cocaine,” I teased as the song she was singing along with, loudly and off-tune, thankfully ended. It was the worst, and most amazing thing I’d ever heard, and as I watched her face nearly split with her happy grin, I would’ve listened to the torturous karaoke all night, just to see her like that.
“Well, it’s your fault,” she retorted. “I was coming down hard from the energy of that wild, awesome debut of War Angel, and beyond worried about leaving her there all night.” She looked over at me as we waited for the traffic signal to let us through the intersection. “You thought ahead. You made War Angel safe, and you didn’t even tell me.”
“You were so mad at me this morning I didn’t want to make things worse by asking if you were worried about theft. I’m crazy smart, remember?” She snorted and rolled her eyes, then reached over and slid her hand so far up my thigh, my body reacted automatically and my pants started to feel tight.
“What are the chances we could work off a burger and a beer?” she asked. Her hand was now over the growing bulge in my pants, massaging it gently as she looked straight ahead. I swallowed hard and stammered, then cleared my throat.
“If you want to work off dinner, we should eat first, then have sex. Which is not how it’s going to happen if you don’t stop that.” I pressed her hand harder against me, then gently placed it safely on my knee. She giggled and squeezed then rested it there as the light finally changed and we could turn into The Habit, the burger joint that had been wafting insanely mouth-watering aroma into the Jeep.
We were close enough to home that we took our burgers and deep fried green beans to go. Once we were back at the apartment, C.J. stuck to her word and immediately plugged her phone in, and cranked the volume as high as
it would go. She checked the monitor, panicking a little at the black screen she got until I reminded her that it was aimed at the door, and black was exactly what she should see, unless someone activated the light sensor on the other side. I ate the most incredible burger I’d ever had, made even better by the accidental starvation of being too busy and distracted to stop and eat for hours, and pulled out the bed while C.J. took a long shower to wash off all the makeup and weird lotions and things she’d had to use for her cosplay.
I’d opened a couple of beers for us, but dozed off waiting for my gorgeous girl to finish her shower. It wasn’t until the air got cool and woke me up that I realized I was on top of the blankets and she was curled up under them next to me. With a soft curse, I untangled myself from the monstrous cat that had decided I was his favorite pillow, and slid under the covers next to her, careful not to let my cold skin steal her warmth.
I was exhausted. I could only imagine how tired she was, even though she was a lot tougher than me. Letting her sleep was the best thing for her. But, watching her breasts rise and fall with her steady, deep breaths, only made me want to touch her more. Her face was all soft in sleep, the angles and tightness of worry and healthy skepticism smoothed out until she looked like she was still just a kid.
I inched closer to her and watched the corners of her mouth tilt up in the ghost of a smile. Encouraged, I gently lifted her and slid my arm under her neck, pulling her ass up against me and wrapping my arm over her. She snuggled in without waking, and the damn cat pressed up against the backs of my legs, pinning me in place between them. I had hardly thought up an insult for him, when my thoughts slid away on the silk filaments of the cobwebs that fluttered through my mind and I faded back to sleep, my woman in my arms, exactly where she belonged.