Karma Kitty Goes to Comic Con

by Mari Mancusi

  “We're both fab,” she agreed. “Uber fab, in fact. Now let's go sell us some comic books.”

  Chapter Two

  “Welcome!” exclaimed the hook-nosed woman with gold rimmed glasses who stood behind Booth 2134. She held out her Olive Oyl length arms in greeting. “I'm so glad you were able to come by.”

  Hailey glanced over at Thomas, who shrugged in response. Of course they “were able to come by”--they had a signing in less than an hour! And who was this woman, anyway? With her graying hair pulled back into a severe bun and her suit jacket buttoned up to her neck, she looked like she belonged in a banker's banquet rather than a comic book convention. Was she was den mother, perhaps, hired by Straylight to keep the booth seats warm while the editors got their geek on around the Comic Con floor?

  “Thanks,” Hailey said, hesitantly. “Is this where--”

  “Yes! Of course. You're at the right place. Your home for all things Karma Kitty. It's so great to see fans here. Real fans! The signing will begin in...” She glanced at her watch. “...less than an hour. You're welcome to stay. The artists aren't here yet, but they're expected soon.”

  Thomas burst out laughing. Hailey shook her head, realizing the mistake. “Oh,” she said. “We're not fans.”

  The woman raised a skeptical eyebrow, eyeing their attire. “I see,” she said, losing a level of perkiness.

  “No, you don't understand. We're the artists,” Hailey clarified. “I'm Hailey Hills and this is Thomas Carol. The masterminds behind Karma Kitty.”

  “You're...” Mrs. Hannah started, trailing off as she stared at them as if in disbelief. “You're...Oh my. Well, I'm so sorry for the mistake. I didn't recognize you in those...those...” She scrunched up her face with obvious distaste. “Those costumes,” she finished, spitting out the word costume as if it were poison she was desperately trying to expel. She sniffed, then stuck out a hand. “I'm Martha Hannah, the publisher. You can call me Mrs. Hannah.”

  Hailey took the cold, bony paw, trying not to let her mouth drop open in shock. This was their publisher? Where were the black rimmed glasses wearing geeks who'd skip lunch to check their World of Warcraft auctions? Or at least throw down a few rounds of Magic: The Gathering. Mrs. Hannah looked as if she'd prefer a compelling game of bridge at the local country club.

  Don't judge someone on their appearance, she scolded herself. Mrs. Hannah, despite her outfit, could be a huge fan and advocate of the comic book world. And she did publish and distribute Karma Kitty. So obviously she had good taste.

  “So what do you think of the costumes?” Thomas asked, pumping Mrs. Hannah's hand eagerly. “Pretty bad ass, huh? I made mine myself. I'm Big Kitty.”

  “Indeed you are,” Mrs. Hannah said, yanking her hand away and brushing it against her gray flannel suit.

  “And I'm Karma Kitty,” Hailey added, enthusiasm extinguishing at a rapid rate. This was so not how she'd envisioned this meeting at all. She'd expected to walk up to the booth to a spattering of “Oohs” and “Aahs” -- maybe even a little clapping--for their creative attire. Instead, Mrs. Hannah looked like she wanted to send them to the principal's office.

  “I see.” Mrs. Hannah pursed her thin lips, then glanced at her watch. “Well, you're scheduled to sign in less than an hour, so I suggest you start getting changed.”

  Hailey and Thomas exchanged puzzled glances. “Changed?” Hailey inquired.

  “Into your normal clothes,” Mrs. Hannah said slowly, as if speaking to dim-witted children. “What you're going to wear for the signing.”

  “But we're going to wear--”

  “That?” She gave them a horrified once-over. “Certainly not.”

  “But...but we're dressed like our characters.”

  “Yes, I see. That is quite obvious. But we simply can't allow you to represent our company dressed like you are. This kind of thing just won't fly here at Comic Con.”

  An amputee with a machine gun for a leg picked that moment to limp by, followed by a trio of Batmen--60s TV series, Tim Burton, and Dark Knight varieties.

  “How can you say that?” Hailey demanded. “Look around you. Half the people here are in costume.”

  Mrs. Hannah shrugged. "They're fans. It's fine for fans to dress up. But as artists--you should be above this sort of thing. I've spent fifty years trying to legitimize comic books to an industry who considers them nothing but child's play. The last thing I need is a couple of my artists to foil years of hard work with a single fashion faux pas.

  Hailey's heart sank. All that hard work creating her costume--for nothing. All the money she'd spent on her amazing shoes--wasted.

  “Come on, lady,” Thomas whined. “We're just having a little fun. We're not going to bring down the whole comic book industry just by a little dress-up.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But I own Straylight Comics and if you want to sign at my booth, which I paid for, you will do so in respectable attire.”

  “Yeah? Well I say you can take your respectable attire and shove it--”

  “Okay, okay!” Hailey interrupted Thomas before he said something he'd regret. After all, this was their publisher. The person who signed the checks and distributed their work. Even if they didn't agree with her--even if they thought she was insane--they had little choice but to respect her wishes. After all, she'd paid for them to come to Comic Con in the first place. “We'll just hit the bathroom and be back in a few.”

  Mrs. Hannah nodded, looking smug. Hailey noticed Thomas opening his mouth again, so she grabbed him by his purple velour sleeve and dragged him away.

  “Come on Big Kitty,” she quipped. “Retract the claws, please, please.”

  Thomas grunted, but allowed her to drag him away. “So unfair,” he grumbled, once out of earshot. “How'd we pick such a lame-ass publisher, anyway? Legitimizing comic books, my ass. Comic books aren't meant to be legitimate. They're books with freaking pictures! We're not publishing Shakespeare people!”

  “Hush!” Hailey scolded. “People here will kick your ass for saying shit like that.”

  “They can try!”

  “Oh grow up, Thomas,” she said, feeling rather old all of a sudden. “Mrs. Hannah means well. She wants people to take the books more seriously. So we can get wider distribution in bigger bookstores. Get the mainstream audience to pay attention. It makes sense in many ways.”

  “She wants us to sell out, in other words,” Thomas interjected.

  “You can call that, but will you really complain when the big paychecks start rolling in?”

  “Please. What about Hiro Kim? He's the best selling comic artist in the world--Hollywood's been begging him to sell his movie rights to his pirate series for years. And he's said time and time again he'll never, ever do it.” Thomas held out his hands. “You think he's busy collecting welfare because he takes a moral high ground?”

  Hailey sighed. “It's not like I don't see your point. I'm just saying there are different ways to look at it. Anyway, it's not like I'm not as disappointed as you are. You know how long I spent on this outfit?”

  “Well, maybe we can wear them after the signing,” Thomas suggested. “We can be our own fan girls.”

  Hailey smiled. “Exactly. And then we can...” She trailed off, her voice getting stuck in her throat as her fell on the one person she'd been searching for/trying to avoid.

  Collin.

  He wasn't exactly hard to miss. Standing tall on a raised platform in the middle of what had to be the biggest booth at Comic Con. Darken Pictures, the film company he worked for. He was lecturing a gathered crowd of scantily clad elf girls while a swirling animated screen lit up the stage behind him.

  “Hailey? You okay? You're suddenly white as a...Ohhh!” Thomas followed her glance and put two and two together. “It's the Hollywood Hunk, eh?”

  Hailey bit her lower lip, her traitorous body trying to step forward and retreat all at the same time. Her legs were mud and her eyes refused to look away, drinking in the tall, lanky figure on stage. His
fitted Darken Pictures tee nicely showcased his pecs and trim stomach while his black jeans hugged his narrow waist and thighs. She remembered all too well running her hands up and down that body, sans clothes, once upon a time, exploring the hard planes of muscle beneath. She remembered the pleasure she felt from touching him. From him touching her back.

  She shook her head. That time was past. And while he was still unbearably sexy on the outside, he was also probably still as pig headed on the inside as well. And sure, sexy was good for a romp in the sack or two, but when it came to committing to a person for the rest of your life, Hailey wanted more than that. She wanted a guy who would believe her. No matter what.

  “So you gonna go say hi?” Thomas asked, nudging her in the arm and yanking her back to the present.

  “No way,” she said. “Absolutely no way.” She turned to leave, finally getting her Jell-o like legs under some sort of control. “We'd better get to the bathroom, quickly, so we can change in time for the signing.”

  “Too late, kitty kat,” Thomas replied, his voice ripe with amusement. “You've been spotted.”

  She glanced back and cringed as she realized she was indeed the target of Collin's steady, piercing gaze. He caught her eyes in his and, as if by some kind of magic cosmic ray, refused to let go.

  “Hailey!” she heard him cry. “Hailey Hills!”

  “I'll meet you at the signing, lover girl.” Thomas chuckled, before ducking out of sight.

  ~~~

  Collin couldn't believe it. Absolutely couldn't believe it. Hailey Hills. His Hailey Hills was standing there in the middle of Comic Con, not ten feet away from him. Forgetting he was in the middle of a Q&A, he leapt off the stage, pushing past all the annoying bimbos who had been asking moments before whether or not he thought Paris Hilton would make a good Cat Woman. He could hear his assistant call after him, her voice high with distress, but he ignored her. Hailey Hills was now nine feet from his grasp and he wasn't going to let her get away.

  “Hailey!” he cried again, pushing through the crowd. She stared at him dully, as if with little recognition. She did remember him, didn't she? They were only engaged to be married once, after all...

  He caught up to her and stopped, panting from his effort. He took her in, raking his gaze from her flip-flopped feet, up her shapely legs--sheathed in glittery lycra--to her micro-mini and school girl button-down shirt. She was carrying ridiculously high golden boots and wore little cat ears on her head.

  His body tightened in response as his eyes involuntarily returned to the inch of bare skin located at the spot where the thigh highs ended and her skirt began. God she looked good. Way too good. It was all he could do to stop himself from pinning her against a post and lifting her skirt to see if she'd started wearing panties or still went commando. He imagined himself running his hands up her creamy white thighs, higher and higher until he reached...

  He shook his head. This was not the time or place for this kind of thing. Still, it'd been an awful long time since he'd felt this way about a woman and part of him was relived to feel his sex drive kick back into gear. It'd been a while, for sure.

  “Hi Collin,” Hailey said breezily, as if it wasn't the oddest thing in the world to run into him in the middle of Comic Con. “What's up?”

  He stared at her, his usually quick mind--the one that got him big Hollywood deals on a daily basis--locking up like a steel drum and refusing him the ability to form a complete sentence. “You...” he stammered, raking a hand through his hair. “You...are you dressed as a cat?”

  If there had been awards given out at Comic Con for saying lame things, he would have won the grand prize for sure. Of course she was dressed up like a cat. She was Karma Kitty--their creation. Collin had been following her successes on her blog for the last five years. She'd come a long way from the crazy hippie dippie girl he'd fallen in love with back at school. She was a successful comic book writer with a cult following that would likely only get bigger as time went on.

  “I'm supposed to be Karma Kitty,” she said, her cheeks coloring as she glanced down at her feet. She still had the light dusting of freckles powdering her nose. Collin remembered his favorite lazy Sunday morning activity--curling up in bed with her, kissing each and every one.

  “Yeah, right, of course,” he said, struggling to redeem himself. "I've been reading it. It's really great.

  Her sexy, black rimmed eyes widened at this. “You've been reading the comics?”

  Now it was his turn to blush. The last thing he wanted was for her to know how hung up he'd been...how hung up he still was...on her. The girl had ditched him at the altar. Humiliated him in front of his family and friends. He remembered standing up there, wearing his ridiculous penguin suit. Waiting and waiting and waiting. Hearing the guests on the bride's side snicker. His mother sob. How long had he actually stood up there before he realized she wasn't going to show up?

  Anger replaced lust in his gut. “So,” he said. “Get abducted by any aliens lately?”

  Her face darkened. He'd struck a nerve. Well, good. She deserved to feel guilty after what she had done. Making up some stupid excuse as to why she hadn't shown up on that day. If she hadn't felt she was ready for marriage, if she wasn't sure about moving to LA--she could have just told him. He'd have understood. But no, she'd all runaway brided him, making him worry for weeks before she finally showed up out of the nowhere, expecting him to just believe her crazy tale and forgive her.

  Her face fell and felt himself soften. He hadn't chased after her to yell at her, after all. And he was happy to see her, even under the circumstances. It'd been too long. “Sorry,” he amended. “I didn't mean...”

  “No, it's okay,” she said, recovering quickly. She threw him a big Hailey grin. “But no aliens. No voices. No...well, no weirdness at all. I've shut it all out of my life. Turned over a new leaf. All that.”

  “That's great,” he said, an inane hope rising inside of him. Stupid. He shoved it back down. No need to get all schoolboy over her again. Waste all those years of therapy. They were two separate people who lived two separate lives on two separate coasts. They'd shared something once, but it was long over. Heck, he barely knew her anymore and it was best to keep it that way. “I'm glad you're doing so well,” he added, stiffly.

  “You too!” she replied with her typical bouncy enthusiasm. “You're so famous now. It's awesome. Hell, you even have groupies.” She pointed behind him and he groaned to realize the bimbos in his audience must have followed him over. They stood, huddled a few feet away, giggling and whispering furiously. One held up her camera phone to take a picture. He could almost see the PerezHilton.com mention now. Darken Producer cuddles up to Karma Kitty. Meow!

  Oh well, maybe it would be free press for Hailey's comic. He'd be okay with that. She deserved to do well. She'd obviously worked so hard.

  He turned back to Hailey, rolling his eyes for emphasis. “Oh yeah,” he said, allowing his voice to drip with sarcasm. Didn't want her to think he bought into all the Hollywood hype. “I'm a real kingpin.”

  She giggled, then shuffled her feet, looking up at him with those big bedroom eyes of hers. The ones that would never fail to make him weak in the knees. God, this was awkward. If only he could get her somewhere alone. To talk, that was. Nothing else. Well, maybe nothing else. Have to see how the talk went, first. Would she agree to meet him later? Or would she turn him down flat? Could he take the rejection if she did?

  Collin squeezed his hands into fists and summoned up all the courage inside of him, Just ask her, he willed himself. It's not a big deal. Be a man for chrissakes.

  She spoke before he could. “So, uh, I've got to go...get changed,” she said, blushing a bit. “I have a signing in a few minutes over at my publisher's booth. We're giving away two hundred copies of Karma Kitty volume one and then selling the newer issues.” Her face brightened as she started talking about her work.

  “Cool.” He felt his insides warm at her enthusiasm. Despite all they'd
been through, he wanted nothing more than for her to succeed. Hell, how many issues of Karma Kitty had he ordered on Amazon.com over the years in an effort to lower her sales ranking? Hundreds, he'd guess. Of course, those copies were put to good use--he'd bring them over to the pediatric cancer ward of his local hospital. The kids' faces lit up each time he arrived with a new volume. They were Hailey's biggest fans. If only he could tell her about them without sounding like a pathetic loser who'd been unable to let go when she ditched him.

  His eyes involuntarily fell back to her outfit. “Um, why are you changing though? You look very Karma Kitty'esque now.”

  She laughed. “I know, right? But my publisher totally vetoed the costume. She said it wasn't professional.”

  Professional wasn't the word he'd use either. Delicious, maybe. Sinful, perhaps. Lust inspiring, for sure. He swallowed hard as his brain launched into a full-on instant replay of one of the many nights they'd spent together, wrapped in a delightful tangle of naked limbs. Light sweat sparkling off her freckled skin as she moaned for him--even begged for him. Running his hands over every inch of her, touching, tasting, making her tingle. Then making her scream.

  Maybe it would be better for her to change. After all, he didn't really relish the idea of other men coming over to ogle her.

  Yes, he decided. She should change for the signing. Then wear the outfit again tonight.

  Just for him.

  So he could rip it off her.

  Get a grip, Collin. She's never going to end up at your hotel room if you can't even get up the courage to ask her to dinner.

  “Would you like to go out to dinner?” he blurted out, necessity being the mother of getting over yourself.

  Her eyes widened, giving him another jolt in the groin. God, those eyes of hers. Pale blue, framed by the longest lashes. He remembered her softly brushing those lashes against his cheek over and over again. Butterfly kisses, she'd call them, giggling. More lazy Sunday memories.

  “Um,” she said. “Um.”

  Something inside of him died. “Never mind,” he said quickly, seeking out a shred of dignity. “You're busy, I'm sure. It was just a...never mind.”