The Con

This stupid headset - it’s too loose where is should be tight, too tight where it should be loose, and the mic cover definitely has a certain faint odor to it, which did not come from me… but, I get to co-ordinate the talent for one of my favorite franchises being featured at the convention, so it’s not that bad.

Truth be told, I wish I were on the show, not just watching it when I come home from my soul-crushing dead-end job, but the closest I get to the stage anymore is directing people on and off as an assistant stage manager (streaming Resident Evil games on Twitch isn’t really ‘high art’, and there are only a handful of people who donate, and they’re not on regularly, so it doesn’t count as ‘professional’, in my mind, especially at 29). However, I do get a free t-shirt and a few other perks for volunteering at the Con, and I am actually qualified to do it, thanks to my theatre degree, which means, as this is a compensated gig, it can go on my résumé.

Hooray.

Woo.

Joy of joys.

Most of the talent is polite, but not exactly talkative, as I stand, intermittently checking to make sure their mic pack is on and hiding behind a clip board, off to the side of the entrance which, unlike most theatres, is a single set of three steps off of a well-lit hallway, leading to a platform as wide as the walls - about 10 ft across, and about four feet deep, from the steps to the doorway, which is covered by a makeshift curtain, to keep the light off of the stage and provide some privacy to backstage before they enter the backside of Ballroom B.

That’s a lot of words to tell you I’m leaning up against the wall next to the doorway, so I can’t be seen by the audience, as the guests of honor enter, but the wall next to me is close enough for me to touch without extending my arm completely; kinda, sorta trapped in a corner, but, I digress.

One was quite talkative.

“Hi, I’m Gem, nice to meet you!” The deep, English voice rumbles through my body, garnering a reaction that is impolite to describe. That perfectly evil Black hair falling past his chest and down his back to brush the tops of his hips, those intense grey-blue eyes, that… costume? Who shows up to a panel in-costume? Without skipping a beat, I take the proffered hand and tried not to make a face, seeing him clad in his work ensemble - a figure who has literally shown up in my wet dreams.

“Nice to meet you, too!”

He grins, chuckles, and turns on the charm a little too hard, the way he lets a few tendrils of hair fall around his eyes, bringing his other hand to join the first. It feels like Trixter Lyon walked off the screen and drug me, unawares, into a fantasy I wasn’t prepared to endure.

Did I mention I am, essentially, trapped in a corner? The only way out is through him and he’s not letting me go anywhere… not that it’s a bad thing.

“I bet.” More grinning, my hand still gingerly encased in his much-larger ones. “This is the part where you say your name,” his eyes shift to my name badge, “as I highly doubt it’s really ‘GankGoddess267’,” then back to mine, still all-smiles.

It’s taking a great deal of concentration to stay aware of what’s going on in the headset and not turn into a puddle at his feet, while I remember to breathe like I didn’t just get off of a treadmill after 45 minutes. His repartee is so smooth, so familiar, it’s like he’s known me forever. He’s just getting into character, or something, quit acting like a star-struck idiot.

“Elizabeth,” the name seems foreign to my mouth, “sorry.” Finally, with a satisfied, close-mouthed smile, he lets my hand go and I wrap it back around the clipboard, bringing it in front of my chest to hide - ineffectively - behind the thin object. He gestures to himself, as if completely aware of his affecting presence, wearing said ensemble - yellowed linen and worn leather, with just enough velvet thrown in to complete the Vamperor (Vampire Emperor, obviously) Villain aesthetic.

“It’s a lot to take in, I admit - no worries; no need to apologize.” Taking a beat, he switches subjects suddenly. “Do you mind if I borrow your headset? Does it reach the booth?” So that’s what he was after - figures.

“What do you need me to tell them?” Out-of-character, the man in front of me visibly recoils from my change in tone from nearly swooning to professional, but is, nonetheless, adamant.

“Well, I have an idea, I think the crowd will love it, but, I can’t exactly walk around out there dressed like this to clear it with the crew, first… took me this long to get into costume and makeup by myself.” Really? He did this by himself? “I just need a blackout right before I go on, give me about 7 full seconds of dark, make sure my mic is on and then bring the lights back up; I’ll do the rest.”

“You sure about that?” Taking my hand, again, he brings it near his face, as if he’s about to kiss it.

“Nothing would make me happier - or them,” gesturing to the audience past the curtain. “Pretty please? I’ll do anything you ask…” his lips deliberately descend to my flesh, never breaking eye contact.

“I…”

The Woman was too stunned to speak. I roll my eyes at myself.

“…I’ll pay you, $500, even if they say ‘no’.” The mention of money brings me back to the real world rather quickly. “I have it up in my room.”

“Sold!” Five hundred bucks? And this isn’t even a real show? Oh, I’ll annoy the booth for that. Gem smirks like a schoolboy, letting me have my hand back, so I can push the talk button on the box clipped to my waistband. “Hey, Lights? Sound? I’ve got a favor to ask, direct from Gemini Lotswick - yes, that Gemini Lotswick…”

---

The crowd went wild, as predicted; Gem took the entire audience in the palm of his hand and played with them to his - and their - delight. Dramatic Entrance for a Dramatic Villain… it was perfect. I didn’t even get to see it happen, and I could tell the energy in that room was palpable. When the rest of the panel ended, the Producers, Directors, and other Actors all came out before Gem. Of course, Gem saunters back out of the curtain, still in-character, content as a cat that just spent a lifetime lapping up cream.

Then, he stops, unlike the rest of the group, in front of me.

“We did it, Elizabeth; thank you.” Before I can reply, Topher, Gem’s co-star and the show’s leading man - in sensible slacks and a soft sweater, the buzz-cut, farmer’s-tanned physical opposite of the lean, pale, dark-haired Trixter - comes back in amazement.

Guess which one is the Vampire Hunter.

“If you would have told me you were planning something like this, I could have at least not looked like a slack-jawed idiot up there.” Truth be told, I’m not exactly into beefy Southern blondes with perfectly-chiseled jawlines, so it was easier for me to keep my composure with him.

I know; poor me, surrounded by TV Stars.

“If you knew what I was planning, you wouldn’t have had that genuine reaction - and that reaction is going to go viral and make you even more endearing, I guarantee it.” Jeez, does he smile at everyone like that?

“Whatever.” Topher walks away in the direction of the impromptu ‘Green Room’ we set up for the Guests of Honor. Given the Con Schedule, he was most likely taking a breather before the four hours of fan photo ops he’d be subjected to before he got another break. The line had been forming since the room opened at 8am this morning, and was about to get even longer, now that the panel was out; he had his work cut out for him. “Go fix your hair.”

Truth be told, between the hot lights, the adrenaline, and the non-professional application, Gem’s sweat was making the wig come off his head. It made him look… human. Turning his attention back to me, he continues.

“I’ve got to get back to work, but…” taking the clipboard, he writes down his hotel room number - it was on the top floor, “I meant what I said - I’m free at 9:30.” Handing it back, he moves my hair away from my ear, and whispers, “Knock three times, then twice, then three times again; I’ll know it’s you.” Okay, business. Money. Not…

“And, here, I thought you forgot your… generous offer.” Pulling away, Gem tips my chin up gently with his finger, eyes locking.

“I meant what I said.”