My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero (5 page)

He doesn’t say anything, just clenches his jaw while he weighs his decision. I can tell he is trying to think of a way out of this, but we both know that I have this one big, humongous favour in life to cash in at my discretion. And today is that day.

After a significant pause he finally lets out his breath.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he says. “But I’m not promising anything. I can’t make someone fall in love with me, and if it doesn’t work out that’s it.”

“I have no doubt that when you turn on the charm the girls will be lining up to fall in love with you,” I say in the sweetest voice I can muster.

“I’m giving you three months and that’s it.”

“That’s fair,” I nod.

He looks at me once more before turning around and walking in the opposite direction.

Now I don’t hide the smile as it spreads clear over my face.

“And I want that laminated I.O.U. back!” he yells over his shoulder.

I spin around and press the button for the elevator to go down.

That was the mother of all I.O.U.’s and I had planned to save it in case I ended up needing an alibi for a crime I committed (accidently of course), but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Chapter Four

“I’m looking for the issue with Batman’s Beyond Suit,” the customer tells me while flipping through the latest issue of Galactic Waves.

“That’s issue number twenty. They just announced that Rachel Rush is going to have her own spin off,” I say, pointing to the comic he’s reading.

He smiles indulgently at me. “I know, my guy at Marvel told me last week.”

“Did he also tell you that she leaves because Adam Axed finally gets wiped out by Broxton Bomb in the Galactic Games?”

His eyes widen and he leans closer to me.

“Where did you hear that?” he whispers.

“I have my own sources,” I say, and tell myself not to smile at my victory.

I have a great inside source at Marvel whose wife just happens to love historical romances.

I learned early on in my career− oh God, did I just call this my
career
?− that comic book fans would give Jane Austen fans a run for their money. They know everything, and they have sources everywhere. The internet is their virtual playground and Comic Con is their Christmas. When I first came to work at The Comic Web I realized that if I wanted to keep my job, I’d have to become invested in the comic life. Fast. So I read. I read every comic book in this place, sometimes staying hours after my shift to get through them all. And I listened. At first it was painful to listen to a discussion that asked whether the decision to print archival comic books has a moral component. But then, listening and observing, I realised that I was becoming part of something. Something bigger than me: a community of people that get each other and a place where people can come to feel as though they belong. And really, in retrospect, I can say it has helped a lot with my writing. I mean, what better inspiration is there for a leading man than Thor? That hair and muscle combination is quite potent.

I’m not quite as into the comic craze as my customers are, but I’ve learned to hold my own here.

Last year for Halloween I dressed up as Catwoman and even had a working grappling hook that Travis made for me. I could see the admiration from almost every comic crazed customer that entered the store that day; though I’m unsure if the admiration was more for the grappling hook or the skin tight leather suit. Scott and Travis nearly had a heart attack when I showed up at their annual costume party that night. I had to stop Scott from putting his wife Lori’s bathrobe over me. And then the grappling hook went through his front door. All in all it was one of my more memorable Halloweens.

But I’m proud of what I have accomplished here. It may not be exactly what I want to do with my life, but at least I am a part of the publishing industry. Well, sort of. And my boss has even let me start ordering the comic merchandise for the store, which has given me the opportunity to make a lot of connections. I’ve been contemplating writing a Victorian period comic book about a widow who is the town’s matchmaker; I’d probably have to make her telepathic to get it considered, but I’m sure that Thomas at Marvel and I could work something out. I know his wife would be on board; we discussed it at their house warming party last summer.

Travis enters the store with a cup in each of his hands, steam pouring out the top. I glance back at my customer and tell him I will be at the front if he needs anything.

“Have you been avoiding me?” I accuse as soon as I reach the front of the store.

“If I am, then I guess I’m doing a pretty bad job of it,” he says, holding the cup out to me.

I take the cup from him but narrow my eyes. “I’ve called you a couple times.”

More like every hour on the hour for the past three days.

“I’ve been a bit busy,” he says.

“I thought you were nearly done with that job,” I put the cup on the counter.

“Couple weeks left still,” he says. “But I was working on something else as well.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve come up with a few ground rules,” he takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and puts it down on the counter.

“Ground rules?” I ask, lifting the piece of paper but not looking at it.

“I figure you’re not going to let your new idea drop…”

“You already agreed,” I interrupt.

“Yes, I know. That’s why I was working on some ground rules.”

I take in his serious face before I nod and turn around to reach for my purse.

“Good, I came up with some ground rules myself.”

Travis looks like he expected nothing less as I reach for my rules and he reaches for his.

I look down at the paper he handed to me.

The Ground Rules.

1)  All names will be changed to protect the innocent. The innocent in this case being me, as well as the poor, unsuspecting woman that I finally find who is willing to participate.

“Have you got anyone in mind yet? I ask him.

“Not yet,” he shakes his head. “For some reason when I mention the fact we will have an audience listening to our every word, in the hopes we will provide her with the greatest love story known to man, they don’t seem as eager for me to take them to dinner.”

I nod. “We need to work on a script,” I say. “You have to phrase it a little better.”

“Yeah, my wording is the problem,” he rolls his eyes and looks back down at the paper in his hand.

I decide not to comment on his tone.

2)  You will be
observing
the dates
only
. At no point should you interact, interrupt, or interject yourself into the date.

3)  No intimate scenes. You may observe the date while we are in public, however, when the date reaches an intimate level behind closed doors, your observation ends. You can fill in the blanks yourself. Obviously you will have to under value my goods slightly. We don’t want anyone to get a surge of jealousy while reading.

I can’t help the laugh that escapes. Men.

“I don’t think post-date interviews are really necessary,” he says, pointing at my rules. “You will see and hear everything that goes on. What is there to talk about after?”

“Umm, I don’t know. Maybe a little thing called your feelings,” I say, raising my hands in exasperation.

Travis looks uneasy at the thought. “You can just interpret what you want from the dates.”

“That’s not the point,” I argue. “This is supposed to be as close to the truth as possible. I need to know what you are feeling about each other.”

“I guess we should add emotional interrogation to the script you’re going to prepare then?” he asks, and I can tell he is losing his patience a little.

I clench my jaw, but force a smile on my face. “That might be a good idea.”

Honestly, if he is just going to fight me on everything, then what is the point?

“And we can take this part out. You are not previewing the women I date to see if I should go out with them.”

“Travis, this book hinges on the likeability of the leading characters. If you date a total wench, then who is going to want to read the book?”

I know it worked for Wuthering Heights but I am going to say that is the exception, and not the rule.

“Can’t you just trust the fact that I wouldn’t date a wench?” he says, shaking his head.

“Considering your track record, I’m going to have to go with no,” I say. Based on the vein in his forehead, now might not be the best time to drop Cheryl’s name, but we both know it’s on the tip of my tongue.

“No. I have to draw the line somewhere,” he argues, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know, if you are just going to fight with me the whole time, then there is no point even doing this,” I say, trying to control my temper.

“Are you saying you want to back out?” he asks, and I can see the faint glimmer of hope in his eye.

So that’s what this is all about. Travis is never organized. He would never come up with this list on his own. He must have thought that if he laid out these ground rules I would get frustrated and give up on the idea.

I just want to pat his face. So young, so naive.

“Okay, I won’t preview the women you date. If she is meant to be with you, then I am sure she will be lovely,” I say, trying to be as gracious as possible.

I see the flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he shakes his head and looks back at the list.

I realise right then that Travis is going to be a tough character to write. I mean, I’ve known him forever, but at the same time I don’t really know him at all. He hardly ever discusses his feelings with me. In fact, I would say he goes out of his way not to talk about his feelings with me. I first brushed it off as a guy thing, but now I think it might just be a Travis thing. Scott talks about his feelings all the time with me. And anyone else who will listen to him.

I look back down at his list.

4)  I get final veto rights. If I don’t like something I get the veto.

“I’ll give you one veto,” I argue.

“Three,” he glares at me.

“Fine, you can have three, but that means I get three vetos too!” I say.

“What do you need vetos for?” he asks.

“Well, let’s not call them vetos. Let’s call them ‘favour cards’. If I would like you to do something that I think would benefit the book then I get to pick three things.”

He narrows his eyes. “Two.”

“Three! If you get three, then I get three,” I reason.

“This whole thing is one big massive favour card!” Travis says, shaking his head.

“Nope, I used the IOU for the book. Favour cards are different,” I say.

He studies me for a second and I’m proud to say I don’t move an inch under his scrutiny.

He lets out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Three favours, three vetos.”

I smile and continue reading.

5)  You can follow me around for three months. If after that time I haven’t fallen in love, or you haven’t got the book finished, you will have to finish it with that crazy imagination of yours.

6)  I get to read the finished book before anyone else.

“You don’t read books,” I argue, pointing to number six.

“No, I just don’t tell you I read books.”

“What books do you read?” I ask him suspiciously.

“All sorts,” he says, shrugging.

“You seem more like the John Grisham type to me. Maybe a little Michael Crichton?” I’m guessing; honestly, I have never seen Travis pick up a book in his life.

“I really liked Jurassic Park when I was a kid,” he acknowledges. “You probably saw me reading it one time.”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you read. I took an educated guess, it’s what I do,” I shrug.

I’ve always been good at that. Pegging people for things. I’ve been told that’s one of the strongest things about my writing. I can put characteristics to characters that make them leap off the page.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I observe people, I have my whole life; that’s how I am able to write my characters.”

“By what books they read?” he asks skeptically, lowering the piece of paper I gave him.

I can’t tell if he is genuinely interested or just trying to distract me from the list. Either way, I love to talk about what I do.

“Not really, well not just the books they read,” I qualify. “I look at a variety of things: what someone is wearing, how communicative they are, how they carry themselves. I am usually spot on.”

“Some might say that’s being superficial,” he accuses, but the slight lift at the corner of his mouth softens his words.

“I’m not saying that’s all there is to someone. It just categorizes them.”

“So what category am I in?” he asks.

“Well, with you it’s not exactly going to work because I know you,” I argue.

“Humor me,” he says, shrugging. “If you were just meeting me for the first time, if you hadn’t known me forever, what would you see?”

At first Travis’s request catches me slightly off guard. Mainly because I don’t see the teasing light that is usually behind his eyes. He seems very earnest about the request. He’s probably a little nervous about how I am going to describe him in the book.

I narrow my eyes ever so slightly and take him in again, this time not seeing Travis, but trying to see a stranger.

He’s a good looking guy, definitely doesn’t have any trouble getting the girls. His dimple is probably a large contributing factor.

His hands look work worn, they’re clean, but his nails are too short and cut with no thought to shape. He wouldn’t even consider the new fad of men getting manicures. Why would he when he could do it for free at home with a pair of nail clippers?