Bookish and the Beast (Once Upon a Con #3)(25)
I give her a blank look. “About what?”
“Mama needs that sweet, sweet Vance Reigns gossip.”
“…Oh.”
“Please don’t call yourself mama,” Quinn says, fishing out a can of red soda that turns their tongue pink. They toss another to Annie, who pops it open and quickly slurps up the fizz bubbling over the tab.
I shrug. “I haven’t really seen much of him.”
“Isn’t he supposed to be helping you?” Quinn asks.
“Yeah, as if.” I laugh.
Annie sighs. “Well, that’s disheartening. So he really is just like all the rumors say? Hot, spoiled, selfish,” she counts, listing off his finer qualities on one hand. “Hot. Did I mention super hunkin’ hot?”
“Don’t forget infuriating,” I add, remembering the way he glared at me Friday evening when he returned from his jog with his dog. Why does he hate me so much? I shouldn’t even be on his radar, I’m not in his league. It doesn’t make sense.
“So what I’m hearing is that he is Sond. He probably didn’t even have to act for the part.” Annie fishes for some more bug spray in her beach bag. “Sad, really.”
Quinn gives her a look. “You thought he’d be Prince Charming?”
“Well, it’d be nice—for Rosie’s sake. Wouldn’t it have been the coolest meet-cute? Two lovestruck fools meet for the first time in a sunlight-soaked library. It’s the stuff of dreams. Besides, even when you do win Homecoming—and you will, oh you definitely will—she’ll need a date for the dance.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, and it won’t be Vance Reigns. Not in any universe—oh hey”—I quickly scramble to sit up again—“the bonus scene’s on.”
On the screen, the bonus scene from the home video release flickers to life, and the crowd quiets. Carmindor steps into a courtroom filled with gnarled old men. I sort of wish that this scene had been included in the theatrical release, but I don’t think Sond was announced back then.
It’s hard to imagine it’s been a year since Starfield came out and they announced the sequel. It’s hard to imagine that Starfield was the last movie I saw with my mom before…
Well, just before.
“You’ve requested me, Father?” Carmindor asks the gray-haired man on the elegant iron-and-rust throne.
“No,” another voice interrupts, and a rush of cheers echoes through the nighttime drive-in as on-screen a white coat swishes, and a tall and broad figure steps into frame. White-blond hair, glowing uniform, striking blue eyes—my heart kicks against my rib cage. Because I remember them from a few nights ago, from the first moment I saw him, a shadow with cornflower eyes. And somehow that reminds me of the young man on the balcony, dressed as Sond, but with a smile like a galactic prince. “I requested you, Prince Carmindor.”
I let out a hard sigh from between my teeth.
Weird. So weird.
Somewhere in the audience, a few girls squeal at his entrance. Annie gives a low whistle. “Someone’s ovaries are exploding.”
“Ah, music to my ears!”
On-screen, Sond smirks as the scene fades to dark; the last to go are his light blue eyes, bright and sharp.
I shiver a little and quickly look away.
Annie slides off the air mattress in the back of the truck and stretches. “Anyway, I’m gone to pee and stretch my legs a little bit.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Anyone need concessions?” Quinn stands, too, reaching their hands above their head with a yawn. They brush off their velvet skirt and hop off the flatbed truck. “I want some more popcorn. Do you need a refill?”
“Please, you’re the best,” Annie replies, handing her large ice cup to Quinn. Then she vaults over the side of the truck and makes a beeline for the porta-potties at the back of the drive-in lot.
“Run like the wind!” Quinn calls after her. Then they turn to me and ask, “Need anything?”
“Twizzlers?”
“I think I can do that. Be back in a flash.” They set off toward the white building between the two drive-in lots. The other screen is showing the new Marvel and Disney movies, and in the quiet of the evening I can faintly hear some sort of rousing song belting from a pretty animated princess, and I think, if Vance were the spoiled villain of my story, the General Sond I met on the balcony of ExcelsiCon must be the prince.
That’s funny, just a little bit.
As I dig for another cola in the cooler, I hear the voice of the last person I wanted to see here. “Rosie! I didn’t know you liked Starfield.”
Really? I wear LOOK TO THE STARS shirts at least once a week. I fish out a cola from the cooler and turn to greet Garrett with a fake smile. “I do.”
“Carmindor’s dreamy, right?” he says as he hops up to sit on the tailgate of the truck—uninvited. “All the girls love Carmindor.”
“I mean, not all the girls.”
“No yeah, you’re right—just the ones with good taste, like you,” he replies with a wink.
“Well, that’s delightful,” I say with that same fixed smile, “because I don’t really like Carmindor. He’s way too perfect. He does everything right, and he’s the hero no matter what. Everyone wants to be Carmindor. What I really like are the villains, like Obscura or Vexel Day or the Nox King or, my favorite, General Ambrose Sond.”