Ship It(57)

“Hey, Claire, wait!” Caty says. She pats the seat next to her. “Can we talk a sec?”

“Uh, why?”

“I was just wondering how you were feeling about the panel coming up in Seattle,” she says.

I furrow my brow and sit. “What about it?”

“Well, I just know how upset you were after the whole ordeal in Portland, with the moderators Forest set up, and all that.” She gives me a sympathetic look. “I saw your posts. A lot of people did.”

It’s weird that my blog is suddenly public knowledge, but hey, this is what I wanted, right?

“I’m not going to apologize for what I said on my blog.”

“Oh god, no. I wouldn’t want you to! I think it was great! In fact, I’m wondering… do you have anything planned, in, like, retaliation?”

I just stare at her. “What do you mean?”

Caty exhales, then glances around the bus, and lowers her voice. “Look, Claire, I get what you want to do, and I think it’s really great, but due respect? I think you’re going about it all wrong.”

I’m…what?

“Look, here’s the thing. You came over looking for Jamie just now, right? Because you, what, want to try to convince him to make SmokeHeart canon?” I shift in my seat nervously. Well, yes. This chick is reading me like a book. “You gotta stop thinking of this as something you can just sit down and convince him of. Trust me, Jamie Davies is never going to willingly turn any characters gay just because someone asked politely; that’s not the way he works. When it comes to Jamie, you gotta make a scene. You gotta be so loud and public that he feels like he can’t say no, because he definitely wants to say no.”

She has a good point, but I have no idea why she’s telling me.

“And if I do this, if I make a scene,” I say, sorting out my thoughts, “you’re not going to send me home early?”

“Girl, you’re almost done with us anyway!” she exclaims, then lowers her voice again. “But no, no way. Not if I have anything to say about it.” She sighs deeply, like she’s been down this road many times. “Not everyone agrees with me about this, but listen, when we flew to Boise, I was convinced that Demon Heart was dead in the water. That this whole trip was a dying gasp. But then you happened, and suddenly we had a prayer. The chatter online about you is off the charts! I’m sure you’ve noticed it.”

It’s true, my mentions have been through the roof since I was chosen for this trip. My follower count is higher than I ever imagined it would get.

Caty wiggles her pink phone at me and smiles slyly. “We had more social mentions for that one panel in Boise than any other moment for any of our shows last year. And then after Forest pulled that shit in Portland and you went on a blogstorm about it, we had more social mentions than we had in Boise.”

“And you’re happy about that even though most of what people were saying was, you know, bad?” I ask.

“TV’s not the same business it was before. There’s a thousand channels out there for people to choose from, and a million shows to watch. Literally anything that makes a show stand out from the crowd is a good thing.” Caty puts a hand on my shoulder. “People were hearing about Demon Heart for the first time because of you, and that’s massive.” Caty nudges my elbow with hers. “You have one shot left to make a splash before the finale. I suggest you start thinking about how you’re gonna do it.”

My brain is swirling with thoughts. I can’t believe she wants me to make a scene. What can I do? How can I get Jamie’s attention in Seattle? Should I stand up in the middle of the panel and just start yelling? Could I get the other panel attendees involved? Maybe we could start a chant, or a song. Maybe we could all hold up signs at the same time. But no, all of that would just drown him out, make him shut down.

I’ve seen Jamie when he’s confronted, he does the diplomatic thing—starts telling you what you want to hear, starts getting slippery, starts lying. He did it to me in Boise after I won this trip, practically told me SmokeHeart was a great idea, got my hopes up. He was bullshitting me then, but what if I get him to say it again, onstage, in front of witnesses? What if I got him to commit?

I stand up, itching to get online and search for ideas. “Hey, Claire, one more thing?” Caty whispers, and I look back. “Like I said, not everyone agrees with this strategy, so, you know, keep it hush-hush.”

We exchange conspiratorial nods, then she swipes open her phone and goes back to tap-tap-tapping.

By the time we pass through the industrial outskirts of Tacoma, my plan is taking shape. I open Tumblr on my phone and start to type. Before this, I let myself get distracted by Forest, by Tess. That’s all gone now. I have a mission. And it’s on.


SEATTLE IS AN even bigger convention than Portland. I have my hat pulled down low over my eyes and a baggy coat on, so I’m hoping to be able to make it to the booth without being noticed, but the floor just keeps going and going. I wish Rico had come with me, but he said he needed a teriyaki bowl, and no one gets between Rico and his lunch. But maybe it’s good that he didn’t come along, considering I haven’t been able to look him in the eye since reading Claire’s story last night without being reminded of, well, of SmokeHeart, kissing dramatically in a messy billiards bar.