Ship It(93)

I hear Claire ask for the next question from the audience and I drop Rico’s hand and say, “Claire, wait.”

She looks at me with this stunned expression that makes me laugh as I push my seat back and stand up. I’m nervous, and I’m worried I’ll knock my chair over or do something clumsy as I stand, but I don’t. I wriggle my microphone out of its holder. It’s game time. Take the shot, Reed.

I say, “There are a lot of people who don’t want me to talk about this today. And, to be honest, I wasn’t going to.”

I cross to Claire, who’s shaking her head a little and whispering, “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Yes, I do,” I whisper back. I open my arms for a hug, and she looks at me a moment, and then accepts it. I wrap my arms around her and whisper into her ear, “I’m so proud of you,” and as I do, my voice hitches. Because I am. So damn proud of her. I wouldn’t be doing this if she hadn’t shown me it was possible.

Over Claire’s head, I can see Jon Reynolds standing in the wings, giving me a finger across the throat: Cut it out. I give Claire a pat on the back and turn away from him. Let him find out what I’m going to say along with the rest of the room. And if Red Zone wants to be dicks about the deal after that, well, that’s out of my control.

I grip the microphone tight and forge ahead. “A few months ago, I didn’t know anything about fandom or shipping or any of this stuff. But then I started meeting y’all, and I kept hearing the same thing over and over…” I walk to the edge of the stage. I can feel a spotlight struggling to follow me. Let’s make that spotlight operator work for his money, shall we? I hop off the stage and the audience cheers. They have no idea what’s coming. I have, well, just an inkling, and it scares the hell out of me.

I’m white-knuckling the mic, as I start walking into the audience. I take a breath. Relax, Reed. Breathe. Don’t think so much.

I look into the bright spotlight, and I feel the eyes of thousands of fans on me. “I keep hearing that Smokey and Heart are in love.” There’s scattered whoops and hollers for that.

I shade my eyes against the spotlight, peering at people until I find what I’m looking for. There. In the eighth row, a twentysomething girl who looks to be about Rico’s size, cosplaying as Heart.

“Do you mind if I borrow this?” I ask. She nods at me, dazed and exhilarated, and shrugs out of her yellow workman’s jacket and hands it to me. “I’ll give it back,” I whisper as I take it from her.

I walk back up toward the front, and Rico, seeing me coming, hops out of his chair and meets me at the edge of the stage. I toss the jacket up to him. He grins at me, looking pretty excited to be taking part in whatever it is I’m planning.

“For a long time, I didn’t want to hear it. I thought the same thing the whole world thinks when teenage girls open their mouths: ‘You’re emotional. You’re delusional. You’re hysterical.’” I turn around to make eye contact with Claire. “I was wrong.”

I lean against the front of the stage and rub my sweaty palm on my jeans. “Look, I mean, I admit I didn’t really get it at first. It took a while, you know, for me to get my head out of my ass.”

“I love your ass, Forest!” someone shouts from the audience, and there are titters all around.

“I love his ass, too,” Rico says, low, his mouth right on the microphone. The crowd erupts in laughter, and I have to will my cheeks not to turn pink. Rico laughs with them, enjoying making me squirm.

“Thank you. Both of you.” I push off the edge of the stage and head back into the audience. “The point is,” I say, getting this back on track. “Everything you saw on-screen, that was real. That really happened, and it’s really part of the show. No one can take that away from you, not me, not Rico, not Jamie.” I jerk my thumb at Jamie, who looks permanently indignant, like people keep stealing his parking spot at Whole Foods and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

“All the feelings you feel when you watch the show? Those are just as real as anyone else’s. What you think about Demon Heart is just as important as what Jamie thinks, or what some critic thinks, or what I think.” I stop at the boy in the front row, who’s clutching his arms across his chest. “You’re not hysterical. You’re not delusional. Your opinions are valid,” I say, and he nods at me with big, teary eyes.

I relax my grip on the mic. The plan is falling into place. I spot a girl wearing a leather jacket like Smokey’s and I head toward her. When I gesture, she immediately slips it off and tosses it to me with a big thumbs-up. She’s on board. I notice that the strap is broken on the shoulder, just like mine, and just like that other girl I met a few cons back. I have come to love meticulous cosplayers.

“If you see Demon Heart as a love story, then it’s a love story,” I say. That gets a cheer, too. The energy in the room is building.

Someone from the back hollers, “Hell yes it is!” and there’s another cheer.

I hear someone under their breath say, “What a chode,” as I pass. I shoot him a look. He’s one of the gamers who asked me a question before. I choose to ignore him. He came to a Demon Heart panel. He’s gonna get demons and a whole lotta heart. As I pass, I hear him get to his feet and walk out. I see a few other people around walking out, too. Let ’em.