Ship It(97)

I smile to myself and flop my arm back over my eyes. Caty and I have been seeing each other a little bit. She’s one of the few people I know who doesn’t constantly poke fun at me for making out with a dude at Comic-Con. She understands what it meant. Plus, now that she’s not bossing me around, telling me what to tweet, she’s actually really chill.

Maybe if Claire were here she’d be pressing me to figure out what the hell I was feeling during that kiss with Rico, but she’s not here and I’m not worried too much about it. Maybe someday I’ll figure it all out, but for right now, I’m just gonna live my life, and maybe get a drink with the cute girl with the out-of-control fashion sense once in a while.

“Is that a Forest Reed under there?” a voice says. Our greenroom at this con is in this big open lounge-y area that anyone with a VIP pass can wander into. Cautiously, I remove my arm from my face.

“Hey there. Zach.” It’s Zach Sanchez-Anderson, the Time Swipers showrunner. I only met him the one time, standing in the hallway back in Boise, with Jamie. I’m surprised he remembers me.

“Hi,” I say, and sit up to shake his hand.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your nap,” he says, and takes a step back like he could give me my space if I wanted him to.

“No, no, it’s fine. Just, talking to fans, it kind of takes it out of me sometimes,” I say. And then quickly add, “In a good way.”

“Been there,” he says, and I remember that this guy’s writing resume goes back to Star Command… which means he knows Rico.

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

“Hey, look… I know how fraught the conversation between talent and fans can be sometimes. And I know nobody’s perfect. But I just wanted to say, I think you’re doing a great job out there. You really know how to connect with people.”

“Thank you,” I say genuinely. Rico tells me this shit all the time, but it means something different coming from a stranger, and someone who really knows this world.

“And, hey, by the way, we have a guest arc on Time Swipers coming up that I think you would be perfect for. Guaranteed eight episodes, maybe more if the audience responds. You interested? I mean, I’m sure your schedule is bananas right now.”

“It’s… actually, it’s not,” I say. My agent is laser-focused on getting Red Zone to come back to me, but I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen. They got one whiff of my performance in San Diego and hightailed it.

I squint at him. “Is this Caty’s idea?”

“Who, Caty Goodstein? No, I just love your vibe.”

Good, I’d hate to think I got this job because my maybe-future-kind-of-girlfriend pulled strings for me.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, actually. I thought you were doing great work on Demon Heart, really nuanced stuff. It’s a shame they let you slip away,” he continues.

Seriously? “I’m definitely interested,” I tell him.

“Lucky us! We’ll be in touch, then,” Zach says, and shoots me a finger gun. I wave as he moves off. I just got a new gig. Maybe my career isn’t in the gutter after all. My god, I need a new agent. Why am I having to get all my jobs myself? I want a cookie.

I climb to my feet and wander over to the snack table in search of sugar and a sparkling water. As I reach for a chocolate chip cookie, my hand brushes someone else’s.

“Sorry,” he says, and my stomach zips because I know that voice. Carefully, slowly, I raise my eyes to confirm that yes, indeed, I am standing at a snack table next to Jasper Graves.

Suddenly all the air is gone from my lungs, my eyesight is fuzzy, my forehead starts to sweat. But I can’t not say something.

“Cookies, huh?” I say stupidly. Jasper looks at me.

Jack Tension is looking at me.

“Love ’em,” he says.

I can’t quite make direct eye contact. I keep trying, but… I take a deep breath. Just say it, Reed. “Mr. Graves? Sir? I love your work, it means a lot to me, it’s basically what got me into acting.”

He turns to me, then. Looks me over. “Oh yeah?”

“Yup.” Then I don’t have anything else to say, so I go, “I don’t want to bother you, I just wanted to say that.”

Jasper squints at me, and I am frozen under his gaze. After a moment, he leans in, furrows his brow, and says, “You want to take a photo?” Not short, or rude, but like he actually wants to take a photo with little old me. And obviously little old me wants a photo, are you fucking kidding me?

When Rico arrives with our lunches, he sees me and Jasper Graves, posing for a selfie, and he cracks up laughing. “You’re such a fanboy, dude.”

It’s true, I am.


MY MOM KEEPS coming in with trays of snacks, even though Tess and I are seriously no longer hungry.

“Mom, please stop,” I say after she hands us a tray of cashew cheese kale chips and a bowl of masala-spiced roasted chickpeas. More internet recipes.

“I just want to make sure you ladies are taken care of,” she says.

“Thank you, Trudi,” Tess says like the suck-up she is, and I elbow her under the blanket we’re sharing on the living room couch.

When Mom disappears again, I shoot Tess a look. “Stop encouraging her.”