Page 66 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“Thanks, Dave. But I’m just a stage actor.”
“My last voice actor’s rate was four hundred dollars an hour, and he wasn’t half as good as you.”
A woman next to me whispers conspiratorially, “I like how I can hear him without turning up my hearing aid.”
I smile, thinking of Mike reciting lines on a construction site in Texas. His diction is incredibly crisp. “I like how he didn’t fake a British accent,” I say.
Dave isn’t done. “You should start narrating audiobooks,” he urges. “Because good narrators are in high demand. Do you have a card?”
Mike smiles. “Nah.”
“A website?”
“Just a lonely Instagram account.” I hand Mike his phone.
The author looks aghast. “Not even TikTok?”
“I know, right?” I turn to Mike. “Why aren’t you on TikTok, Mike?”
The author pulls a card from his wallet. “Me. My agent. Call. Let’s talk.”
Mike takes the card, smiling, and when the gentleman isn’t looking, he drops the card on the table.
I pick it up. “You told Monique you’re doing audiobooks.”
“Anaudiobook. It was an experiment, and I didn’t like it.”
“Mike. This is a big deal.”
“No, it’s a distraction.”
“But this could be your big break. You could be one phone call away from something huge. First audiobooks. Then TV. Movies. I’m serious.”
“I don’t want huge.” Mike steps out of Warwick’s onto the warm pavement.
“What?” I stumble outside after him. Espadrilles may be okay for an occasional walk, but they’re not appropriate footwear for chasing after Shakespearean actor types. But the sun is shining, and my skin is glowing. I’ll have to rub more sunscreen on my shoulders before I head to Princess Kitty’s, but that hardly matters now that Mike is looking at me likeIam a summer’s day.
“I like the stage.”
So his dreamy expression wasn’t inspired by me, but by his affection for the theater? My shoulders sag like the ears of Kenny, the Basset Hound I’ll be walking later this afternoon. “Why?”
“The parts are better. The audience is an active participant. Cameras aren’t a very good audience. Definitely not as much fun.”
“Money?” We head down the street toward the florist.
“Ah, money. You sound like my old man.”
“It does make the world go around.”
“You’re such a cynic. Would you believe I have a hustle worked out?”
“You sell ice cream on the beach? A lemonade stand on the Fourth of July?”
Mike holds the door open for me, and I flounce back into Adelaide’s.
“That’s cute coming from a shark who fleeces sad married couples out of their insurance money when the utility company burns their house down.”
“Formershark. And I never practiced family law because sad married couples are the worst.”
