Page 84 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
We talk about Texas. I learn his mom’s treatment lasted until his senior year. She entered hospice two weeks before his senior prom.
“I didn’t give a hoot about going, but she wanted to see me dressed up. She died three weeks after. I know she wanted me to walk at graduation, but I couldn’t muster the energy to care. I was done with Texas. I moved out here that summer.”
“Your dad must miss you.” I slide open my kitchen window. It’s still hot out, but I’m a sucker for the sound of the surf in the morning.
“He’s okay. He’s got a new wife and a baby on the way. I know he loved my mom, but he’s a kind of happy now that I never saw growing up.”
Mike smiles, and I want to hug him. I want to tell him that it’s okay to be…not okay about everything. The universe served him a raw deal, and he doesn’t have to take it like a champ. “Are you okay?”
“I’m an actor. I’m meant to be a broken, suffering vessel for other people’s genius.” He takes our dishes to the sink. “That was a joke. I’m fine. More fine than I’ve been in years. Fixing up Grandma’s house has been a way to work through stuff. You know?”
“What did you mean?” I can’t stop the words that are coming now. “When we were talking about the difference between real and acting yesterday, and you said, ‘Maybe I don’t.’ What did you mean?”
“I meant I would do things in character that I wish I could do in real life. Like”—he approaches—“touch you.” He’s breathing heavily as he brings a tentative hand up and gently, so gently, brushes the side of my face.
I lean into his touch. I want to reciprocate, but I’m afraid I might spook him or me.
“Getting too close.” He swallows and takes a step closer. Ocean wind blows in, and the fabric of his shirt brushes against my stomach. Closer, yes. But still not close enough.
I slide my hand over his. “Why can’t you do these things in real life?”
“Because I can’t have you.” Half a smile. As if it was the simplest, plainest truth in the world.
I meet his eyes. Take in his lips, so close to mine. I start to reach up to stroke his firm jaw.
“Cactuses are so cute,” he whispers, but then he backs off. “But they don’t belong to anyone.” There’s no heat in his affable smilenow. He grabs his towel and shorts and heads toward the door. “Thanks for letting me stay. I owe you cookies.”
And then he’s gone. Exit stage left.
Chapter 27
It’s Thursday evening, and I’m just getting home from my last walk of the day. I’m sweaty, worn out and covered in dog hair. I need a cookie. Blackberries, a glass of cranberry juice, and seeing Mike would do in a pinch. My phone rings as I step into his kitchen, and instead of letting it go to voice mail, I pick up because Mike is on the floor with a nail gun and paying me no mind.
But it’s only Adam.
“Are you calling to extort me into a tennis game with Mom this weekend?” I put the call on speaker. “For the record, I am here with a witness.”
“Yeah?” Adam sounds like he’s getting into a car.
“Hey, Adam,” Mike shouts before the nail gun pumps back on.
“Perfect, Mike’s there. Listen, Bea, I need a favor.”
“Oh?” I open Mike’s fridge and pull out his cranberry juice and check for blackberries but find none.
“One of my cosplayers had something come up, and she’s not going to be able to make it tonight.”
“And what do you want me to do about it?”
“I need you to sub for her.”
Mike’s nail gun goes quiet. He doesn’t look up, but I can see the smirk forming on his lips.
“No,” I say. I mean, I can use the money, but I’m exhausted. My last dog of the day, a German shepherd, nearly pulled my arm out of the socket for a mile and a half. I am so done.
“Mike can show you exactly what you have to do. Even help you find a costume or something in the communal closet for you to wear. Shift starts at seven and goes until ten thirty.”
On a Thursday? “You didn’t hear me. I said no.”
