A Little Side of Geek Read online

  The booths laid out in neat rows gave plenty of room for people to walk by or shop without crowding anyone. The firehouse’s high ceiling, wood beams, and the wide windows dominating one entire side gave the area an open, friendly look. Colorful banners rose above the booths, announcing this vendor or that artist.

  “Do you have your cell phone on you?” Theo asked as he stepped to the side of the entrance to let other attendees get by.

  “Yes,” Lincoln said with a long-suffering sigh and, leaving Theo behind, made a beeline toward one of the stalls.

  Theo looked around, trying to get a feel for Lincoln’s world. His brother attended every show he could get to with his friends and came home animated and loaded down with purchases. Lincoln hadn’t been to one in ages, so when he diffidently suggested it as if Theo’s answer didn’t matter, it would’ve taken a harder heart than his to deny him.

  There were tables full of collectibles and a looming wall of T-shirts to his left. On the right, large areas full of long comic boxes enticed people to browse, and booths of toys and games lay straight ahead. Theo walked along the outer row, watching all the activity with interest. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on what Lincoln looked at either. He could pick up his Christmas present early and call the day a win.

  Theo shoved his hands in his pockets as he wandered up and down. Mixed in with all the vendors were artists, writers, and all kinds of crafty people. He did have an admiration for creativity. Theo couldn’t draw a stick, and those who could always fascinated him. He didn’t understand how someone could take a vision from their mind and translate it onto paper and canvas, but he supposed it wasn’t any different from taking a bunch of ingredients and creating a new dish that pleased both stomach and heart. He might not be able to draw, but he was an artist in the kitchen.

  He found his attention drawn again to the artists. Some stood, conversing with people at their tables; others were hard at work with their heads bent over a pad. He even saw one messing around with a tablet as the image he drew appeared on the screen at his table. Theo inched closer to those working, not wanting to disturb them but captivated by the way their hands flew over a page and how lines came together and images emerged. A sign advertising commissions piqued his interest. A one-of-a-kind drawing for his bedroom or the living room might be nice. Neither he nor Lincoln had done much to make their new place seem like a home.

  He made another circuit around the floor, this time poking through the sketchbooks set out for people to peruse, searching for a style that grabbed him. His family’s restaurant displayed local art with Chesapeake Bay themes. He wanted something a little different for their home. Not that he saw his home much these days. He was going through prints of various characters he’d heard his brother mention when Lincoln appeared again.

  “What are you doing?” Lincoln asked and pointed to the wall of prints behind the artist. “Cool Green Lantern. I thought I’d find you playing games on your phone.”

  “I thought I might commission something. Get a picture for our living room.” Theo shut the book with a sigh as nothing caught his eye. “What damage have you done to your wallet so far?”

  “Not too bad.” Lincoln held up a bag. “I bought some new sleeves for my card decks, some new dice because you can’t ever have enough of them.”

  “So says the man who has never stepped on them in the dark.” They hurt like a motherfucker.

  “Seriously, are you having fun?” Lincoln asked as he shoved his mask on top of his head and searched Theo’s face. He looked like Theo with his sandy brown hair and baby-faced features, but there the similarities ended. Lincoln’s heavy brows and quiet hazel eyes gave him a studious look that Theo lacked. “We can leave if you’re not.”

  “It’s okay, bro,” Theo assured him with a smile. “There’s more to see here than I thought. I’m good.”

  Lincoln relaxed a little, though the line that had permanently etched its way along his brow in the last year remained. “Okay…. I’m going to the panel on tabletop games. Trask Briscoe, the guy who owns Old Dominion Magick Den, is running it.”

  “He’s here?” When Theo had first walked into the man’s shop last December, he’d been skeptical about his prospects. It looked like a dump, part new age store, part comics, and part games of all kinds. But the silvering, tattooed hipster who ran it saved his sanity by suggesting the perfect game for a gift. Theo didn’t know where to begin to find something Lincoln didn’t already have, and he’d wanted the first Christmas without their parents to be memorable for reasons other than their loss. Material gifts wouldn’t make up for it in any way, but the smile he’d gotten had made the day for him, and they’d had fun breaking out the game after dinner. It was a new tradition he wanted to continue this year, hopefully this time with all his siblings.

  “Yeah, he’s often at cons, trying to drum up new business or stock up on toys.” Lincoln turned and pointed to the back corner of the fire hall. “His tables are over there.”

  “I’ll have to stop by and say hey.” Theo gave Lincoln a light shove. “Go, have fun, be geeky. I’m going to keep looking around.”

  Theo watched Lincoln walk away, wondering if he should join him at the panel. Lincoln was mercurial. One moment he’d cling close, and another moment he’d accuse Theo of not giving him any breathing room. Some days it felt like every step Theo made was the wrong one. But Lincoln didn’t look back, and Theo decided he wanted the space.

  He turned down the final row where booths backed up against the massive windows. There was a station set up on the end with kids doodling and coloring at tables covered with scraps. As Theo scanned the row, a newly familiar face caught his attention. Morris Proctor sat behind a table, his long body hunched over a board.

  Theo watched him work, attraction striking him again as it had when he’d first caught a glimpse of Morris from his window. If Lincoln had realized he’d been ogling their new neighbor, he would’ve been mortified. The table covered the long, muscular bare calves Theo had admired earlier. Theo had never appreciated the idea of a man in a skirt outside of Scotland until he’d met his neighbor. Now he hoped it would be a common sight.

  Morris tilted his head, his broad brow drawn in concentration as his hand moved rapidly over the board propped against the table. His chin tapered from prominent cheeks and ended with a sexy little cleft. Thick, dark lashes framed heavy-lidded eyes, and their sensuousness echoed in his full lips. The dreads he had pulled back earlier now spilled around his broad shoulders in thin richly brown twists.

  He wore his emotions in every flicker that crossed his face. Theo found it as fascinating now as he had that morning when Morris had tramped across their driveway, his mouth hard with aggravation and impatience.

  A meshed frame arced over his booth loaded with poster-like pictures of all sizes, some with characters Theo knew from Lincoln, but most he didn’t. Beside the booth rose a banner emblazoned with the title Beneath the Surface by Morris Proctor, and a picture of a young black girl in a wheelchair with a glint of steely determination on her thin face. At her side sat a gray-and-black cat that looked suspiciously like the one who gave Morris such a hard time earlier.

  His hot neighbor was an artist and a writer. That explained why he was always at home. Theo was beginning to think he was a hermit. Theo moved toward the booth with quick steps, eager to revisit their earlier interrupted conversation.

  When he paused in front of Morris’s booth, the man kept drawing, his long fingers gripping the pencil lightly. Curiosity outweighed manners, and Theo went up on his toes to get a better look. The girl in the banner sat amongst a cloud of butterflies with an expression of delight on her face as she leaned forward in her wheelchair, fingers stretching to touch them. It was only a rough sketch, but it was alive with movement and emotion. Theo could imagine it finished, colors blazing.

  He wanted it.

  “How much for the picture when it’s done?” Theo gestured toward the board.

  Morris’s head je
rked up, his eyes wide with surprise, and then his gaze warmed when he saw Theo. “Hey.” He glanced back down at the half-drawn sketch. “I’d actually planned this for a new promo banner. I’ve had that one up for over a year now.”

  “For your comic?” Theo picked up one of the copies stacked in neat little holders at the front of the booth. It showed the same girl wheeling her way through what looked like a haunted house with spooky eyes staring at her from the darkness. Trotting by her side was the same cat, its fur standing on end. “You do all of this?”

  “Yep, pencils, inks, colors, and the writing. It keeps me hopping.” Morris set down the pencil and shook out his hand, flexing his fingers.

  “I can imagine.” There were a number of comics in the holders as well as a small stack of books that looked like a compilation. “What’s it about?”

  “It’s Scooby-Doo! meets Dora the Explorer with a dash of E.S.P.” Morris crossed his arms on the table as Theo picked up the compilation book and thumbed through it. “It’s a kids’ comic. The hero, Laila, is disabled from a car accident. She communicates with animals on a basic level, mostly her cat. And she goes around solving mysteries and generally taking life on at full throttle.”

  Car accident. Those two words struck an icy chord in Theo’s heart and gut. He’d lost both parents, his dad to cancer and his mom from falling asleep at the wheel coming home late from the hospital. Too close together. Too fucking close. And the double punch still hurt.

  Theo set the book down as he eyed the pencil drawing again. The way the girl reached as if she was on the verge of flying herself, the simple joy on her face called to him. He wanted the picture as a reminder that life went on, full of joy and pain in equal measure but still beautiful.

  “Neat concept. I always wondered where artists and writers get their ideas and inspiration. Is it hard?”

  “I have far more ideas than I have time to handle.” Morris set the board down on the floor, propping it against the table, and folded his arms as he leaned closer. “The hard part is organizing the ideas into a usable form. It’s like herding cats. You witnessed how well that goes.”

  “So if it’s going to be a promotional banner, does that mean there will be lettering on it?” As much as Theo wanted the picture, he just wanted the image and not a lot of words all over.

  “No. I used to do all my lettering by hand, but it’s a lot easier to do it on the computer. You can even design your own fonts.”

  Theo’s computer expertise ran to what he could do on his phone and even then not much. His sister Jill ran the books at the restaurant and had a sweet setup that intimidated him. She’d put in a new POS system that streamlined orders, but she’d had to talk him into it. At the time he was leery of the change, but now he was glad she had.

  Theo looked around at the prints, impressed by the amount of work that went into a finished piece. Sure, he’d read plenty of comics growing up, though not nearly as many as Lincoln, but he’d never considered what went into making one. There was a little sign on the corner, like many of the other artists, advertising commissions.

  “You get a lot of commissions?” Theo asked.

  “Depends on the con. Brenden’s shows are usually good for them and sales on the books. Other cons I’ll get more interest off the prints or toys. Still others will be dead, but then I’ll see increased traffic on my website and store. You never really know how it’ll go until you’re there.”

  Theo stepped back from the table as he looked over the show again. It was small, maybe fifty tables in all with a few vendors taking up more than one space. Though there had been a line when he’d arrived with his brother, there didn’t seem to be a crowd thronging through looking to purchase. He couldn’t imagine making a living doing this, though Morris didn’t seem to be hurting.

  It was a totally different world from the restaurant, but Theo could see how it all ran together, everybody knowing and doing their part to make the whole work. Theo wouldn’t want to be in charge of running a show and getting everybody to function together. Bad enough dealing with his own staff. Thank the heavens for his sister, who was more than happy to deal with deliveries and vendors and everything to do with the front of the house. Theo just wanted to take care of his kitchen and cook.

  “Brenden?”

  “The promoter for the Chessie Cons.” Morris pointed toward a tall, lean, bald man who examined a clipboard with an irritated expression as another man spoke with him, waving his arms in agitation. “He handles a few shows in Maryland and Virginia. The guy he’s talking to is his foster brother, Dakota. He does a geek podcast, popular culture, game reviews, that sort of thing.”

  “Everything going okay?” Theo didn’t see any obvious hiccups, but the two were definitely arguing, and the withering glance Brenden gave Dakota would stop anyone cold.

  Morris craned his neck to look. “Yeah, they’re often at each other’s throats. Nothing to worry about. So this is my exciting life, art and cat chasing. How about you? What do you do?”

  “I’m the head chef and co-owner of a restaurant.” It was still strange to say, and as always, the words brought with them a mingled sense of pride, fear, and the dull ache of loss. “Chesapeake Bistro down in Solomon’s Island.”

  “Hey, I know that place. Love the crab cakes. A group of us usually hit it up after this show.” Morris looked at him again, his head slightly cocked. Theo had seen that expression before: curious to know how he’d gotten his own restaurant so young.

  “Good to hear. We always like repeat customers.” Theo gestured to the pad propped against the table and the half-finished drawing. “When you’re done doing that for promo, how much for the original, fully colored?”

  Morris sat back with a look of surprise. “You really want it? Not just pulling my chain?”

  “Yeah, our living room is a little bare. I’ve been scouring everybody’s portfolios here, looking for something that grabbed me that my brother would like too. I think this picture is it.”

  Morris looked down at the pad and then back up at Theo, speculation in his wide, dark eyes. “This isn’t going to end up for sale online is it? ’Cause that would hurt, no lie.”

  “I swear.” Theo could see Morris wavering, though hesitance lingered in the purse of his lips. Theo wasn’t sure why Morris was so reluctant. Maybe knowing why Theo wanted it would sway his opinion. “I want it because it reminds me life goes on.”

  Theo felt silly for saying it. Out loud it sounded overly sentimental. But Morris’s expression softened with understanding instead of laughter, and his gaze brightened. “Since that’s some of what I was going for I can give it to you for eighty-five.”

  “That include a frame?” Theo asked as he dug into his pocket for his wallet.

  “You’re on your own there. I can give you the name of a place in Bowie that does good work. I’ve used them since high school. Gio who owns it is an old friend. If you drop my name he might give you a discount.”

  Matted and framed behind glass, the picture would make a nice centerpiece in their living room and maybe make it feel more like a home. Theo loved the house he’d grown up in, but without Mom and Dad, it felt empty. He had a dozen bills this money could go toward, but he didn’t feel one speck of guilt over purchasing the picture. It wasn’t like they were hard up.

  “Do I pay you now or later?” Theo asked.

  “Give me a couple weeks to finish it and get the promo together. Then I’ll come up when you’re home and show you the final piece. If you still want it, I’ll take payment then.”

  “Fair enough. I want a couple prints today, though, and the first book.” Theo looked them over and found a Spider-Man waving a rainbow flag over the Brooklyn Bridge. He plucked it from the rack and held it up for Morris to see with a questioning look, his interest renewed. Hot, great legs, and maybe swinging his way…. His new neighbor just got a lot more promising.

  “Gotta represent,” Morris said with a laconic shrug, though his gaze became wary.

>   “You’re right. We do have to represent.” Theo held up his fist for a bump. Morris tapped his knuckles with a slow smile. “I’ll take this one and— Hold on. I need another one for my brother.” He scanned through the offerings until he found one Lincoln might like. He wasn’t sure who the ladies were, but Lincoln would know. Other guys Lincoln’s age hung up hot pictures of women in their rooms. Lincoln hung up prints like these. When Theo had been fifteen, he’d been hiding Calvin Klein male underwear model photos under his mattress. Everybody had their thing.

  Morris took out a Sharpie and signed his name with a flourish at the bottom of each print. “Is he a Scarlet Witch and Black Widow fan?”

  The names sounded familiar, so Theo figured he must’ve picked the right print. “Not sure. To be honest, I didn’t even know their names until you mentioned it. He’s into all the geeky things.”

  “Does that mean you’re not?” Morris asked, shaking his head with disappointment as he thumped his fist against his chest. “That hurts.”

  “Depends on the geek.” Theo leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I’m an equal opportunity flirt.”

  “Good to know.” Morris cast him a considering look, and Theo grinned back. Morris slid the signed prints into clear sleeves, then into a bag with the comic, and handed them back. “These are on me, as a welcome to the neighborhood gift.”

  “Thank you. I’ll let you get back to work,” Theo replied, conscious of the swirl of people around him pausing to look at Morris’s wares. “If you do stop by the bistro tonight with your friends, be sure to ask for me and I’ll return the favor.”

  “Will do.” Morris picked up the pad and his lap table. “Enjoy the rest of the con.”

  Reluctantly, Theo turned away and checked his watch. He’d been at Morris’s table longer than he expected, and Lincoln’s panel should be over. He’d find his brother, talk him into getting something to eat, and then maybe he’d have another chance to flirt with Morris before they had to leave for the restaurant.