I Heart Geeks (8 page)

“Dan Perry, from the Daily Explorer. Are you a fan?” another reporter asked.

He’d interrupted their moment. Was it a moment? No.

“I am. Have been since its original run.”

“Follow-up: How’d you get interested in
GoldStar
?”

Jack’s eyes flicked over to her a split second before refocusing on the reporter. She hoped no one noticed.

He donned that cheeky, impish, charming—Willow hated it so much, but really didn’t—grin and said, “Because of a girl.”

The audience chuckled and seemed to be more accepting of him. The slight edge of tension that seemed to hover dissipated and Jack became the relaxed charmer she’d met upstairs.

“Did it work?”

Jack suddenly looked thoughtful like his mask slipped for a moment. He looked a bit sad. “Not as well as I’d hoped,” he answered finally. “Suffice it to say. I’m serious about this role. I know a lot of people are going to be worried about my perceived lack of experience, but you will never find a more dedicated and grateful actor to play GoldStar.”

When he finished the crowd was silent. Jack’s passion for the project had bled through his every word. It was near visceral. Slowly, one-by-one, the group began to give Jack the applauding welcome he should’ve received when he’d been introduced. But Willow thought better late than never.

He blushed a bit, pink tinging those chiseled cheekbones as he sat back and gestured to the fans to settle down. His small-town charm shining through.

Way to go Jack.

After winning the crowd over, the rest of the panel flew by as Jack answered questions, listened to his costars and director, and stole glances at Willow.

She was sitting demurely, legs crossed, making her already tight jeans look spray painted on. The silky looking pale blue top under a linen jacket was stretched across her breasts, giving him the tantalizing longing to get her alone and slowly strip each item of clothing off until she was bare to him. Her pale cream skin. Her glossy brown curls. His hands itched to bury themselves in her mane and—

“Coming?”

Shaking off the lusty vision, Jack looked up at Natalie Blum. Tall, leggy, and brazenly blonde the soon-to-be “it” girl of Hollywood was the must-have face of dozens of ad campaigns before trying to transition into acting. He’d read lines with her during the final audition, so Jack knew she had some acting chops. Natalie wasn’t going to be just set dressing in his first movie.

Thanks God.

He was nervous enough about his own performance without having to worry about hers.

“Yeah, just wool-gathering.” Natalie said nothing, but one arched perfectly plucked eyebrow said loads. “Thinking. I thought I’d get a better welcome than I’d gotten.”

Pushing himself away from the table, he joined her as they went back to the antechamber. After a quick meeting—mainly consisting of Roger, the studio’s public relations guy, making sure everyone remembered their schedules.

Right now, he was just finishing up with Ian and everyone else were drifting out of the room to wherever their schedules dictated.

“Roger, question.”

Roger was a bit young to be handling the PR for a movie on his own. At twenty-five he’d come to the
GoldStar
team as an assistant, but had to step up to the challenge when his boss quit. The man was stressed.

“Shoot.”

“This costume gala thing,” he said pointing to his personal color-coded schedule. “Is it open to the public?”

The man’s forehead furrowed in thought. If he kept that up then no amount of moisturizer would help the young man from developing wrinkles before he hit thirty. Maybe after this whole weekend finished, Jack could take him aside and teach him the finer points of male skincare products, especially tinted moisturizer. It’d help hide the fact that he blushed every time Natalie called for him.

“Kind of. The gala will mostly consist of convention special guests, select media, and a few VIP fans.”

“Do you know if Willow Wisp is invited?”

“The woman from RetroGrade? Yeah, she was invited as a part of the
GoldStar
team,” Roger explained.

“Good.”

“Jack…” He sighed. “You can’t sleep with her.”

“Too late.” He gave Roger a cheeky grin. Jack loved messing with the guy. In the short time they’d known each other, they’d seemed to click. Friendship was instant and had been cemented over beers and the Detroit Red Wings even though the guy was a bit uptight and from the inferior peninsula of Michigan aka mitten Michigan.

“Dammit Jack! I didn’t think I had to remind you to keep it in your damned pants. Jesus, what if she has photos or talks to the tabloids—”

Jack’s laughter echoed in the empty room. He was laughing so hard that he was clutching his sides.

“This is no laughing matter! This could be a media nightmare. I’m going to lose my job and move back to Detroit and—”

“Cool your jets, man. I didn’t sleep with her recently.”

“Explain.” He was terse. It was never good when Roger got terse. His whole body was radiating anger. Usually, only Natalie could work Roger up to that level.

“She’s the one,” Jack explained.

“The one what?”

“Willow, she’s the
one
, Roger. My one.”

Roger just stared at him. His face ran a gamut of emotions going from confusion, shock, and finally understanding.

“The girl from high school.”

“Yeah. That one.”

Roger runs his hands through his hair. “Wow. What are you going to do?”

“Win her back,” Jack answered. “I’ve got a second chance and I can’t screw it up again.”

“At first glance,
GoldStar
can seem rather…dated and immature. But it is more than the puntastic dialog and melodramatic, episodic storytelling. Much like
She-Ra
,
GoldStar
was ahead of its time when it came to portraying traditional gender roles. Priestess Lilah LightBringer wasn’t victim or a damsel in need of rescue. She was a strong, confident leader of her tribe. She didn’t need a man. In the end she and GoldStar got together—sure—but it was because he respected her. They respected each other. They were equals and that is how it should be.”

—The Wisp, Puns, Gender Roles, and 90’s Cartoons blogpost

Day two of the RetroComicCon was a breeze. Unlike the day before, avoiding Jack was a snap. With the schedule in hand Willow was able to know that Jack and the rest of the
GoldStar
team would be doing meet and greets and signings for several hours in the main convention floor today.

Willow used her time by wondering the floor—giving the
GoldStar
booth a wide berth—and snagging a few quick interviews and selfies. What really threw her for a loop were a handful of fans—her fans!—that wanted selfies with her. It was bizarre, empowering, and intoxicating. She wondered if this is what every public figure felt when they met fans. Did Jack feel the same way when he got off stage and met audience members?

No Jack.

Today was a Jack-free day. She’d made a mental mandate that he couldn’t even be a fleeting thought today. She must cleanse him from her system like questionable leftovers from the refrigerator.

The only
GoldStar
related thing she had to do before the gala tonight was an interview with Natalie Blum since the A-list star—who shall not be named—was too busy to talk to anyone other than A-list media outlets. It was terrible!

Her interview with Natalie was the most awkward, uncomfortable, and fury-inducing twenty minutes Willow could remember enduring since one of her college professors decided to made her paper an example of what not to do in writing.

Natalie Blum was young, narcissistic, and spitefully jealous. It had been apparent from the start that she was going to be a difficult interviewee. Her demeanor was stiff and cold, Natalie was a veritable ice queen. At first Will had been knocked off balance, wondering if she had unwittingly criticized the actress in the past. No. The starlet it seemed was mad at the
special
attention Jack was giving Willow.

Jack was a handsome man. Talented, smart, funny… No!

Suffice it to say, the catty blonde… shrew was uncooperative unless it was to suggest that she and Jake were working
very
close with one another.
Very close
. Not that it mattered to Willow. She could have him. It’s not like Jack is serious about any of this flirting. It was just Jack being Jack. If he had wanted to be with her he wouldn’t have run out on her after screwing her. Literally.

Even the memory of those days still flooded her with anger. The sadness. The despair was gone. She’d gotten over that. Watching show after show, marathon after marathon of
GoldStar
—their show—without him had helped. It had reminded her about right and wrong and how the relationships between people should be. For a cheesy cartoon it had depths. It taught lessons to kids that weren’t obvious and gave a teenage Willow an understanding that what Jack had done was wrong and it wasn’t her fault. He failed to live up the “Gold Standard” as the show termed its views on chivalry and deportment. Watching it alone also made her realize that she didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone to enjoy
GoldStar
or anything else. She could be self-reliant, self-assured, and not be dependent upon someone else to be happy.

The elevator dinged, announcing its eminent arrival and reminding Willow that she was in her hotel’s lobby. The convention was still raging at the Indianapolis Convention Center and in some of the hotels that ringed it. Luckily the crowd was thin at the Marriott during lunch time.

On the doors of the elevator was some poster advertising another sequel to an overblown action franchise that needed to retire two movies ago. As the doors opened—which also made it look like the hero was leaping away from the explosion—clever—Willow came face-to-face with Jack Kendrick.

Crap.

Shooing him away, she said, “I’ll catch the next—”

Jack smiled, grabbed her arm, and pulled her in before the doors slid close.

“Jack,” she screeched, as she fell into him. His hard body prevented her from falling.

His arms circled her waist as he whispered, “Exactly, who I was looking for.”

She pathetically pushed and slapped at his shoulders and chest. “Let go of me you…you brute!”

“Never.” One arm slid up her back, dragging along her shirt. He buried his fingers in her brown hair as he nipped her chin.

“Jack,” she whimpered.

She could feel him smiled against her skin. Her nose brushed his hair and his woodsy scent reminded her of the forests near their childhood homes. It was where they first kissed, really kissed. Not the first fumbling “how did that quick mouth-to-mouth touch between best friends happen” peck. No. The woods were their first “I think I love you” kiss and it changed everything for the better for one sublime, glorious summer week until reality and abandonment burst her adolescent bubble.

But his woodsy, pine and maple scent still filled her core with tingles and sweet, warm wetness that she’d hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

He pulled her closer and she could feel him, hard and ready for her. The fact that all these years later she could still make him hot was heady.

“Willow.”

She opened her eyes, he was staring at her, a small smile caressing his lips. He gently swept a lock of hair away from her face. His touch all too fleeting. Slowly, Willow let her hand rest on his t-shirt covered abs and let it travel up to his chest, feeling the rigid muscle underneath the soft cotton. Her hand absorbed his heat as she felt him gasp. She felt thrilled to her core that she affected him. Her touch could make him twitch, gasp, or remain perfectly still in anticipation of her.

She thumbed his nipple, making it peak. He hissed. Then moaned as she did it again.

“You’re killing me.”

She smiled. “I know. It’s…fun.”

He growled, a low rumble that resonated through his chest. His grip on her butt tightened as he picked her up and spun her until her back was against the wall and her legs were wrapped around his lean waist.

Jack kissed her. Finally. Long, deep, and fully until she couldn’t breathe and no longer wanted to if it meant stopping. Her arms were wound around his neck as she tried to keep him from stopping, using the leverage to grind herself against him. She wanted him. She’d always wanted him and it seemed like he’d still wanted her too. And somewhere deep inside her heart, she felt her dull brittle teen love for Jack strengthen and brighten with each kiss, each breath, and each moment of pleasure.

Ding.

“Shit.”

Willow concurred as she remembered where she was. In an elevator. In a busy hotel. Being all but manhandled against the wall.

He kissed her once more as he lowered her to the ground. “Act natural,” he whispered.

Easy for him to say, she thought. He was leaning against the side of the elevator, cool as a cucumber, as the doors slid open and several brightly colored cosplayers joined them.

They were too engrossed in their debate to pay any attention to her. Thank God. She could barely keep herself upright with the help of the elevator railing. Her entire being seemed liquid like melted ice cream.

Kissing Jack was better than she remembered—or imagined. He was hot, hard, and definitely more experienced, which made her want to grit her entirely hypocritical teeth. It’s not like she’d been a chaste nun. Admittedly her love life had been rather sparse and sporadic, but—
Who was she kidding?
She was jealous of every unnamed bimbo that walked past him and caught his attention because deep down in that place you hide and lock away all your most foolish, impossible wishes and dreams, Willow still believed she and Jack were soul mates.

The anime-inspired cosplayers exited five floors later. Their long pastel hair nearly getting caught when the doors closed. Without a word Jack tapped the button for the thirtieth floor where the block of
GoldStar
rooms were located, including hers.

No one else called the elevator on their way up. When the car stopped, Willow walked passed him toward her room.