She didn’t know where Will Call was, and besides, she’d never given Gabriel her last name so she doubted they’d have her down, so she bought a one-day pass and followed a group of teens dressed as the cast of The Avengers into the convention center.

Stopping dead in her tracks, she saw it: a vertical hanging banner in the lobby announcing featured artist and writer Gabriel West as the main panel speaker. A photo of Gabriel twelve feet tall welcomed everyone who entered, his dirty olive eyes now in grayscale to coordinate with the convention color scheme, his gregarious smile and pointy nose with the little mole on the tip. Her heart leapt to her throat as she stared. He was a bona fide star.

Her first instinct was to turn and go. This man was way too important for the likes of Jennifer. Whom she thought was some small-time writer or production artist was the selling point of this show. And he wanted her to come to his panel, to be the friendly face in the crowd to help ease his anxiety, gave her his personal phone number, offered to take her for coffee. She had Gabriel West’s personal cell number. Gabriel West had drawn her picture, wanted her to star in his book. But this wasn’t Chicago or L.A., she reminded herself. Sure, it was bigger than the cons at Sharonville or Eastgate, but Cincinnati didn’t’ get the big names. They didn’t get Loki or Captain Marvel; they got the small-fries, the has-beens, not Draco Malfoy but Draco Malfoy’s father. Not Homelander but A-Train. So, maybe Gabriel was just a nice guy she met in a bar who also was a talented artist. No big deal.

He'd already had his one o’clock panel. She probably should have called or texted to let him know she wouldn’t be there. Now that it was too late to grab a coffee in between, she decided to show up, maybe find a seat toward the front so he’d see her. Except when she arrived, the line to get into his panel stretched far beyond the doorway, looped around the restrooms and through the exhibit hall. In line were numerous costumed attendees dressed as Ubiquitous Allies characters. Others were dressed up obviously, but no one she recognized. There were superheroes and TV characters, movie characters, sci-fi and fantasy. It never occurred to her that she’d feel out of place anywhere not in costume, but here, standing amongst the colorful cosplayers, she actually stuck out in her jeans and t-shirt.

While she waited for the doors to open, she debated texting him, but instead did another Google search. He was everywhere, it seemed. Photos from the panel Friday and earlier today. He looked so natural speaking, answering questions, always dressed similarly to how she had seen him in jeans, a t-shirt and that same green jacket. With so many fans in line, she wondered if he’d see her if she didn’t alert him.

The doors must have opened because the line began to move, and very slowly, Jennifer and the other 1300 comic book geeks in line filled the auditorium. She found a seat where she could, toward the center aisle in the back quarter of the room, between a female Green Lantern and something she could only describe as a scary humanoid flower with fleshy petals. It smelled like B.O. and rubber cement. She figured one or both of those went into constructing the elaborate ensemble.

The chatter surrounding her was a white noise while she debated whether or not to text Gabriel. His photo was displayed in here as well, another twelve-foot banner hanging in the back of the stage along with identical banners advertising the other key speakers. Q&A with Gabriel West and Kevin Smith read the sign. There were nameplates at the table for each speaker. Her heart fluttered a little surprisingly when she read Gabriel’s name. Maybe she’d try to ask about the Darth Jennifer comic or whatever he was going to call it, if given the opportunity.

Minutes ticked away like hours as she waited for the start, and just when she began to plug Gabriel’s number into her phone to text him, the audience stood and cheered his entrance.

This did not look like the man she spend a quiet evening walking with down the streets of Cincinnati, sharing dinner and laughs at her expense. No, this man walked across the stage with the confidence of a rock star, or at least a comic book writer with a successful television adaptation. As he dressed last night and at previous sessions, he wore blue jeans, combat boots and that green jacket that gave off airs of an old school British punk, but the Joey Lawrence from Blossom with the character’s catchphrase airbrushed in rainbow letters on the t-shirt he wore negated all that.

The man with him, his wingman as he’d called it, was tall and slim with a dark complexion and completely bald head. Almost to intensify the stark difference between the men, the wingman wore a black tailored suit, shiny black dress shoes and even a black oxford shirt. He was impeccable. His name was Kevin Smith, she knew from the sign, but that’s where her knowledge ended.

When the applause died down, the two men sat at their respective seats with their nameplates and Jennifer’s heart raced. Why hadn’t she come to the early panel or met him for coffee? She was ashamed that his popularity influenced her feelings, but it did. If someone as well-liked as him like he enough to spend an evening with her, and give her his number, hell yes it influenced her feelings.
Why would he like her enough to do those things when he had thousands of people devoted to him? She was a nothing.

There was an emcee or a host or she didn’t know what they were called here, a referee? Someone to keep the pace and keep the peace she supposed. He made an announcement, a welcome and introduction, but Jennifer was too busy watching Gabriel to pay attention. He wasn’t paying attention, either, was arranging his space, took a sip of water, scootched his seat back, then forward, then a little closer to Smith. He checked his pockets, she wasn’t sure why, maybe he was just fidgeting, but came up empty. After rubbing under his nose with his index finger, he spread both hands flat on the table in front of him, sliding his palms back and forth on the tabletop, patted the table rhythmically, then was still by the end of the introduction.

The panel was apparently on character design, which Jennifer actually found quite intriguing, especially after Gabriel showed her his initial sketch of Darth Jennifer. Kevin spoke first, showed Gabriel’s original sketches for the Ubiquitous Allies characters on the overhead projector.

When Gabriel spoke, expounded on what Kevin said, Jennifer’s knees shook. How did this man, who less than 24 hours ago was just a guy, turn into someone who made her heart race like this? He didn’t say much, let Kevin run the show. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or modesty, but his artistic gifts were evident in the original character designs. The moderator and Kevin conversed, Gabriel interjecting when necessary, and after thirty minutes, the latter half of the session was open to Q&A.

Jennifer sprang from her seat to stand in the queue, absolutely no idea what she’d ask but knowing for certain she wanted to see him, have him see her, let him know that yes, she did come down to see him because he’d asked her, and yes she’d like to grab a coffee or a drink after, and no, not because he was popular or famous or whatever, but because she liked him. The panel confirmed it. The way he fidgeted uneasily in his seat, the talent in his art, passion in his words. He was intelligent and well-spoken, yet humble and respectful in his words.

And for the second time that day, she fell in love with him.

As suspected, ninety-nine percent of the persons in line had a question for Gabriel. Jennifer would have felt bad for Kevin sitting here sipping his water or tea or whatever it was had he not been the primary speaker during the presentation. It also made her feel guilty for only wanting to speak to Gabriel, too, like she was just the same as these starstruck comic book fans. But she was. The only difference? She had his number.

In a moment of impulse, she opened her phone – there were still a dozen people in line ahead of her – and clicked his contact, and sent a text. Not a text, an emoticon, a hand waving in greeting. He wouldn’t check it now, he was too busy answering questions, but nevertheless, it made her feel connected to him, like she was more important than the room of anonymous faces looking to him for attention. She felt simultaneously important and idiotic. Almost immediately, she saw him reach instinctively to his pants pocket as if to check his phone, and she smiled to herself knowing it must be because the phone vibrated with the received text.

Gabriel answered each question thoroughly and thoughtfully, listened patiently as each character in line thought of something to ask that might earn them a little recognition from the artist. He laughed with them or if the situation called for it, he grew solemn, clearly empathizing with each attendee, not acting a part Though she wished he would notice her standing there, now with only two people ahead of her, his attention never wavered from the person speaking to him. He had even risen from his seat at one point and now stood at the edge of the stage to better see them.

After the woman in a white spandex body suit dressed as some odd stringed instrument that according to her conversation was one of Gabriel’s original character designs from Ubiquitous Allies that was so far off from the Netflix adaptation Jennifer could not even deduce who she was supposed to be, she was next in line.

He’d just walked back to the table to take a sip of water and when he turned back and Jennifer was at the microphone, he choked. It wasn’t serious, nothing most people would take for more than a small cough, but the way his eyebrows shot up in recognition told her the truth. With a clear throat, he returned to the edge of the stage. He smiled broadly at her and she knew it was worth coming, worth waiting in line.

“Hi there,” he said into the microphone. “What’s your name?”

She played along. “Jennifer.” Oh, how she hated her voice in the microphone.

“Thanks for coming, Jennifer. Are you enjoying the expo?”

She nodded.

“What’s been your favorite part so far?”

“Um, I’ve only seen this panel. I wish I had come earlier.”

“Well, thank you for coming. Kevin and I really appreciate it. And you’ve enjoyed it so far?”

“It’s been really interesting.”

He smiled again and said, “Where’s your costume? I would take you for a Princess Leia.”

She snorted. “Not on your life. Maybe Chewbacca.”

“Really? Not Captain Phasma, or wait, I see you as one of the imperial guards, doing Vader’s bidding.”

She narrowed her eyes, but he just laughed.
“Where’s your costume?” she asked. “I hoped you’d be dressed as Darth Vader.”

“Maybe next time,” he grinned and she turned as red as a beet, and thought she’d nearly faint when he added, “if you’re lucky,” and bobbed his eyebrows.

Was he flirting with her? He was. He was flirting with her in front of this room full of people who were none the wiser. Except maybe for the moderator who at that point chimed in and asked, “Do you have a question for the panel, miss?”

She cleared her throat. “Um, yes. Yes,” looked from the moderator to Gabriel and back again. “I have a question for Gabriel."

“Oh good,” said Gabriel with a grin. “What’s your question, Jennifer?”

“My question is,” her mind reeled, searching for a relevant topic, something intelligent or funny or… “If you had to choose just one, would you order the cod, the whiting or the perch?”…personal. She went personal.

A few people in the audience chuckled, and Gabriel let out that giddy cackle. “Oh man,” he said and shook his head at her. “I have to say that this is the hardest question I’ve been asked at one of these panels, ever.”

“Ever?” she asked.

“Ever.”

“No one’s asked if you had a gun to your head, would you save your cat or your dog?”

“Easy. Cat. I don’t have a dog.”

“So, which is it? Gun to your head. Whiting, cod or perch?”

“Who in the hell is going to put a gun to my head and ask that question?”

The audience laughed again.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, rubbing his palms together methodically. “Let me give this some thought. Your question, well, it’s a serious one that requires some serious consideration, not some flippant response so I can get to The Last Airbender behind you. Yes, sir, I’m looking forward to your question as well.”

“Um, my question is for Kevin,” said the costumed man in response.

“Even better,” said Gabriel. “It’ll give me time to think. But how about this, Jennifer? After the Q&A, meet me over on the side there, show her where, okay?” he addressed security briefly. “And I will have your answer. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good. I’ll see you after.” He nodded and she did the same.

Gabriel gestured to the moderator and said some things off mic, and The Last Airbender took to the microphone and Jennifer took to her seat.

Once seated, she noticed Gabriel speak with security and point her out in her seat. He must have watched her return and now for the remainder of the session, he stole glances at her now and then, almost like keeping her in his sights, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she enjoyed his attention.

And when the Q&A session was over, and the audience applauded, and the men left the stage with a final wave, she really enjoyed the attention of the security team member who sought her out and escorted her to the side stage where Gabriel was indeed waiting for her.

“You came!” he exclaimed and hugged her in greeting.

He stunk like sweat, probably from a combination of being under the hot lights and the adrenaline, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she clung to him, relished the give of his soft body against hers, his neck against her cheek, and was mildly surprised when he released her so quickly, but then she remembered that it was only she who had fallen in love in the nighttime.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” he said when he let her go.

“You’re really popular,” she exclaimed, the crowd still murmuring in the background.

“No, you’re wrong,” he said. “The show’s popular. Didn’t you notice that most of the questions were about the actors?”

Maybe she had noticed now that he mentioned it. “But the actors wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for you,” she told him.

He shrugged. “Hey, you want get out of here? Get a coffee, if you have time?”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

They were interrupted by two fans dressed in animal masks and dark suits like two of the characters from Gabriel’s comic. “Can we get an autograph?” asked one, holding up an issue of Patrolling Doom.

“And a picture?” The other one held out her phone.

Gabriel shook his head. “I’m really sorry. Not right now, I can’t.”

Jennifer nudged him. “It’s okay. They’re not bothering me.”

“It’s not that,” he told her, then addressed the others. “The Expo won’t let me since they’re charging for photo opps and signatures. It’s like an anti-compete claus or something.”

“Even if you don’t charge?” asked the one with the comic.

“Especially since I don’t charge,” he explained, adding, “but if you run into me outside the venue, sure.”

Their faces lit up. “Where?”

He shrugged. “If I told you that, it’d ruin all the fun.” And with that, he very diplomatically almost magically dismissed the two fans and turned back to Jennifer. “I just have to say something to Kevin. I’ll meet you…” he paused. “On second thought, come with me. I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

The security guard watched as Gabriel lifted the barrier rope for Jennifer to duck under, and she followed him into the back stage area she hadn’t known existed. It looked like a warehouse, metal and black all around, techs and handlers and a mess of people here and there – the internal workings of the convention. She tried to hang back when Gabriel found Kevin, but he nudged her along. Perhaps this was the crowd he referred to not losing her within.

She tried not to listen in on the conversation, but when Gabriel said, “and this is the Jennifer I was talking about with the Darth Vader comic,” she had to.

“Nice to meet you,” said Kevin and shook her hand. “For the record, I don’t think you look anything like a Nazi sympathizer. Hell, you don’t even look German.”

“You told him about it?” Jennifer was agape.

Gabriel shrugged. “I had to run it by my co-artist.”

“I think it’s a rad idea,” said Kevin.

“We’re going to grab a coffee,” Gabriel told him. “We’ll catch up later, okay?”

“You got it. Later.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jennifer said, and followed Gabriel through the dark corridors.

“Hang on a sec,” he said when he paused at a door with a red lit Exit sign. Reaching into his messenger bag, he pulled out a ballcap that he secured snugly on his head accompanied by a large pair of sunglasses. “It might not fool anyone,” he said, “but it could bide us some time. Ready?”

She had no idea what she was or was not ready for, so she just said yes and followed behind when he opened the door.

They did not exit the building like she expected, but walked into the comic expo itself, the rows and rows of vendors selling artwork and vintage comics, jewelry, stickers, plushies and keychains. There were lines for autographs and photo opps, and Jennifer knew then why Gabriel donned the hat and sunglasses.

A costumed figure that could only be described as a six-foot dildo stopped them in their path and forced something into their hands. Jennifer dropped hers like it would bite her, but Gabriel stuffed his in his pocket.
“They do this at every show,” he told her.
“Be careful out there,” warned the dildo. “No superhero can protect you from STDs except for one: Prophylactic Man.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Gabriel dismissed the giant sex toy and pulled Jennifer along, Jennifer whose jaw had just gone slack at the mammoth manhood.

“What was that?” she asked as they hurried along.

“That thing is at every con I go to. I used to refuse, but I found it easier just to give in and take the damn things.” He displayed his palm which held several packages of single pack condoms, each branded with comic book characters. “Check it out,” Gabriel chuckled. The packet on top had a drawing of Darth Vader and the words “I will not be your father” written in bold, black ink. “This one’s for you.”

She laughed out loud when he handed it to her. “Gee, thanks.”

“Like it’s meant to be.”

She blushed profusely and laughed to cover it up. “So, people really get lucky here?”

“You have no idea. People in costumes seem to lose their inhibitions quite easily, or so I hear.”

“So you hear. Sounds like you know from experience.” A pang of jealousy did not surprise her.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. I mean, yeah, I have experienced walking in on some things that should have been left unseen. That’s why I never use the con’s bathrooms anymore.”

Jennifer drew in a breath. “Yikes.”

“Exactly.” He looked up at the signs and added, “This way,” grabbed her hand and pulled her through the aisles, weaving through hordes of costumed attendees. He walked quickly, she couldn’t look to see if anyone noticed the man with her was Gabriel West. She simultaneously wished they did and did not hope they would. But he was quick and soon, he maneuvered through the glass atrium and out onto the street.