from the con, and you will not get your photo, and you will not get a refund so . . . do not bite the actors.”
There are a few laughs from the crowd, but also groans like seriously?
“I know,” Michaela says. “You would think this would go without saying but. Here. We. Are.”
She shakes her head.
“So, since I’m up here saying it, we’re going to go farther—no teeth or lips may touch the actor’s skin. They’re feeling jumpy. They pretend-kill zombies all the time, let’s work with them, not against them. This is a no-go zone. So, if you want to pretend to be a zombie, fine! But NO MOUTH CONTACT to the actors.”
Imani turns big eyes to me. “Good lord!”
“It better not have been Hunter who got bit,” I mutter.
“Any of them! I can’t believe anyone would think that’s okay!” Imani says.
I get that feeling again. That surge of protectiveness for Hunter, specifically, remembering how he walked out onto the stage, and off it when the girl asked for a hug, pulling his hair over his eyes, but going anyway, an unwelcome part of his job. But should it be?
And now that I’ve met them, the surge of protectiveness extends to sweet Janet O’Shea, and to James Cooper. He was so nice! So generous!
Did either of them get bit? Or did a fan press their teeth onto their skin, like ha ha, it’s just for a joke, right? Get it? I’m a zombie!
Ugh.
It goes all through me. I swear I would tackle any fan who would put their teeth on a stranger’s skin.
I promise again to be cool. When I have my photo op. I will be cool.
“Okay!” Onstage Michaela relaxes and smiles, strutting forward with slightly raised steps, like an aggressive model on the runway. “Are you ready for our full! Cast! PaneeeeeLLL!”
She yells the last word like the WWE announcer says, “Rrrrrrumble!”
We go nuts. We shriek and clap.
Everyone is on their feet. I can see Siggy’s white-blonde hair, bright even in the dim light.
Siggy’s hands are cupped around her mouth as she shrieks at the stage.
Michaela raises the mic again.
“Did you know we’ve NEVER had SO MANY of the show actors onstage at ONE TIME?!?”
We shriek again.
“So, let me bring them out!” Michaela walks to the farthest chair, and starts yelling the actors’ names. Our shrieks and cheers blend together in a seamless roar.
The actors walk quickly onto the stage in a scattering clump, like a loose firework separating onstage, their teeth and eyes bright, their skin flawless, some of them wearing sunglasses, but the rest just at home under the lights.
They wave to the audience and find their seats as Michaela keeps yelling names and we keep shrieking our applause.
“Simon Wong! Annie Blaze! Linus Sheppard!”
When Linus and Annie step onto the stage, I glance at Siggy. She’s bouncing so hard her long hair looks like some kind of scarf, fluttering up and down.
The actors quick-walk to their seats. Annie and Linus are both white, but while Linus is the epitome of a pale Englishman, Annie has a healthy tan that looks golden under the lights. Her dyed red hair falls in luscious curls that brush her shoulders. She pivots in front of her seat, waving like a beauty queen (which she is) before sitting.
Linus smiles and points at Siggy.
“Hunter Sterling!” Michaela yells. “And of course, James Cooper!”
I want to keep watching what’s going on with Linus and Siggy, but now Hunter is back onstage and my eyes are drawn straight to him, like he’s a bug zapper and I’m a moth.
Yep. Just as gorgeous from the back of the hall. Look at the way he moves.
He shrugs, waves, smiles shyly, and waits for James to catch up to him.
Then, like actual father and son, James puts a casual arm across Hunter’s shoulders as they wave to the audience.
We go nuts. I shriek so hard