time. My heartbeat sped up as I imagined what was under that navy-blue terry cloth.
C’mon, brain, focus on the job!
“See you soon.” I flapped my hands, fanning myself, and then sat a moment, letting it sink in that with my resourcefulness I’d just avoided a train wreck.
I found strippers! And to fill my end of the bargain, finding a costume was top priority. There was a scene in Ultimate Apocalypse where a woman in full-on army combat gear wearing camouflage face paint comes storming out of the woods, offering advice about the dangers of the wilderness that gets them farther along in their journey. She would be my character. An army-navy surplus store within walking distance of the convention center opened at 9 A.M. I told Asher I had a new plan and left the costumes for Nolan and Wil with him.
AS SOON AS the store unlocked its doors I rushed to women’s combat gear and brought every item in that section to the checkout counter.
I asked the checkout clerk, “Does anyone here do face-paint camouflage designs?”
He yelled to the back of the store. “Uncle Gerry! Come to the front!” A bald, tattooed Uncle Gerry appeared, wearing a T-shirt that read GOD BLESS ’MERICA.
I asked Uncle Gerry if he could help me, and he answered in a gravelly voice, “I learned the face-painting trade by studying pictures of soldiers’ faces in Desert Storm.” I took that to mean yes.
He sat me down on the swivel chair behind the counter and got to work. Ten minutes later, I took a look at the finished creation in the mirror. A transformed Melody Joo stared back at me, with a green splotchy face, looking like a sickly Hulk. But I had no time for any artistic suggestions. I handed over a five-dollar tip, changed into the war gear in the bathroom, and charged out the door like a crazed apocalyptic fanatic.
The main doors to the event were still closed when I arrived. A few hundred game enthusiasts waited outside, ready to storm the show floor. Film crews from all over the world, teenage YouTubers doing selfie videos, and hard-core cosplayers lined up, anticipating the grand opening to the all-weekend event. Straggling food truck vendors pulled up to the front of the venue, offering quick-grab breakfast options while they prepared for the future lunch rush. I flashed my vendor badge and the security crew allowed me to enter the premises while two onlookers complained, “Awww, why does she get to go in? Is it ’cause she’s a chick?” and “Maybe I should flash my boobs, too.”
I turned around and gave them the finger.
Because our booth was located in the very back of the conference hall, I took in all the rock music, flashing lights, and nonstop game-related videos as any attendee would along the way. It was like someone brought Las Vegas, Dave & Buster’s, and Times Square all into one place, balled them all up, threw them into the air, and blew that shit up with a glitter-spraying frag cannon. The convention patrons paid good money for this blingy, flashy, epileptic-seizure-inducing experience. Exhibitors shouted their product pitches at me and shoved free T-shirts, rolled posters, and food truck coupons into my arms as I looked for my team.
Asher stood in the booth with Damon, the IT guy, who had taken the A/V guy’s place while he went on break. They were trying to load Nick’s game trailer onto two of the monitors, while Wil and Nolan, both shirtless and wearing cargo shorts, waited for my arrival. My gaze traveled down Nolan’s defined chest over to his lean, muscular arms, a look I preferred far more than his daily checkeredness. My throat went dry as I handed them each a pair of aviators from the surplus store and camouflage-printed bandannas.
Nolan folded his and tied it around his forehead. “How do I look?” His eyes searched my face as he strode closer to me. Army-green face paint covered my blushing cheeks, concealing my attraction to him. My whole body flushed with intense heat at the prospect of him being around me all day. Close to his freshly showered body. His tall, muscular, and lean body. Shirtless. Body.
My mind drew a blank. “Wh-what was the question again?”
He breathed every word. “How. Do. I. Look?”
I swallowed hard. How did he look? Was “mouthwatering” a way to describe a person?
Before I could answer, Asher said, “I’d do you, bro.”
Nolan coughed as I barked out an uncomfortable laugh.