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When the door closed behind me, I was smiling.
TWENTY-TWO
Andrew
Nickand I were sitting in my living room, Nick on the sofa, me at my computer. Nick’s dog, a ridiculous chihuahua named Scout, was on the sofa next to Nick, lying on her back, hoping he—or anyone—would rub her belly. Yes, my big, tough brother had a chihuahua, and he was actually attached to her. It was a long story.
Nick was jotting ideas down on a notepad. I was using my tablet to draw a panel for the latest Lightning Man comic.
“Okay, so he’s saved Judy Gravity from the underworld,” Nick said. “What next? They need to take on another mission.”
I was drawing the underworld scene. Lightning Man was lifting a giant fiery boulder, looking for Judy beneath it. “Judy?” he called in the dialogue box. “Judy!”
“I called the venue for the comic convention,” Nick said. “They say it’s wheelchair accessible.”
“No,” I said.
We’d been over this once already. A big comic convention was coming to Detroit, a few hours’ drive away. They’d contacted us and asked if we wanted to come—speak on a panel, meet readers, sign copies of Lightning Man.
Leave my house. Stay in a hotel. Talk to people. No.
“The hotel is accessible, too,” Nick said.
I didn’t look up from my drawing. “No.”
“Too bad, dirtbag. You’re going.”
This was my brother’s version of a pep talk. No wonder I was in therapy. “How would we get to Detroit?” I asked.
“How do you think? I’ll drive.”
I put my pen down and pressed the pad of my thumb into my eye socket, where a headache was suddenly starting. Driving was bad for me—very bad. Sitting in the passenger seat of a car made me think of the accident. Short trips to and from the hospital were hard enough; a few hours on the highway sounded like a nightmare. “You go without me,” I said.
Nick patted Scout, who wiggled idiotically in happiness. “No way, asshat. We both go. It’s an opportunity.”
“No, it’s a hellish dystopia.”
Nick made a sound between a sigh and a growl. “For fuck’s sake.”
I thought about Tessa, how she’d looked this morning. Tousled and relaxed and beautiful, wearing last night’s clothes. I calmed down a little, and the headache didn’t throb as hard. I took a breath and looked at the panel I was drawing. “Judy!” Lightning Man was shouting.
I picked up the tablet pen and started filling in the hot coals and flames of the underworld. “I don’t think Lightning Man and Judy Gravity should go on a mission,” I said. “I think they should go on a date.”
Nick picked up his notepad. “Judy isn’t Lightning Man’s girlfriend.”
I drew Lightning Man’s tortured expression as he looked for her. “You know, I think she is.”
Nick put down his pad again and looked at me, ignoring Scout, who gazed at him worshipfully. I kept drawing.
“What?” I said finally, my eyes on the screen.
“You got laid,” Nick said.
“I did not.” Technically true. If you followed a very narrow definition of “laid.”
“Fucking hell,” Nick said. “You think I don’t know what Laid Andrew looks like? I saw him enough times.”
“Laid Andrew has no comment,” I said, filling in Lightning Man’s costume. “Neither does Un-Laid Andrew.”
