“Yeah, that’s it. Fucking librarians, of course you’d know,” she said, and the affection in her voice nearly killed Felix all over again. “When I read your email this morning, I thought it would be an easy mistake to make. Also, ‘Warren Riggs’s Roarin’ Wigs’ would absolutely be the name of a disguise shop in MnM.”
“I do not understand how your mind works,” Felix said with a shake of his head.
Jo winced and shrank back. “Sorry.”
“It’s a compliment, Jo,” Felix said. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, his tight shoulder muscles stretching as they shifted. He knit his brow and regarded her closely. “Why do you keep thinking I’m insulting you or belittling you tonight? You’re the most creative person I’ve ever met. I’m so impressed by how you come up with examples of MnM stuff on the fly. And the way you make connections between things is wonderful. You know that every time I use my library key, I smile about that stamped G meaning ‘gold’?”
Jo was staring at him without blinking. Her eyes were big, as round as her cheeks, and shiny in the dim bar light. They’d looked like that before, when she’d teared up last week talking about what MnM meant to her.
“You think I’m creative?” She asked it as if she didn’t believe it, as if she didn’t know it to be true.
But of course it was true. It was one of the truest things Felix had ever known. As true as the sunrise. As true as Tito and Lita’s love. As true as his own heartbeat.
And she didn’t know it.
Holy fuck. Someone had really done a number on her. Or maybe, somewhere along the way, she’d done it to herself.
Felix reached across the table and grasped Jo’s shoulder. He would have rather taken her hand, but he didn’t want her to misread his intention.
“Yes, Jo. I do.”
She made a little O with her mouth and breathed out in a long, slow exhale. She didn’t say “thank you,” but Felix didn’t need to hear it. He squeezed her shoulder before sitting back. After a moment, he said, “For the record, no, I have never called my boss Roarin’ Wigs. But if I do now, it will be all your fault.”
She laughed in that quick, sharp way of hers, and Felix’s entire chest caved in on itself.
“I will take full responsibility, so you don’t lose your job.”
“Thank you. Now, I have a question for you,” he said.
“Go.”
“At Warren Riggs’s Roarin’ Wigs, do the wigs actually roar?”
Jo went bug-eyed. “Shit, you’re a genius. I was thinking that the wigs are a fun time, like rip-roarin’. There’s got to be an enchanting spell for that, though.”
Her eyes darted back and forth in thought. She pulled out her phone. As he finished off his pint, Felix watched her open a note titled “Campaign Ideas.” She scrolled down a long list of bullet points that moved too fast to read. At the bottom, she’d already written down the name of the shop. She added another line, indented it, and typed “Make them actually roar (credit: Felix).”
Jo returned her phone to her jacket pocket. Felix was done with his beer. She’d successfully managed not to break down in tears in front of him. Now what?
“Do you want some more water?” she asked.
“Yes, but I’ll get it this time,” he replied, on his feet before Jo could protest. When he returned, he gave her back her glass but didn’t sit down.
“I’m going to ask about talking to the manager,” he said, leaning into her space enough that her breath caught. “I’m sure you’re right that it’s a long shot, but I did come here with a purpose. I might as well try.”
“Want company?”
“No, that’s okay. You hold our table,” he said. “If it’s as fruitless as you suspect, I’ll be right back. If it works, I’ll wave you over.”
He took a big gulp of water, set down his glass, and strode across the room, half a head taller than the crowd. Jo watched him lean casually on the bar and settle his weight into his hip, ass on full display.
“Jesus,” she muttered. “That thing should be illegal.”
She forced herself to look around instead of gawk. Maybe she’d get lucky and spot someone wearing a “This is how I roll” shirt to tell about the launch event. But instead, as her gaze wandered, so did her mind.
Felix thought she was creative. Her dumb joke about the library key had made him smile all week. He’d been thinking about her. Thinking about her and thinking she was creative. Jo liked to believe she had her moments—a flash of inspiration about a campaign story arc, a witty retort in character, that kind of thing. But no more creative than anyone else she roleplayed with. Certainly not worthy of being “the most creative person” someone knew. Felix just hadn’t met enough roleplayers yet to realize she was pretty average.
Why do you keep thinking I’m insulting you or belittling you tonight?
Oh God, why did she? She could see it now, looking back on the night. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it. And now here she was again, doing it to herself. Why? And why had Felix’s compliment made her feel like crying?
Maybe because tonight felt a little bit too much like a date. And maybe because it had been a long-ass time since someone she dated, someone she liked, complimented her in regard to MnM.
A wave of heat swept over Jo from head to toe, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “God damn it.” She fumbled for her phone.
Jo
Help I like him
*Like* like him
The reply was almost immediate.
Aida
Oh damn
