Lo’s amber eyes glass. “Of course I’d be your best man.”
Willow asked Daisy to be her maid of honor the day she got engaged. Garrison might’ve been worried Lo would say no. He overthinks a lot.
“Thanks,” Garrison says. “Do you think the tall one and the angry one will want to be groomsmen?”
“Connor, without a doubt, and Ryke goes with the flow.” Lo laughs. “Christ, if you put him in the back row, he wouldn’t even care or take it to heart.”
“Okay good.” Garrison lets out another long breath.
Lo picks up a comic from our stack. “What’s all this for?”
I say, “I don’t know, Garrison was just about to tell…” Okay he’s doing the shake the head signal again. How do I abort a conversation now that it’s begun? Daisy is better at social transitions than me. I just flounder with my mouth half-open. “Uhhh…”
Lo says to Garrison, “Is this about your video game?”
Garrison’s face falls. “What?”
Lo wears a half-smile.
Garrison chokes out, “How’d you know?”
“You’re working for Connor Cobalt, man. The guy probably has fifteen brains and seven pairs of eyes. You might not know what he’s thinking, but he knows what you are.” Lo touches his chest. “And he’s my best friend. He told me you’re working on a game based on a comic book character.”
Sorin-X, I realize. He’s creating an entire video game from scratch—without a team behind him.
Whoa.
Garrison rocks backwards, disbelieving. “And he didn’t give a shit? I thought he’d pull the plug on the project.”
“He actually likes the idea. So do I.”
Garrison gawks. “What?”
“I own the video game rights to The Fourth Degree series, and Belinda and Jackson told me they’d rather eat their left arms than see a thousand people turning the game into a money-making soulless franchise.”
Belinda and Jackson Howell are a young brother-sister duo and the artist and writer of The Fourth Degree universe.
Garrison collects his thoughts fast. “I have most of the technical shit coded, but I’m at the point where storyline is important. That’s why I was looking through the comics, but eventually I’d need Belinda and Jackson for the art. I can only code, and what I’m making is classic, indie. I think the game style fits what the comic intended to be.”
Lo fought for The Fourth Degree—but he never thought it’d become the next X-Men or Justice League since Halway Comics lacks resources and name recognition like Marvel and DC.
It’s happening though. The popularity has been rising exponentially, right in sight of the comic titans.
All because Lo said yes to Belinda and Jackson after reading their submission. When every other big comic publishers told them no, he helped turn their potential and their dream into success and reality.
“I’ve been mentioning the video game to Belinda and Jackson for a full year,” Lo says, “and they’re interested. I know they’d work with you. I’ll give you their numbers.”
Garrison is speechless.
I struggle keeping Luna on the crook of my hip, and Lo takes her from me. He kisses her cheeks so fast that she starts giggling.
I think about all the ventures we’ve ever made now that Garrison is beginning his. Halway Comics. Superheroes & Scones. All three of us used to lack ambition, not because we didn’t love something, but because we never believed we could be better than the people around us. Why try when someone else will just step right over you?
It seemed like too much work.
Now we’ve all discovered ambition and pride—but not without believing in ourselves first. That we could beat our own sad expectations.
And we did.
“Mommy’s bleeding!” Moffy shouts.
“What, where?” I spin around, so confused.
“Your butt.”
Ohmygod. I can’t feel my face. I bled through my underwear and leggings.
Lo grabs onto Moffy’s shoulder before he tries to touch my butt.
Garrison acts interested in the comics to give me privacy.
“Is it bad?” I ask Lo, about to find a pair of extra pants in one of these boxes. We might’ve been shipped in some Thor pajama bottoms. The God of Thunder will get me through this.
Lo checks out my ass. “It’s just a spot.” He has this face that screams it’s a bloody mess back there, love. He even reaches for me, like he wants to hug me to make it better.
It’s not better. Paparazzi took pictures of my backside, which includes my ass. My bloody ass. I wince at myself and then point at him, so close to calling him a lying liar.
Luna distracts me when she kisses his jawline.
I melt.
Moffy tugs on his dad’s shirt. “Mommy’s hurt! We have to help her.”
“She’s not hurt, Mof. This happens to girls every month.”
Pants. Pants. Thor, where are you? Further in the back, I peek into a few plastic containers, only to find shields and swords.
“No, that’s not fair!” Moffy shouts. “I don’t want Luna and Janie to bleed from their butts.”
I knock into a metal shelf and rub my forehead. Lo and Garrison stifle their laughter, but I can see their smiles through the shelves.
Instead of explaining periods in-depth, Lo just says, “It’s not happening any time soon, bud, and it doesn’t hurt them.”
“You promise?”
I watch through the shelves like a peeping Tom, but I can’t turn around.
“You think I’d let anything bad happen to your little sister?”
“No,” Moffy says without a pause, “because you make all the monsters go away.”
I rub at my watery gaze.
Loren Hale is not the monster in his son’s eyes.
He’s the hero.
[ 21 ]
September 2021
Arrapia Café
Philadelphia
ROSE COBALT
“This is beyond ridiculous.” I slide the Celebrity Crush tabloid to Ryke. The headline in neon pink reads: Rose Calloway Baby Crazy!! Pregnant with Sixth Child!
My scowling brother-in-law lowers his massive burger and then wipes his calloused hands on the tablecloth of all things.
I bite my tongue but not for long. “A napkin is next to you,” I snap.
His brows knot. He didn’t even realize he spread beef grease on decorative linen. Also, he doesn’t care. “Do you want me to read the fucking magazine or wash my hands?”
I huff. “Read.”
Ryke flips through the tabloid, his scowl never changing shape.
I grow impatient. “The headline alone is ridiculous. Calling me baby crazy is like calling the sun a flaming ball of shit.”
Ryke ignores me as he reads.
This is the last time I invite him out to lunch. At least not without one of my sisters or Connor or Loren present. When we’re alone together, I feel like I’m arguing with myself. Or a caveman. Or both.
I tug at the hem of my blue dress, the chair creaking. The lighting in the café is more suited for dinnertime: too dim, the blinds nearly shut closed. It creates a mood that I’d rather share with no one. Not even Connor.
Okay, maybe Connor.
Maybe even more than maybe. But I’d never tell him so.
“It’s fucking stupid,” Ryke states after a prolonged minute of silence. He shuts the tabloid and tosses it aside.
My eyes narrow. “It took you that long to come to that assessment. What were you doing? Fact-checking them?”
He glares, but it’s minor in comparison to the ones his little brother doles out. “For fuck’s sake, Rose, I was actually reading what they wrote. And if you did too, you’d know that they just mostly talk about how you’re pregnant…which you are.”
I’m only fifteen weeks along, but it was far enough that we discussed it on our latest episode of We Are Calloway. I wanted to leak the information before a tabloid did, and I succeeded on that front. I realize these tabloids are expected, but I never really prepared myself for the “baby crazy” moniker.
Especially since I still very much dislike babies that aren’t my own.
Though the criticism is nothing new. I have warring voices from tabloids, fans, and random people that’d just like to comment on my life.
How can she have so many children and still go to work? That’s so selfish.