Finding A Geek For Your Very Own

By Tammy Godfrey

Tiara loved going to comic book conventions every year, however this year Tiara's best friend Carrie is changing things up by making her go to speed dating. Yes, I know speed dating, Tiara wanted to throw-up. She wasn't asking for a hot guy, they're too much trouble. Tiara wants a guy that's into D&D, co

• Language: English
• Publisher: Warrioress Publishing
• Release date: Jul 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088198292

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Chapter Separator

Tiara

Iwas daydreaming again, and I never heard his voice the first time. I’d been looking at the newest Bob Ross book on painting. We’d just gotten in and wondering what I was going to have for supper. Excuse me, he said.

I turned and almost dropped the book. A young man was standing behind me, early twenties, about average height with one of those messy hairstyles where the hair sort of hangs down on either side of the face. I’m sorry, I smiled. Can I help you?

I’m looking for one of those projectors that enlarge artwork, he said. Art-o-graph I think is the brand.

Sure, we have a couple of those. I took him down to aisle ten and showed him the different models we had in stock.

Do you have any coupons this week? he asked. Down at the checkout, I told him. He thanked me and went on his way.

It had been a typical day at the craft and bookstore where I work, not too busy, not too slow. My bosses are a couple that owned their businesses. Stephen owned a bookstore, and Amy had a craft store. When they married, they and their business were joined in holy matrimony. As a result, a new store was born called Bookends. It’s a wonderful place to work, but at the end of the day, I always look forward to going home. I called my mom before I left and asked her what she’d like me to make for her. I made a list of things, and after a quick stop at the store, I threw those things into something edible, and we talked a little bit about how our day went. We watched a small TV, on one of those retro channels that makes my mom smile, then I went to bed. Pretty much just like any other day.

My mom and dad divorced years ago, and long story short, she needs me. Her thoughts on this were that she had this big house to herself, and I could have the whole downstairs for my own. There was a family room, my very own, private, no-one-else-allowed bathroom. Awesome! And two other bedrooms. I made one a study room, and the other one was for guests. See, my mom has panic attacks from the Army, I’m not sure what happened, but it was hard on her. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for me. So, I guess that just made it natural that I’d get used to taking care of her when she needed it most. I feel proud that I am the one who’s there for her and not some asshole in a home where my dad wanted me to put her. Mom always told me to go out and find someone, but to be perfectly honest, even when I was younger, I wasn’t much into dating. In this town, the only two places to meet anyone is in a bar or a church. (and don’t let anyone fool you, you meet the same people in both areas.)

Taking care of my mom for so long hasn’t given me many opportunities outside of work to have a steady relationship. It’s like a muscle you don’t use that wastes away. My social skills are that muscle. I feel withered inside. I vent my frustrations a few nights a week at a local gym. I never have, and never will admit that I go to meet guys. I mean, I go out at night when the place is mostly empty, with the exception of a few others pretending they have a life. My outfits are modest for the most part. At home, I have a treadmill, and I’ve worked out more than once on it. I think my mom feels bad for me, and at times she’s called herself a burden, but I always stop her right there. It was still my choice.

To compound the fact that I have no life, I’m also one of those weird women that read comic books. I know, I know. Total loser. What can I say? I’ve read them since I was a kid, and I read them while in college. I didn’t have much to distract me, so I kept reading them. I’m not exactly what you’d call a collector, except I never throw them away, so I guess I am. I just bought them and read them, but I have this geeky ability to remember almost everyone I’ve read, though I’d never tell anyone that. I used to want to be able to draw them, but I didn’t apply myself much in that direction, but I wrote a couple of scripts and thought I might be able to do that. I won’t bore you with the details…I already sound bad enough.

Anyway, why is this relevant, you may ask? A couple of weeks later, the yearly geek convention came around in Salt Lake City and I had a few artists I wanted sketches from and a couple of holes in my collection to fill, so I went along with my best friend, Ellie. I wasn’t planning on going, but I found out that five cast members from Game of Thornes were going to be there, I had to go. My half-sister, Mari, (she insisted we drop the y and put an I in her name) is staying with my mom till I get home. The family dynamic goes like this: my dad had two other kids before me with another woman. Divorced, remarriage, eventually and my mom had me. All I can say is my family is messy, but most families are these days.

While the comic book convention is in Salt Lake City, I am not. I do not live in Salt Lake. I do not live in Utah. I live about three hours north of there, in the tiny metropolis of Pocatello, Idaho. It’s a long drive alone, but time goes by much faster when you’re with a friend with whom you can share the most intimate details of your latest Sam and Dean Winchester fan fiction.

It’s always a sign of good fortune when you can get a hotel within reasonable walking distance to the convention center. The best part of the walk is getting your first glimpse at all the crazy cosplay costumes. Some of these geeks are in character the moment they step out of their hotel rooms.

So there Ellie and I were, walking among a group of wizards. The Avengers were in front of us, and the Justice League were behind us. I put a little more thought into my costume than the guy in the speedo standing on the corner waving. I went with a full torso cover with the Mother of Dragons costume. We reached the first crosswalk waiting for the light to change. Every person has given everyone the chance to complement the stranger next to them on the accuracy of their outfit.

Suddenly Ellie started jumping up and down, making me thankful that she didn’t wear her Red Sonya outfit but made me question her choice of the Princess Leia outfit and not the white dress with buns on the side of her head. She is the other one. The one that every guy is looking at with longing. Yes, that one. She grabbed my arm and pulled, leading me out of the nerd pack and into a rickshaw bike peddled by a hot guy dressed as Thor.

We arrived in style to a line that could only be measured by using several football fields. For an hour, you berate yourself for not getting up a dawn’s early light; then you notice the poor bastards behind you that stopped for breakfast. The line wrapped around the building, and we were waiting to see if the end of the line would come around the other side, but it finally started moving. Once you get in the event center, take baby steps through a serpentine path, and get your ticket punched, you feel a real sense of accomplishment.

Once inside, Ellie made a beeline for a panel she could not stop talking nearby the door. I think it was with Burt Ward, the guy who played Robin in the sixties show Batman.

I wandered the floor for a while, following the geek flow, to and fro. I’d been there for about an hour, bought the original Japanese version of The Ring and found a few bronze age comics and drooled over the silver age ones. The autographs didn’t happen for three hours, so I made my way to Artist Alley, where various artists were signing and selling their signed sketches and new authors who are trying to be the next bestseller. I thought I recognized one of them but couldn’t place the face until I got closer and remembered him as the young man who had asked me about the art projector weeks before. He was sitting at a table crowded with people. I got in line and waited my turn. His name card said, Jackson Shawne.

Hello, I said. Did that projector work for you? He looked up at me and looked confused until I mentioned how I’d shown him where the projectors were, then he acknowledged me politely. There was a bit of a pause, and I felt silly. He had a small open portfolio on his table. I asked, May I? and looked through it. I was impressed! His work was great. It reminded me of some of my favorite artists. I told him so, and he said thanks.

Do you draw? he asked me.

I used to, I told him. "I