After Archie there was another panel on how to become a writer for geek publications, which seemed to be entirely about how this was a terrible idea if you enjoyed things like food and shelter. I kind of felt bad for the eager young hopefuls who kept asking questions like “no, there has to be a loophole somewhere.” There wasn’t.
By the time it was over my knee felt ok enough to walk to the hotel. Typical of a con, I’d forgotten to eat lunch, so some room service, followed by pain killers and maybe a soak in the hotel’s jacuzzi.
The panel was the last of the day, so the con was breaking up, with streams of people heading out the doors. For some, it was their only day. For others, like me, it was just day one the ultra geek marathon. I joined the streaming hordes and began to make my way down to street level. From there, it was a short hobble to my hotel. That’s when I heard a voice call out from behind me.
“Hey there!”
I turned around and it was my witch. She had a puffy coat on over her costume, but it was still fall and she was still in a modified one-piece swimsuit. She looked cold… and embarrassed.
“Ashley, you’re freezing! Why are you out here?”
She looked baffled for a second. “I told you my name?”
“Your ‘friends’ said it when they were giving you shit.”
She blushed even deeper. “Oh yeah, right,” she said. “Look, I just really wanted to apologize, but properly. I know I was babbling a lot earlier, and I was just mortified by what happened and my brain kind of locked up. Are you ok?”
That she managed to ask that with her teeth chattering was kind of impressive.
“I’m fine, but I’m going to have to take you to hospital for hyperthermia. How long have you been waiting out here to apologize to me?”
She glanced down at her shoes. “I dunno, 20 minutes or so. Heather and Lesley said I was nuts and they blew me off to go get ready for an after-con party they got invited to. But I just felt really bad. And you dealt with it so nice even after they were so bitchy toward you and I hate it when people think badly of me and…”
I put my hand up. She paused.
“I babble sometimes,” she said.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s ok, it’s kind of adorable.”
Crap. Crap. Crapity crap. Now I was being the creepy old guy to the nice girl trying to apologize. Crapity crap.
Fortunately she didn’t seem to mind. She just smiled. And then shivered again.
“Anyway… Sorry!” she said, laughing. “Now I should run back inside and get changed and track down the girls.” She reached down to grab the backpack at her feet.
I glanced back at the convention center and noticed a couple trying to get in. Security wasn’t letting them, despite a lot of pleading. I nodded in that direction and Ashley looked, and moaned.
“Ohhhh nooooo. I really don’t want to have to go all the way to Queens to change at the hotel and then come back to Manhattan.”
I had just been mildly creepy, but decided to chance it.
“Look, my hotel is just a block or so away. There’s a washroom in the lounge area. Just pretend you’re my daughter or something and go in there and change. That way you’re not freezing your ass off on a subway to Queens and dealing with potential crazy people.”
She brightened up rather than be grossed out. “Really, you don’t mind? That’d be awesome!”
“You stayed out here to freeze and apologize rather than go party with your friends. It’s the least I could do. Come on,” I said, hobbling towards the hotel.
She slipped her arm into mine and burrowed a bit. I glanced down at her.
“I’m freezing and you’re warm. Come on ‘dad’. Let’s get you to the hotel.”
***
There was minimal hassle at the hotel and after hearing her stomach snarl as we walked passed the lounge I managed to persuade her to have some food with me.
“I’m the one who knocked you over. You shouldn’t be buying me food,” she complained, but without much conviction.
“You can’t go out drinking with your friends with your stomach grumbling like that. You’ll be hammered after two sips.”
She giggled. “I’m a lightweight at the best of times, but I’m 19. They won’t let me drink here. But I am too hungry to argue. So thank you.”
We agreed on a burger and she went to get changed. I found a spot in the lounge that was near a fake fireplace, but it threw off some extra warmth.
It was a toss-up on which was going to arrive first, the food or Ashley. As it turns out, it was a tie. Just as the food was being put on the table, she came out of the bathroom. It turns out that transforming from the Scarlet Witch to a petite redhead in yoga pants and a cardigan takes a while. Although I did manage to notice she’d fixed her hair and put it back in a ponytail which went about half way down her back. She’d washed her face and put on some more subtle make-up. And, with amusement, I saw she’d put on a pair of glasses.
She plunked down in the chair across from me and took a moment to both enjoy the heat and look ravenously at the hamburger.
“I’m going to thank you now because I might not talk much for the next few minutes. I haven’t eaten except some granola bars around noon,” she said, reaching for the burger.
“I won’t take it personally. Go ahead.”
I’ve found there are three kinds of thin people. Those who are regimental about their weight, counting every calorie and using precise exercise routines to ensure they stay in an exact weight range. Those who are simply picky eaters and don’t seem to really care for food. And finally, those with freakish metabolisms that can process the most garbage food without gaining an ounce.
Judging by the way Ashley messily dismantled the burger, I suspected she was the latter. In less than 5 minutes, the burger and fries were gone and she was eyeing my food in a way that made it obvious she was wondering if it would be bad manners to steal some fries. I tipped my plate in a way to indicate I was willing to share, and she grabbed one and dipped it in some ketchup.
“Let me guess, you blew all your money on your costumes, then travelling here, and a con pass, you’re sharing a room with your friends and you failed to budget that you might need food this weekend,” I said.
“How’d you guess?”
“Hardcore cosplayers tend to frown on any expenditure that doesn’t go towards fabric and props. True?”
She nodded. “I have the madness. My mom and people in my high school thought I was a nut. Thank god for the internet where I can meet other madwomen with a similar addiction.”
“Is that where you met…”
“Heather and Lesley, yeah,” she said, making a face. “We met online, and then we were all going to the same university together so we’ve been hanging out for a few weeks now. I’m not sure I like them, but, well, I’m kinda stuck with them for the weekend.”
I knew for a fact that I didn’t like them. Of course you can give your friends shit when they do something stupid or make a mistake. I did it to my friends all the time, just like they did it to me. Those two seemed less inclined to do some good natured teasing, and more like putting Ashley down to make themselves look better. I knew the type from my time in university. I had no time for them then either.
“So what’s your addiction, dad?”
I looked startled and it was my turn to blush a bit.
“I don’t think there’s any risk they’re going to ask you to leave so you don’t need to call me that now.”
“Oh, I know, but you haven’t actually, you know, told me your name. You’re just the dude I nearly killed.”
I shook my head. Christ, I actually hadn’t told her my name. Apparently the senility must be kicking in.
“My name is…”
She reached over across the table and put a finger on my lips. It was warm and I could vaguely taste salt and ketchup on it.
“Nope. You’re my dad now. You’ve missed your window to tell me your real name. If we’re still talking at the end of this con, you can tell me your real name. For now, it’s dad.”
This was the moment I was glad for the table, which was covering my quickly growing erection. Daddy-daughter play was always one of those unrealized fetishes for me. My wife was never interested and considered it weird. And now I had a sexy 19-year-old redheaded geek calling me dad with a bratty smile on her face. This was going to be an interesting, and possibly really painful weekend.
“I’ve learned to pick my fights carefully with redheads,” I said, shrugging my shoulders in defeat.
“Good call, dad,” she said. “So, what’s your vice… comic book wise, of course.”
Oh yes, she was going to be an entertaining pain this weekend.
The next hour was spent arguing the merits of different characters and comic books. She lit up when I said I loved Batgirl, but frowned when I said I preferred Cassandra Cain over Barbara Gordan. She felt compelled to defend the redhead sisterhood at length. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I laughed and relaxed quite so much. I was quite sad when her phone buzzed and she looked at it and frowned.
“They’re wondering if I’m dead. I should probably get going. There’s a party at some bar I’m missing,” she said, reaching to put on her coat. “I’d honestly prefer to stay. This has been fun.”
“Likewise. It’s been a rough couple years so this has been quite nice.”
She looked at me with a tilt of her head like she wanted to ask more, but decided it wasn’t the time.
“Big plans for the rest of your evening?”
“Dad’s an old man,” I said. “I think I’m going to soak in the jacuzzi for an hour and then go to bed.”
“See, now I’m really regretting going,” Ashley said. She managed to say it in a tone balancing the fine line of making me wondering if she was serious or just teasing. It was an impressive skill set for her age. Or maybe they all had it and I just wasn’t used to paying attention.