Ian came by the booth while Asher and I put our mics on. He whistled when he saw the booth. “Wow, Melody. I am so glad we came to this convention. Aren’t you glad I got us in?”
“Well, it’s the hard work from the team that makes this look so fantastic.” The Seventeen Studios events team scurried past him, carrying boxes of swag and stacks of controllers. “Our A/V guys just uploaded our demos. They’re amazing.” One of them waved a hello with his screwdriver and continued securing the video monitor to the booth backboard.
“Right. Great job, everyone.” Ian pulled his hands through his hair. “Did you get my email this morning about the show talent being unapproved by finance? They said we couldn’t risk having strippers on the payroll because it might flag an ethics violation.”
I frowned. “Wait, what email? I didn’t get anything from you.”
He scrolled through his email and said, “Oops, looks like it’s still in my email drafts. Let me forward it to you now.”
My phone buzzed. The content of Ian’s email was a repeat of what he just told me, which left out the fact that the finance team had already reached out to Dan and Paul this week to let them know their services wouldn’t be needed at the convention. No one told me.
Being cautious, I pulled Ian aside to have this discussion out of earshot of my team. “Ian, you authorized them. They were the big splashy draw to our booth. No one else has male strippers.”
He held up his hold that thought index finger to my face and picked up his buzzing phone. After a few seconds, he put his hand over the speaker. “Well, you have a few minutes to think of a plan B.” He removed his hand and said, “Yes, I’d be happy to give you an exclusive interview today. Let me come meet you now.” He shuffled away, leaving me standing there with plastic machetes in my hands.
Asher walked up to me. “I eavesdropped, sorry. What are we supposed to do now, boss?” He wrinkled his brow and awaited my response. The team needed me to look coolheaded and collected, not panicked and vomity.
Think, Melody, think.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Fuck fuck fuck!
Wait.
I had an idea! A terrible one, though. But at least it was a feasible one. Ugh, a truly terrible, feasible one. And it meant I’d have to do something I never, ever wanted to do. I bit my lip and weighed my options before requesting a group video chat with Candace’s husband, Wil, and Nolan.
“Hey, Mel, what’s up?” Wil was at the gym, in the weights area.
Nolan picked up, too. “Uh, hi, Melody?” He came into view with the shower behind him, tucking in his towel around his waist. I hadn’t talked to him since the humiliating parent brunch.
“Wil? Nolan? Um, hi there! Wil, meet Nolan, he works at my company. Nolan, this is Wil, he’s my best friend’s husband. Sorry about the group video but I’m crunched for time. I need a huge favor from you both, and I might get fired if you don’t help me, but no pressure. And I’d owe you both big. Like many-years-of-future-babysitting-for-Wil and a-year-supply-of-P.F.-Chang’s-dinners-for-Nolan kind of big.” I took a deep breath in and out.
Wil asked in a whisper, “Oh wow. Is it illegal?”
“Of course it’s not illegal!”
Nolan asked with a giant smirk, “So what exactly is happening here? Is Melody Joo actually asking for . . . help?”
I pursed my lips together and hesitated. “I . . . I am. I’m asking for your help. Please.”
“If it’s shady or embarrassing, can I wear a disguise?” He tilted his chin up, pondering the situation.
I tapped my finger on my bottom lip. “Hmmm, yes, you can. I know you are both busy on weekends, but I need you to dress in costume as characters in my game. Like, in an hour. I thought of you two because, without sounding too weird or pervy, you guys have physiques that women should flock to, and the male stripper talent I’d recruited fell through. The only thing you’ll need to do is stand in the booth with me, and be all friendly and smiley with people, with your shirts off. Could you do that?”
“Oh . . . so you’ve checked out my physique?” Nolan teased.
“But we’d have pants?” Wil asked in a panicked tone.
I laughed. “Yes, Nolan, no shame in admitting this given my current predicament. And yes, Wil. I picked out tasteful long cargo shorts, don’t worry. They have more coverage than what you’d wear to the beach. We’ll give you sunglasses and give you different hairstyles, too, if you want. PLEASE, can you guys help?” Please say yes. Please say yes.
If it hadn’t been for their stunned blinking, I would have assumed my phone had frozen. Honestly, I had no idea how they’d respond. How would I react if either of them asked me to show up to a trade event in less than an hour, dressed like a stripper? It would’ve taken at least thirty minutes for me to stop laughing hysterically. And then the remaining thirty to go through a wide range of feelings about what I should do, simply because someone I trusted and respected had just asked me to parade around at a convention in stripper garb.
Nolan finally broke the silence. “I’ll do it, but you have to cosplay too.”
Wil quickly added, “Yeah, I’ll do it if you cosplay. In three months I’ll be busy changing diapers, so this is probably my last chance to do something exciting like this! Let’s make it count!”
I’d planned on wearing a black fitted Seventeen Studios T-shirt to match the rest of my team. If they wanted me in costume, too, then I’d need to find an outfit like one of my female characters, to be true to the game. The women in the game wore more clothes than the dudes.
My heart soared as I agreed to their demands. “Okay, I’ll dress up too! It’s a deal then? Can you two get to the Seattle Convention Center in less than fifty minutes? We can expense your transportation. And you get free lunch!”
Wil nodded. “I need to hop in the shower first, and I’ll head straight there.”
“Well, I’m already showered.” Nolan accidentally dropped his towel but then pulled his phone up just in time. My heartbeat sped up as I imagined what was under that navy-blue terry cloth.
C’mon, brain, focus on the job!
“See you soon.” I flapped my hands, fanning myself, and then sat a moment, letting it sink in that with my resourcefulness I’d just avoided a train wreck.
I found strippers! And to fill my end of the bargain, finding a costume was top priority. There was a scene in Ultimate Apocalypse where a woman in full-on army combat gear wearing camouflage face paint comes storming out of the woods, offering advice about the dangers of the wilderness that gets them farther along in their journey. She would be my character. An army-navy surplus store within walking distance of the convention center opened at 9 A.M. I told Asher I had a new plan and left the costumes for Nolan and Wil with him.
AS SOON AS the store unlocked its doors I rushed to women’s combat gear and brought every item in that section to the checkout counter.
I asked the checkout clerk, “Does anyone here do face-paint camouflage designs?”
He yelled to the back of the store. “Uncle Gerry! Come to the front!” A bald, tattooed Uncle Gerry appeared, wearing a T-shirt that read GOD BLESS ’MERICA.
I asked Uncle Gerry if he could help me, and he answered in a gravelly voice, “I learned the face-painting trade by studying pictures of soldiers’ faces in Desert Storm.” I took that to mean yes.
He sat me down on the swivel chair behind the counter and got to work. Ten minutes later, I took a look at the finished creation in the mirror. A transformed Melody Joo stared back at me, with a green splotchy face, looking like a sickly Hulk. But I had no time for any artistic suggestions. I handed over a five-dollar tip, changed into the war gear in the bathroom, and charged out the door like a crazed apocalyptic fanatic.
The main doors to the event were still closed when I arrived. A few hundred game enthusiasts waited outside, ready to storm the show floor. Film crews from all over the world, teenage YouTubers doing selfie videos, and hard-core cosplayers lined up, anticipating the grand opening to the all-weekend event. Straggling food truck vendors pulled up to the front of the venue, offering quick-grab breakfast options while they prepared for the future lunch rush. I flashed my vendor badge and the security crew allowed me to enter the premises while two onlookers complained, “Awww, why does she get to go in? Is it ’cause she’s a chick?” and “Maybe I should flash my boobs, too.”
I turned around and gave them the finger.
Because our booth was located in the very back of the conference hall, I took in all the rock music, flashing lights, and nonstop game-related videos as any attendee would along the way. It was like someone brought Las Vegas, Dave & Buster’s, and Times Square all into one place, balled them all up, threw them into the air, and blew that shit up with a glitter-spraying frag cannon. The convention patrons paid good money for this blingy, flashy, epileptic-seizure-inducing experience. Exhibitors shouted their product pitches at me and shoved free T-shirts, rolled posters, and food truck coupons into my arms as I looked for my team.
Asher stood in the booth with Damon, the IT guy, who had taken the A/V guy’s place while he went on break. They were trying to load Nick’s game trailer onto two of the monitors, while Wil and Nolan, both shirtless and wearing cargo shorts, waited for my arrival. My gaze traveled down Nolan’s defined chest over to his lean, muscular arms, a look I preferred far more than his daily checkeredness. My throat went dry as I handed them each a pair of aviators from the surplus store and camouflage-printed bandannas.