Box fans scattered around the relatively spacious store area chugged heavily, but all they could do was blow hot air around. We’dcalled all over today trying to find an air conditioning repairman who wasn’t crazy busy, but the soonest anyone would be available would be tomorrow morning.
I unpacked another box of graphic novels and stacked them next to the table while trying to keep my muttering to myself. Dramatically printed signs announced Mason Cameron’s headlining of the Akron Pop Culture Festival, and a whole-wall poster covered the back of the store. The wall poster had been sent by his publisher and announced the compilation of his “Dark Angels” series into a hardbound graphic novel.
Mason Cameron was a massively popular independent comic book writer and artist, at least, according to my brothers. I wasn’t that familiar with him, but he had self-published a series for four years before he’d been picked up by Fathom Comics.
The twins knew someone who knew someone, and they’d convinced Cameron to fly to Ohio for the grand opening and to headline at the Akron Pop Culture Festival, our annual comic, sci-fi, fantasy and memorabilia show that ran in Akron at the end of July.
He’d been scheduled to come to their store for over a year and at first the rescheduling seemed like normal things... sickness, travel delays, conflicts, etc. But this was the third time he’d been scheduled, andagainwas a no-show.
Cameron was notoriously private. He never did interviews, never did signings, and most people didn’t even know what he looked like. He was the Hemingway of comic books. It had been a major coup for the twins to have gotten him to agree to come, but “major coup” had turned into “major headache” as he’d failed to show twice before.
“Dude, he’ll be here,” Hudson murmured in answer, walking over to pick up the sign. Hudson “Sonny” to his friends and “Fuck You” to anyone else... lifted the fallen promo poster almost reverently, before laying it down carefully behind the counter.
“He’d better be,” I replied. I’d sacrificed a weekend of video games and beer with some ex-military buddies to help launch my baby bros’ store. The least this Cameron character could do was show up.
Sonny eyed me warily as I growled and restocked the “Magic: TheGathering” cards on display with rather more force than necessary. Okay, maybe “rearranged” would be a better word than “restocked”. We hadn’t sold enough of anything to warrant restocking.
As I arranged the plastic-sheathed cards inside the glass case, something bothered me about the layout. Sonny and Hicks had spent the last eight months designing and remodeling the new store location when they’d purchased it from the previous owner, and I’d been helping them prep the store for the Grand Opening, so I knew the stock pretty well at this point, and something was missing.
“Sonny, where’s your Black Lotus?” I called, looking around anxiously. The Black Lotus Alpha was the pride and joy of Sonny’s Magic collection. He had practically drooled over the thing daily since Hicks had given it to him on their tenth birthday. Hicks had found the treasured card in an unopened pack of cards he’d bought at a flea market. The card was worth tens of thousands of dollars.
Sonny mumbled something at me without looking up, making my Spidey senses tingle like there was no tomorrow.
“What?” I asked loudly, walking over and putting my hand on the stack of comic books he was reaching for, effectively stopping him from working. He glanced guiltily behind me at Hicks, who was still on the phone, then grabbed my arm and dragged me out of sight of the break room.
“Keep it down!” he hissed quietly, glancing around my shoulder to where Hicks still paced on the phone. “…I sold it!”
“You didwhat?” I exclaimed, before his hand slammed over my mouth. There was no way Sonny would have willingly parted with that card.
“Why?” I asked, lowering my voice as he pulled his hand away.
“Please, Lee,” he begged,“Don’tsay anything to Hicks. He will totally freak out, and things are bad enough today already,” he explained, a pleading sound in his voice.
“We needed the money for the Con sponsorship and the airfare and hotel for Cameron,” he explained. “We spent a shit load of money on the lease and getting everything up and running for the new store. What we’d saved… it just wasn’t enough.”
He sighed, looking away, obviously embarrassed by his admission. He ducked his head, then continued, “Plus, Cameron’s agent demanded that he fly out first class. That more than doubled the cost of the airfare.”
“Fuck, Sonny! Why didn’t you tell me? Us?” I demanded. “I would have helped you, or the moms…”
A confusing array of emotions ran through me. Hurt that he hadn’t felt he could come to us, to me with the problem, anger that he’d parted with something that he’d cherished so much, and a sneaking suspicion of just who might have taken advantage of his need.
“Who did you sell it to?” I asked, half guessing. There was only one person the twins knew who had the kind of money the Black Lotus would demand.
“Bill Conyers?” I asked.
He shrugged slightly, ducking his head just like he had when he was a kid and was in trouble.
I sighed and ran my hand through my short hair. Bill was a jerk who’d had it in for my brothers ever since he’d moved to town a few years back. I’d wondered whether his spite developed because he viewed the twins as competition to his own store, or if it was something else. Bill seemed to be an equal-opportunity hater. He ran an “inspirational” bookstore nearby and had made it clear he despised women, foreigners, gay people, pretty much anyone who didn’t wear a red hat claiming they’d make America great again. I could easily see him taking advantage of Sonny’s need for cash.
“Please tell me you at least got a good price for it?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. Sonny’s face fell further, if that was possible, as he whispered a price that was about a quarter of the value of the card.
“Shit, Sonny. I would have helped! Fuck the card,” I said, grabbing his shoulders. I was about to lecture him further, but I saw the tell-tale shine in his eyes that let me know my baby brother was just barely holding back tears. It was times like this that I had to stop myself and remember just how young the twins really were.
Seeing the unshed tears in Sonny’s eyes, I wrapped my arms around my little brother and held him instead of shaking some senseinto him like I really wanted to. He was stiff as a board for a minute, then relaxed and wrapped his arms around me.
The twins and I had been really close growing up. Unusual for the oldest and youngest to be so close maybe, but we were. They had been the first members of the family to realize just how deep the scars of my service in Afghanistan were, and how much the loss of Mack had hit me.
We’d never really discussed the night they’d found me in my apartment, an empty bottle of Scotch on the floor and a bottle of pills in my stomach. They’d taken me to the emergency department and stayed with me while I got my stomach pumped. Somehow, they had convinced the doctors that the overdose was accidental, and not an attempt to escape a world without Mack.
