Page 9 of Confused AF
I ducked my head and peeked up at him through my lashes. “Thanks.”
four
~ Vaden ~
TheSpellboundExpowasnothing short of madness.
The doors of the convention center hadn’t even opened to ticketed attendees yet. Even so, the noise levels already vibrated at volumes that made me question how the entire building hadn’t collapsed yet.
Hundreds of artists, stylists, and beauty moguls rushed around the room, shouting orders—or curses—as they made last-minute preparations before the masses descended. From the relatively unknown to the corporate brands that even a troglodyte like me recognized, they all appeared to be in varying states of panic.
Influencers with early access roamed the aisles between the rows of tables. Some kept it low-key with nothing more than a smartphone and selfie stick, while others had whole film crews following behind them.
And they all hadloudopinions.
While the big names occupied massive sections filled with vivid colors and elaborate displays, most of the vendors had setups consisting of a single folding table. About five feet long and made of cheap plastic, they strained under the weight of their burdens.
Like everyone else, Otto had found a way to make the space his own, though. An impressive feat considering how little he’d been given to work with.
A shimmering, iridescent cloth covered the table, the fabric flowing over the side like a liquid rainbow. Most of the surface had been reserved for an array of bottles, tubes, palettes, brushes, and possible torture devices. He had set aside a corner to display his business cards, though.
Behind the table, a six-foot vertical banner displayed his business name—Statement Studios—contact information, and the list of services he offered. And just in case the neon backsplash didn’t garner enough attention, we had tied balloon bouquets to the stand.
In the end, his booth had gone from drab to psychedelic fever dream, and I meant that as a compliment. I just didn’t know why we had needed to be there four hours early to make it happen.
Then again, a lot of Otto’s decision-making seemed to be based on little more than vibes and anxiety, sprinkled with a side of wishful thinking. Arguing against his logic only made him spiral deeper. Distraction and redirection didn’t work.
Yet, while he seemed incapable of giving up control, he didn’t appear to have a problem with me taking it. Frankly, the unspoken arrangement suited me just fine, especially if it gave him even a moment of peace.
Something he seemed in desperate need of at the moment.
With another hour left before the doors opened, and nothing left to occupy him, he had started second-guessing every choice. He questioned the placement of the banner. He agonized overhis makeup selections. Even the bowl of individually wrapped peppermints he’d set out for potential clients hadn’t escaped his scrutiny.
“What if someone is allergic?” He rimmed the edge of the glass bowl with his index finger, his mouth turned down in a pensive expression. “I should get rid of them.”
“If someone is allergic, they just won’t eat them,” I reasoned.
“What if they can’t even be around them?” He pulled his hand away and glanced over his shoulder. “That happens.”
“They’re wrapped.”
“But still.”
When he reached for the bowl again, I whipped my tail out, snapping it against the top of his hand. In response, he jerked back and glared at me like I had seared him with a branding iron.
“Everything is perfect, and no one is going to die from an airborne allergen.” Taking him by the shoulders, I turned him around and steered him toward the folding chair at the edge of the table. “Sit. Relax.”
“But I have to—”
“Be at your best when those doors open.”
“Maybe if I just—”
I pushed him back into the seat when he tried to stand.
“You look good today, by the way.” I said it partly to distract, but mostly because it was true.
“I—” He stopped abruptly and tilted his head. “Thank you.”
