Page 25 of My Cosplay Escape
“Our busiest nights. Done. Easy. Next.”
“And you provide me with a back door where I can plan my entrance and exit.”
Another beat. “Should I be worried for my safety?”
“No, Adam. No one is asking you to parade around in a thinly veiled dominatrix costume for their own personal gain.”
“Stacey said you were cool when she explained it as modeling. People wear all kinds of silly clothes for modeling.”
“My conditions.”
“Fine. Whatever you need.”
I take a deep breath. It’s not enough to only sound confident. I need to be a mad boss lady. Like Gwen. Every day, she brings it. Now it’s my turn. “You pay me in advance for the next three months. And I don’t pose for pictures.”
I hear shuffling on his end and voices. It sounds like a party, but it’s ten a.m. on a Saturday and way too early for typical young-people revelry. At least in my limited experience. “Pictures are prohibited inside the escape room. Phones, too, so you won’t have to worry about any candids. However, part of the Superhero Escapes experience is a celebratory photo op at the end. Bragging rights and the accompanying hashtags are good for business. I’m afraid this is nonnegotiable. I can have a handler in addition to the photographer out with you when it’s your turn to pose. With your mask and a closed-mouth smile, you should evade most facial recognition software, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I hear more shuffling and loud voices on his end. “As far as being paid in advance.” He half sighs, half groans. “Perhaps we should settle on a wage before I commit to advances?”
I squeeze the arm of my chair till my knuckles are white. I’ve run my numbers. If I’m going to do this, it has to really make a difference for me. “I want double what the other cosplayers make.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Stacey told me you’ve been looking for a Catstrike for ages. Said you were very selective. But we both know you were pretty obsessive when it came to finding… me.”
“Sabine, Sabine, Sabine. Okay. Sure.” He names a figure.
Nope, not double. I need more than just my inner Gwen. I need Catstrike herself. I focus on my character’s scrappy badassery. My spine arches and rounds. My lips curl into a pout. “Stacey told me she bought an entire semester’s worth of books off the wages of her first weekend alone. Don’t play games with me now.”
He groans. “I’m pretty sure that was a Labor Day weekend, and Stacey worked Friday through Monday.”
“Your escape room isn’t open on Mondays.”
“We make exceptions.”
“I want fifty dollars an hour.”
He laughs. “Oh, you were serious?”
I plop down on my bed and begin folding my laundry, smug at my negotiating and adulting skills. Look, Mom! Clean panties AND money for classes.
“Jeez, Sabine. You’re not kidding about this. Look, the average wage for my cast comes to about thirty dollars an hour.”
I smile. “So find someone more average.”
“Forty-five dollars, and I can pay for the first month up-front. But if you so much as breathe a word about your advance, it’ll be the end of me and my business.”
“Relax, Adam. I’ll keep our secret.”
“So you’re in?”
“All in.”
Chapter Eight
Gwen was kind enough to give me a ride to the gym.
“Does Tony know you got a second job?”
“Of course not. No one knows but you.”
