Page 141 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“I leaned into King Lear tonight. Might have taken it a little too far.”
“Why?”
“Because, my Lady Beatrice. I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost the house. I’ve lost my livelihood. And now that you’re here, I’m bound to lose the girl.” He laughs his deranged psycho laugh. “Not so sexy now, am I?” He throws an empty water bottle at thevideo camera in the corner. “You want to kiss me? You want me to read poetry to you? No. Of course not. I wouldn’t either.”
“Mike, back up. What do you mean you lost the house?”
“I have a gambling problem. I bet it on a horse race.” He laughs. “I sold it to buy a Ferrari. I traded it for a vineyard that burned to the ground last summer. I used it as collateral for a business venture that went belly up.”
“Mike.” I slide the bars open.
“Careful, Beatrice. You look so pretty, and I’m feeling very foolish.” He pats the floor. “‘Let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories.’”
I take a seat next to him on the floor. “What is going on?”
Mike turns his attention away from me to the floor. “My uncle’s ex-wife. I got a letter from her attorney this morning saying she’s entitled to half of Grandma’s estate. I either buy her out, which I can’t do—I don’t have millions—or we sell.”
“What? That can’t be right.”
“It gets worse.” Some of his strained, teasing singsong voice comes back. “You want to hear?” He sighs. “I failed to defend my thesis this morning.”
“Are you serious? I didn’t even know that was happening.”
“Because I didn’t either. I missed a scheduling change in all this merry madness. No matter. I know what they'd say, 'Revise, resubmit. Revise, resubmit.' At some point, you just let sleeping dogs lie.”
No. You don’t. “Are you inebriated?”
“Heck no. I’m sleep-deprived. It’s worse, but not nearly as much fun.” Mike slouches closer to me and lets out a shaky laugh.
“Needing to revise and resubmit a master’s thesis is not the same as failing, and it isn’t at all equivalent to losing your livelihood.”
“Oh no, that’s coming. You remember my conversation with Princess Kitty 2000?”
“How could I forget? You’re a legend. A freaking hero. Because of that conversation, Princess Kitty has a kitty sister now. The internet is flooded with sentimental tribute videos.”
“Well, my director saw the video and decided I was all wrong forThe Winter’s Tale. They need a serious actor, not some hack who talks to cats on YouTube. I am officially out of the production.”
“Mike, that’s awful.”
“Oh, it get’s better. While I am now a joke in all of the professional circles I aspire to, I am much in demand elsewhere.”
I don’t even want to ask, but I don’t have to.
“I don’t know if you remember that afternoon we spent with Monique at the contemporary art museum. I told her I was doing some voice acting.”
“I remember.”
Mike’s psycho laughter returns, except he attempts to repress it. Which is worse. Far worse. “I stupidly let them record my voice for the company’s AI engine. Now, for a low monthly subscription, anyone can use my voice to narrate whatever the heck they want.” He drops his head into his hands. “I thought I was just finding a way to pay for the unplanned expense of a bigger front window.” He looks up sharply. “Not that I’m blaming you. Only a fool wouldn’t have thought to capitalize on that view. And I’m such a fool…”
“Mike, focus.”
He inhales. “Because of Princess Kitty, many,manypeople have decided that they want me to narrate their unpolished manuscripts. Their commercials for schlepping seaweed cleanses. Their safety manuals for farming equipment. And my favorite, Shakespeare. Yes, but not with any of the feeling orinsight that I would bring to the performances. Just me rattling it off like it was Chaucer, or Milton, or the ever-loving King James Bible.”
“Did you know they were harvesting your voice to use for AI?”
“Nope. Serves me right for not reading the fine print.”
“That’s not how that works.”
