The comic shop was packed. Well, packed compared to the normal number of customers. About 8 people sat in chairs, drinking the soda provided by Michael. I twirled a pencil around between my fingers as I stared intently at the floor.
Above me, on the TV in the shop, a computer was streaming the final vote numbers. The push from Tobias had helped, but I still wasn’t in the top finalists. They don’t publish the total votes, but as we entered the last day of preliminaries, the website showed who was in the running for the tournament. My username had breached the bottom of the list twice, both times dropping back out soon after.
There was less than an hour left and I have no way of knowing if I was going to make it. I only now became aware of how slick with sweat the pencil in my hand had become.
“Thanks again for coming! Make sure to update your pull list for next month!” Michael calls out to one of the customers leaving. Only 7 remained.
“Um, I don’t think we need to do all this. Even if my name gets into the finalists, it’s not like I’ve already won the whole tournament.” My eyes never leave the floor. I feel like if I looked into Michael’s smile again, I would choke and agree to whatever he wanted again.
“Nonsense. We’re already here and someone needs to finish the pizza and soda I ordered.” He pulls another slice and places it on a plate, next to several others, as if the people here didn’t get their fill half an hour ago.
I have to admit, there’s something infectious about Michael’s eternal optimism. He had to take a huge risk just to open this shop, and to then take a chance on backing me in the tournament. But no matter how slow the shop is, or how often I doubt my abilities, he’s always there to tell me about the sunshine tomorrow brings.
Over the next 40 minutes, three more people left, as my name didn’t enter the list of finalists. There was still about 10 minutes left, but they clearly didn’t have their hopes up.
I was about to suggest again we call it quits, when the door opened. He strode in, confident and smooth, wearing some designer button-up, perfectly tailored to his figure. A slight wry smile showed as he mussed his hair back out of his eyes.
Tobias walked gracefully to the counter, where Michael was excitedly ready to take his money.
“Couldn’t wait until Wednesday? I have a few of the custom requests ready, but two of the issues are giving me a little trouble.” He started to reach down for his pull boxes under the counter.
“No, those can wait until the order is complete,” Tobias says. He turns his cool stare in my direction, seemingly sizing up his competition. The competition he made possible. “I was hoping to see if our little friend here would be sticking around.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say.
He gives a quick chuckle before responding.
“It means you’re terrified of me. Terrified of the tournament. Terrified of trying to be an artist. Don’t try to lie about it.”
What an absolute asshole! I could totally be an artist! I just… I just what? Is there anything holding me back from pursuing it before? I think back to how Kara reacted when I first said I wanted to join the contest. Was she right? I never put effort in like this before, could I even be successful?
“I mean, I could just go home. This was a mistake…” I dejectedly say. Why would I ever think I could pull this off?
“That’s all? I give you the opportunity of a lifetime and you just give up before the time is done? Good, you’d best be leaving if that’s how you’re going to act.”
Finally seeing the relationship I had with Tobias, something shifted in Michael’s demeanor. He moved out from behind the counter and rested his hand on my shoulder. For the first time, his face didn’t seem to have a smile on it.
“Jules will be sticking around, regardless of what happens with the tournament. He’s my friend and he’s always welcome.”
Oh… Michael. That’s so sweet.
I’m a little too flabbergasted to respond and instead turn my attention back to Tobias, fury leaking through his cool stare at Michael. He takes but a moment to gather himself and brings back the smirk I so desperately want to punch.
“Is that so? Then let’s make things a little more interesting. If you’re so sure, why don’t we agree to a little wager.”
Oh, that’s dumb. Why would you ever bet on some dumb contest…
“What’s the wager?” Michael eagerly responds. There’s a slight manic look in his eye, underneath the genial facade. He knows Tobias has money, and wants to take him for whatever he can get.
“The final preliminary voting ends in just five minutes. If Jules fails to make it to the tournament bracket, you ban him from the store.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back so nonchalantly. “I’d like to make this my new regular shop, and I don’t need him here stinking the place with his failure, after I so generously gave him a leg up.”
Ow. That stings. But it’s ridiculous, there’s no way Michael would agree to that. I was his first repeat customer and… and I’m remembering the greedy monster that hides in his soul. Dammit.
“Michael, don’t- ” I begin before getting cut off.
“Okay, but if Jules makes it, he’s not only allowed to stay and can’t be banned without my say so, but you become an investor in my store!” Michael points his finger at the dapper man with an intensity that threatens to swallow everything around it.
On one hand, I shouldn’t be surprised. This is a win-win for Michael. If I leave, he has a guaranteed regular who buys expensive books to keep him afloat. If I win, he has a new influx of cash and a partner working to help this venture succeed. It’s impressive.
It’s unbelievably hurtful.
“Michael! What are you saying?! You’d really ban me from the store over a stupid bet?!” There’s almost tears in my eyes, but more from anxiety than sadness. Would I really need to find a new store?
“You got this in the bag! Don’t worry about it!” He gives a beaming smile and a thumbs up, like he actually believes it.
“I accept these terms,” Tobias says. “You’re quite the brilliant one. You’ve been planning this since I first came in the store, haven’t you?”
The bemused question seems to tickle Michael a bit.
“Yeah! Well, not a wager. But you seemed like you have money and are impressed with the store, and I could use a little help keeping it running. I planned to ask a bit further down the line, but you forced my hand.” A hand which he holds out to finalize the wager.
Tobias takes his hand and they shake, as I realize they’re treating me like a commodity in all of this.
“But remember, it only works if Jules makes it to the tournament. There’s only three minutes left and his name hasn’t been in the top 64 since this morning.”
“Do I get any sort of say in this?” I cry out, exasperated at everything going on.
“No.” The boys say in unison.
The time keeps ticking down. I’m sweating all the soda I just drank, I must look like a cola covered freak. As the last minute passes, names keep switching, being added and removed from the list until…
With ten seconds to go, I see it.
#64 – BeJuled
My name pops back in. I’m a little numb but still vaguely aware of Michael’s arms wrapping around my shoulders as he screams out a glorious cheer. The other customers must have gotten emotionally invested, because I soon realize the few who remained were also yelling at the top of their lungs.
The timer keeps ticking down as my name jumps up to #63.
5…
Michael is all but screaming in my ear.
4…
This could really happen.
3…
My name drops back to #64, and my stomach drops.
2…
Tobias looks over at me with a strange expression. Almost like… admiration?
1…
The website goes dark.
