All the Feels (4 page)

She tore open the first package and broke the cookie to release the paper, smoothing it between thumb and forefinger as she read:
Laughter is the best medicine.

With a grimace, Liv set it back on the counter. Her mother lifted her brows.

“Not mine,” Liv said.

“You always do this.” Katherine laughed.

“Which is why I always tell you to order extra.”

Her mother suppressed a grin as Liv opened the next.

A grand adventure awaits you.

Liv groaned and crumpled it up, grabbing another.

Your passions will bring you many friends.

Disgusted, Liv scowled at the remaining two cookies.

“You can have mine,” her mother offered. “I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Liv said, half-closing her eyes in concentration. “Just need the right one.”

Nothing happened for several seconds and then … A faint twinge, like a single spark, ran up her arm to settle in her chest. Liv grabbed the cookie nearest her and broke it open.

It’s up to you to make your happy ending.

Liv stared at it a moment, rereading the words. Did it mean life? Because if it did, then Liv disagreed. Sometimes life was downright unfair. Bad things happened to good people. Her father’s death was the perfect example.

Katherine stood from the table, buttoning her coat and pulling on her mittens.

“Find the right one?” she asked.

“Not sure.”

“Well, we should get going. Don’t want to be late to the movie.”

Liv stared at the fortune in her hand. “You guys have fun,” she said in a distracted voice. “I’ll get the dishes.”

“But aren’t you coming along?”

“I’m not feeling up to it.”

“You’re not still going on about the ending of that
Star Trek
movie, are you?” Gary said.

Liv’s chin jerked up in surprise. Gary rarely acknowledged her presence, never mind spoke directly to her.

“I-it’s
Starveil
 … and I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, your mother told me all about it.”

“She what?” Liv spun back to her mother, who was studiously avoiding eye contact.

“Hiding in your room all day. Reading fan-fic. Not giving a bit of attention to the world going on around you.” Gary Blodgett wasn’t known for his talking, and Liv wasn’t sure if this was a joke or not. He never intervened. Rarely acknowledged her presence at all. “You’ve been carrying on like a spoiled kid,” he added.

“I have not!”

“Sounds to me like you need a good swift kick in the—”

“Gary!” Katherine gasped. She turned to Liv. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am! But I wish you’d brought this up with
me
. Gary has no business—”

He jabbed a stubby finger at Liv. “You need to stop moping!”

“I—I’m not. I’m just busy. I—I—” She felt her throat close. There was no way she could explain to him—someone with absolutely no imagination—what it was like to lose Spartan. A man like Gary would never understand her love of the
Starveil
series. “I—I’m fine,” she said. “And it’s hardly your place to—”

“Your mother asked my opinion, and I’m giving it.”

“Gary,
please
,” Katherine pleaded. “We’re going to be late to the movie.”

He muttered something about “warming up the car” and headed to the front door. It closed with a bang that rattled the pictures. Liv went to leave, but her mother stepped in her way, putting her hands on her shoulders.

“All I said to Gary was that you’d been really quiet the last few days. And you
have
been.” She squeezed gently. “I was worried about you, Liv. That’s all.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“Please, sweetie. Come along … for me.”

“Not today. Okay? I’m not in the mood.”

Her mother’s smile faded into something careworn, and she let go of Liv’s shoulders. “Another time then? Just the two of us?”

“Definitely.”

When the door closed behind her mother, Liv unclenched her fists, staring down at the crumpled fortune in her palm:
It’s up to you to make your happy ending.

With those words, an idea flickered in the recesses of her mind. She smiled. Liv tucked the paper into her pocket, swept the broken pieces of cookie into the wrinkled brown bag, and brushed her hands over the sink. She grabbed her phone and tapped in a text.

*   *   *

Xander was waiting outside Cup O’ Joe when Liv arrived. Icy fingers of wind dug under her coat as she trudged up the street, whereas Xander, with his long wool cloak and knee-high riding boots, was much better dressed for the weather.

Catching sight of her, he waved his walking stick. “Liv! Over here, dearest!” (As if she’d assume the Jonathan Harker look-alike was anyone
but
him.)
Dracula
was set nowhere near Boulder, she thought, but she’d be willing to bet she could match it for mood.

“I thought you would’ve grabbed us a table,” Liv said, her breath clouding the frosty air. “It’s freezing out.”

Snow swirled around the streetlights, catching on Xander’s hair and peppering his top hat, giving the scene a postcard appeal.

“Joe’s is packed,” he said. “I tried, believe me. We’ll have to—” Xander’s dashing grin backflipped into a look of concern as he saw her face. “Christ, Liv, you look terrible!” he said, giving her a once-over. “Whatever happened?”

Liv burrowed her nose into her scarf. “Nice to see you, too, Xander.”

“I’m sorry for saying so, but you really do look dreadful.”

“That is
not
an apology.” She glowered at him. “You are a terrible best friend.”

Xander groaned. “Oh come now, Liv. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

He waved a hand toward her mismatched ensemble. “Your hair isn’t washed, your clothes are wrinkled, your shoes—”

“Not all of us live in a state of constant cosplay,” Liv interrupted. Her voice dropped. “Or perfection,” she muttered, thinking of Arden’s long blond hair, pert body, and designer clothes.

Xander’s gloved hand brushed her elbow, and he gave her a gentle smile. “But you don’t look like
you
, dearest, and that worries me.”

Liv knew it was true, because his words were growing into that strange hybrid of modern American and fake British upper crust. The first week of classes, Xander had gotten into an argument with their professor in the middle of class, and that same BBC-approved accent had come through. He
was
concerned.

Liv glanced over his shoulder to the window of Cup O’ Joe. Xander was right. Every seat was taken. “So where do you want to go?” she sighed. “’Cause I’m turning into a Popsicle out here.”

“Is Mickey Dee’s to your liking, m’lady?”

“Perfect.”

“Then your carriage awaits.” He did a half bow, waiting for Liv to pass in front of him. “Just give me a minute to text Arden.”

Liv headed down the street, snow crunching beneath her boots. She was annoyed again, and she couldn’t explain why. She waited next to his car—a rusting orange Mazda—until Xander caught up.

“So what’s going on?” he asked. “You’ve been radio silent for days. I thought you’d joined a nunnery or something.”

“I’m actually doing a little better. That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh?”

“I have an idea, but I’m going to need your help.”

Xander unlocked the car door and pulled it open with a flourish, his cape swinging wide. “You know I could never deny a damsel in distress.”

Liv bit the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. “Is that what I am to you?”

“Not saying I mind. It lets
me
play hero.” He winked. “So what’s this idea of yours?”

Liv settled inside the car and smiled up at him.

“I’m bringing Spartan back from the dead.”

*   *   *

They sat in the parking lot, large fries and two drinks in the carousel between the front seats of Xander’s car. For someone who dressed like a nineteenth-century gentleman, Xander Hall had a distinct love of processed food.

“Tom Grander is very much alive,” Xander said for the third time. “I saw him in the Atlanta airport once. The man dresses like a slob.”

“Yes, Tom’s alive, but Spartan is dead,” Liv said. “And that’s just wrong.”

Xander sipped his iced tea. “You talk to the coven about it?”

“You
know
I don’t like it when you call us that.”

“Sorry. I’ll come up with a better sobriquet.”

“Or
don’t
. I’m fine without one, thanks.”

Xander tapped his lip with his forefinger, his gaze drifting over her as if searching for clues. Liv squirmed under his inspection.

“Hmm … How about
the posse
?”

“We’re not cowboys.”

His eyes widened. “
The ton
?”

She grabbed another fry. “I don’t even know what that means, Xander. But no.”

“
Inner sanctum
,” he breathed.

Liv snorted. “That one sounds illegal.”

“I’ve got it!” He plucked the french fry from her waiting fingers. “
The coterie!
”

Laughing, she stole the french fry back before he could put it into his mouth. “How about
the
Starveil
fandom
? It’s self-explanatory, and it doesn’t sound like I’ve joined a cult.”

“Well, yes. That’s a bonus,” Xander said. “But it’s too blasé, dearest.” His hands swung up, knocking the complicated knot of his cravat askew. “You deserve something that captures your essence!”

Liv reached out, straightening Xander’s necktie. “Essence, hmmm?”

His face flushed, and he looked away, smoothing the tie’s folds. “Exactly.”

Outside it was snowing again. Flakes dotted the dark windows like a star field. Liv picked up another fry, twirling it between her fingers before popping it into her mouth.

“Xander,” she said after a moment. “I was hoping you’d help me with something.”

“Aha!” He brushed off his hands. “Now we’re getting to the heart of it. What nefarious escapades have the cov—” he cleared his throat “—have
the fandom
been up to?”

“Nothing yet, but I want you to help me with a little project.”

“I’m all ears.”

“In the last movie, Spartan dies.” Liv took another fry. “But I’m going to change it.”

“The film’s already released. You can’t change it now.”

“I think I can.”

“But … it’s canon.” He took another sip of iced tea. “The countdown clock was on.”

“Screw the clock,” Liv said. “I’m changing it.”

“How?”

Liv rubbed greasy fingers on the side of her jeans. “I’m not a writer, Xander, but I’ve been in fandom long enough to know how much influence the fans have. It’s way more than most people realize.”

Xander smothered laughter behind his hand.

“They do!” Liv insisted.

“Give me one example.”

“In the second
Starveil
movie, there was a mention of the colony on Io. Two seconds of film, max. But the fan-writers picked up the idea and ran with it. When the third
Starveil
came out, Io was one of the key destinations in Darthku’s plan for domination. It was the
writers
who influenced the plot of the movie; they made it what it became.”

“That seems like a vague reference to me. I mean, how many
other
fics were out there, besides the ones about Io?”

“Fine. Then how about the relationship with Tekla? There wasn’t even a hint of romance in the first two movies, but the SparTek ship became so popular, they added it.”

He smirked. “Perhaps, Liv, but I doubt that—”

“For goodness’ sake.” She laughed. “They practically used the same ‘pretending to be married’ setup that appeared in one of SpartanGrrl’s fics!”

A grin tugged the corners of his lips.

“They
did
, Xander. I know they did, because I read that story first.” She reached for another fry. “I’ve been part of the
Starveil
fandom since day one. You haven’t.”

“All right then, so what’s your plan to revive our dear Mr. Spartan?”

“You’re an actor, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Among other things.”

“I need to build a character. A persona.” Liv opened the online forum on her phone. “I need someone to act for me.”

Xander’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to require a degree of embarrassment?”

“It might, but only a little bit. I’ll pay you back.”

He set his cup back into the holder and crossed his arms. “How? I want details before I agree to anything.”

“God, I’m not asking you to sell your soul to the devil.” Liv laughed. “Besides, I’ll help you sew your new outfit. You need a sewing machine to finish the last piece of your cosplay, right?”

“Cosplay. Why, you just said the magic word,” he drawled. “Count me in. So what kind of acting do you need?”

Liv tapped in a username and hit Find.

“I need an actor, a voice for the revolution. Someone to say ‘the fans haven’t given up, and neither should you.’ You’ll be the star, Xander, and I’ll be the director who brings it all together.”