What Happens At Cons

Bill followed the Hinkley men into their hotel room. He threw his con membership packet on Ralph’s bed, and sat down.

“Bigger buncha freaks I’ve never seen,” he said, laughing.

“C’mon, Dad, I need to put my costume on! What’re you wearing?” Kevin said, digging into his luggage.

“I’ll put my uh, costume on in a little bit, Kevin. Let’s go over the program book first, so you can give me an idea of where you’ll be for the next several hours.”

Bill reached into his pocket and drew out his communicator. “Here, kid, take this with you. Your dad’ll have the other one, and you can call us if you need to.”

“My name’s Kevin, sport,” Kevin said, snatching the small device from Maxwell’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I call your dad ‘kid’ too, don’t get your panties in a knot,” Bill shot back

“Hmm mmm,” was all Kevin had to say. Bill was a non-issue, as far as he was concerned. He took his pocket program from his own membership packet, and he and Ralph went into a huddle.

“Ralph, while you two are plotting conquering the world, I’m going to go to the dealer’s room. I saw some likely stuff for a costume I could stand wearing this weekend.”

Ralph looked at him, his blue eyes sparkling with humor. “This I’ve gotta see. What do you have in mind?”

“I ain’t tellin’ you, it’s a surprise. Kind of like your ‘costume’ will be to everyone. Including Kevin.”

“Really, Dad? What’re you wearing? You never did show me!”

“You’ll see, Kev, don’t worry. I’m sure it’s something nobody else at the con will have on!”

“Bank on it, Ralph.”

“Come on, Bill, give us a clue, what do you have in mind?”

“About as opposite of what you’ll be wearing as it can get,” he said as he went out the door.

“Should we wait for him, Dad?”

“I think so, Kev. We don’t know anyone here. Maybe we should make our big con debut together. That’d be fun.”

“I think we’ll all look really different. We should’ve gone with a theme, like I see groups do here. Did you see that buncha Klingons in the hotel foyer?”

Ralph paused for a moment, then said, “We’ll be the Hinkley Homeys, from L.A.!”

Kevin fell over on his bed, laughing and holding his gut. When he could finally speak, tears streaming down his face, he said, “That’s great, Dad! Represent!”

Ralph laughed too, enjoying this moment with his son. Teaching a bunch of wise-mouthed teens had taught him the current lingo of So-Cal, as they called their region of the state.

“What about Bill, Dad? He’s not a Hinkley,” Kevin said sternly. As close as Maxwell was to his father, he didn’t have that at least. He wasn’t family.

“He’s just a maniac, that’s what he is. I’m dying to know what get-up he comes up with!”

The Hinkleys took off for a time, to sit in the hotel lobby and watch the crowds go by. They peeked into the huge dealers’ room, but couldn’t spot Bill.

“And here he gave us his comm unit,” Ralph said, sighing.

“Forget him, Dad. I wanna go get my costume on, I feel too mundane.”

“Me too. C’mon, let’s go back to our room and change. Then you can take off to do whatever you circled on the pocket program.”

They stood to head back to their hotel wing, and stopped short, staring. Bill was in front of them, with an unusual and unrecognizable blend of materials draped over his arm. Hanging from his hip, depending from a leather scabbard, was a huge sword.

Who was with him was even more surprising. Draped over his shoulder was…someone… in a glittery silver and blue sequined gown, with complimentary long evening gloves.

“Ralph, Kevin, look who I met! He saw me checking out the dealers room, and came to check me out. He helped me pick out an outfit!”

Ralph simply gawked, to see his best friend and (allegedly) staunchly conservative partner with a drag queen hanging off his shoulder. Ralph wasn’t going to be out-cooled by Bill, however. Without missing a beat, he said, “Who’s your friend, Bill?”

“This is Prince Ra, Ralph. Your Highness, this is Ralph, my best friend and partner,” Bill said, motioning between the two men. “And the little guy, that’s Kevin, Ralph’s son.”

The unusual man held a white-gloved hand out delicately and shook Ralph’s hand. He smiled sweetly at Kevin, but didn’t offer to shake his hand. He didn’t want the boy’s father to mistake his intentions.

“Pleasure, I’m sure,” Prince Ra purred, winking at Ralph. “Max… May I call you ‘Max?’” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “’Bill’ is just so mundane. Maximillian, that’s who you’ll be. Like the Emperor. I have so decreed.”

“Yeah, Ralph, His Highness here has invited me to join his retinue,” Bill said, his green-brown eyes dancing. Ralph wanted him to escape reality, so he would. It was a science fiction and fantasy convention, after all, wasn’t it? “He told me what I should wear. You’re going to die!”

Ralph couldn’t suppress the grin, and smiled at his friend in the very mundane clothes, with the Prince hanging on his long arm. Bill towered over the man, even if the shorter Prince Ra was wearing stiletto heels.

“You need to get out of those boring clothes, Bill, and into your costume,” Ralph said. “Kev and I were about to head back to our room to change when we ran into you.”

Bill turned to the Prince and said, “Wait’ll you see what my partner’s wearin’, Your Highness.”

“Hmm, I’m sure it will be delightful.”

“Would you quit calling him your partner?” Kevin hissed, his eyes narrowed in anger. “He’s not your partner!”

“Oh, bother, young man,” Prince Ra said. “Your Uncle Max is only playing the fantasy.”

“No, really, Your Highness, he and I are partners. Compadres. Hermanos. I told ya I’m a Fed, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and you showed me that lovely… piece… you have tucked under that dreadful vest,” he cooed, running his hand inside Bill’s vest, feeling the 9mm within its holster. The gloved hand lingered over Bill’s chest for a fleeting moment, back and forth.

“Now, no touching, that’s not play or fantasy, Rob,” Bill scolded, pulling away a bit.

“The gun? Or the chest?”

“The gun, Rob.”

“Poo,” the man pouted for a moment, but he quickly brightened when an entourage of Klingons approached.

“Ah, my darlings!” he called to them, releasing Bill and running to his re-discovered friends. He looked behind him one last time, over a bare shoulder, and said, “I’ll see you at the masquerade, my minions!”

They watched Prince Ra – aka Rob – make off with the group of boisterously laughing Klingons.

“We’re not here for two hours, and you’ve already met your first buddy, Bill. Or should I say ‘Maximillian?’”

“Only when we’re in our roles, Rob said.”

“Let’s go get our costumes on, I feel like such a mundane, especially after that!”