I Heard a Rumor

I HEARD A RUMOR

"Can I kill him?"

"I want to sing him to sleep."

"He's dead, he doesn't sleep."

"What if I make a sexy disguise and seduce him?"

All three men froze. I looked up from the map in my notebook. We sat around a cement picnic table on one side of the green. Every morning, the senior citizens occupied the park like a gang of roaming geriatrics. A group practiced yoga while another handful of women spruced up the flower beds around the gazebo. These three usually played poker, complete with nickel bets.

What had started as a training session for Monsters and Mayhem had gotten out of hand. Nothing new there, but for three men in their twilight years, it reached a new level. Normally, they'd be throwing down cards and retelling stories of a long-passed war. When they volunteered to run the tabletop roleplaying for the kids, I had my reservations. Now, I knew why.

"Harvey, you can't seduce a lich. He's a dead wizard," I said.

Words I never thought I'd say. The woman leading the yoga group moved into a position on her fingers and toes, butt sticking up in the air. I wondered if I could keep up? Big boy legs were able, but I wasn't sure my arms would hold up. Maybe after the convention, I'd join them? When she put one hand and leg up in the air, balancing on the other two, I wiped that foolish notion from my mind.

Harvey pushed his bifocals up his nose. "You're telling me they wouldn't find a curvy lady wizard attractive?"

All eyes were on me. I regretted my decision to enlist their help. I should have recruited the kids that played in the back of the comic shop. The adults of Firefly were pitching in however they could, and these three insisted they could be of help. How could I say no to enthusiastic volunteers? Their insistence on raising an army of ferocious bunnies wasn't what I had in mind with this campaign.

Harvey held up his character profile. "High charisma. You said that meant I could charm the pants off anybody."

He wasn't wrong.

"If only you had that in real life," Abraham laughed. "Maybe you wouldn't be single."

The idea had been simple. I'd give them a handful of scenarios to play with the kids. These one-hour mini-sessions would introduce the next generation to roleplaying games. I should have known, in true Firefly fashion, things would go awry. The first clue should have been Abraham showing up wearing a Viking helmet and fur pelt clipped to his neck. I'm pretty sure he had gone scouring through Twice-Told Tales for the outfit.

"While he's powdering his nose, I'm gonna attack with my battle axe." I had hope for Walter. He had taken to the game, and his dwarf became the leader of this ragtag group of retirees.

He rolled the dice, and… well, that wasn't good. "You charge the lich." Walter jumped to his feet, hand waving over his head as he mustered a battle cry. "And the lich drains the soul from your body."

His cry came to a stop. Not missing a beat, he threw his hands to his chest. For a moment, I thought he was having a heart attack. The dramatics played out as he slid off his bench, falling to the grass. He convulsed, throwing a hand in the air before it landed on his forehead. "Tell my lady dwarf I love her."

"Great, you killed him," Abraham said.

Harvey shot me a disapproving frown. "My sexy bard isn't looking so bad now, is it?"

I gestured to the dice. This game had gotten weird, but when didn't it? We'd have to set some boundaries about using seduction techniques while the kids played. For now, I wanted to see if Harvey and the lich were going to live happily ever after.

He rolled the dice. His eyes went wide as he rolled a perfect score. Walter got up off the grass while Harvey's fist pumped in the air. When we set up camp this morning, I did not think I'd have to describe a bard getting sexy with a dead wizard.

"You seduce the lich." I chuckled at Harvey's smile. "Not only do you seduce him. He's so taken back by your pickup line that he gets down on one knee and proposes."

"Damn straight, he does!"

The others groaned. It didn't help Harvey had resorted to making kissing sounds. I hung my head in shame. Was I going to let these men run a game? They had made it through the game without swearing. How bad could it get?

"I think we got the idea," Abraham said.

Harvey didn't stop with the kissing. "None of you are invited to the wedding."

"Speaking of weddings…" Abraham pulled the helmet off his head as he turned to me. No. No way. This conversation was not turning in my direction.

"I sat with your mom at the spaghetti supper last night." Mom, I swear, if you — "She mentioned your date didn't go well."

Yup. True Firefly fashion. I couldn't have a bad date without the entire town knowing it. Personal boundaries didn't exist in a small town. I wouldn't be surprised if, at the next town meeting, "Get Jason a date" showed up on the agenda.

"If I was younger?—"

"Harvey, don't you dare finish that sentence." The last thing I needed was the thought of Harvey bringing me flowers. "Mom and I are going to have a talk. "

"I'm just saying," Harvey continued. "I was into some wild stuff when I was younger."

"We've met your first wife," Walter jumped in. "We've all met your first wife." The air quotes made it dirty.

I covered my face. "Why do I talk to any of you?"

"My unyielding charisma," Harvey said, waggling his white, bushy eyebrows.

"Don't worry." Abraham put a hand on my shoulder. "You'll meet the right guy." As intrusive as the conversation got, it was endearing that this seventy-three-year-old man had faith that I'd meet a special man.

"Sooner than you think," Walter said. He returned to his seat on the bench, looking at me… no, over my shoulder.

I turned to see Simon. He wore his chef's jacket and black pants as he walked along the path down the middle of the green. I spun about, facing my players.

"He's handsome," Harvey said.

"Are you blushing?" I glared at Abraham.

"We've got you covered," Walter said. "Operation Wingman is underway."

I shook my head. They meant well, but there was no way this wouldn't get awkward. I debated running away, but I was pretty sure Abraham would break a hip to tackle me. Deep breath. How bad could this be? I grit my teeth, scared to discover the answer.

"Oh, Jason, you're hilarious." Harvey slapped the table.

The men laughed. Horrible. Fake. It was going to be bad .

Simon approached. I didn't dare look up and let him see how red I had gotten. "Sorry to interrupt your…"

"Monsters and Mayhem," I said.

"You missed it. I just got proposed to by a dead wizard. You know, ‘cause I'm handsome." I could feel Abraham kick Harvey. "But not nearly as handsome as our young buck here."

Dear… God… kill me.

Did Simon pick up on the vibe? Had he figured out that three men were plotting to sacrifice me for the sake of a date? I wanted to whisper, "Run for your life." He still had a chance. I, on the other hand, was ready to roll up and die.

"You're the new guy at the Bistro," Harvey said.

"Oh," Abraham said. "You own a business? How successful of you." He bumped my knee under the table. "Jason has a business, too. Maybe you guys could trade notes over a drink?"

Subtle, Abraham.

I wanted to apologize for my ambitious wingmen. This explained why Harvey was on his fourth marriage. Looking up, I gave Simon a sheepish smile. I wondered what he was doing out here at this hour of the morning.

"I wanted to say thanks for showing me around."

"You could buy him a drink to say thanks." Walter had come back from his heart attack. "Just an innocent and very casual suggestion."

"After last night…" Simon shook his head. "No more beer for either of us."

My entourage all leaned forward, suddenly interested in what Simon meant. There'd be questions. Lots of them. To avoid rumors, I'd have to explain the entire night. Though, how did I mention Simon at a gay bar without the whispers starting?

"My place tonight? I found a babysitter for Lucas. Maybe you can show me around town some more?"

My voice deserted me. Instead, I nodded.

"I assume you already know where I live."

"75 Pembroke Lane," Walter said. When Simon's head cocked to the side, Walter added, "Welcome to Firefly."

"I should have guessed. I'll see you later. Say seven?"

"Sounds greasome." I stifled a growl. "Awesome. Great. I'll see you then."

Simon laughed to himself as he gave a slight bow and left us to our game. It was time to endure the firing squad as they picked apart every word of our exchange. I already concocted a story to explain his presence at Spectrum.

"Looks like somebody doesn't need wingmen," Abraham said. He fanned himself with his character sheet.

"It's not like that," I said. "He's just being nice."

Abraham rolled his eyes back. It was Harvey, watching Simon trudging toward the Bistro. "If I was thirty years younger and a man like that asked me to dinner…"

"We got you the date," Abraham said, picking up the dice. "We can't go on it for you."

"Speak for yourself," Harvey said. "I've heard that man can cook."

Were they right? Had Simon just asked me on a date in front of the guys? No, that didn't make any sense. He was being polite. It was no different from when Gladys invited me to her house for her legendary Sheppard's pie.

Or was it?

"What the heck?"

A white van sat in front of the comic shop. I slowed my stroll along the sidewalk when I spotted the blue stripe and satellite dishes on the top. The bold red letters cut through the blue stripe. Maine News. I couldn't fathom what they found newsworthy in Firefly. Unless they were hunting down jaywalkers or notorious gossips, we were the least interesting town in Northern Maine.

As I walked closer, I heard Amanda's excited voice and then some laughter. She had vanished at Spectrum last night and apologized for ditching and making Jon drive me home. As payment, she offered to open the store. I think it was her way of justifying a speedy exit from her new friend's bed in the morning.

I pressed my face against the glass of the store. A cameraman wandered around the store while — Gail Simmons. Everybody recognized Gail, the street reporter willing to get her hands dirty to get the story. Except this time, she stood next to a cardboard cutout of Mister Supreme leaping into the air.

"Amanda, what have you done?" My anxiety picked up, forcing my heart to pound against my ribcage. A thirty-second promotional video had almost done me in. Now I had to face a reporter? I couldn't prove it, but Amanda had something to do with this. She'd cackle while I stewed in my discomfort.

She caught me snooping outside the store and waved me in. I had missed my opportunity to run away. Okay. Hi, I'm Jason Cowan. I'm only scared of snakes, clowns, and oysters. I could do this.

With a deep breath, I walked to the door, easing it open as I reconsidered running away. I stepped inside, and the cameraman spun about, focusing on me. The thumping in my chest moved to my throat. Add reporters to my list of fears.

"Gail, this is Jason. He's the one you want to speak with."

Amanda came out from behind the counter and threw her arm over my shoulders. It wasn't for camaraderie. She tightened her grip, making it impossible to run away. There was no escaping. It was kindergarten all over again.

"Maine News saw your video," she said. Leaning close to my ear, she added, "You're welcome," in a whisper.

Gail wore a blue blazer with a white blouse underneath. It would change depending on the weather. Her asymmetrical haircut, thick black glasses, and brilliant green eyes served as her signature look. Every person in the state of Maine had seen her on the news. She had exposed corruption in the capitol, uncovered shady practices in the Lewiston school system, and even launched a campaign to support local animal rescue. Gail had become Maine royalty .

"Hi," I squeaked.

Gail strode forward with an unworldly confidence. "Gail Simmons with Maine News." She needed no introduction. "We saw your video online and would love to interview you about Firefly Con."

"You're welcome." Amanda leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "He's all yours, Gail." She retreated behind the counter, leaving me to defend myself.

"Thanks, Amanda." Wait, did Amanda know Gail? Or did she know Gail? It wouldn't surprise me. There wasn't a beautiful woman in the state that Amanda didn't have saved in her phonebook. "As she said, your video popped up on my radar. I have to say, the blooper reel is what grabbed my attention."

I didn't need to look to know, Amanda muttered, "I told you so."

"Kid, it sounds like you could use a hand getting the word out."

Kid? She couldn't be more than a year or two older than me. If Gail Simmons helped promote Firefly Con, I'd shelf my protests. I could be brave. No, I would be brave. The success of this event sat on my shoulders, and I wouldn't let the town down.

"If you're here to cover the convention, I can't take all the credit."

"You're Jason Cowan, the organizer, you?—"

"You're right. I'm the organizer behind Firefly Con, but it's the town making it happen. Since we lost the paper mills, the town has been struggling to stay relevant. You know us northerners, we're a durable folk. Harsh winters and brutal summers, we take it all in stride. But we need something to look forward to."

"And that's your convention?"

I didn't realize the cameraman had turned in my direction. One of his eyes pressed against the camera, the red dot blinking on the front. The interview had already started.

"Comics aren't the strips in the newspaper. They're as diverse as any book. There are stories about superheroes, sure. But also mysteries about hard-boiled detectives and even a few beautiful romances. Comics take intricate stories and split them between the character's dialogue and the artwork."

"You mentioned this is a town affair…"

"Firefly Valley is going to give the big conventions a run for their money, and we're going to do it like true Mainers. Twice-Told Tales has been collecting vintage comics to sell. One of our local artisans is creating chainsaw statues of well-known heroes. Everybody chips in here. Bistro on Maine has barely opened, and they're going to be offering bite-sized treats for the convention."

Gail Simmons smiled. The flatlanders wouldn't understand the importance of community involvement, especially not in such a tight-knit town. Here, we rose and fell as one. Firefly needed this almost as much as I did.

"Why now?"

Two words. Two simple words, and yet, the question hit like a ton of bricks. Did I tell her I toyed with the idea of selling the store and moving to the city? Would it be appropriate to say that after living here my entire life, I might need something more? While I imagined the luxuries of moving to Portland or Boston, something tugged at my heart. No, this wasn't just about me. I needed to answer on behalf of all the people in Firefly Valley.

"Because right now, we need more heroes."

Gail's smile widened. She pivoted, turning to the camera. "This is Jason Cowan, owner of Legend Comics and organizer of the first annual Firefly Con." First annual? The weight resting on my shoulders doubled. "It sounds like it'll be a great time for the whole family." She continued with the specifics, and I stood there, hands in my pockets, trying not to be awkward.

"That's a wrap," Gail said. "We should air on the six o'clock news, and it'll be on the website tomorrow. Amanda gave me all the details. I'll make sure it goes out on our socials."

Lost for words, I nodded.

"Us northerners have to stick together." She winked and then waved for her cameraman to follow. I assumed a television personality had to be from the southern part of the state. I wanted to ask what high school she attended, but she was already out the door.

Amanda squealed as she charged at me. Her arms flung around my neck as her legs gripped my waist. "We're going to be on the news!" It took a moment before reality set in. The entire state would hear about Firefly Con. She leaned back, staring me in the face. "Are you going to say something? "

I gasped. "We're going to be on the news." I jumped up and down with her. "We're going to be on the news!" It was more than I could have hoped for. Not only were the residents of Firefly going to see the power of comics, but now half the state would know.

"Things are going your way." She let go before poking me in the chest. "When were you going to tell me about Simon?"

"I invited him to Spectrum. I didn't think?—"

"Didn't think he'd show up in the park and ask you on a date?"

"How did you… That was an hour ago!"

"Abraham told Gladys. I heard something about a Viking helmet? But then Gladys was at the market to pick up eggs. She mentioned it to Dorothy. She texted me to confirm the rumor. And what do you know? I couldn't confirm it."

"God, I hate this place."

"Why? We're all rooting for you."

"That doesn't make it any better. You're all a bunch of snoops."

"I…" It had barely been an hour since we finished our game. Firefly gossip, the only thing faster than the speed of light. "It's not a date. He wants me to show him around town."

"Haven't you shown him enough? Or does he want another tour of the back room?"

I fought to keep my jaw from dropping. I had been careful, making sure Amanda didn't see him leave after our hookup. If I asked how she knew, I'd be confirming her suspicions. However, the lack of blood in my face did the same thing.

"Don't say anything." She spun about and headed toward the stairs to her loft. "I heard what I heard." Now I could cringe. Were we that loud? If I tried to remember, I'd have to adjust myself in my jeans.

"But if you don't think it's a date," she shouted, "you're being dense."

I wouldn't be surprised the moment she got upstairs if she texted Dorothy. Even if she partook in the rumor mill, Amanda wouldn't mention the encounter in the back of the store. We had a pact to not disclose the specifics of our sex lives, an agreement of mutual destruction. If she blabbed, then I'd be free to tell Gladys that her daughter fancied Amanda between boyfriends.

Having heard it from the guys, and now Amanda, I wondered if I had it wrong? Was I being dense? I hadn't thought it possible, but maybe Simon asked me on a date? The question of his sexuality made me nervous… and excited.

"I have a date with Simon." It sounded too good to be true.