CARNIVAL (The Spark Form Chronicles Book 2) (20 page)

              "Excellent job John too," I say, admiring his handiwork on not only my eyes, but my arms this time. "I've gotta say, your detailing is better than ... was it Kevin?" He nods. "Kevin. It's better than Kevin's was. More precise, especially around the stars and points."

              He doesn't respond, but I can tell form the shy smile that it's more to do with his own insecurities than any hidden arrogance that I missed earlier. Nope, he's still just as fragile as he was the first time he got all flamey-raccoony on my face. Wait, that sounded dirtier in my mind than it did in my mind's mind. It's a good thing I don't say everything out loud all the time.

              "So what was with all the phone checking?" I ask, assaulting him with a cheeky come-on-you-know-you're-gonna-answer-the-question-'cause-I'm-awesome grin.

              "Oh," he replies like he didn't think I'd noticed his tap 'n' swipe barrage every time he changed brush. "I was, um, checking a message board."

              "Really? You looked kinda worried. You're not getting any hassle are you? 'Cause if you are, I know someone who just loves to run amok on the boards. I'm sure she'd love to get her teeth into someone deserving of a good old fashioned verbal beating."

              John too smiles. "I know someone like that too. That's who I was checking on ..." He trails off, clearly feeling a little bit silly talking about it all. I'm not getting the same 'handle with care' vibe with this though. He kinda wants to talk about it but isn't sure enough of himself to just do it. That's OK though, I am the master of prodding. And sometimes shoving. That said, I think I can take the direct approach with this one.

              "So what's up?" I ask, ignoring my normal urges to metaphorically dance around a bit and risk going off on a tangent.

              He taps through his phone again, pauses, and visibly decides to go with it. "It's one of the regular posters. She kinda picks on everyone, but it's normally ... I mean, it's always clear that she's just playing around. Unless you're a dick, then she goes nuts. She obviously enjoys it, and it's really funny for everyone else, but not so much for whoever riled her up." His face suddenly takes on a really serious, thoughtful expression and he says, "She's normally posting all the time during shows, but she hasn't been around as much this time. She put something up earlier saying that she was gonna disappear for a while, and she hasn't been on since. A bunch of us have replied, just to let her know that we're there if she needs us, but we don't know if she's even seen the messages."

              "Mind if I have a look?" I ask.

              "Sure," he nods, bringing his phone over to show me the message thread. Once I see the username of the original poster, I can't help but smile.             

              If you believe my old Sociology teacher, there was a time that people didn't really understand Internet relationships. He said that face-to-face stuff was the norm and everything else was viewed as either less important or just plain odd. E-mails and text messages were like a natural progression from when people had pen-pals, but all the stuff on forums and the growing social media crazes weren't really taken seriously by anyone above the age of thirty, especially if you professed to the relationships being as important as your 'real life' ones. I don't doubt him, but it does seem odd to think about it that way. It's different now though. Online friendships are seen as equals to any other type of friendship.

              When I look at the way things have changed over the years, it gives me that little bit of extra hope for Carnival being accepted in the outside world, even if it does take years to reach that point. Until then, I'm glad that she has
something
outside of just me. "It looks like ImLopineIt is really popular," I say, watching out of the corner of my eye for any little flinches from Carnival.

              "She is," John too replies. "I just hope that she sees what we've been saying."

              "I'm sure she will eventually. She's probably just got something big going on and needs to step back for a bit. If she posts that often, she won't be able to stay away for long."

              "Maybe," he says with a smile.

              "Well," I say with a stretch, "I don't wanna be a pain John too, but I'm gonna need to get ready for Fahrn pretty soon."

              "No, no, that's no problem. I should go and see what else they want me to do anyway. And thank you. You're probably right about ImLopineIt."

              "No worries," I say, following him to the door. "And don't worry, I'll be letting Sean know how awesome a job you've being doing today."

              "Thank you," he replies, stepping out into the hallway. "And good luck."

              "Well done," I say, shutting the door. "I didn't catch a single twitch, flick or flinch. I think he
likes
you."

              Carnival rolls her eyes and heads to the fridge with a grunt. There's a slight nervousness to the way she's walking and I can see her trying to keep the smile off her face. I could be mean and draw this out for a while ... nah. I'll be nice.

              "Still, there's a lot of people that miss you already. They're all pretty much saying the same thing too: If they have your back online, then they've got it out here. You've got the makings of your own little army right there. You should see if you can recruit any more. Or, you know, keep the troops morale up."

              Carnival rarfs out a laugh and walks over to her tablet, her hands immediately flying over the screen at high speed. After hearing all that, she would have logged on anyway, but I think that she likes knowing that I don't mind her excursions into the electronic world of trolling and random moments of being a typed vigilante. Still, given the amount of messages she has, this could take a while. Time for a cup of tea I think. Whoops, hello Gavin.

              "I can't believe that you didn't notice it while you were out there," Sean states flatly, shaking his head.

              "When you're out in the Battle Zone, you're only half aware of the fans," I say, flicking through the print outs and screen shots that Day and Sean have thrust at me. "Or I am anyway. Guys like John Forrester who spend the whole match dancing about are probably equally as aware of the crowd responses as they are of what's going on out on the field. I try to keep my mind on the game and leave most of the showboating for public appearances, promos, my entrance, stuff like that. If I play to the fans at all during the match itself, it's an automatic response to something that some small part of me picked out of the noise. I applied the same thinking to the whole confrontation with Dorian."

              That wasn't just because it's my style though, it was because it was all I could do to keep myself from darting over to Meera. Part of me still feels bad that I wasn't there for her at the end, but in truth, I know deep down that the job
had
to be my priority. Keeping Fenrir running, making sure that Maria and I always have a home together, that needs to be my focus. We need that.
I
need that.

              The point is, that's why this is all a surprise to me.

              "Well," grins Day Rawley, "I can in all honesty say that I have never seen such a huge swing in public opinion for any Offlander in the public eye before, in
any
profession."

              I smile, passing Maria a list of positive quotes about me that have apparently appeared online in the last hour or so. "That's only because you thought I was such a bitch before," I say to Day with a wink. "It makes all of this stuff look better than it is."

              "Combustible Fahrn, combustible," Day laughs. "You jest, but there may be some truth in that. Irrespective of any hasty comparisons though, you are a very public figure and one that has, historically speaking, consistently reminded people of what they fear about us. That being the case, to garner
any
sway in public perception is an achievement."

              "And one to be proud of," adds Sean. "All you have to do now is cement it in the final."

              Uh-huh. I knew there'd be a catch somewhere.

              "So, basically," Maria cuts in, "if she gets booed in the final, she's out of the Civil Rights Movement and the deals off, is that it?"

              "No," says Sean. "John is immensely popular. There's every chance that Fahrn
will
get a few boos. It's more about doings things to ... no, it's about
not
doing anything to encourage any negative reactions. If the fans do cheer though, try to keep them doing it."

              "What you have there is the tip of the iceberg Fahrn," Day says. "That is proof enough for me that you can be a positive addition to the team, not only in the real world but in the entertainment industry."

              "You mean the Dorian stuff, right?"

              Day nods. "The entertainment industry is remarkably influential. Just as our fight continues out there, your battles with Dorian will mirror our struggles in here. Sympathy, empathy, some subtle nudges in the right direction ...
Emblem's
biggest success could easily turn into
ours
."

              "Speaking of Dorian, he sends his apologies. To you both," Sean says, nodding to Maria. He turns back to me and continues, "He said that he hopes he didn't hit you too hard. I'm not sure how he'll feel about how your eye looks now."

              "It's fine," I reply. "I'm just glad that he understood what I wanted. Besides, a little bruising may remind the fans why they were cheering me in the first place."

              "I'm not sure I would describe that as a little bruising," Day replies, smoothing his goatee.

              Maria smiles widely and I drop my face into my hands knowing that I can't stop her mentioning her favourite story. "She's had worse," she says. "At least he wasn't carrying a cucumber."

              "I was drunk," I groan, residing myself to the knowledge that I'm now going to have to explain that comment. "I opened the fridge, slipped and pulled a stupidly large cucumber down on my face."

              "Best broken nose ever," Maria giggles.

              "Cucumbers are evil," I sigh.

              "Well isn't this all terribly jolly," comes a gruff voice from the door.

              Sean closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and turns to look at our new guest. "How can I help you this time Connor?"

              "Oh you've done quite enough," he says through a dark, toothy grin. "It's Starchaser that I have business with, so if you wouldn't mind buggering off, that would be marvellous."

              "Oh, this is wonderful," Day replies. "I'm quite the fan ..."

              "... Don't encourage him," Sean cuts in, the sweat already forming on his head. "We're just about done here anyway. Fahrn, did you still want to do your interview on the way to the match?"

              "Yeah, if that's OK. I wanted to keep this one short and focused."

              "No problem. I can get a cameraman to you whenever you're ready." Sean gets to his feet and turns to Day. "Was there anything else you wanted to add?"

              "No, no," he replies, turning back to Maria and me. "I'll be in touch to arrange a more in depth meeting. Perhaps you'd both like to join me for dinner sometime next week to begin our discussions?"

              I look to Maria and she smiles and nods. "Sounds good," I reply. "And thank you. This is ... it all means a lot to me. You too Sean, you've been a big help."

              "Not a problem," Sean replies. "Oh, and Connor? We still need to discuss the tour."

              "Glutton for punishment, aren't you Carlston?" he sneers. "I think I'd rather enjoy the rest of the tournament first actually. Yes, let you sweat on it a bit, build up a few defences that I can knock down."

              "Fine then," Sean replies through gritted teeth. "I'll come and find you after the final," he says and makes an abrupt exit.

              Days looks to me and adds, "Good luck," then leaves to catch up to Sean.

              Connor Ford strides into the room and sits himself down into the chair that had, up until a moment ago, been occupied by Sean Carlston. By his face and posture, he wants to show strength. The slight tensing when he sat down and again when he straightened up gives away that he's hurting. His breathing isn't consistent either. No, stop analysing Fahrn. Connor isn't a hostile, he just acts like one.

              "Thank you," I say after a moment. "For what you did with Meera. Laqueta rather. It was a nice send-off."

              Connor tilts his head, studying my face. A smile grows, and quickly gives way to laughter. "Nice? That bloody song and dance? The ten chant is standard respect; the rest was just to make me look good before the tour. If I am to fail on my promise of victory, then I may as well do it in a way that keeps the inconsiderate masses on side, hadn't I?"

              I feel my fists tense but Maria reacts before I do, rising to her feet and throwing the remainder of her water in Connor's face. He rises to meet her, his grin unwavering even as his hair drips down his brow. She obviously made an impression though, as he keeps his eyes on Maria, even though he addresses me. "Someone needs to keep their bitch on a shorter leash."

              "I suggest you leave," I say, remaining seated and struggling to keep my voice steady.

              Connor looks down at me and tries to hold my stare, but Starchaser's detached coldness forces him to look away. He reaches into his pocket and throws something onto the floor in front of me. "If it weren't for that Forrester brats jibe about Blood Lust," he growls, "I would have used that one." He turns and stalks from the room, the rage apparent behind his eyes. I almost feel a little sorry for whoever he bumps into next.

              "Are you OK?" I ask Maria, keeping my eyes on the door. That's an old habit. He's not likely to come back any time soon, and it's not like he has reinforcements.

              "Yeah, sorry," she replies quietly, bending over to pick up the card and finally snapping me out of Starchaser. If this is the result, people are welcome to drop things in front of me more often. "Huh," she says, standing up again disappointingly quickly. "Connor Ford may be a twat, but he's a smart twat."