Geek Tragedy by Nev Fountain Read Free Book Online

out.’
    ‘Great idea. Thanks, Mr Stone.’ He packed his computer away, and made a beeline for Bernard.
    ‘Mervyn, you are still a very naughty man,’ hissed Vanity.
    ‘Yes, I am,’ said Mervyn simply. ‘I shouldn’t have done it really. He was a nice boy.’
    ‘Oh yes… Very nice.’ A sardonic grin skipped across her face.
    ‘What?’
    She looked at him with a profound pity, her eyebrows cocked and ready. ‘Oh come on, Merv. He was as bent as a paperclip. Anyone could see that.’ The Fan Who Did Not Fancy Vanity was summarily dismissed. ‘And my God, I really thought all that computer stuff of his was hideous, didn’t you Mervyn?’
    ‘I wasn’t impressed, no.’
    ‘All tarted up to look like something it was never meant to be like. Ugh. So vulgar. It’s like some old woman wearing boob-tubes, short skirts and crotchless panties. Catch me ‘improving’ myself like that, Mervy, and you can put me up against a wall and shoot me.’
    ‘I’d rather just put you up against a wall.’
    Vanity’s eyebrows arched into her hairline. ‘Mervy! You are still a very naughty man!’
    Soon the allotted time was up and Vanity’s entourage descended on her once more. Her ciggies and pens were duly collected by the thin-faced girl.
    The girl stared at Mervyn, unblinking. It unnerved him.
    Vanity stood up and tousled Mervyn’s already unkempt hair. ‘Come into my room and we’ll talk about projects you can write for me to star in. Perhaps if I’m in the mood, I’ll even tell you what I’ve written about you in my autobiography.’ As she made to leave, she flicked him a predatory look and lowered her voice to a growl. ‘Perhaps we could even re-enact a few chapters…’
    ‘Now Vanity,’ he whispered. ‘You’re taking advantage of a randy old man. You’re not being fair.’
    ‘Fair? Fair?’ she hooted at full volume. ‘My dear Mervy. “Fair” is my middle name.’ She grinned wolfishly. ‘Literally…’ She squeezed his wrist, and then was gone in a cloud of Chanel.
    *
    Mervyn was surprised by how flirty he’d been to Vanity. True, they’d used each other shamelessly for sex in the past, but that time was long gone. They’d both stayed out of each other’s underwear for some years now, each preferring to use their convention days to prey on the young, firm and easily impressed.
    Still, the offer was there… And even if he was well acquainted with what lay beneath her bedcovers, getting acquainted with what was beneath the covers of her autobiography sounded just as enticing.
    He was just about to follow her when a large sweaty fan hove into view, blocking his escape. He had thick glasses and rigid black hair sculpted into a drastic parting. He wore a black T-shirt with an impossible looking woman on it—breasts the size of dustbin lids straining against a skimpy leather outfit that would have made it difficult for the poor girl to draw breath let alone fight crime in a dangerous galaxy. It proved, once again, Mervyn’s pet theory on science fiction and fantasy attire. The more attractive and athletic the character depicted on the T-shirt, the less attractive and athletic the fan wearing it.
    Mervyn was irritated; the autograph session was now over. This gormless bastard had just taken advantage of the fact he’d not yet risen from his seat. He looked around helplessly but no help was forthcoming.
    ‘She’s great isn’t she? A wonderful lady.’ Mervyn realised the fan was clutching a signed photograph of Vanity; the one with her nipples prodding through the T-shirt. ‘She’s really real. Genuine. She’s always like that with me. We share something really special, Vanity and me,’ the fan continued.
    He was tempted to say ‘Oh really? What do you share exactly—bra size?’ But he managed to stop himself. Good Mervyn. Nice Mervyn. ‘Oh really?’ he eventually said.
    ‘Oh yes. A real psychic bond.’ He put his photos in a leather file, which he had in a satchel. Then he pulled out