Geek Tragedy by Nev Fountain Read Free Book Online Page A

a large piece of cardboard from the satchel, which he unfolded and plonked unceremoniously under Mervyn’s nose. The whole process took an inordinately long time, and Mervyn’s patience withered like the plants he tried to keep alive in his house. ‘You have to sign there,’ said the fan, pointing.
    Mervyn inspected it. The piece of cardboard was smothered with photos, video covers and magazine articles. The fan indicated the bottom left corner.
    ‘Here?’
    ‘Yes’
    ‘Right, and to whom should I put it—?’
    ‘Just put your name.’
    ‘Just the name. Right.’ Another one for eBay, then.
    He dutifully signed his name over a photo of a smiling man in a sparkly uniform.
    The fan peered at the autograph. ‘What does that say?’ he demanded.
    ‘Um… “With best wishes, Mervyn Stone.”’
    The fan peered again. ‘You’re not Major Karn played by Roderick Burgess,’ he said, the flat voice not wavering by a semitone.
    ‘No, no I’m not,’ said Mervyn. ‘I have to admit it, I’m not. You’ve caught me fair and square. Devilishly sneaky trick of yours to blow my cover, getting me to sign my name like that.’
    Enough with the sarcasm, Mervyn , he told himself. These people have paid a lot of money to be here, and they’re paying your fee. Have some patience , for God’s sake .
    The man blinked several times, as though he was trying to reboot his brain. ‘That’s Major Karn played by Roderick Burgess. I wanted Roderick Burgess’s autograph on Roderick Burgess’s photo.’
    ‘I’m sorry. I think it’s a magic marker. I don’t think it’ll rub off.’
    He blinked again. ‘You’ve signed your name on Roderick Burgess’s photo.’
    ‘Excuse me?’ Someone had approached them. It was one of the stewards who patrolled these conventions. With bright mauve sweatshirt and identity pass round her neck, she looked like a prim-yet-sexy gym mistress. ‘The autographs have now finished. We have to clear the hall.’
    ‘He signed his name on Roderick Burgess’s photo.’
    ‘I see,’ she said. She took the cardboard collage, inspecting the offending scribble with great solicitude. Then, like a nurse removing a chest bandage, she suddenly ripped out Roddy’s photo and gave his collection back to him. ‘There. You can put another photo in your little collection and get Mr Burgess to sign that one instead, can’t you?’
    The man walked away in a daze where he was joined by other fans. Mervyn could just hear a faint disbelieving monotone saying ‘She tore out Roderick Burgess’s photo.’
    This steward was young, pretty and had just rescued him from a large annoying fan. He was definitely in love. What was the name on her tag? She wasn’t standing near enough, and, like Simon’s tag, it was printed in that unreadable squared-off futuristic font. Bugger.
    ‘Thanks for that,’ he said, staring at her tag like a cross-eyed buzzard. He made out the name ‘Minnie Moncreif’ or ‘Montrose’. Or something like that.
    ‘That’s all right. It’s my job to keep the scary ones at a safe distance.’
    ‘Is it? Thank God. You couldn’t escort me full-time, could you?’
    ‘Do you want me to?’
    She tilted her smooth innocent face at him, and then she grinned, the dirtiest grin he’d ever seen on any woman’s face. Even Vanity’s.
    And then she was gone.
    What the…?
    He hurried out of the autograph room, head cocked like a spaniel, eyes darting from right to left, looking for her. Was she at the end of the corridor by the lifts? He broke into a determined lollop, eyes craning to see a splash of curly auburn hair. Unfortunately, someone else happened to be heading swiftly down an intersecting corridor, and as Mervyn wasn’t looking where he was going, the collision was inevitable.
    ‘My portfolio!’ wailed Simon, as photos, papers and postcards scattered down the corridor, falling like large multi-coloured snowflakes.
    ‘Oh dear. I’m really sorry…’ He went to pick up a few, but Simon