Chapter 10: Mike

Mike was willing to be the last in line as Artie and Tina picked what they wanted from the concession. He needed an extra minute or two to figure out what he wanted. At the normal theatre it was easy: a small popcorn shared with Jordan, who'd insist on paying a quarter for extra butter topping. But this was a indie theatre. They didn't have normal concession foods. Twizzlers were far too mainstream. Everything was vegan this and wheatless that.

Mike hadn't even known Lima had an indie theatre until Artie had demanded to take them both to a double feature showing of The Addams Family and Addams Family Values. Tina had been over the moon at the idea, and stunned that Mike had never seen something so integral to her childhood. Mike went willingly. If they both wanted something, he was up for it. But from the kids in suspenders who pushed their way in the building first, to all the art hanging instead of movie posters, to the ticket seller having a goddamn typewriter instead of a book or phone to kill time with, it had become clear he wasn't nearly cool enough to hang out in this place.

"I'll have some of that watermelon taffy?" Tina requested.

"The coal-fire-cooked, hand-pulled taffy?" the cashier retorted smugly.

"Um, yeah? I guess. That one," Tina pointed at the small tub of green and pink wrappers. "Five bucks worth."

The cashier turned and began scooping the candy into a cellophane bag. He twisted the bag and wrapped a ribbon around the tightened material before plunking it onto the mosaic tiled counter. Tina began to open her black leather clutch and the cashier reached out and touched her wrist.

"No no no. Make your boyfriend be a gentleman," he said, gesturing to Mike.

"I can pay if you want," Mike said quickly. The cashier had a point, after all. It was just mannerly to cover a date's expenses.

"No, it's fine," Tina said. "I got it."

She handed over a bill, then stood to the side as Artie bought a bag of locally sourced potato shaving chip things. Mike looked at the shelves of choices and went the easy way; a bag of the same chips Artie had, and some coconut taffy. That way, even if the four hours of movie didn't thrill him the same way it obviously did both of them, he'd at least have the snacks to talk about.

They were halfway down the aisle when Tina shook her head. "Mike, can you help Artie park? I have to go do a thing."

"Seeing if you can get a refund, to switch out watermelon for something actually tasty?" Artie asked.

Tina stopped a few steps away to answer him. "You have a watermelon hate?"

"It's the flavour my dentist always uses for fluoride. Freaking gross."

"No, it's not that. I'm happy with what I bought. I'm just not happy with who sold it to me." With that explanation she resumed her walk back up the aisle.

Mike kicked down one of the break flippers so he could walk around and look Artie in the face. "She's gonna make a scene, isn't she."

"Hey, she can handle a scene. I'm pretty sure Figgins still thinks she's a vampire."

He glanced up the aisle uneasily. "Should we leave her to it?"

"Hey, I don't know about you, but I want to watch. This theatre doesn't have a pre-trailer show."

Mike toed the flipper back up and swung Artie's chair around. It wasn't the easiest manuever, it was against gravity, and the slope was covered with a plush carpeting runner, but Mike managed it. And if he jogged Artie up the aisle, so what? None of the hipster patrons were watching them anyway.

Back in the concession area, Mike had to wonder if it still counted as being proven right when the statement he'd made was super obvious. There Tina was, practically shouting at the cashier.

"Let's not even get started on the fact that, when I'm clustered around two guys in line, you assume I'm dating the other Asian one. I don't even care about the race thing right now. Let's focus on how sexist you are, saying that I can't acquire my own resources. Let's focus on how classist it is to assume that you can only be a good man if you pay for your partner's things. Let's focus on how monogamous-minded it is to say that, in a group of one girl and two boys, the relationship configuration is automatically one girl dating one boy." Tina tapped his chest with the corner of her leather clutch. "You have anything to say for yourself?"

The cashier hadn't put down his attitude. "Just that I'm not sure what crawled up your social justice warrior fag hag butt, but since you've already bought your ticket, why don't you go sit down and watch Addams Family and shut up?"

Mike wanted to facepalm, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. He suddenly understood the reason some people standing on the edge of a parking lot brawl took out their phones to record it. That level of passionate destruction deserved to be commemorated. Shit was about to get real, and he'd bet anything that most of the rest of the theater patrons were watching too.

"If by social justice warrior you mean a person who knows the difference between intelligence and ignorance, well, no shit, Sherlock." She smacked him with the clutch again. "I am a strong independent woman. I need no man to hold my hand and pay my way. And that includes both my boyfriends."

"Both?" He sneered. "Kind of a slut, aren't -"

He stopped because Tina was half over the counter, nose inches from his own. "You don't want to finish that sentence. I might have razors in my hair. What you do want to do is show me and my two lovers a bit of respect. And consider having respect for future patrons." Refusing to let the employee have the last word, Tina strode back across the lobby to where Mike was waiting.

"You're kind of terrifying, oh girlfriend who doesn't need me in any way shape or form," Artie commented blithely.

"Thank you," Tina reached out and took both of their hands, holding them tight. "And shut up. I may not need you, but I want you, which should matter even more."

It did, at least in Mike's book. His family and community and culture needed him. Artie and Tina wanted him. That was way better.