Geekomancy by Michael R. Underwood

day. Sushi?” Ree asked.
    Priya curled her nose. “I had sushi for lunch.”
    “Empanadas?” Ree quirked an eyebrow, hands out, to say, How about it?
    Anya nodded, and Sandra shrugged. The sharply dressed server came around, a slim red tie over his crisp white shirt. 2–1 said local actor or acting student.
    Pearson had been attracting more and more TV work in the last couple of years, following a move by the mayor that offered massive tax breaks, ridiculous amounts of civic support, and leniency for things like closing downtown to film a scene including an exploding car (for instance). Which had led a lot of would-be actors to flock to the city as well, hoping that standing out in Pearson would be easier than in L.A., Vancouver, or NYC. Ree sent her scripts around Pearson first now, hoping that she could get in with a local producer or catch a company when they were in town filming pilots. She had met several PAs and a couple of other crew here and there, but nothing had really jelled so far.
    Ree ordered a pitcher of Urban Ale-ian, which would make for far more thrifty slammable drink.
    “My box of awesome junk arrived today,” Priya said, her eyes bright.
    Ree raised her glass in toast. “Fantastic! What are you going to make?”
    “I’ve got a commission for a brass gear case mod to a netbook, and I think I’ll use the rest to go on the Ghostbusters backpack.”
    “Can you finish in time for Halloween?” Anya asked.
    Priya shook her head. “Probably not. I have to do the commission first so I can pay for that underbust corset from Jeanine.”
    Ree raised an eyebrow, conspiratorial. “Think you can make three more by next year? We would totally sweep the contest at Trollope’s with Steampunk Ghostbusters.”
    Priya chuckled. “Not unless you all get your asses over to my place and help me with the grunt work.” She looked to Ree. “You’re the one who told me I needed to start charging for these things.”
    “I didn’t mean for us, ” Ree said.
    Priya scrunched up her eyebrows in mock frustration.
    “I’m totally up for some sewing parties— Lord of the Rings marathon?” Ree asked.
    Anya piped up, “I vote Harry Potter .”
    Sandra shook her head. “ Community . You two need to watch this show.” She beamed, her voice getting faster as she talked excitedly. “Ree showed me the first episode last month, and I can’t get enough. Then they did a paintball episode, a zombie episode, and a gangster episode with fried chicken—”
    Ree added, “And the greatest D&D episode ever.”
    Priya put her hands up, surrendering. “We can figure the media later. Ask me again after New Year’s, and we’ll get started. But if one of you wanted to help me out with my projects this weekend . . .”
    Ree, Sandra, and Anya conspicuously looked away.
    Priya sighed. “That’s what I thought.”
    “I tell you guys, Community is the smartest thing on TV right now. It takes everything stupid about sitcoms and makes it amazing.”
    Ree nodded. “It has genre emulation and fourth-wall breaking so good, it’s a wonder the show ever got renewed. I bought three DVD sets for Christmas last year.” One for her, one for her dad, and one to loan out. She’d started the practice with Firefly after finding that she was constantly loaning out her set and still wanted to watch the epsiodes at will.
    The empanadas arrived, at which point all talking ceased as they worshipped at the temple of deliciousness.
    Ree had gotten some food in her stomach before the wine and beer hit, which kept her from dive-bombing off the ledge of sobriety. Instead, she proceeded to slalom down into intoxication with diligent self-destructiveness.
    This was the third straight night of heavy drinking. This time she couldn’t tell anyone what else was getting to her. History had taught her that getting a good drunk on was excellent therapy, and less expensive than actual therapy.
    Current prescription: more beer and a change of subject.