“Still scary, though,” I push, in case he wants to talk about it.
He doesn’t.
He waits until Matteo hangs up the phone, then pulls his shirt back on. “Anything else?”
Matteo shakes his head. “No, but rest assured this helps us. If we catch someone doing this to someone else, we’ll have a reason to detain and question them. If we can link them, prior offenses lead to jail time and get these people off the street. It sends a message to others that this isn’t an acceptable way to make a quick buck. You’re doing your civic duty.”
Ryan gives Matteo a look that clearly says he’s doing the civic duty for him, and that Ryan would really rather not, but whatever. “Can I go take a shower, then?”
Matteo nods, though for the first time, doubt creeps across his face. And a touch of guilt. Detective Kildaire gives way to shades of Matteo, and I think Matteo may feel a little guilty for forcing the issue of reporting it. “Are you sure you’re okay? I could take you to the ER.”
“No, definitely not,” Ryan says, exiting the bathroom.
I join Matteo in worrying that we’ve really upset Ryan.
At the door, he turns and gives a grudging nod. “Thanks for helping with the scratch, though. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” Matteo answers, and we stay in the bathroom until we hear Ryan’s feet tread up the stairs and down the hallway to the bathroom above our heads. A moment later, the water turns on, spurring me into action.
The pile of towels on the sink is easy to wad up, and it takes next to no time for me to stick them in the washing machine. There’s no setting for “blood and various gross street chemical stains,” so I spin the dial at random and press “Start.” They’re cotton, so hopefully with enough detergent and warm water, they’ll come clean.
Matteo lurks in the doorway, thumbs moving quickly over his phone. Follow-up with his captain, I’m guessing. I grab his hand on my way out of the laundry room and drag him back to my room, turning off lights as we go. Trog has already taken up residence in the bed—right in Matteo’s spot, as if he has a point to prove. “No, sir, you know the rules. No dogs under the covers,” I say, sliding his furry form to the bottom of the bed. It’s bad enough I have to wash my comforter so frequently; I couldn’t afford the water bill if I had to wash every piece of bedding that often.
Matteo and I climb back in bed. This time, Matteo takes the time to strip to his boxers and T-shirt, and I battle briefly with whether I want him more than sleep. Sleep wins tonight, thanks to my slight hangover, so I settle backward into my pillows, now as chilled as the rest of the house. Matteo’s warm arm comes over me, and the chill is instantly banished. Maybe winter won’t be so bad after all. I’m just about to drift off when Matteo’s phone chimes from beneath his pillow.
I sigh but know this is what I signed up for, dating a detective. There’s no such thing as “silent mode.”
Without comment, Matteo lifts the phone, squinting against the light, and then half sits up to type a reply.
“What’s up?” I ask, blinking myself back into awakeness.
“Rideout says that patrol picked up a dealer tonight. They had two suspects, but one got away. Their report states that this second suspect was injured.”
I half sit up with him, my mind going directly to Ryan. “Like it could be the guy who beat up Ryan?”
Matteo pushes a hand through his hair, types another response into his phone, and then lies down again. “Maybe. I’ll look into it tomorrow. It seems like more than a coincidence, but . . . these guys weren’t anywhere near the Performing Arts Center.”
“Maybe they were up to pre-work hijinks?” I guess, lying back down too.
“Maybe,” Matteo agrees, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “What bothers me is that these new dealers are getting more aggressive. I mean, to just mug a guy like Ryan means they’re either on something or they’re ballsy. Looking for trouble. Or . . .”
“Or . . . ?” He’s silent so long I assume he’s fallen asleep, and my own eyes start to close of their own accord.
“Or,” Matteo says on a sigh several long moments later, “it wasn’t random, and these people targeted Ryan.”
My eyes pop back open. “Targeted him?”
“Forget it; I’m tired and paranoid. It just seems . . . off, somehow. And I can’t help thinking that you, Ryan, and Lawrence may have made some inadvertent enemies this summer.”
A cold trickle of foreboding starts at my head and wiggles its way down to my feet. It’s a chill that has nothing to do with early fall. Matteo knows nothing of my suspicion that Ryan knows something about the Golden Arrow, but it could be a reason someone might target him. “You think this has to do with the trial?”
“Like I said, I’m tired, paranoid, and seeing ghosts where there probably aren’t any,” Matteo says, wrapping his arm over me again and pulling me back against his chest. “But it’s enough I’m going to look into the guy patrol arrested tonight in addition to the two from yesterday. And, MG?”
“Yeah?”
He squeezes me. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? Until we know.”
“I will,” I agree, squeezing back.
“Good night,” he says with a quick kiss to my temple.
“’Night,” I answer, though now I’m not sure there’s any way I’m going to fall asleep. Now the seed has been planted in the fertile soil of my late-night imagination, and it’s not going anywhere. Could Ryan have been ambushed on purpose? Targeted? Could this be connected with the drug lord we just put in jail? And if this is related to the case . . . does it mean that Matteo’s hunch is correct and that the Golden Arrow has unfinished business? That he’s really back out in the world? There are a lot of little coincidences—the arrow pin, the dealers, the party, and now Ryan’s ambush. I am awake long after Matteo’s breathing evens out, thinking. One thing is certain, I decide as dawn breaks outside my window: if there is a vigilante out there in Los Angeles who knows something I don’t—something that could keep my friends safe—I’m going to find and confront him once and for all.
CHAPTER 6
The next morning, Genius Comics fairly buzzes with Golden Arrow gossip. Between the TV spot, the drag show, and the secret party, the lobby fills with conversation of nothing else as I wait for the previous conference room attendees to exit and this week’s team meeting to start. I wince as I rub my eyes. Burning the midnight—make that two a.m.—oil has got to stop soon. And today isn’t short. I have this meeting, an office workday, and then I’m meeting Matteo at the station for the interview.
Andy, my not-so-fearless team supervisor, catches me stifling a yawn and raises his eyebrows. He motions to the coffee maker in the corner with a “help yourself” gesture, possibly noticing that my usually ever-present coffee cup isn’t in my hand. In other words, the end of my arm is naked. I eye the tiny machine warily, balancing the short pro-con list in my head. On one hand, shudder, pod coffee. On the other hand, falling asleep in a team meeting won’t prove to my coworkers that I’m handling this new part-time work responsibly. So, I force myself up, grab a cheap paper cup, and brew—if you can call forcing coffee through plastic “brewing”—the coffee.
Kyle and Simon are, as per their usual workplace bromance, paired at the hip and gabbing like schoolgirls. “There’s no way it’s real. Definitely a media stunt. Why would the Golden Arrow show up at a drag revue?”
Simon nods. “Yeah, but that party was insane, and I’m going to watch the website just in case, you know?”
I’m sorting through snarky responses in my head while stirring an alarming amount of sugar into my tiny cup when my vision is filled by a tweed pantsuit.
No man in this office is this fashionable, and the gleaming black hair confirms that this is none other than Lelani. I blink twice, startled to see her. As far as I remember, this is a team meeting, and not an executive green-light meeting. That’s next week, right? I stifle the urge to grab for my iPhone to check my calendar. If
this is a green-light meeting, I’m screwed.
“Ah, MG, I was hoping to grab you before the meeting started. How are things?”
I have no idea if Ryan told Lelani about his attack, so do I mention it? Do I play it cool? Is this about Ryan or work, or am I in trouble? I do my best to stifle my panic. “Um, fine,” I respond, ever my eloquent self around her. I never know what to expect from our interactions, and though I’ve never had proof, I always feel like Lelani tries just a little bit too hard to be nice to me. Like she secretly hates me but is too good to show it. Or maybe, I reflect as I meet her dark, expectant gaze, she doesn’t like me because I’ve been staring at her and overanalyzing my feelings and she thinks me a half-wit. Today, she’s not all that far off.
“Well,” Lelani continues as if I haven’t just made an awkward mess of this whole thing, “I’m just stopping by to announce a new project that your team will be working with, and I want to see if you are interested in being the liaison.”
I blink. “New project?”
“A Hooded Falcon movie. Normally we don’t have anything to do with this, but Mr. Casey sold the rights specifically with the caveat that he’s got a say in aesthetics, story lines, everything. We need a team member to help consult on things like backstory accuracy and costume aesthetics.”
I blink again, my mind a swirl of questions. “And you think I could help with that?” Part of me hates that my voice comes out breathless and giddy like a fifteen-year-old reliving a first kiss. The other part of me doesn’t care at all . . . Dream, meet silver platter.
Lelani studies me for a moment, and I regret all my half-witted blinking. “You’re the first I thought of, but it’s your choice, of course. It may mean some additional hours specifically for this project, both in and out of the office, but you have the availability, yes? I assume you can fit something like this into your busy schedule?” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Oh, yes. Of course—”
Lelani holds up a hand. “No need to decide fully now. Come by my office tomorrow for more details before you agree. I wanted to see if you had interest. I know you’ve discussed having a passion for work outside of your normal arena. Andy agreed your skill set would be the best fit from the team, if you were up for it. See you tomorrow, then.”
Without waiting for me to respond, Lelani strides to the front of the table and greets Andy, presumably to tell him I’m a total wackadoo, and I make my way back to my chair. A slosh of hot coffee from the little clown cup confirms it: I’m awake, and somehow I’ve managed to start designing costumes part time, continue writing comics, and get what I consider a huge résumé-and-dream-building opportunity.
My attention shifts when Lelani clears her throat. I’ve missed Andy’s opening remarks, apparently. I also missed tasting the first half of my scalding-hot cup of awful coffee, which I consider a win. “Thanks, Andy. I’m only here for a few minutes. I wanted to let you know that Genius Comics just signed our contract for a Hooded Falcon movie!” She pauses and the rest of us politely clap, even though we’ve been expecting something like this after the huge buzz this summer. The timing seems perfect: Casey and his comics are back in the news, the Golden Arrow hoopla has been nothing but good press, the special-edition comic I helped develop drops this month, and the video game is set to roll out near Christmas. Not making a movie would be dumb.
“Yes, we’re all excited,” she continues. “Anyhow, I just want this team to know I’ve already talked with MG, and she’s preliminarily agreed to operate as Genius’s liaison for the production and art direction teams. Unless anyone else feels strongly about doing it? Production won’t tic up for many months, but planning starts soon.” Lelani looks expectantly around the room, and when no one voices a dissenting opinion, she nods once and makes her way to the sliding glass doors at the back of the room. “Wonderful, we’ll keep you apprised of developments; have a good meeting!”
Andy waits until after she’s left and then looks at the four of us. “Okay, is everyone really okay with this?”
I brace internally, waiting for my team to say that it was completely unfair that I—the girl who had just dropped to part time—get this opportunity.
Instead, Simon nods enthusiastically. “Do they know when the movie is going to be out?”
“Do they need extras?” This question from Tej, who removes his dark glasses and poufs his thick, wavy hair up in a comical boy-band way.
“No idea when the movie release date is; I guess we’ll probably know soon? We’ll see what we can do about the extras thing, Tej, and, MG, looks like it’s a go. Okay, on to other matters. We’ll touch on The Hooded Falcon first, since we’re already there.” He smooths back his overly long, curly, blond surfer hair and peers down the table. “We need to start drafting ideas for the next issue; it’s going to be an important one, so close after the release of the special edition. We’ve hired another artist for the team now that things are ramping up, and MG is switching some of her gears. They’ll be starting next week. As far as our team goes, maybe we can start a story line that is big enough for the movie producers to pick up threads to?”
I nod along. We will need more help, especially on the art end. I know how hard Kyle has been working—though Simon and I can help in a pinch, it isn’t the same as having another full-time artist. Contract work is always a possibility, but I’m glad we’ll be getting a real teammate. This is one of Genius’s biggest comics, so I assume they can afford the salary.
The boys jump right in with ideas. I don’t love-love anything thrown out: new alien overlord, the reboot of an old nemesis. It’s long been my lament that the most recent reboots turn into flash-and-bang comics—all about the weapons and insane gadgets, and less about the heart. Less about why THF exists in the first place. I feel like a broken record, but it has to be pointed out again.
“What about a social-justice plotline? Something that recalls the originals.” I’ve spoken without thinking—right over the top of Kyle’s pitch for a change of location, something the movie people may be into. I frantically rewind his words in my head as everyone turns to stare at me; it’s unusual for one of us to just completely railroad another team member. I think he was talking about going back to the island that the Hooded Falcon had come from for some tropical change of pace.
“Uh,” I flounder, my face flushing. “I’m so sorry, Kyle. Your idea just . . . sparked something for me. Continue.”
Kyle sits back, not looking too pissed, thank goodness. “No, by all means, I’m basically done. It’s all yours.”
Crap. Now I’m going to have to flesh out a nonexistent idea and try to tie it into what Kyle has been saying. Double crap.
“Er . . .” I pause for a sip of my horrendous coffee as if it is liquid gold and stop short of faking a refreshed “ah” noise at the end. “So, Kyle brought up the island that the Hooded Falcon trained on.” To my relief, everyone nods.
“And it got me thinking about the original series.” I do have a brain for plots, and it seems like even crappy coffee can fuel it for me. “I like Kyle’s idea, but I think we should push it even more. Nostalgia is running high right now. Could we do a throwback story line if we’re visiting the island? Not a literal throwback, no reincarnated villains, but . . . something that addresses social injustice, and not just random bad guys?” I feel like this is my go-to idea with THF; call me a purist, but thankfully no one says anything.
“Like . . . smugglers?” Simon definitely still looks dubious.
“That’s not super pertinent to social justice these days.” I fish around in my memory of recently viewed Reddit forums. “I don’t know, how about trafficking? Like sex or human trafficking?”
Andy’s eyebrows draw down. “I hardly think that sounds like something that could fit in with our current story line.”
“We could make it work,” I argue, not about to let my push for real content get brushed off again. This is why I’m still here, fighting for what I feel comics
could do for society today. “Historically, human trafficking involved pirates. Pirates could be a new and different thing to write, but they could represent the real-time struggle in our real world. Expose the underbelly, as it were.”
Andy and Kyle perk up. “We’ve done the smuggling thing before, as did the original. But . . . pirates. Pirates could be fun.”
“And we can use this to help raise awareness that human and sex trafficking still exists. Maybe list some resources on a blog post about what inspired this issue.” Even though I’m not sure it still exists on the high seas . . . Baby steps.
“Yeah!” Simon chimes in. “I do like it. The Falcon could use his old island to stage a booby trap or something. Maybe the movie crew will like the idea of tying in to an island scene.”
And they’re off and away, crafting the idea into a slightly ludicrous but at least partially socially aware story line. We all agree to come up with some material for the green-light meeting, and I relax internally slightly. Crisis averted.
“Okay, well, moving on to the smaller projects.” Andy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and my focus narrows on him. “Tej? Want to fill us in?”
My heart starts to crumple like a slo-mo sequence of Superman nearing kryptonite. That doesn’t sound . . . uplifting.
Tej straightens in his seat and tosses out a few single sheets of printed paper to each of us across the table. I take a quick glance, and my heart crumples further. At the very bottom of the list—ranked by sales totals—is my personal pet project, Hero Girls, a comic book aimed specifically at teen girls.
“As you can see, we have two projects that are exceeding projected numbers. One of them is Adventure League super specials”—Tej nods to Simon, who’s been illustrating for that—“and the Mighty Destroyer middle-grade limited run. That one is scheduled to end in 2020 but has been enough of a moneymaker Genius would like to consider other ideas for limited-run middle-grade comics.”
Tej shoots me a furtive glance, and my eyes flick down to my paper from his face.
The Queen Con (The Golden Arrow Mysteries Book 2) Page 6
