by Baron Sord
For me, Lady Liberty was that person.
The one.
Or should I say, the 100%.
And this was our mutual moment. Or so I hoped. I couldn’t speak for her, but I was floored.
She stared back, not saying anything, or thinking anything that I could hear. Whether she was blocking me out of her mind or not, I couldn’t say.
But I could’ve stood there all night living in her cyan eyes.
“What?” She mumbled a moment later, sounding confused and embarrassed.
“Uhhh… nothing. Were you, uhhh, were you reading my thoughts just now?”
“No. Were you?”
“What, reading yours? No!”
“Good,” she smirked.
“Why? Were you not blocking me out?”
She ignored my question and said, “Shouldn’t we take Arnold inside?”
“Oh, right.”
She opened the back passenger door of the Audi.
“Uuuuuugh,” Arnold moaned as we lifted him out.
I cradled him and carried him through the parking structure. I whispered, “We have to get our story straight for the cops. They always ask about GSWs.”
“GS-whats?”
“Gun Shot Wounds. Someone will probably file a report.”
“What should we say?” LL asked. “We can’t tell them what happened.”
“Yeah, no.”
Arnold mumbled, “Clee maguh.”
“What?”
“Cleaaan maguuuhhh,” he moaned.
LL said, “I think he said ‘clean my gun.’ What does that mean?”
I put the pieces together in a flash and hissed a triumphant whisper, “We tell the police Arnold was cleaning his gun!”
“Won’t they know that’s B.S.?” LL offered.
“That guy Gray Eyes shot Arnold with Arnold’s gun. It makes perfect sense.”
“Gray who?”
I said with slight irritation, “Never mind him. Cleaning his gun is genius.” Grinning, I muttered in Arnold’s ear, “Smart thinking, my man!”
“Uuuuuuugh.”
“Speaking of cleaning guns,” I said, “we need to take Arnold’s vest off. Nothing says ‘I was not cleaning my gun, I was using it,’ like wearing a bulletproof vest.”
“Right,” she grinned.
We went back to her car, laid Arnold on the ground between her Audi and the car next to it, and quickly stripped his vest off. After stashing it in the Audi’s trunk, I carried Arnold back to the Emergency Room.
Inside, we told the nurses about the GSW. Arnold was admitted immediately. After the nurses parked us in a room, they checked Arnold’s vitals, drew blood, and hooked him up to an IV drip. Once they determined he was stable enough that he didn’t need to be rushed into surgery, they put him at the top of the list and told him a doctor was on their way.
When we were alone, LL and I sat down side by side in the hospital chairs against the wall and waited.
LL pulled out her phone from her trench coat pocket and scrolled through it absently.
“Hey,” I said, “what do you do with your phone when you’re… you know.”
“Which ‘you know’ are we talking about?” She was smirking.
“Oh! No, I mean, uhh…”
“Doug,” she snickered, “you should get your mind out of the gutter.”
Was she flirting with me? Possibly, because my skin was on fire, and not because I held extra heat energy. I had none left after dumping it in the LSoD. I said, “I mean when you’re out helping people. Where do you put your phone?”
“I know what you meant,” she smirked. “I leave my phone in my car. Especially when I’m juiced up. Phones don’t like me when I’ve got too much juice.”
“Me too! I’m on my third Robot phone.”
“Robots suck,” she said with amusement. “Get an Android. Or an iPhone. Anything other than a Robot.”
“What is it with you and hating iSearch products?”
She shrugged, “They’re lame?”
I shook my head, not interested in arguing the merits of Robots over all other phones. I said, “What do you mean you fried your phones? Do you mean you electrically fried their circuits?”
“Yeah. What did you mean?”
“I melted one. At the Con. Remember?”
“Oh yeah,” she grinned. “That was crazy!”
“I know, right? Remember how I had to wear your cape? To cover my…?”
“Oh my God! I almost forgot!” She was giggling. “That was hilarious! Too bad I didn’t have a cape-skirt for you tonight, Mr. Naked.”
“It’s a cape kilt,” I grumbled sarcastically.
“Come on! You look super cute in a skirt!”
“Kilt! It’s a kilt. Kilt, kilt, kilt!”
“Whatever,” she laughed. “I notice you still have those abs.”
“When did you notice?”
She rolled her eyes, “When you were standing in the street naked earlier.”
“You looked?” If she had seen my abs, she had seen my—
“So? Anyway, you should show them off more often…”
I was about to cut in and ask her which “them” she meant, then didn’t.
She finished, “…instead of hiding them under a T-shirt.” She swatted my stomach through my shirt and leaned her shoulder against mine.
Time stopped.
She was touching me.
On purpose.
With her whole arm, from shoulder to elbow.
Supermodel alert!
I didn’t know what to say. Good thing I’d released all that heat energy earlier, otherwise I might melt the seat I was sitting in now. I could barely contain myself as it was. Controlling and maintaining any stored heat under these circumstances would be nigh impossible.
Not wanting to embarrass myself by doing the wrong thing, I sat there and said nothing, basking in the moment of our touching shoulders and elbows.
Our arms were kissing!
Tee hee!
Lest you mock, when was the last time the hottest supermodel on the planet wanted to touch your shoulder? Never, you say? Exactly. This event was mythic and historic in proportion for a nerd like me.
After basking in sheer bliss for quite some time, a thought occurred to me. I said, “Hey, uh, what do we tell the doctors and nurses if they ask about you? I don’t want you getting kicked out because you’re not family.”
“Oh, right. Hmm. Let me think.”
I nodded, “I’m Arnold’s roommate and his emergency contact, but you’re… what? His friend?”
She shrugged, “Say I’m his girlfriend. They won’t kick me out if I’m his girlfriend.”
I blinked several times. I wanted to stand up and shout, “WE SHOULD SAY YOU’RE MY GIRLFRIEND! SAY YOU ARE HIS COUSIN! BUT YOU HAVE TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND!” I said no such thing, nor did I stand up to shout it out loud. I kept it to myself.
She sighed, “Would you relax? It’s just while we’re here.”
“Wait, did you just read my mind?”
“I didn’t have to,” she chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’m really his girlfriend. It’s just pretend.”
I wanted to pretend she was my girlfriend. Oh well. I tried to hide my disappointment. Then inspiration struck. I said, “If we’re going to tell everybody you’re Arnold’s girlfriend, he should probably know your name and I should too.” I smiled victoriously.
She glared at me.
“What?” I said. “I can’t call you Lady Liberty.”
She continued glaring.
“Okay, how about I call you Elles?”
She scowled, “I hate that name.”
“Sorry. I don’t know what else to call you. How about Maude?”
She snorted a laugh, “No.”
“Mildred?”
“Uh uh.”
“Betsy?”
She smirked, “Betsy sounds like a donkey.”
I grinned, “Also known as a jackass because they
’re notorious for their stubbornness.” I gave her a knowing wink.
“You’re the jackass,” she said before elbowing my arm and frowning at the floor. But she didn’t break shoulder-to-elbow contact.
I was in heaven as I said, “Hey, you said it, not I.”
“Okay, fine,” she groaned. “Fine! It’s Kristy with a K. Are you happy now?” She glared at me.
I smiled. Although I had never been to a strip joint, Clifton and Rene had clued me in long ago that strippers all had fake stripper names, and Kristy definitely didn’t sound like one. Especially not based on how annoyed she looked saying it.
I grinned at her and leaned over to Arnold, “Did you hear that?”
“Nnnnnnnh,” he groaned.
I smiled, “Your girlfriend’s name is Kristy.”
“Nnnh. Kriiiis-eeeee. Ger fehhhhn. Nnnnnnh.”
When I leaned back in my chair, LL — make that Kristy — smirked and shook her head, glaring at me.
“What?” I chuckled.
She rolled her eyes and focused on her phone like I wasn’t in the room, typing a message with her thumbs like it was the most important thing in the world and I was the least.
I didn’t care.
We were touching shoulders and elbows!
And she had told me her name!
Kristy with a K!
Kristy, Kristy, Kristy!
She snorted to herself next to me, probably reading my thoughts.
In a mental whisper, I thought, Kristy, Kristy, Kristy.
No, I did not write her name lovingly on the cover of my Trapper Keeper in pink gel pen like a sixth grade girl. But I might draw it later in my sketchbook, but only in a badass superhero font with spikes and lightning bolts coming out of the mechanical studded heart that had both our initials in the middle of it.
—: Chapter 28 :—
When Doug wasn’t looking, Kristy hastily thumbed out an email to Jeff Strickland.
Stop the presses!
One last thing!
Sorry!
Please change Fireblast to Wildfire!
That’s his name from now on.
Wildfire.
K?
Although Kristy’d shown Fireblast-Wildfire as one of comic book Lady Liberty’s allies in issue #3, she hadn’t actually put him or even mentioned him in issues #1 or #2. Issue #3 would be his first ever appearance. Once it went to press, the world would forever know him as either Fireblast or Wildfire.
Kristy’s thumb hovered over the send button on her phone.
Should she really do this?
If she did, she was basically telling the whole world she was in love with Doug Moore.
No, that was K-Cray talking.
Kristy wasn’t in love with Doug.
She barely knew him.
The only thing he knew about her was her first name.
They barely even liked each other.
Putting Wildfire in her comic was smart marketing. Cross promotion. It had nothing to do with Doug and everything to do with Wildfire. After telling those news crews at the fire in Oceanside that she and Doug, she meant Wildfire, were a team, it only made sense to put him in the comic.
See?
That was why.
Marketing.
She hit send and put her phone away.
—: Chapter 29 :—
Ten minutes later, a uniformed San Diego PD officer swaggered into Arnold’s hospital room. His eyes immediately landed on Kristy.
Officer Eyeballs thought, Look at her! Total fox! I hope she likes a man in uniform. He grinned at her, “How you doing tonight, miss?”
Instantly angry, I stood up and positioned myself between him and Kristy, blocking his line of sight. I grumbled in his face, “My friend — her boyfriend — shot himself while cleaning his gun. So, under the circumstances, not too well.”
Officer Eyeballs leaned around me and grinned at her, “Yeah. That’s terrible.” Man o man, what I wouldn’t do to get those lips on my dick! Wonder what she’s got under that trench coat? Sure would like to take her someplace private and open it up.
I knew Kristy’s Lady Liberty costume was underneath her coat. There was no way I was letting Officer Eyeballs get a look at that.
Kristy scowled at Eyeballs, “Did you need something, officer?”
Glaring at him, I added, “Or were you just going to stand here and ogle my friend’s girlfriend all night? The friend who shot himself? The one who is lying right there?”
“Nnnnnn!” Arnold moaned.
Officer Eyeballs smirked at me and thought, Damn, this guy is big. I’d hate to wrestle his ass into bracelets. But I’m the cop, so he can suck my fucking dick. He cleared his throat and said, “Sir, this is a hospital. Can I ask you to please calm down?”
I blurted, “Stop looking at my girlfriend — I mean his girlfriend — and maybe I will.”
Eyeballs glared at me and thought, Who’s this guy think he is giving me orders?
I took a single step toward him. Not even a big one, just a few inches. Stared down at him and grumbled, “Show the lady some respect. And my friend. You’re not here to pick up chicks. You’re here to do your job.”
Officer Eyeballs swallowed hard, “Yeah, sure. Sorry.” He took a step back from me and glanced at Arnold in the hospital bed. What a fat ass. Hold up. He’s her girlfriend? No wonder this guy’s pissed. I would be too. Guess Mountain Man and I are both too thin for her taste. Fucking people. He sighed and said to me, “I was told your friend shot himself while cleaning his gun?”
“Yes,” I said.
Then I went into detail about what had supposedly happened. I knew exactly where and how Arnold cleaned his Glock at home, so I gave all the pertinent details and hoped the cop didn’t ask to search Arnold’s house because I was pretty sure his cleaning kit was put away and not out in the open where I said it was.
While I explained everything, Officer Eyeballs spent more time stealing glances at Kristy than he did paying attention to me. When I finished, he nodded and turned to Kristy.
To her he said, “Is that what happened, miss?”
She shrugged, “I wasn’t there. I was on my way over when it happened. We met up here at the hospital.”
Eyeballs nodded and jotted down a few more notes before promising to return after Arnold was out of surgery. Then he left.
I glanced out the door of the room into the hospital hallway to make sure Eyeballs was gone. Then I muttered to Kristy, “I’m surprised he didn’t ask for our names.”
“I’m not,” she snorted.
“Why not?”
She rolled her eyes, “Did you miss the part were that asshole couldn’t stop staring at me the whole time? I hate that! He didn’t even tip!” She shook her head in disgust. “He was barely doing his job! Can you believe that?”
“Yes,” I chuckled. I could barely think in Kristy’s presence. It was no surprise other men couldn’t either.
She scowled, “I should report him for how he acted and he knows it.”
“Don’t do that,” I said. “The less trouble we cause, the better. We don’t want him asking too many questions. He didn’t. Objective achieved.”
She huffed, “But still! Do your job already! How would he like it if I came over to his house when he wasn’t working and grilled him for an hour while making eyes at his wife or whatever?”
I smirked, “He’d probably love it.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Sorry.” I sat back down next to her.
“Just forget it.” She heaved an irritated sigh and folded her arms across her chest and glared at the wall. “I’m used to it. It’s always like that at work. But you’d think when I’m not at work, and I have a stupid trench coat on, men would leave me alone! But noooooo, they have to flirt! That guy was basically asking me to cheat on my boyfriend right in front of him! Can you believe that?!”
I simply nodded.
I had no doubt all men with eyes would do the dumbest and most
extravagant things imaginable just to have Kristy throw them a single dog biscuit of attention. Or merely touch their shoulder and elbow with hers.
In my case, our shoulders and elbows were kissing!
KISSING!
Tee hee!
Where was my Trapper Keeper?
Kristy sneered and rolled her eyes, “Maybe I should start wearing a mask.”
“You already do,” I grinned. “But you should get a bigger one to hide your ugly face.”
“Shut up.” Giggling, she elbowed me.
Man, whenever she elbowed me, I felt like the King Of All Men.
A few minutes later, a nurse walked in with an orderly and they wheeled Arnold toward surgery.
Kristy and I followed as far as the elevators and said goodbye to Arnold before going upstairs to the surgical waiting area.
—: o o o :—
Several hours and numerous trips to the hospital vending machines later, Kristy and I must’ve spent over 80 bucks on potato chips and candy bars between the two of us.
Turned out she was as ravenous (and thirsty) as I was. Thank goodness hospitals still had free drinking water in the nurse’s stations.
Yes, the sugar spike from the candy bars brought in a fresh wave of distress calls for both me and her. She told me so. I told her I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew Arnold was okay. Apparently she wasn’t either.
During a quiet moment, I got to thinking about my attempt at flying. I couldn’t wait to try again — after I checked myself for radiation. I also wondered about the question of mass.
Did I eject it when I released fire from my body?
Curious, I wandered around until I found a hospital scale and weighed myself.
288 pounds.
I had lost 27 pounds since this morning. And, it was the first time I’d ever lost weight since getting my powers. I was always gaining weight, not losing it.
