by S. J. Delos
She bent down to retrieve the dress from the floor. Once it was draped carefully over the back of a chair, she looked back to me.
“I’ve been thinking about this for almost a month, Karen. I’m ready to take our relationship to the next stage.”
“I think whatever stage you guys are at is the one you need to stay in for a while longer. I mean, holy crap, Alexis. You’re way too young to be playing this whole Lolita temptress thing.”
Now it was her turn to have a slack jaw for a moment. “Lolita? I’m eighteen, Karen. As of midnight last night, in fact. I’m a legally recognized adult, you know. I can make my own mature decisions.”
“Mature?” I snorted. “Seriously? You’re not being mature, Alexis. You’re acting like an impulsive, horny adolescent.”
She stomped her foot on the carpeted floor. “I love Carl, Karen. Don’t you get that? I love him with all of my heart. I want him to be my first.” She marched through the closet wall, still talking. “I thought you’d be supportive. Or at least, give me some advice that would make me less nervous about… you know, doing it.”
“Doing… it?” I ran the fingers of both hands through my hair. “The fact that you’re referring to having sex with Carl as ‘doing it’ just reinforces my objections that you’re not ready. Come on, Lexi. You’re smarter than this.”
She bolted back into the room. The teddy was still draped over her torso, but now she wore a pair of exercise pants as well. “Oh! So now I’m immature, impulsive, and stupid? Thanks a lot, Karen. Nice to know what you really think about me.”
“Alexis, come on.” I reached out toward her, but she phased, making the hand I was going to rest on her shoulder pass right though.
“You’re a hypocrite, you know that?” she said. “I mean; I’ve been dating Carl for six months. Six whole months. In that time, we’ve done nothing more serious than a little making out, maybe some intimate touching.” She shook her head. “But you, you go on a single date with Kurt and the next morning, you’re doing the Walk of Shame back home.”
My cheeks grew hot. I raised a finger, pointing it at her.
“Well, I also happen to be a bit older than you. When you turn twenty-five, you can screw whoever you want, whenever you want, however often you want. But right now, you’re still just a kid who’s acting totally irresponsible.”
She laughed, reaching through the front of her dresser, pulling out a black sweatshirt. She pulled it over her head to yank it down over the lingerie.
“I’m acting irresponsibly? You’re kidding me, right?” She leaned against the dresser with a shake of her head. “You might want to recheck that scoreboard, K. I’m not the one who was irresponsible enough to get knocked up by a super-villain, then dump the responsibility for raising the child on someone else.”
Her eyes widened the moment the words left her mouth. I think we both realized that a line—one neither of us could have possibly known existed—had just been crossed.
Her mouth opened, but there was no chance for a follow-up stab. Or an apology, if that was what she intended.
My expression hardened. It wasn’t a conscious thing, I think. The twisting pain centered just behind my left breast overrode any voluntary control that existed. My jaw clenched, my eyes narrowed down at the girl before me, and my chin slid outward slightly.
“You’re absolutely right, Alexis,” I said, taking a step toward her. “I guess I was also being irresponsible when I openly confessed that sin in front of Greg just so that same super-villain would agree to save your life.” I shook my head. “Which, incidentally, wouldn’t have been necessary if you hadn’t been so stupid as to think you could take on someone like Colossal.”
Her eyes widened even more, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. She might have started crying, as well, but I didn’t allow myself to pay attention to that. I would have caved otherwise. Instead, I kept going. I wasn’t about to stop before real blood could be drawn.
“I have an idea,” I said, snapping my fingers right in front of her face. “Since you won’t take my advice when it comes to sex, how about you take it when it comes to fighting crime?”
“What advice?” Her face was as red as Overkill’s costume. There were tears hovering in the corners of her eyes.
“Leave the big bad guys to those of us with real powers,” I said with as much derision as I could muster. “Stick to taking down henchmen and providing support to InBees.”
Her mouth dropped open again, but I pushed past her to the door. The panel slid open, and I stepped out into the hall. Before it could close again, I looked back over my shoulder at the hurt and angry teen.
“Happy Fucking Birthday, Phantasm,” I sneered. Then the door slid closed, ending the conversation.
CHAPTER 12:
VISITING HOURS
I stopped by my own room to grab a black hoodie from the back of the door and my Cubs hat, then headed toward the elevators. Fortunately, I didn’t encounter anyone as I marched through the building to the nearest available exit. Zip might have been safe. Probably Sonya as well.
However, I wasn’t sure I would have been able to restrain myself from punching either Greg, Richard, or Darla should our paths cross at the moment.
As I rode the elevator down to the lobby, I kept my eyes closed the whole way. Leaving them open would have forced me to stare into the mirror-polished metal surfaces. I really didn’t much care to look at the spiteful, evil bitch I knew would be staring back at me.
I stepped out into the darkened lobby, walking across to the front doors, my boots clopping with a lonely echo.
During the work day, a great many people strolled through those doors. The Good Guy’s headquarters only occupied the top four floors of the Paulus Building. The rest of the space was leased to about ten or so Enhanced-owned businesses. Companies who didn’t mind sharing real estate with a team of superheroes, despite the potential disaster that might come from the proximity.
An imposing circular desk stood in the center of the lobby. It used to be made of ordinary metal, but on the day of my recruitment, I accidentally left a body-sized dent in the front of it. The replacement was composed of polished omni-plex encased within a titanium durasteel frame.
Joelle, the six-armed receptionist tasked with more responsibilities than I could count, was already gone for the day. The sign perched upon her desk suggested that anyone wishing to contact The Good Guys should use the intercom terminal next to the elevator. There was also a friendly warning at the bottom of the notice informing any would-be troublemakers that the response for any shenanigans would come from the ion cannons strategically placed around the room. Survivors would be dealt with personally upon her return.
In all honesty, I would rather face the ion cannons anytime.
Out on the street, I shoved my hands in the pockets of the jacket and pulled the hood up to cover my face. It was too easy to give in to the temptation of taking to the air. All I needed was a thought to be high above the world. Not exactly the way to gain insight, though.
Besides, my heart really wasn’t in flying this evening.
I headed down the sidewalk, weaving among the pedestrians, praying that I wouldn’t hear the obligatory scream of someone in trouble or the duty-calling boom of an explosion. I didn’t feel like a hero after my fight with Alexis. I certainly didn’t want to have to act like one.
The only bright spot in my thoughts was the fact that people were so used to seeing Kayo soaring in the sky above them, they wouldn’t possibly think she could be walking, Earth-bound like them.
I set out without having a destination in mind, only a need to be alone, think, be… normal. I didn’t realize I had drifted in the direction of Charlotte General until I glanced up to find myself standing right in front of the hospital’s entrance. I stared at the illuminated sign overhead, focusing on the large red cross right after the name.
It was a symbol of hope. Of healing. I needed some of that.
I pulled the hood a litt
le tighter around my head, lowered the brim of the hat, and kept my eyes downcast as I went in through the revolving door.
The administration desk was straight ahead, flanked on either side by gleaming elevator doors. The security guards standing near each seemed far removed from being the average rent-a-cop. It was the way they stood, as well as the manner in which their eyes seemed to rove around, constantly assessing the lobby. I guessed them to be either ex-military or ex-EAPF.
I stopped at the desk, waiting patiently for the older woman seated in front of me to look up.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. Can you tell me which room is Officer George Braddock’s? He was brought in Thursday afternoon.”
She glanced down at her computer screen, tapped a few keys, then looked back to me. There was a telling frown on her face that caused my stomach to collapse. “I’m sorry, miss,” she said. “He’s not allowed to have any visitors at the moment. EAPF orders.”
I blinked. Why would the EAPF put an injured officer under guard? It seemed a little out of the ordinary.
“Okay,” I said softly. “Can you at least tell me what room he’s in so I can call him?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that either,” she said. The apologetic tone reinforced her regret at not being able to help me.
I sighed, then leaned forward, taking a gamble. My fingers gripped the edge of the hood, pulling it back just a bit. “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do?”
It took her a few seconds of staring at me before recognition appeared in her eyes. I guess the whole “expected appearances” theory was a real thing. Everyone was so used to seeing Kayo in the air wearing her black and blue uniform that a girl walking in through the front door wearing jeans and a hoodie didn’t attract attention or notice.
I used to make fun of the whole idea of Clark Kent’s glasses actually fooling people. Now I wondered if I should invest in a pair for myself.
“He’s in 833,” she whispered. “But there are agents outside the door to the room.”
I nodded. “Is that on the east side or west side of the building?”
“Umm, east,” she said.
“Thanks,” I said, giving her a friendly smile of thanks.
Back outside, I went around the corner of the building to the alley running along the eastern side. Craning my neck, I counted the illuminated windows adorning the sides. I focused on the eighth row, then drifted up toward the nearest one.
Through the semi-transparent panel of omni-plex, I spotted an older man lying on a bed, hooked up to a bank of blinking machines. There was a younger couple in the room with him, sitting stoically beside the unconscious patient.
Not George’s room.
I drifted sideways, sparing a quick peek into each room as I passed. Halfway down the row, I stopped. The man lying on the bed in this room had most of his face obscured by a mask, but there was no mistaking the woman standing beside him.
Jeannie looked like she hadn’t slept in days, not that I could blame her. Her hands rested on the railing attached to the side of the bed, eyes downcast. A bolt of pain seared through my breast, making part of me wanted to shoot up into the sky to flee. I was partially responsible for her husband being in that bed.
Why on Earth would I have thought she wanted to see me?
I wasn’t aware of moving, yet the woman’s head came up to stare at me through the glass. She rushed around the room to the window, looking frantically around for a latch. I could have told her that they didn’t open even the slightest crack. After a few seconds, she placed her hand on the glass, fingers spread. A welcoming smile appeared on her face.
Tears began to run down my cheeks as I returned the gesture, then pointed at the man behind her.
Her other hand came up to make a see-saw motion, the smile on her face slowly melting away. I nodded. Then I pointed at her and down to the street below. It took repeating a couple of times, but she eventually nodded in acknowledgement.
I dropped down to the concrete and went back into the hospital lobby, moving out of the flow of traffic so as to not be noticed. After a few minutes, Jeannie came out of one of the elevators. She stopped to scan the lobby. When we made eye contact, I nodded toward the doors. I waited a few seconds after she passed through them before exiting myself.
Outside, she threw herself against me, squeezing tightly. Even though she was a Norm, if I hadn’t been invulnerable, she probably would have broken something in my chest. Other than my heart, I mean.
“Oh my god, Karen. I’m so glad you’re here.”
I hugged her back for a few seconds before pulling her toward the side of the building, away from any prying eyes.
“How bad is it?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“His liver, spleen, and small intestine were punctured when that monster stabbed him. His shoulder and hip are fractured as well.”
I sighed. “After Carbonado… stabbed George, he threw him across the room into a wall.”
She nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. “The doctors managed to stabilize him but at the moment, they don’t know if he’ll need a transplant or not.” The light of the lamppost nearest us glinted off the wetness rolling down her cheeks.
“I tried to come up to the room, but the receptionist said he wasn’t allowed visitors. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. The only thing Kurt’s told me is that George is in trouble for disobeying an order to stay put behind the barricade. I heard one of the officers outside the door yesterday saying that he shouldn’t have gone into the museum. That he wouldn’t be in that hospital bed if he had followed orders.”
I ground my teeth together, balling one of my hands into a knuckle-whitening fist. “That’s bullshit, Jeannie. Those kids would be dead if not for George. I put in my incident report that your husband was the one who kept Carbonado from killing those kids long enough for Zip to get them out.”
She shrugged. “Kurt’s been chasing this up the ladder all day. He said the rumor going around is the top brass at the Federal level refused to put their complete faith in your statement because you’re George’s friend and Kurt’s girlfriend.”
I took a half step back. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
Was this a real-life conspiracy or something. Since when did the EAPF scrutinize the incident reports? It was rare for an agent to be close enough to a battle to know what actually happened. The only documentation usually available were the reports we heroes submitted afterward. That’s why every hero involved in a fight with an Enhanced criminal partook in the process.
She sighed, looking away from me to the cars passing by on the street. “He wasn’t supposed to be there, Karen. George took Kurt’s shift because Kurt said he needed to run an important errand.”
I found that a little odd. Kurt didn’t say anything about an errand when I invited him to lunch with my mother. In fact, he claimed he needed a rain check because he said was working.
“Jeannie, Kurt’s not returning my calls or texts,” I said. “Do you know what the errand was?”
“I don’t know,” she said, still looking away. “But his superiors are blaming him for George getting hurt and those kids nearly dying. He probably just wants to keep you out of it, Karen. That’s the only reason I can think of for him avoiding you.” She finally turned back to me. “George thinks the world of you, you know. You have to do something. You have to help him.”
Jeannie, strong and sassy Jeannie, who smacked Kurt on the head the first time we met and told him he better treat me right, was begging me for my help. No way in fucking hell was I going to let her down.
I nodded, a numbness flowing through me, down my spine to my toes. The icy flow encircled my heart, making the hurt there worse. My friend had nearly paid the ultimate price for covering my back. Now he was getting thrown under the bus because of it? Hell no.
“I’ll try, Jeannie,” I said, giving her another tight hug. “I promise.”
&
nbsp; CHAPTER 13:
DRINKS WITH A MADMAN
After giving Jeannie about another fifty hugs, and another promise to help, I left the hospital to resume my aimless wandering around the darkened Charlotte streets. When I departed headquarters, the goal was to clear my mind. Now I was burdened with a whole new set of problems that might just be as important as my shattered friendship with Alexis.
I didn’t have the slightest clue where to start on making things right. Some kind of hero I was.
Two hours later, I occupied a corner barstool in a quiet little pub just down the street from the UNC-Charlotte campus. Being early on a Saturday evening, there was a pretty decent crowd of college kids filling the room.
I went into the establishment with the intention of having enough stiff drinks to either come up with a solution or at least take away the care for a while. However, once I sat down, melancholy took hold. I only ordered a single beer, which I then nursed for the better part of an hour.
Since I needed more information from either Kurt or Greg before I could tackle the issue with the EAPF, my thoughts centered on the fight with Alexis. I replayed the altercation in my mind, trying to decide what exactly had upset me. Was it really what she was planning to do with Carl? Or was I merely taking out my own relationship frustrations on her?
I was still pissed without question about her comment concerning Harmony, especially since she knew how sensitive I was about the subject. But I also conceded the fact she probably only did it because she was hurt and angry. Not a real excuse, just one I was intimately familiar with. She probably thought I was too judgmental on what, in essence, was not my call to make.
The longer I stared into the bottle in my hand, the more my thoughts darkened. Did I really come across as acting like I was better than her? I only wanted her to see she should give more thought to something as big as giving up her virginity.
“You gave up yours to an evil megalomaniac, though, didn’t you?” An annoying voice that sounded horribly like my mother’s chimed in. “That probably disqualifies you from being a respectable judge for someone else, right?”
