An Honest Living

by Ben Mariner

  “What’s the deal with Mean Gene anyway?” I asked after the server brought us another round of drinks.

  “He’s a pig,” Grace said, rolling her eyes. “Like, he might actually be a pig that got turned into a human. A filthy, disgusting man who has sexually harassed almost every woman that has walked into his path.”

  “So why doesn’t somebody fire him?” I wondered. “Seems like you’re just asking for a lawsuit.”

  Grace shrugged. “He’s a pig, but he’s efficient. He’s headed up six different divisions and every single one of them has had a productivity boost within three months of him taking over. My dad has the best lawyers in the country on his payroll. Any issue would get swept under the rug before a breath of it got out. The reward outweighs the risk, is what I’m saying.”

  “Wow,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck uncomfortably. “That’s maybe the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

  She took a swig of scotch. “It’s a man’s world.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” I replied sighing. “Clearly.”

  “How about we go for a walk?” she suggested, changing the subject.

  I smiled. “Perfect.”

  I stood up and all the scotch finally hit me. I swayed a bit, but steadied myself before looking too drunk.

  “I should go to the restroom first,” I told Grace. “Excuse me.”

  “I’ll meet you outside,” she called after me.

  Now that I was standing, all that scotch was making a run for the border. I hurried to the bathroom, again ducking a bottle that I was starting to think maybe was intended for me. It was hard to tell who was trying to pick a fight with who at The Ninja. Sometimes when you’re my size, people just want to fight you for the fun of it. Like it’s a badge of honor if they can say they beat you up. They could never, but they have no way of knowing that.

  Once I had lost some water weight, I splashed some cold water on my face to get it together. Some fresh air would do wonders. Especially with a pretty girl walking next to you. Or rolling. Or whatever. Damn. Had to make a mental note to not say stupid stuff like that out loud. Must be the scotch talking.

  I found Grace waiting on the sidewalk for me when I got outside. She smiled and waved like I wouldn’t recognize the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

  “Ready to go?” I asked looking up and down the street.

  “Which way should we go?” she asked, moving her chair to my side.

  I shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  Grace shook her head. “Not even a little bit.”

  We set off down the street with no destination in mind. It didn’t take long for Maxima City to step in. We rounded a corner and a pair of shadowy figures stepped out of an alley. I knew they were trouble right away, but they had their knives out before I could react. Stupid scotch slowing my reaction time.

  “Give us your money!” the one on the right growled at us.

  I stepped in front of Grace. I didn’t want her to know about my Talent, but I also wasn’t going to let her get hurt.

  “You picked the wrong people, fellas,” I said, drawing up to my full size.

  They took a step back, fear screwing up their faces. Without another word, they tossed their knives aside and ran off as fast as they could in the opposite direction. That went better than expected.

  “See that, Grace? These two jamokes…” I was smiling as I turned but that smile quickly turned into a slack jawed gape. Instead of Grace, I found a purple and silver suit of iron that was taller than I was. My nemesis. Or my date. Or whatever she was.

  “Oh...crap.”

  ELEVEN

  Trying to run away from someone is super hard when your pursuer is wearing a suit of battle armor with propulsion jets in its feet. I was giving it everything I’ve got, but Grace was cruising along behind me like it was a nice leisurely stroll through the park on a lazy Sunday afternoon. There was no point trying any evasive maneuvers. I’d learned from experience how hard she was to shake.

  Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I was running. It just felt like the right thing to do. I hadn’t done anything wrong...recently. Shouldn’t she be chasing after our would-be muggers? They were the criminals of the night.

  Grace put on a burst of speed to come up next to me.

  “Can you stop please?” she asked in that weird, tinny robot voice.

  “Can you stop using that voice?” I countered, not looking at her. “It’s creepy.”

  I heard some gears and servos whirl, but didn’t take my eyes off the road.

  “Is that better?” Grace asked in her normal voice that was so cute it made me want to vomit and die and then give her a hug.

  I glanced over momentarily. The helmet of the suit had retracted so that her head was exposed. She was still wearing those cat eye frames, but now that her body was nothing but gleaming metal, the effect was kind of bizarre.

  “Maybe...or not really,” I said, sprinting on. “I’m not sure.”

  We came to a T intersection. I could go either north or south, or just give up. I chose to give up. I was sick of running and I clearly wasn’t getting rid of her. I ran to the far side of the street and leaned against a building, breathing heavy. Grace landed gently on the sidewalk in front of me. She seemed to be blocking off my exits, but maybe I was reading too much into things.

  “What the hell?” I gasped, sucking in air. “I mean...what the hell?”

  “I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” she said, putting her hands up to try and calm me down.

  I shook my head. “Not really. I think this is all pretty self-explanatory.”

  We stood together for a long moment in silence while I caught my breath.

  “So, what,” I wondered. “Agreeing to go out with me was just a way to get close to the enemy?”

  “Isn’t that a question?” she asked with a bit of humor, obviously trying to defuse the situation. I gave her my best shut it and answer the question look. She gave me a nervous smile. “I mean...yes and no. Yes, I-”

  I put up a hand to stop her. “Hold on. Can you just lose the suit? This is weird enough already without talking to a half-woman, half-machine.”

  “Since it’s just my head,” she said logically, “it’d be more like a ninety-ten split, but I get your point.”

  Without a word, the suit of armor slowly began dismantling itself. Panels slid back and collapsed into themselves. Pistons fired. Servos buzzed. It was like watching one of those time lapse videos of a flower blooming but in reverse. Compartments opened up on the outside of both thighs and long metal poles emerged before spinning out a pair of wheels. In a matter of a few seconds, Grace had gone from super tall death robot, to mild-mannered disabled girl.

  “Okay,” I said, impressed. “That was pretty awesome. But now answer my question.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, obviously from our previous encounters, I knew you were a Mal and part of agreeing to go out with you was to see if I could get more info out of you. But more than that, I thought you were cute from the first time I saw you in the bank and I wanted to see where things could go.”

  “You mean the time in the bank where you tried to punch me through the floor?” I reminded her.

  She smiled slyly. “Yeah. Then. But it’s not my fault. You were breaking the law.”

  I gave her a surly look. “Well, hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not a Mal anymore so I can’t help you out with information.”

  “Wait,” she said in shock, rolling forward a bit. “You’re not a Mal anymore?”

  “Maybe I am. I guess I’m more neutral,” I answered her. Now that I was thinking about it, I had no idea what I was doing. “I quit working for Winfield and Take. So I’m at least not affiliated with either the company or the Coalition.”

  Grace got a far off look in her eyes. “Interesting. What happened?”

  Something inside me said I probably shouldn’t be telling Grace anything, but I couldn’t help it. She was so pretty.

  “Take
played me,” I explained, sinking down to the ground. “She sent me to work at your dad’s warehouse to get some intel on his business dealings. She wanted to horn in and get a piece of his business. I agreed to do it on the condition that I be promoted and given a legit nemesis, which was supposed to be you. Or your altar ego, at least. And now that I’m saying it to you, it seems like the most ridiculous thing in the world.”

  “You picked me as your nemesis?” asked Grace, blushing. “That’s very flattering.”

  I felt a little embarrassed so I avoided eye contact. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter now. I did what Take asked, and in return she told me to go screw myself. So I quit. The worst part is I felt really bad for handing over the business plan and whatnot that I found.”

  Grace looked slightly amused. “The one from Gene’s office?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, but then looked at her in confusion. “How did you know?”

  She looked guilty. “Well, let’s just say my dad had suspicions that Mary Sue Winfield was going to try to infiltrate the warehouse operation, so we planted bogus info in the hopes that it would get stolen. Sorry.”

  I waved her off. “That actually makes me feel a little better. Vindicated, in a way.”

  “Glad I could help,” she said with a smile. “I won’t tell anyone it was you who stole the documents. Your job at Grey Market is safe.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said genuinely. I stood up and took in a deep breath of the cool night air. I felt better than I had in a long time, oddly enough. “Can I walk you home?”

  “Well, I can fly home,” Grace reasoned. “But I’m happy to walk you home.”

  We moved off down the street in contented silence. It felt so great to be in her company, even knowing that she was, not more than a few days ago, the person who I had wanted to be mortal enemies with. Funny how time can change things so drastically.

  “So, forgive me if this is a major faux pas,” I said as we passed an all-night diner. “But, can you walk or what?”

  Grace laughed. Thank god.

  “No, my spine was severed in a car accident when I was a kid,” she told me. “For my twenty-first birthday, my dad gave me a prototype he’d been designing that allowed me to walk again. Then we both realized the incredible potential the technology had. He knew I had always wanted to be a Bennie like him, so he made some modifications to his prototype and my battle suit was born. It does everything for me from the waist down. So I still use the chair because it would be obvious if I was stomping around in giant metal legs.”

  “Plus it does a super cool Transformers thing,” I added.

  That made Grace smile and I realized I could never get enough of that smile.

  “What do you call yourself, anyway?” I asked. “Your alter ego, I mean.”

  Grace shrugged. “It’s a work in progress, but I’m leaning toward Metal Maiden.”

  I made a face. “Sounds like the name of a thrash metal band.”

  She looked disappointed. “Okay, well that’s out then.”

  It didn’t take long for us to arrive at my place since that was where I was running to in the first place.

  “This is me,” I said, coming to a stop in front of my building.

  “Thanks for being okay with everything, Lane,” Grace said, squeezing my hand.

  I shrugged. “I’d say I’m more confused than anything. Maybe a little lost. But, sure, we’ll go with okay for now.”

  “Can I tell you a secret?” she asked, and waved me down closer.

  I bent down so she could whisper in my ear, but Grace grabbed the sides of my face and pulled me in for a kiss. No, not just a kiss. The most perfect kiss in the history of kisses. Her lips were soft and pillowy, and they tasted like peppermint.

  “Whoa,” I sighed when our lips parted.

  “Have a good night, Lane,” she said, booping my nose with her finger.

  I stood rooted to my spot on the sidewalk and watched Grace roll away. When she reached the end of the block, her chair morphed into her battle suit and she rocketed up into the sky and out of sight.

  Damn it, that was an awesome exit.

  TWELVE

  Going to work the next day was interesting. I was going to work for the good guys with no intention of reporting their goings on to the bad guys. I was just going to work, a cog in the machine. It felt good to a degree, but it also felt like I was doing something wrong. Like I was betraying my people, but at the same time, those same people had betrayed me in their own way, so I didn’t feel all that bad about it.

  I could do without dealing with peanuts though. So long as I live, I’ll never eat another one.

  “Hey, tiger,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

  I turned to find Grace a few feet away. She had a look on her face like she was trying very hard not to breathe in too deeply.

  “Hey there,” I greeted her. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

  “My father wanted to see you,” she said flatly.

  I froze. Oh boy. That couldn’t be good.

  “Relax,” she said, smiling. “You’re not in trouble.”

  I eased a bit. “What does he want to see me for?”

  Grace looked around. “Can’t really talk about it here.”

  “Raskin!” Mean Gene’s voice shouted over the floor. “Why aren’t you working?”

  Grace rolled in between me and Gene who had just emerged from his office.

  “My father has requested a meeting with Mr. Raskin,” she said with a curt professionalism. “I assume that won’t be a problem, Mr. Witherspoon?”

  Mean Gene hurriedly made himself seem less disgusting, which failed miserably.

  “Sorry about that, Ms. Grey,” he said, not looking at her. “I didn’t see you there. Of course you can take him.”

  Grace looked at me and smirked. “Thank you, Gene.”

  She rolled away and I followed after her, giving Gene a smug look as I passed.

  Grace didn’t lead me back to the back offices as I expected. Instead we went through a service door and down a maintenance corridor before exiting out the back of the building.

  “Is your dad outside?” I wondered in confusion.

  “He’s in his office,” answered Grace. “We didn’t want to send a helicopter and draw attention.”

  “You guys ever heard of cars?” I responded wryly.

  She gave me a sly look. “Why would we send a car when you have me?”

  Grace must have had some kind of mental connection with her battle suit. She didn’t move or utter a word, but the chair instantly began to transform and encapsulate her. It was so much fun to watch. Seconds later, the purple and silver armor I had come to know so well was looming over me.

  “Need a lift?” she asked jokingly.

  I suddenly realized what was about to happen. “I think I’ll just walk actually.”

  Before I could protest, Grace scooped me up and shot into the air. The g-force practically made me hurl all over her. Once that wore off though, it was an incredible ride. Like a roller coaster but way better. I felt almost weightless and we soared up over the city. There weren’t that many people who could say they had gotten that view of Maxima City - outside of flying talents, of course - and I never thought I’d be one of them. It was breathtaking, and not just because the air was a bit thinner.

  Grace made a beeline for her father’s building which sat on the opposite side of the city as Winfield Enterprises. Both buildings stood out like sore thumbs against the surrounding metropolis. Grace set down gently on the roof and let me down. My adrenaline was pumping so hard I could practically hear my heart beating.

  “Have fun?” Grace asked, after switching back to normal.

  If me grinning like an idiot wasn’t enough of an indication, I yelled, “Hell yeah!”

  “Come on,” she said, waving for me to follow her.

  We crossed the empty helipad and Grace pressed the call button for an elevator. The doors slid open immediately
to admit us. The inside of the elevator seemed deafeningly quiet after the rushing wind that was battering my ears during the flight. It was a quick ride, not more than a couple floors, and the doors slid open again.

  It was actually shocking how nearly identical Wayne Grey’s executive suite was to Mary Sue Winfield’s. Everything was exactly the same, down to the throw pillows on the couch in the reception area. The only significant difference was that Grey’s office was on the 50th floor and he opted for a different color scheme. It was kind of amazing how obvious people could be about their secret identities and it still be completely lost on the general public. They guy could have had a giant painting of him dressed as Nocturno on the wall and Joe Schmo would think Grey was just a fan.

  Perhaps it wasn’t such a surprise that Grey’s office was set up just like Mary Sue’s. Even the view out the floor-to-ceiling windows seemed like a perfect mirror image of his rival’s. It left me wondering who had copied who. I did kind of feel like Grey was the kind of unoriginal stooge who would have every interior decorator on retainer just so he could say he had hired them first. Rich people were weird that way.

  Grey was sitting behind his desk when we entered. He was reading from a manila folder that was held up in front of his face. His chiseled abs were still visible through his button up shirt that probably cost more than my apartment.

  “You wanted to see me, Mr. Grey?” I asked, expecting him to lower the folder, but he did not for some reason.

  “Yes, Lane,” he said, taking one hand off the folder and motioning to a seat. “Please sit. I was just going over your file.”

  “Right,” I said. “Which file is that exactly?”

  The folder lowered only so far so I could see the top of his immaculately styled hair.

  “This includes your Grey Corp personnel file,” he told me, flipping a page, “And your files from Winfield Enterprises.”

  “Oh…” I said dumbly.

  “Don’t sound so scared, Lane,” he said. I could hear the smile, even if I still couldn’t see it. “Grace told me everything. And before you say anything, yes she did say she wouldn’t tell anyone, but I’m sure you can understand why she would make an exception for me. And it’s a very good thing she did, too.”