First Date (Minimum Wage Sidekick Book 2)

by Lucas Flint

  “I know, but you know how crazy life can get sometimes,” I said. “I can come over to your house on Sunday if you want. Saturday won’t work, because that’s when I’m dating Greta, but Sunday is open for me.”

  Frank suddenly smiled. “Okay, sounds good. See you later, then.”

  Frank walked off with more of a spring in his step now, while I hefted my backpack over my shoulder and was about to join him when my phone rang. I stopped and, pulling my phone out of my pocket, glanced at the screen to see who could be calling me. To my surprise, it was Rubberman, though my contact was labeled with ‘BOSS’ for safety reasons.

  Looking around quickly to make sure no one was listening in, I turned around to face my locker and answered the phone. “Hi, boss, what’s up?”

  “Alex, I was just calling to let you know that you’re going to be working later tonight than usual,” said Rubberman. “We’ve got a job tonight, but I won’t tell you much about it except that it could be dangerous.”

  “A job?” I said. “What is it about?”

  “It’s not safe to discuss over the phone, but suffice to say that it pays well,” said Rubberman. “The only problem is that you’ll have to work close to midnight, but I will pay you overtime for it, don’t worry.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Rubberman had never had me work these ‘night missions’ before, as he called them, mostly because they would interfere with my school work if I did. That Rubberman wanted me to work with him on this one meant that it was unusually important, and unusually important jobs always paid well.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll see you after school, then.”

  “Good to hear,” said Rubberman. “Come at the same time you always do, because we’re going to need to talk about the plan before we head out. See you later.”

  With that, the call ended. I quickly put my phone back into my pocket and made my way down the slightly-less crowded hallway, wondering about what this mission would entail and hoping it would not be too difficult. But I was excited, because I never got to go on these night missions, despite always wanting to.

  But one thought did occur to me as I walked; namely, that the mission might have something to do with ZZZ. But I pushed that thought out of my mind for now, because if the mission was related to him, Rubberman would have told me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I know I told Frank that I wouldn’t stop by Greta’s house to check on her and give her flowers after school, but when the school bell rang and all of the students poured out of the school into the cold November air, I did not go immediately to the Elastic Cave, as I usually did after school. Instead, I made my way to Greta’s house, because I had had all day to think about Frank’s idea and I could not shake it off no matter how much I might try. Besides, I wasn’t going to stay at her house forever; just stop by and say hi. It would be a nice surprise to her, I’m sure. In fact, I didn’t even call her ahead of time to let her know that I was coming over to visit, because I wanted it to be a pleasant surprise to her.

  I had never visited Greta’s house before; however, Greta had given me her address once and I had driven past her house on my bike more than a few times over the years, and not just because I hoped to catch a glimpse of Greta, either. As a result, I had no trouble making my way to Greta’s house via a short cut I knew. In minutes, I arrived in the street outside her house, but I did not go up to the front door immediately. Instead, I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, because I had biked very fast to get here and didn’t want to come up to her front door all sweaty and tired.

  Greta’s house was not very different from my own house, if a bit fancier. The driveway was shaped somewhat like the letter ‘U,’ allowing a car into and out of the driveway with ease. The house itself was about the same size as mine, but with a bigger pool in the backyard, which was currently empty from what I could see. A large hummer stood in front of the garage, while a sprinkling fountain with small stone fairy statues stood in the front yard. No one was outside and most of the windows had the curtains drawn, but given the presence of the hummer, I figured that Greta was probably home, perhaps even her parents, although it was equally possible that they were still at work, too.

  I hopped off my bike and, leaning it against their mailbox, made my way up to the front door of the house. I knocked on the front door a couple of times and then stepped backwards. While I waited, I glanced at the windows on either side of the door, but due to the white curtains, I couldn’t see anyone who might be on the other side. In fact, I didn’t even hear anyone coming to answer the door, which meant that they had either not heard me knock or maybe they actually weren’t here at all.

  But then I heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door and, before I even knew it, the door opened and I found myself face to face with a large, muscular man who towered over me.

  He was built like a brick wall, with muscular arms as thick as tree trunks. His hair was short and blonde, the same shade as Greta’s, and his huge chest was visible through his shirt. You know, I was feeling really proud of my own strong body that I’d gained from my training with Rubberman, but in comparison to this dude, I suddenly realized just how inadequate my body was. He had a stern face and wore an expression that was a little hard to read, but at the same, sent the clear message that he was not to be messed with.

  The man stared down at me with such intensity that it felt like he was trying to read my mind. “Yes?”

  I realized that my mouth had fallen open, so I quickly shook my head and said, “Uh, I’m Alex. Alex Fry.”

  The man continued to stare at me. I found his arms intimidating. “And?”

  “Uh, I’m here to see Greta,” I said. “I went on a date with her yesterday and I didn’t see her in school today, so—”

  “Oh,” said the man. His voice was deep and rumbling; in fact, I seemed to feel vibrations in the air from his voice alone, though it could have just been my imagination. “You are the boy who asked her out. I remember Greta telling me about you. You’re even less impressive than I imagined.”

  Internally, I cringed at his harsh comment, but aloud I said, “Well, uh, are you her father? You look kind of like her, I mean, but it’s equally possible that you could be her bodyguard or something like that.”

  Damn it, why did I always feel the need to ramble whenever I got nervous? I probably looked like an idiot to this guy now. I half-expected him to grab me by the collar of my shirt and dropkick me off his front porch.

  But he must have been more restrained than he looked, because the man nodded once and said, “Yes. I’m Greta’s dad. Not her bodyguard, although as her father I am perfectly willing to defend her from anyone who might wish to harm her. Including boys she is dating.”

  Greta’s father spoke very calmly, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel even more nervous when he said that, even though I had absolutely no intention whatsoever of harming Greta. Greta’s father had a way of making you feel guilty even if you hadn’t done anything wrong. I stood up a little straighter, hoping that that might improve his opinion of me a bit more.

  “Well, I just came by because I didn’t see her at school today and I wanted to make sure she’s okay,” I said. “She’s not, uh, sick or anything, is she?”

  “Greta came down with a small cold last night,” said Greta’s father. “She’s resting at the moment, but will probably feel good enough to go back to school tomorrow.”

  Even though all he did was state the facts, I couldn’t help but feel as though Greta’s father was pronouncing the judgment of God upon me anyway. I tried not to look guilty or nervous, but it was hard because Greta’s father had that ability to make you feel like you needed to watch your every word lest he pronounce judgment upon you. I wondered if he was like that with Greta or if he was just like that to me because I was dating his daughter.

  “That’s good to hear,” I said, doing my best to be as cheerful as possible. “I hope she gets better. Would it be okay if I can say hi and see
how she’s doing for a moment?”

  Greta’s father shook his head. “No. It’s more for your protection than anything. Greta told me that she doesn’t want her sickness to spread, so we’re limiting her contact with visitors for the time being.”

  “Oh, of course,” I said. “Sounds just like the sweet, sensitive Greta I know.”

  “Yes, she is a sweet, sensitive girl,” said Greta’s father. “Just like her mother.”

  When Greta’s father said that, I could not help but notice a hint of sorrow in his voice. It occurred to me that, while I had heard Greta talk about her dad all the time, she had never even mentioned her mother to me.

  “Speaking of her mother, uh, is she home, too?” I said. “Greta’s told all about you, but she’s never really talked about her mom to me.”

  I must have asked the wrong question, because Greta’s father’s eyes immediately narrowed and his entire demeanor changed. He had a naturally intimidating appearance, but now he was glaring down at me as if he was trying to shoot beams out of his own eyes at me. I have to admit, even though I’d faced down villains like Fro-Zen before, Greta’s father was a lot scarier than Fro-Zen to me at the moment.

  “That is none of your business,” said Greta’s father. As usual, he said it in a calm tone, but his muscles sure could have backed up any threat he could have made to me.

  “Uh, okay, yes sir,” I said. I stepped backwards unintentionally. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll be going, then, since I’ve got places to be and can’t stick around for too long. Could you tell Greta I came by to say hello?”

  I half-expected Greta’s father to just slam the door shut in my face without another word, but he nodded again and said, “Of course.”

  “All right, then,” I said. “Um, bye, I, uh, guess.”

  I quickly turned and walked away back toward my bike, which I had left at the end of the driveway. I didn’t look back over my shoulder until I reached my bike and swung my right leg over the seat and placed it on the pedal. When I looked back to the house, I saw that the door was closed and Greta’s father was nowhere to be seen. Yet I had the feeling that he was still watching me, perhaps through the door’s peephole, so I immediately began riding down the street. I hoped that Greta’s father would not forbid Greta to keep dating me after this; I had the feeling that I had failed to pass some sort of test of his, and rather epically at that.

  As I biked, I suddenly remembered a detail about Greta’s father that I had not paid much attention to. On his father, under his left eye, was a small scar shaped like a knife. I don’t know why I didn’t remember it until just now; perhaps because it was so minor in comparison to her father’s huge body that I didn’t think it important.

  The reason I found it significant, though, was because I realized that I had seen it once before on the face of another supervillain, a supervillain known as Domino Bones.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The thought that Greta’s father was the infamous Domino Bones would have been enough to make me stop in my tracks, but because I didn’t want to be late for work, I instead kept going, but I biked mostly out of habit now, allowing my body to take me to the Elastic Cave while my mind pondered this possibility.

  Domino Bones was a well-known supervillain, though he didn’t operate in Golden City to the best of my knowledge. I’d seen him on the news monitors in the Elastic Cave once, when he had successfully robbed Greenwood Bank in Greenwood, Texas. According to what I had read about him, Bones was a large, muscular man who usually had an army of animatronic skeletons to act as his minions. His exact background and origin was unknown; all anyone knew was that he had appeared one day, seemingly out of nowhere, and started robbing banks and committing all sorts of crimes.

  Rubberman had never fought Bones before, but as part of his business, Rubberman kept tabs on supervillains in the state. He said it was because supervillains usually moved from city to city in order to avoid superheroes and the police. In fact, the problem of supervillain relocation was much larger than you might think, because some superheroes were so good at their jobs that they often ended up driving all supervillains and criminals to neighboring cities with less effective superheroes, which had the obvious effect of increasing the crime rate in said cities.

  But there was no way that Mr. Hammond could be Domino Bones. I mean, it didn’t make any sense. After all, Greta had never hinted to me that her father was ever up to anything illegal. He was always out of town, true, but that was because of his job … his job, now that I think about it, that I knew practically nothing about and which Greta had seemed strangely unwilling to discuss back on our date.

  From a certain point of view, I could see how Mr. Hammond’s job that took him out of town often would make an excellent cover for a supervillain who didn’t want to be caught. If Mr. Hammond was indeed Domino Bones, then having the excuse that he needed to get out of town due to his job would allow him to do whatever he wanted without anyone suspecting him of his true identity.

  This was all crazy, just pure speculation and nothing more, but at the same time, the idea didn’t seem crazy enough to merely dismiss as false. If Greta’s dad was a supervillain, then there was no telling what he might be doing to Greta. Maybe Greta wasn’t even sick at all, but being kept prisoner in her own house for Mr. Hammond’s own nefarious purposes. I couldn’t imagine what such an evil supervillain might be willing to do to his own daughter, but if she was in danger, then it was my responsibility, both as a sidekick and as a decent human being, to save her.

  But this was still just speculation and theorizing and I had no hard evidence to prove it one way or another. I made a mental note to figure out the dates that Mr. Hammond was out of town and then compare them to the dates of Bones’ crimes. If I could prove that Bones’ crimes always happened whenever Mr. Hammond was out of town, that would make my theory more plausible. Or maybe it would completely disprove it entirely, but at the moment I would just focus on getting the data I needed and worry about conclusions later. I decided I would not bring this up to Rubberman when I got to the Elastic Cave. Until I had some hard evidence or proof to show him, Rubberman would just dismiss it as pointless speculation on my part and nothing more.

  When I reached the Elastic Cave’s secret grocery store front entrance and went down to Level One, I emerged from the elevator and walked over to Mission Control, where I quickly clocked in for the day. Then I made my way down the hallway to the left to Rubberman’s office, which was usually where Rubberman was during the day. The office door was cracked open, allowing some of the light to shine through, but I still knocked on it anyway and heard Rubberman say, “Come in,” so I opened the door and stepped inside.

  Rubberman’s office was about the same as it usually was, with shelves of his merchandise—toys, statues, coffee mugs, etc.—running along the walls, with several posters of himself on the walls behind his desk. Rubberman himself sat at his desk, looking through a large box, though I didn’t know what was in the box or where it came from. Whatever was inside it must have been interesting, though, because Rubberman didn’t even look up at me when I entered.

  “Hi, boss,” I said as I closed the door behind me. “I’m here.”

  Rubberman looked up at me and smiled. “Oh, hey, Alex. Glad you’re here. Catch!”

  Without warning, Rubberman threw something small and yellow and blue at me. I caught the object before it could hit me in the face and looked down at it curiously.

  It was an action figure of some sort, with a rough, unfinished design that told me that it was a prototype. More importantly, however, was the fact that this was clearly an action figure of me. Though the colors were not quite finished, the helmet resembled my own helmet almost exactly and its general build was just like my own body. It was quite articulated, though it also felt a bit fragile in my hands like it would break if I was not careful with it. I noticed that the visor was detachable, but when I removed it, it just left an ugly, empty space where the visor usually went.
r />   I looked up at Rubberman in confusion. “What is this? A voodoo doll of me?”

  “No,” said Rubberman, who was practically hopping up and down in his seat in excitement. “That’s a prototype of your official action figure, courtesy of SuperFun Toys. It’s part of their upcoming Real Sidekicks line of collectible action figures coming out in the spring.”

  “Wait, you mean you’ve already signed a deal to have toys based off me?” I said, looking at the action figure in my hands again in surprise.

  “Sure,” said Rubberman. “Remember what I told you last month, on your first day back in work after Fro-Zen’s defeat? SuperFun Toys was the first company to contact me about making action figures based on you. They’ve made toys based off me before, very good ones at that, so I was more than happy to give them the rights to make the first official action figures of you.”

  “But that was a month ago,” I said. “They didn’t actually design and make a prototype in a month, did they?”

  “Yes, they did,” said Rubberman. “That’s why they’re one of my favorite companies to work with. Not only do they make high quality toys, they also do it quickly and efficiently. Look, your figure can even detach its visor and put molded laser beams on it to mimic your eye beams. Catch!”

  Rubberman tossed a small, gray piece of plastic at me, which I caught again and looked down at. It was indeed a plastic molding of my own laser beams, with a peg at the end that allowed it to connect to the main action figure. I put the laser into the toy’s head and realized that Rubberman was right; it did look like my powers. It was somewhat loose, though, which made me think this figure must have been more for collecting than playing.

  “So this is part of a larger toy line coming out next year?” I said, looking up at Rubberman again.

  Rubberman nodded. “Yeah. The Real Sidekicks line is a line of realistic, ultra articulated action figures aimed at the collector’s market, a follow up from this year’s Real Heroes line, which included a figure of yours truly. Each figure in the line is based off a real sidekick. The first wave is going to have you, Cyberkid, and Wings, the sidekick of Firefall, who you haven’t met yet. That’s a pretty impressive accomplishment, given how you have only been in the public eye for about a month. That means that SuperFun Toys is convinced that you’re going to be very popular, because they’re usually very selective about who they make licensing deals with, especially when it comes to sidekicks, since sidekicks come and go pretty frequently.”