First Date (Minimum Wage Sidekick Book 2)

by Lucas Flint

  In fact, Myster should be back in North Wood already, if I was not mistaken. Charlotte had gone back to school the very next day and recounted the entire event to pretty much everyone in the school. I didn’t listen to the whole thing myself, mostly because I had experienced the story myself, but it sure seemed like Charlotte’s account of my clash with ZZZ became more and more embellished with each retelling. The first retelling was basically accurate to the facts of the story, but by the twelfth or thirteenth time, Charlotte had added interesting details even I didn’t remember, like Beams and ZZZ having an epic sword fight, followed by Beams dramatically declaring his love for Charlotte only to tell her that they couldn’t be together because, and I quote, ‘the life of a sidekick precludes romance, lest villains discover my identity and harm those I love to get to me.’ What was even weirder was how many people just ate it up, especially the girls, who practically swooned at how ‘chivalrous’ Beams was.

  The only girl who didn’t seem to join in the swooning was Greta. Although she was also pestered by everyone at school about what happened, she made it pretty clear that she didn’t want to talk about it, so everyone went to Charlotte for an accurate and unbiased retelling of that event. I did see Greta roll her eyes once or twice, but Charlotte seemed to think that Greta was just jealous that Beams had declared his love for her and not Greta. I would have told Charlotte that Greta was just exasperated by Charlotte’s artistic license, but since that would require revealing my secret identity to her, I just let her think what she wanted.

  My defeat of ZZZ also sparked the imagination of the press. It seemed like every day, the Elastic Cave would get calls from reporters from all over America and even the world asking if they can speak to the sidekick who defeated ZZZ. I knew that ZZZ was an infamous assassin wanted all over the planet, but I didn’t realize just how infamous he was until a reporter from NewVision of all places, Uganda’s biggest newspaper, called and asked to speak to me for an article he was writing about ZZZ. Apparently, ZZZ had assassinated a famous and popular Ugandan politician a few years back and was well-known in the country as a result.

  But I never got to speak to anyone from the media, except for a reporter from the Golden City Journal, because Rubberman—who had recovered from his fight with Fireworks and was back from the hospital with no lasting injuries—did not want me in the spotlight for some reason. He seemed to think that I wasn’t ready to interact with the international media, so anytime I was in the Elastic Cave, I’d hear Adams answer the phone only to tell the reporters on the other end that I was not taking interviews at this time. He was usually pretty polite, but when a particularly persistent reporter from a Chinese news website demanded to speak to me anyway, he became pretty angry and hung up without even saying good bye.

  But like I said, I spoke to a reporter from the Golden City Journal, who was writing an article on the subject. Even then, I just answered a couple of questions, nothing very hard or serious, and the call was over before I realized it. The article came out the next day and was pretty accurate and fair, though it did engage in some speculation about who hired ZZZ in the first place.

  That was what I was still wondering, too. The only clue I had was that ZZZ’s client was a woman, because he’d referred to her with female pronouns. But I didn’t know any woman who would want me dead, much less a woman with enough money to hire an assassin as infamous as ZZZ. I asked Rubberman about that, but even though he obviously had his suspicions, he said he would not share them with me. That was frustrating, but expected, because Rubberman always did that whenever he was speculating on things without a lot of facts. The police had yet to make him talk, either.

  In any case, I was glad that ZZZ was locked up and unable to hurt anyone. I was finally able to relax, just in time for Thanksgiving, which was next week. I was looking forward to having some of Mom’s homemade pumpkin pie, which was always better than the store bought kind.

  For the moment, however, I was going to focus on my date with Greta. I looked at the time on my phone and saw that it was the time she said she would be here, yet as far as I could tell, she wasn’t here yet. A part of me worried that yet another supervillain had kidnapped her, but then I heard footsteps behind me, footsteps which sounded like Greta’s, so I turned around in my seat and said, “Greta! Great to see you! How are—”

  I stopped speaking immediately. Greta stood there, wearing her beautiful pink coat with white trim, but so was the large, intimidating-looking mountain of a man otherwise known as her father. He wore a thick, stone gray coat, and he was frowning. Their car was parked at the curb, the engine still running, though that was the least of my concerns at the moment.

  “Hi, Alex,” said Greta, smiling at me sheepishly. “Sorry I’m late. Dad just insisted on taking me and he’s kind of a slow driver.”

  “Careful, Greta,” Mr. Hammond said. Though his tone was low, it was quite authoritative, too. “I am a careful driver. Not slow.”

  “That’s, er, great,” I said. “Being careful is good. I’m a careful driver, too.”

  Mr. Hammond raised an eyebrow. “Greta tells me you don’t even have your driver’s license yet.”

  I closed my mouth. Damn it. Why did I always say stupid things whenever I got nervous?

  “Alex is a bit of a jokester, Dad, you know that,” said Greta. “Remember what I told you about him?”

  Mr. Hammond nodded. “Yes, though I don’t find his humor very funny. I suppose it’s a generational divide.”

  “Yeah, sure, let’s go with that,” I said, nodding eagerly. “Anyway, Greta, let me order you a coffee. I know you like—”

  “I want to talk with you,” Mr. Hammond interrupted. He glanced at Greta. “In private.”

  Uh oh. I remembered that Greta had told me that she was the Robber and that her father was the Silent Shadow. Based on the way Great didn’t look at me, I could tell that she must have told him that I knew, which meant that Mr. Hammond was probably angry. I didn’t think Mr. Hammond would murder me in broad daylight just to protect his secret, but maybe he would make it look like an ‘accident.’

  With a gulp, I rose from my seat and followed Mr. Hammond over to his car. I looked back over at Greta, who gave me an encouraging smile, mostly because I figured her face was going to be the last one I saw.

  Mr. Hammond and I stopped next to his car. He looked down at me, his face as unreadable as ever.

  “Well, uh, Mr. Hammond, what do you want to talk about?” I said with a gulp. I glanced at the sky. “The sky?”

  “Greta,” said Mr. Hammond. He poked me in the chest with one of his big fingers. “And you.”

  I looked up and down the street, trying to make sure there weren’t any cars about to rush by that Mr. Hammond could ‘accidentally’ push me into. “Me and Greta? That’s not very, uh, specific.”

  Mr. Hammond’s eyes narrowed. “I am fine with you dating my daughter. You seem to make her happy. And I like to see her happy. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I also like to see her happy, so—”

  “Good,” Mr. Hammond interrupted me. “As long as you keep making her happy, I will continue to let you date her. But if you ever do anything to make her cry, I will not allow you to even lay eyes upon her. Understood?”

  I nodded, trying not to look like I was freaking out. “Yes, sir, I completely understand. I wouldn’t even think of making her cry, no sir.”

  “Good,” said Mr. Hammond. “Oh, and one last thing: If you tell anyone the family secret, I will do more than just forbid you from dating Greta anymore.”

  Uh oh. Mr. Hammond knew that I knew who he was. Probably shouldn’t have been surprised, but I still felt shocked. “Uh, sure, I won’t tell anyone any family secrets. Not that I know any, of course.”

  Mr. Hammond looked at me with a hard look for a few seconds, as if he was trying to read my mind. Then he nodded once and said, “Very well. I must leave now. I expect Greta back by five sharp.”

  “Y
es, sir,” I said. “You can count on me to bring her back on time.”

  “Good,” said Mr. Hammond. “Fare well, then. And remember: Secrets are not meant to be shared.”

  With that, Mr. Hammond got into his car and drove off. I watched him go off for a moment, but once the car rounded the street corner and vanished from sight, I turned and walked back to the cafe. I was surprised that Mr. Hammond hadn’t killed me, but maybe Greta had convinced him not to. In any case, I just wanted to focus on having a good time with Greta, not worrying about her dad or ZZZ or anything like that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sasha Munroe, the CEO of Munroe Acquisitions, Inc., paced back and forth in her office, her arms folded behind her back. She had been pacing back and forth for the last couple of minutes, mostly to blow off steam, not that it helped. If anything, she was just getting angrier and angrier. Her doctor had warned her about her blood pressure, but right now, Sasha could care a lot less about what her doctor—or anyone else—said. They wouldn’t understand why she was angry. No one would.

  Standing by the door was her ninja servant, Takeshi. Unlike her, he stood perfectly still, his arms at his side, his sky blue eyes watching Sasha as she paced. He had been silent ever since delivering the recent bad news to her, which normally did not bother Sasha, but today she found his silence irritating.

  “Mrs. Munroe, anger is not a good emotion to cultivate,” said Takeshi suddenly. “You should practice calmness and mindfulness. It would help you make better decisions, as well as lead a healthier life in general.”

  Sasha stood and glared at Takeshi. “I did not hire you to lecture me on ‘mindfulness’ and other crap like that. You are only supposed to do what I told you to do.”

  Takeshi shrugged. “My apologies, Mrs. Munroe. I knew the news I gave you would upset you, but I didn’t think it would upset you so much.”

  “Of course it would,” said Sasha in exasperation. “I paid that damn assassin ten million dollars to kill that kid. He assured me he would do it. He’s killed politicians, celebrities, powerful CEOs, and other important people, but he can’t kill one sidekick from Texas?”

  “I could have done it,” Takeshi muttered. “A little bit of poison slipped into his water would have done the same thing, but much cheaper and effectively.”

  “I don’t want anyone tying me back to any sort of assassination plots,” said Sasha flatly. “That’s why I didn’t have you do it. Did ZZZ at least tell you Beams’ real identity?”

  “No,” said Takeshi, shaking his head. “He said he would tell us, but only if we had one of our attorneys represent him in his trial and we paid for all of his court expenses.”

  “Tell that bastard he won’t get even a pro bono lawyer if he keeps making such ridiculous demands,” said Sasha. “Does he even know who I am? What kind of power I wield, as the CEO of the biggest superheroes acquisition company in the world?”

  “I will make sure to let him know that when I visit him in prison again,” said Takeshi. “But, if I may, it may be time to put aside your obsession with the Rubberman brand and business. Dennis Pullman is not going to sell it to you, and I suspect he already suspects that you are behind both Fro-Zen and ZZZ, even if he can’t prove it. If we keep doing this, he might eventually get enough proof to—”

  “To do what?” Sasha interrupted. “Have me arrested and tried, like a common criminal? Please. I own half of the judges in this city, as well as most of the police force. Even if he had proof of my activities, so what? I am the queen of Golden City. No one who values their livelihood—or their life—will even think about crossing me, much less charging me with any serious crimes. Trust me, Takeshi, in this city, I am untouchable.”

  “Pride cometh before the fall, Mrs. Munroe,” said Takeshi.

  “And what does that mean?” said Sasha.

  “It means—”

  “I don’t care,” Sasha interrupted him again. “The point is that I don’t pay you to lecture me on stupid things like pride. You are supposed to follow my every order and do what I tell you. If I wanted your opinion on something, I would ask for it.”

  Takeshi bowed. “Yes, ma’am, I apologize for my impudence. But if I may ask, what are you going to do next? Fro-Zen and ZZZ both failed to get you the Rubberman business. Beams is more popular than ever. I do not see how you can turn this situation to your advantage.”

  Sasha smiled. “Oh, my dear Takeshi, I would tell you, but since you’re clearly so much wiser than me, I won’t tell you it. You can figure it out yourself.” She leaned forward, her smile never leaving her lips. “But I can tell you this: Murder isn’t the only way to deal with sidekicks you don’t like.”

  -

  Continued in First Offer, now available HERE!

  About the Author

  Under the pen name Lucas Flint, Timothy L. Cerepaka writes superhero fiction. He is the author of The Superhero’s Son, The Young Neos, and Minimum Wage Sidekick.

  Find links to books, social media, updates on newest releases, and more by going to his website here. You can also sign up to be the first to learn about his newest releases by subscribing to his mailing list here.