Constance Verity Saves the World

by A. Lee Martinez

  • • •

  They were taken to the dining room, where Larry waited. He gestured for Connie to sit in the seat beside him. She elected to not read anything into that. Tia sat beside her. Apollonia took the other seat beside Larry, across from Connie. She and Apollonia locked eyes. Cold hostility radiated from Apollonia.

  In Connie’s experience, aggression came in hot and cold varieties. Hot was the most common kind. She’d seen it on the faces of a thousand foiled villains. Cold came from someone who had no real reason to hate you. It was calculating and dangerous and rare. So rare, she convinced herself she was imagining it.

  Connie smiled at Apollonia.

  Apollonia didn’t smile back.

  Connie elected to not read anything into that, either.

  The serving staff, all dressed in matching henchagent uniforms—black pants, black shirts, armored vests, helmets with the Siege Perilous logo stenciled on them—brought forth the first course. Their black gloves weren’t designed for delicate work, and one of the servers stuck his thumb in Connie’s soup. She refrained from mentioning it out of a sense of decorum.

  Larry dipped his spoon into the soup. “It’s Campbell’s chicken and stars.” He smiled. “My favorite. The chef hates it, but being Mastermind Interim has its advantages.”

  He laughed, and there was a hint of something in it. Connie caught it. A glance at Tia, eyebrow raised, confirmed she’d caught it too.

  Apollonia sat still. She didn’t touch her silverware. She sat across from Connie, blinking just enough to avoid being called out for staring.

  “Don’t like soup?” asked Connie, blinking at her own stiffly regimented intervals.

  “Apollonia doesn’t eat,” said Larry. “I mean, I’ve never seen her eat. I assume she eats at some point. But it’s weird to have her just standing around while I’m eating, so she sits at the table while I eat.”

  Tia took a sip of her soup. “Yes, I’d hate for things to be weird.”

  Connie and Apollonia continued to not-stare at each other across the table.

  “So, Tia, how long has it been?” Larry asked. “You’re looking good. I heard you got married.”

  “I was. I’m divorced.”

  Larry said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It happens. I have a great boyfriend now.”

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Apollonia pushed away from the table. “I need to check on the salmon. I shall return shortly.”

  Somehow, it sounded like a threat.

  She left the room, and once she was gone, Connie was free to finally try her own soup.

  Tia asked, “What about you, Larry? Anyone special in your life?”

  “Who has the time?”

  “You must’ve had a serious girlfriend or two over the years.”

  “It’s not really any of our business,” said Connie through gritted teeth.

  Tia smiled innocently. “We’re just catching up.”

  “Oh, sure. I’ve had a few,” he said, oblivious to their battle of wills. “There was Linda. We had a good thing going for a few years until I discovered she was a secret bodyguard assigned to protect me by Mom. When I found out, I told her it didn’t matter. I loved her anyway. She said it was just a job, and that she didn’t actually care for me very much.”

  He clinked his spoon against his bowl and gazed into the broth as if it held secrets.

  “After that, there was Ida. She was cool. So smart. So funny. I was about to ask her to marry me when Mom decided she was too much of a security risk. Had the entire relationship erased from Ida’s memory. Last I heard, she’d settled down with some guy in Idaho and has a couple of kids.

  “Then there was Patricia. She was great, and Mom really liked her too. Then she left me for a guy she met at the gym. Brad or Bud or Barry. Something with a B. I thought it was just a phase, but Mom had her liquidated before she could get through it.

  “Relationships are complicated. Who the hell can figure them out?”

  He stood.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He rushed out of the room before they could say anything.

  “Poor guy,” said Tia.

  “What the hell are you doing?” asked Connie.

  “Talking. Catching up. Larry’s my friend, too.”

  “That’s not what you’re doing.”

  Tia slurped a spoonful of stars. “Oh, then what am I doing?”

  Connie said, “You’re doing something.”

  “Oh, something. I’m doing something.”

  “Yes, you’re doing something, and I don’t think I like it.”

  “Well, one of us needs to do something.”

  “Aha, so you admit you’re doing something.”

  Tia said, “I didn’t say that. I said one of us needs to do something. I didn’t say it should be me.”

  They sipped their soup, not taking their eyes off each other until Larry and Apollonia returned together along with the serving staff, who removed the soup bowls and brought the salmon.

  “It’s funny,” said Larry. “I think you might have been my best relationship, Connie. The only girlfriend I could trust who could stand up to Mom.”

  Larry, Connie, and Tia all laughed. Apollonia half-smiled, which was probably as close to a laugh as she ever came.

  Connie took a bite of the salmon, chewing it long and slowly, debating what to say next.

  “Something wrong with your fish?” asked Larry. “It’s not overcooked, is it?”

  “I can have the chef disciplined,” said Apollonia.

  “We’ve talked about this,” said Larry. “Siege Perilous no longer has a bad fish requires discipline policy.”

  A perplexed expression crossed her face, followed by a slightly disappointed one. “Your mother wouldn’t approve of allowing such sloppiness to go uncorrected.”

  “Mom’s not in charge, I am, but if it will make you feel better, you can give the chef a write-up.”

  “As you command, Lord Peril.” Her shoulders slightly slumped as she sighed internally.

  “She’s just mad we don’t use the dungeon anymore,” he said. “I’m planning on turning it into a rumpus room.”

  Connie swallowed her thoroughly chewed food. “There’s nothing wrong with the salmon. It’s delicious.”

  “I don’t know.” Larry poked his serving with his fork. “Could use more basil.”

  Apollonia perked up.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” he said.

  Connie had another bite, eating it with an exaggerated smile and a nod. “You know, Larry, we were never together.”

  She’d tried to pass it off as natural conversation, but the comment hung over the table.

  “I know we weren’t together together,” he said. “But we were sort of together.”

  “No, we weren’t,” she said. “We were just kids. We never even went out on a date.”

  “Yes, we did. You’re forgetting about that time we went to the movies. What movie was it? Some weird science fiction thing. Old black-and-white classic. It’s on the tip of my tongue. Something something saucer men. Day of the something.” He set down his fork and drummed his fingers with nervous energy on the table. “Something conquered something.”

  “The Day the Earth Stood Still,” said Apollonia quietly, with noticeable reluctance.

  He slammed the table. “That’s it! That’s the one.”

  Connie searched her memory and found a fuzzy recollection. “Are you talking about that time we hid in a movie theater from your mother’s henchagents?”

  “You do remember. That was when we first made out. It was the first time I’d ever kissed anyone.”

  Now that the memory was unlocked, she recalled the sloppy, awkward kiss between them. It’d only been to blend into the crowded theater.

  “First time I touched a boob,” he added with a wistful chuckle.

  She recalled the groping, pokey fingers now, too. She hadn’t had much experience at that point, but she had enough to know
Larry was doing it wrong.

  Larry said, “Afterward, we went to that Japanese place. Ate sushi hidden in the back while henchagents ransacked the place. Good times, right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But it wasn’t really a date.”

  “Oh, sure it was. Closest I’d ever had up to that point, what with Mom always watching me.”

  He rang the bell for dessert, and the henchstaff cleared the table.

  “I fell for you pretty hard that night,” said Larry as the strawberry sherbet was brought out. “Had a crush on you for years. Came to a head when we were sixteen and trekking through the jungles of wherever—”

  “Kakadu, Lord Peril,” said Apollonia, sounding very irritated. She was back to staring at Connie, and Connie deliberately avoided making eye contact, knowing she couldn’t help herself by not-staring back if she did.

  “That’s the one,” he said. “It was so wet everywhere that your clothes started sticking to your body, and . . .”

  His voice trailed off.

  “Shit. This is sort of sounding creepy, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all,” lied Connie.

  “Sorry. Just memories.” He raised the sherbet to his lips and set it back in the bowl. “That didn’t mean anything to you?”

  “Of course it did, Larry.”

  It’d been the right place, the right time. They’d made out under the half moon while helicopters hovered over the jungle. Larry wasn’t the first boy she’d kissed, but it had been beautiful at the moment. She might have even lost her virginity to him that night if not for the wild gorilla attack. How gorillas made it to Australia was a mystery she never solved.

  “We were just kids, but it meant something.”

  She reached for his hand, but he pulled it under the table.

  “Damn, I’m such an idiot,” he said.

  A henchagent entered and whispered in his ear.

  “Now? Really?”

  “Is there a problem?” asked Connie.

  “Nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of it. Please, finish your dessert.”

  He and Apollonia stood.

  “Connie has a boyfriend,” blurted Tia. “His name is Byron, and they live together.”

  “I see,” said Larry. “Good for him?”

  The questioning tone might have meant something. Or it might have just been a side effect of the non sequitur.

  “We’ll talk later.”

  They left.

  “That was subtle,” said Connie.

  “Someone had to do something,” said Tia.

  “Oh, that was something, all right. I don’t know what, but something.”

  “Are you still denying he has a thing for you?”

  “What? Those were just memories, a shared history. That’s all. You’re making too much of it.”

  “Or you’re making not enough of it.”

  • • •

  Larry never returned. Connie and Tia finished their dessert before heading back to their room. A henchagent suggested they retire early since they were scheduled for an early-morning departure for their next mission.

  “If you need me, just knock,” said Connie to Tia.

  “Likewise.”

  They parted ways.

  Connie changed into her pajamas. When she stepped out of the bathroom Apollonia was sitting on the bed, lit by a lamp on the bedside table.

  “We need to talk,” said Apollonia.

  Connie rolled the kinks out of her neck. “Are we finally going to fight? Because I don’t give a shit if I am in my pajamas, I’ll kick your ass whenever you want.”

  Apollonia removed her glasses and tucked them in her shirt pocket. “Just what are your intentions?”

  Connie lowered her fists. “Intentions?”

  “Why are you here?”

  Connie said, “Larry asked for my help. We aren’t going to fight?”

  Apollonia shrugged. “Why are you here? Now? In this place?”

  “I’m here to help Larry.”

  “That’s not why you’re here.” Apollonia pointed to the floor under Connie’s feet. “You don’t need to be here to do that. We could easily give you your assignments through more efficient methods. Why are you here?”

  Connie said, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  Apollonia stood, folded her arms across her chest.

  Connie folded her arms across her chest.

  “What are your intentions toward Larry?” asked Apollonia.

  “Intentions?” Connie would’ve laughed, but she didn’t want to drop her guard. She moved her right foot a few inches to the left for a more stable stance.

  Apollonia countered by turning her body ever so slightly to get into a stronger position. She had reach, power, flexibility. Connie had a record of beating opponents with all those advantages.

  “I don’t have intentions,” said Connie. “Who has intentions anymore? What decade are you in? And I’m in a relationship.”

  Apollonia’s arms fell to her side. Her right hand balled into a loose fist, and Connie shifted her weight to be ready for a punch. Apollonia noticed the shift and counter-shifted.

  “Are we going to fight?” asked Connie.

  “I don’t want to fight you.”

  “I don’t want to fight you, either,” said Connie.

  Although she kind of did. Just a little bit.

  Apollonia said, “Larry’s in a fragile place. He’s bothered more by Lady Peril’s death than he’s willing to admit.”

  “We both know she’s probably not dead,” said Connie.

  Apollonia frowned, raised an eyebrow.

  “Do you know if she’s dead or not?” asked Connie.

  Apollonia didn’t reply.

  “Of course you do,” said Connie. “You’re her chief henchagent. You probably know all kinds of secrets.”

  Apollonia remained inscrutable.

  “Is she not dead? She’s not dead, right? If this is all an elaborate ruse, I’ll find out. You might as well tell me now.”

  Apollonia said, “You’re changing the subject.”

  “So, she is alive,” said Connie.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “She’s dead, then?” asked Connie.

  “I didn’t say that, either.”

  Connie fought the urge to take a swing at Apollonia. She could see Apollonia was struggling against the same instinct.

  Apollonia went slack, leaving herself susceptible to a dozen strikes. “Cards on the table. I don’t like you, Verity.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like you, either,” said Connie.

  “You killed my brother.”

  Apollonia said it so casually, it took a moment for Connie to absorb.

  “You threw him into a vat of acid while he was working for Freerik van Catastroph.”

  “Oh, the acid guy,” said Connie.

  “Don’t do that. You don’t remember him.”

  “No, I don’t,” said Connie. “I try not to kill people. I’m very good at avoiding killing people.”

  But she had killed. Her body count was low, but it was there. The consequences now here. Standing before her.

  “If he was henchagenting for a bad guy, he knew the risks.”

  “He was a mechanical engineer. Spent three years of his life working on that weather control machine you destroyed in three minutes. The stupid idiot picked up a gun and tried to stop you.”

  “It was self-defense,” said Connie. It did make her feel a little better, though it obviously didn’t do much for Apollonia.

  “You couldn’t have disarmed him? You couldn’t have knocked him out?”

  “Stuff gets crazy sometimes.”

  Connie immediately regretted saying it. It was crass, flippant. It was easy to forget that minions had family and friends and lives. The technician building the doomsday device was usually in it for the paycheck, not the glory. They were bad guys, but everybody had to make a living.

  “Damn, I’m sorry,” said Conni
e.

  Apollonia’s body language changed. She was still ready for a fight. She always was. It was a habit Connie understood all too well. But it was a more relaxed readiness.

  “People get hurt around you, Verity. I don’t want that to happen to Larry.”

  “Do you like him?”

  Apollonia groaned. “Am I twelve? I’m not some infatuated girl who falls in love with every idiot who hires her. He’s weak, ineffective, and foolish. Without a doubt, the worst mastermind I have ever worked for, but I’m paid to protect him while he’s in charge.”

  “It’s a job thing? Sacred calling of the henchagent? That’s all?”

  “I’m not here to bare my soul. We both know that it’d be stupid to expose any vulnerability to the other. We both know things are likely to become troublesome between us. Looking after Larry is my job, and I don’t want you screwing with him. He deserves better than that.”

  “I’m confused. Do you like him or not?”

  Apollonia put her glasses on. Her face remained unreadable.

  “None of your fucking business.”

  She marched out of the room, and Connie sat on the bed. She didn’t need this. She was just trying to help a friend, do some good. This particular adventure was getting more complicated than she cared for.

  She called Byron. It was late, and she was an hour behind. He’d probably be in bed by now. He answered groggily.

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked, even though she obviously had.

  “No,” he lied. “I was up. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “I just wanted to call.”

  “You never call on your adventures. Is something wrong? Are you in danger? More danger? Like extra levels of danger?”

  “No, I’m okay. I swear. Nothing to worry about. It’s just . . . It’s just I wanted to talk to you. It’s stupid.”

  He laughed, and she felt embarrassed.

  “It’s not stupid. It’s good.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Sorry about treating you like some delicate flower I have to keep in the dark.”

  “Are you certain you’re not about to die?”

  “Certain?” She glanced around the tastefully decorated guest bedroom. “No, but I think I’m okay. I’m trying to acknowledge your feelings. That’s all.”