Super (Book 4): Supervised
Page 10
I looked into Nathaniel’s dark blue eyes and did one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. “Let me think about it.”
He gave me a half smile. “Don’t take too long, though. I’m not used to waiting.”
“I’m confident you can handle it.” I stood up and flexed my arms above my head. “Well, moving doesn’t make me want to kill myself so I think it’s time for me to get out of here.” Nathaniel stood up, too, extended his hand and I shook it. And then I remember that I still needed something from him. “Wait. Does this mean I’m really off of probation?”
“You were off probation the moment I gave you that release. I wouldn’t have given it to you if it wasn’t real. One of the reasons I know I need you on the team is that you still were chasing El Gato after you had already gotten what you needed. That says something about you. You really go after what you want.”
I thought about what he was saying for a minute. Why didn’t I see myself that way? But when I really thought about it, that’s exactly what I’d done. And if that was the case, what did I want now?
Chapter 20
“You have reached the voice mailbox of—”
I hung up the phone. I needed to talk to Mike. I’d been calling him since I’d left Fatty’s, interrupted by my subway ride and resuming as soon as I came up to the surface street. I’d already left him one message so I’d just hung up every other time I got sent to voicemail.
Walking up the street to the building, I thought about everything that happened over the last few days. As usual, I wasn’t sure how I ended up where I was. But at least I wasn’t too unhappy about it this time. I thought about the probation release Nathaniel had given me, which was still in the pocket of my Super suit balled up in the bottom of my closet. At least that part of it was over.
As the building came into view, I noticed a blue Volkswagen parked on the other side of the street. Mike’s car. He was home.
I took the stairs to 3A two at a time. I should have knocked but knocking is for people who have manners and sense. I had come to terms with the fact that I’d never have either of those things. I busted open the door, yelling “Mike, I’m so sorry about everything. You were right. Once you know what you want, you just know. And I want you. I’m in this thing. I’m in it all the way. I promise. Just let me show you.”
It was only then that I realized that Mike wasn’t there alone. He and three other guys were sitting at his dining room table with cards and game chips around them. I recognized Lorenzo from the other night. Like everyone else, he was doing his best not to laugh but failing miserably.
Finally, Mike spoke. “Guys, this is Audrey. Audrey, these are the guys. I think you already know Lorenzo, though.” They all gave me halfhearted waves and hellos. “Did you forget that I had poker tonight?”
Yes, I thought. “No,” I said. “I just wanted to come meet your friends.” I waved at the guys awkwardly. “Hi, I’m Mike’s girlfriend, Audrey. We are definitely in a relationship. He’s my boyfriend.” The guys just looked at me in that awkward way you look at someone when you aren’t sure if they are crazy or having a crazy moment. I’d been getting that look all my life so I recognized it but ignored it.
Instead, I crossed the room to Mike and kissed him with a little too much force. “And that’s for good luck. And if you win, you’re getting pancakes tomorrow morning. Oh and if you lose, too. Pancakes, either way,” I added. Mike look at me with a mix of confusion and amusement. I just kissed him again and left as quickly as I could.
Chapter 21
“Where are we going, Audrey?”
It was the second or third time that Mike had asked me that. That morning, I’d woken him up bright and early, forced him to get dressed, and instructed him to drive into Manhattan. From there, I’d given him directions on a need-to-know basis. “I promised you pancakes.”
“I know. We could have had pancakes at home, though.” His voice was still groggy and he let out a quick yawn.
“I promised you pancakes. You shouldn’t have to be the one to make them. But I’m gonna make sure that you get them.”
“We could have gotten pancakes in Brooklyn,” he grumbled.
I ignored him. “Turn left on 93rd Street. And then you can just park anywhere you can find a space.” He continued to grumble as he parallel parked and we got out of the car.
Mike followed me up the walkway and the stairs to the brownstone. “Audrey, this isn’t even a restaurant. What are we doing?”
I gestured for him to follow me. “Just come on, man.” I ignored the knocker altogether in favor of my own knuckles. After a couple of loud raps on the door, it opened to reveal my father in a bathrobe.
“Audrey?” he asked with a yawn. Obviously, he was still sleepy, too.
I gestured between the two sleepy men in front of me. “Mike, this is my father, Elroy Hart. Dad, this is Mike, my boyfriend. We’re here for pancakes.”
*****
Three hours later, I was back in Brooklyn, felling full and feeling satisfied. I snuck a look over at Mike. He was smiling to himself. I filed that picture away for later. I liked it when something I did was making him happy.
After my parents got over the fact that I had arrived unannounced with a stranger, they were pretty excited I’d finally brought Mike around. Over pancakes and bacon, they interrogated him over everything from his upbringing to his politics to his plans for the future. For the most part, I think Mike held his own. Every time he dodged a question particularly well, I snuck another piece of bacon on his plate. Positive reinforcement and all of that.
Back home, Mike found a parking space on our block. “So what are your plans for the day?”
I shrugged. “Not much. I could go for a nap, actually.”
“A nap? It’s not even noon yet.”
I shrugged again. “It’s noon somewhere.” My phone buzzed. It was a text from Mellie:
Sorry about the other night. That will be the last time I go bridezilla on you. Swear.
So much had happened since Friday, I’d forgotten how someone pretending to be Mellie had showed up at my apartment crying and left ready to go to war. She seemed to be OK now, though. I wrote her back:
Don’t worry about it. Everything good now?
She immediately texted back:
Everything’s great! We’re moving up the wedding. February 17th! Get your nacho cheese ready!
I definitely wasn’t expecting that. Before I could even text back, she sent me another one.
We just want to do what feels right. Speaking of which, Bridget is out. You’re the new maid of honor.
What???? I pushed down the urge to hyperventilate. I didn’t get it. The last I’d checked, at least two other bridesmaids had to die for me to be in charge. And the texts kept coming in:
Don’t freak out. I can feel you freaking out. I promise you won’t have to do much. It’s a completely different wedding now. Call me later and I’ll explain.
I noticed Mike eyeing me so I waved my phone at him. “It’s just Mellie. She’s moving up the wedding. It’s February 17th. Wanna go?”
“Oh, Audrey, you’re really going to regret this one,” he said in a false serious voice. “I look amazing in a tux. You won’t be able to keep your hands off me.”
“I’m up for the challenge,” I said. Or not. Either way, I win, I thought.
As we walked up to the building we noticed a girl sitting on the front stoop. “You Audrey?”
“Yeah.” I said it before remembering that any time someone has asked me that it was never good. Mike murmured something about seeing me upstairs and gracefully sidestepped the girl before heading into the building.
The girl stood up and adjusted herself. She also took the opportunity to look me up and down. I did the same to her. Most of her hair was tucked under a worn hat but a few dark wisps had escaped. She was dressed in ratty jeans, boots, and a coat that was a little too small. She was small with delicate features that might get her mistaken for younge
r. But the posture and surly look definitely screamed teenager. She was probably 13 or 14.
“Are you one of the Pham kids’ friends? Because I meant what I said about no more roof parties.”
Her scowl deepened. “If I were here to see somebody else, I’d asked for somebody else. I’m here to see you.”
I was getting impatient. “OK, then what do you want? Are you getting a start on selling Girl Scout Cookies?”
“It doesn’t look like you need any more cookies to me.”
“Listen, kid—” I started, but she cut me off before I could tell her to get off my stoop and go find someone who wanted to deal with her smart mouth.
“My name isn’t ‘kid.’ It’s Penny.” She looked around as if she were checking to see if anyone was listening to us. Her voice went down a notch and she took a step toward me. “Are. . . are you gonna help me be a Super or not?”
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A Word from the Author
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About the Author
Princess Jones is a fantasy author with an obsession with the stories we tell ourselves over and over again. Jones currently lives in Austin, Texas with her husband and a constantly revolving menagerie of stray people and animals. She spends her time reading good books, watching bad television, and trying to teach her dogs to bring home Chipotle burritos.
Acknowledgements
The people who have made this book possible know exactly how much I owe them. But just so we have it in writing:
I’d like to thank my husband, Chris, first and foremost for making me food when I needed it and letting me cry when I needed to.
Thank you to my family for letting me be weird.
Much appreciation goes to Tyler, Sarah, and Yo for continuing to be my guinea pigs.
And finally, I need to send a shout out to Batman. He knows why.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21