Super

by Jones, Princess

  My eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Shadow? What are you talking about?”

  “The chick I always see you with. Dark hair. Works with you. Never loses her security card.”

  I sighed. “Mellie.”

  “Yeah. Her. Why didn’t you get her to help you? You could have knocked this out pretty quickly.”

  “Yeah, well, you won’t be seeing us together any time soon.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know how it is.”

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  We didn’t speak again until I blurted out a few minutes later “But it sucks.”

  OJ was reading a magazine now. He looked over at me with a confused faced. “What sucks?”

  “The fact that we’re not friends anymore.”

  “Who? Me and you?”

  “No, me and Mellie.”

  “Oh. The girl.”

  “Yeah. It sucks that we’re not friends anymore. But I can’t be what she wants me to be. I can only be me. You know?”

  He just looked at me. “Okay.”

  “And it’s not my fault.”

  “What isn’t your fault? Not being friends?”

  “Yeah. Well, the reason we’re not friends is that I’m, uh, different. From her, I mean. We’re not the same. And she doesn’t understand that. It’s like she’s always trying to change me. But I’m just me. I can’t be anything else but me.”

  OJ nodded. I could tell he didn’t know what the hell I was talking about and probably didn’t want to know. “Word.”

  I started to say something else but thought better of it. What else was there really to say? “Hey, OJ. Do you think I could watch these on my computer upstairs?”

  OJ swiveled in his chair. “I’d need to download it from our servers, compress it, and then email it. Might take a bit.”

  “That’s fine. I have a bunch of stuff I need to get done today. I might be able to do some of it while I’m watching this.” I wrote down my email address on a scrap of paper and handed to him.

  As I gathered my things to walk out of the room, OJ said, “Hey, you never told me what your fortune cookie said.”

  I hadn’t even looked at it. I pulled the wrapper and paper out of my pocket. “It’s blank.”

  OJ just shook his head. “Girl, that’s bad luck. Watch yourself out there.”

  I sighed. “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any at all. I’m kinda used to it by now.”

  Chapter 19

  It was late when I left BK Paper that night. Although I’d had my head down, working through the list the whole day, I knew quitting time had arrived by the frenzied packing of my coworkers and the stampede of feet toward the door. After that, it was just me and a few other lost souls working late. I hadn’t seen Larry since midday when he left for Green Bank. No sign of Cammie since the staff meeting.

  By seven-thirty, I’d plowed through most of the list. I still had a couple of things left, but it was stuff like check the security footage for suspicious activity. OJ still hadn’t sent me the video. I figured I’d bug him about the next day. And if Cammie asked me about it before I could talk to him, I’d just lie and say I did it. She’d never know.

  I checked the time on my computer. 7:34. I realized if I hurried, I could make it to SoSo’s before closing time. I’d gotten change for my $50 bill when I bought dinner from the taco place a few blocks away. I typed out an email to Cammie about finishing the list with Larry in CC line, grabbed my stuff, and left.

  ***

  The sign in the window of SoSo’s said OPEN but the darkened window and the locked door said otherwise. I pressed my face against the window and tried to see inside the darkened storefront. There was no sign of anyone but I could see my suit hanging on the rack behind the counter.

  For a moment, I considered what would happen if I decided to just break in. There was a construction site across the street. I could probably find something heavy enough to hurl through that window. And if SoSo’s was as lax about security as they were about customer service, there probably wasn’t an alarm. I’d even pay. I could just leave the money on counter.

  But I’d have to take all of the clothes if I didn’t want to make it obvious who had done it. And then I’d have to pay for all of them. And then I’d have to figure out which piece of clothing belonged to who so I could go around delivering it to the rightful owners so I could get my money back.

  Too much work for too little reward. This can wait until tomorrow.

  I’d just talked myself out of doing something impulsively stupid when I heard a squeal of tires come from down the street. Headlights bounced all over the front of SoSo’s. I turned and saw a dark SUV speeding toward the store. It didn’t stop at the intersection, or at the curb. What the fuck? slid across my mind as I dove into the alley between cleaners and the bodega.

  Turns out that was unnecessary. The SUV didn’t hit SoSo’s. I felt the vibration of impact and heard a huge crash peppered with breaking glass. I crawled back to the end of the alley and peeped around the corner. The SUV had crashed into the storefront of the QuikCopy store on the other side of SoSo’s. There was glass everywhere. The front end of the SUV showed damage but it was still running. All four doors opened and a whole crew of black-clad figures jumped out and piled into the store.

  I stood and watched as the gang started loading the SUV with boxes. One stood outside near the driver’s side of the SUV with his arms folded. Maybe he was the lookout. His face was in a shadow but I could see that his arms were bare and folded across his chest. He had hairy forearms and a large anchor tattooed on his left one.

  I couldn’t see the license plate of the SUV from where I was, but I knew I’d probably get the chance if I waited until they were ready to leave. It was probably stolen but at least it was something. The look out yelled to the others and they started running piling back into the SUV.

  A moment later, the SUV backed out into the street and sped off. I got the license plate number, pulled out a pen, and wrote it on my arm. I grabbed my phone but thought better of it. Instead, I walked across the street to a payphone. I took the receiver off the cradle and dialed 911, hoping I wouldn’t get ebola from touching a public phone receiver. “I was just trying to pick up my dry cleaning when I saw a black SUV crash into a store. They pulled off but I got the license plate number.” I gave the operator the address and the plate number. Then I hung up after explaining that I didn’t want to give my name.

  I didn’t want to be there when the cops showed up. I paused for a bit, trying to figure out the best way to get home. Just before I started to walk off, I saw movement over at the QuikCopy’s bashed-in front window. A second later, someone stuck his head out the huge hole left by the SUV. He looked up and down the street and, not noticing me across the way, he gingerly stepped out of the window and started walking quickly down the street.

  I gave him a 30-second head start before following. He went down Fulton for a few minutes and then turned down a side street. I followed as casually as I could without him noticing I was there. Considering it was pretty quiet out that night, I had to give him a lot of space. He was heading north.

  He turned down yet another residential side street and 30-seconds later, so did I. As I rounded the corner, I ran into the business end of a gun with the guy I was following attached to the other end. He grabbed my arm and yanked me down an alley, the gun pointed at me the entire time.

  “Why are you following me?”

  I twisted out of his grip. He let go of me but still aimed his gun at me. I held my hands up. “I’m not following you. I’m just walking down the street, you psycho.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been following me since Fulton. Why shouldn’t I shoot your lying ass?”

  I thought about it for a second. “Because I don’t have a gun and you really have no reason to?”

  He sneered at me. “I’ll come up with one.”

  “Listen, I know you don’t really want to shoot me. We’re in a resid
ential neighborhood. People will hear it.” I gestured up. “You have no idea how many little old busybodies are staring at us down from the 4th floor. You’d have to run. You’d have to clean my blood off your really cool black clothes. Blood doesn’t come out as easily as those OxyClean commercials want you to believe--”

  “Shut. Up.” He looked around, sizing up the situation. “Okay. Fine. Go.” He waved the gun toward the other end of the alley. “That way. Keep your hands up. Count to a thousand before you turn around and leave.”

  “Okay. Okay. Take it easy.” I turned around slowly and started walking to the end of the alley with my hands still in the air.

  “Count!”

  “I’m counting. One. . . two. . . three. . . four. . . five. . .” I was counting softly to myself, yet still trying to hear whether he’d left. I thought I heard some rats scurrying behind the row of dumpsters a little up ahead.

  The next thing I heard was the sound of three bullets leaving a gun. I felt an intense, white-hot pain in my back. I fell forward and hit the ground face first. This motherfucker really shot me?! REALLY?!

  Chapter 20

  At some point, after finding out that I am unbreakable, everyone always asks if that means I can’t die. I guess it’s not a silly question considering my special brand of Superness, but history tells us that all things that live must eventually die. One day, I’ll either have an injury that separates one of my essential organs from the rest of my body for good. Or my body will finally get tired enough to stop working altogether. I was just glad that today was not that day. But there’s a reason I’d always avoided being shot, even though I would probably survive it--it hurt like hell.

  My back hurt. Actually a lot of me hurt. But my back was pain central. Intense pain started there and then radiated throughout my body to the tips of my fingers and toes. I wanted to scream. It was like someone stabbing me with a hot piece of metal. I would have screamed bloody murder if could get my mouth to work.

  Opening my eyes, I saw a wall, some trashcans, and the ground. I tried not to think of all the rat feces and bum piss I was lying in. Footsteps came toward me and then a pair of black sneakers arrived in my eye line. The person attached to the sneakers crouched down to pick up my bag. There was a flash of metal. It was the gun. The one he shot me with. He wasn’t paying attention to me. He was too busy emptying my bag onto the ground and pawing through my life’s debris.

  I promised my right arm that I would only write left handed from now on and it could have a nice vacation if it started working for me right this moment. Then I reached out and grabbed the gun and turned it on him. “Back the fuck up!”

  He scrambled back a few steps, falling back all fours. I used my other arm to raise myself up so I could aim better. I tried to hold the gun like everything I knew about guns didn’t come from Law & Order SVU marathons. He seemed to be buying it.

  “Don’t move. You hear me? I will shoot your ass if you even think about it.”

  The only thing he looked like he was gonna move was his bowels. His eyes were wide. He was breathing funny. “Wha-wha-huh? I shot you! You were dead.”

  “Yeah and I’m gonna return the favor if you move. At least I’m giving you fair warning.” I kept one eye and the gun on him as I maneuvered myself into a standing position. My whole body hurt like hell. My clothes were soaked in various bodily fluids. But it looked like all the moving parts were there. I didn’t trust my legs so I leaned back on the alley wall opposite the guy.

  I didn’t know how long I was out but I knew I should keep this as short as possible. I was bluffing about the busybodies calling the cops but who knows if someone actually had. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The QuikCopy. What were you doing?”

  He looked down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I waved his gun at him. “I’ve had a long day, man. I just got shot. Do you not think I would I shoot you? Can you survive three bullets in your back? No? Then, don’t fucking play with me!!”

  “We were hired to rob the place. Except they didn’t want any money. Just all of the paper.” He shrugged. “So that’s what we did.”

  “Why were you still in there after your homeboys left? Why didn’t you leave with them?”

  He hesitated. I waved his gun at him again. He licked his lips. “I had to go to the bathroom. I had some enchiladas before we came and it wasn’t sitting right. My stomach started bubbling and I had to take a shit. So I went to the bathroom in the back and I guess they forgot about me when they were leaving.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “That’s. . . really stupid, man. And paper? Who hired you to steal paper? And why?”

  “I don’t fucking know. That’s way above my pay grade.”

  “As evidenced by the fact that you’re taking dumps at crime scenes,” I sneered.

  “I told you everything I know. We were supposed to go in and get any paper that said local on it, okay?” I considered the situation for a second. It seemed like he was being truthful. Even if he wasn’t, I didn’t have time to try to scare it out of him.

  “Give me your phone.” He pulled out his cell phone and tossed it to me. “Pick up my shit and put it back in my bag.” He slowly crawled over to me and started throwing my stuff back into my purse. I watched him for signs of any funny business. When he was just about done, I used the gun in the only way I knew how and hit him hard on the back of his head. He collapsed onto the ground with a thud.

  I bent over to grab my bag and caught my breath when I realized just how much that hurt. Then I dialed 911 on his phone. “Hello? I was just attacked in an alley. He tried to rob me and admitted to burglarizing the QuikCopy on Fulton. I was able to knock him out but he might wake up any moment now. Send the cops now.”

  I gave the operator the location and hung up before they could ask me for anything else. Then, I wiped the gun and the phone on the guy’s shirt. After dropping both at his feet, I turned and power walked away as fast as my broken body would allow.

  ***

  I backtracked my way back to the cleaners and the QuikCopy. I figured I could see if the cops had made it over there and then make my way to the subway. I was filthy but I was wearing black and it wasn’t as obvious in the night. I also threw on a cardigan I kept in my bag for those days BK Paper was blasting the air conditioning. It covered the bullet holes and most of the blood at least.

  It took me longer to get back than it had to follow the guy because my body hadn’t been begging me to sit down the first time I’d made the trip. Besides the blood, the outside of me looked fine. But I was still sore and still burning up inside. It would take a few more hours to feel completely normal.

  When I got to the cleaners, there were cops, crime scene tape, and lookie-loos all over the place. Good. This is being handled. I was about to walk away when I saw someone I recognized. Tommy was standing in the crowd of lookie-loos. I’d never seen him outside of SoSo’s.

  I walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked back at me and did a double take. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here? I came by to get my suit and no one was in the store.” He shrugged and went back to watching the drama at the QuikCopy. I tapped him again. “Hey! I want my suit.”

  “It’s almost 10:30, Audrey. We’re closed now. Come back tomorrow.”

  And that’s when something in me snapped. I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled his face close to mine. “Tommy. I. Am. Not. Fucking. With. You. You better take my money and go get my motherfucking suit.”

  His eyes widen for a minute in surprise. He pulled back from me and adjusted his shirt back into place. “Fine. Patience is a rare virtue, you know.”

  “So is customer service.”

  He rolled his eyes and turned to go inside the SoSo’s. I followed. At the door, he stopped, turned to me, and held out his hand. I stared at it for a moment before I realized he wanted to be paid
. I sighed and pulled out exact change for him. He counted it deliberately, unlocked the door, and went in. A few moments later he came back out with my suit. I could have hugged it, I was so happy to see it.

  As I smiled at my suit like a mother smiles at her newborn baby, Tommy eyed me suspiciously. “You look weird. What happened to you?”

  I sighed. I was too tired to lie. “Someone shot me.”

  He nodded. “I can see how someone might want to shoot you. You’re annoying as fuck.”

  I stalked off to the nearest subway stop without saying goodbye. As I waited for my train in the near empty station, I thought about my night. My mind raced all over the place. I was worried about whether Cammie and Larry were gonna give me shit about the list they gave me. I did another running tab of my bills in my head and concluded that I was still fucked in that department. I wondered what was going on with all these weird crimes lately. I thought about how I was gonna have to throw away this work shirt because bullet holes just aren’t explainable in broad daylight. I hoped I had a couple of Tylenol in my apartment or sleeping was going to be hard. Or maybe not. I was fucking exhausted.

  And then I thought about how I had a least one win in the column for the night. I’d finally gotten my suit out of the cleaners. I looked around the station to make sure no one was paying too much attention to me. Then I lifted the dry cleaners plastic up and took a good look at my baby. It was all there. I broke out into a huge grin but it quickly dimmed because something seemed off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. And then it hit me.

  Where the fuck is my cape?

  Chapter 21

  I was so tired I thought I might fall asleep on the train. By the time I got back to Queens, I was basically dead on my feet. I might have sleepwalked from the subway to my apartment. But when I rounded the corner to my place and saw all my belongings sitting in garbage bags in front of my door, I was suddenly awake.