by Lucas Flint
“Ah,” I said. “This man, could you describe him to me? What did he look like?”
Mr. Salt frowned, furrowing his brow as he searched his memory. “Let’s see … he was fairly tall and well-built, though his skin was very pale, like he didn’t get out much. He was also bald. As for his age, I would put him in his early thirties or so. He wore a black button down shirt and jeans, which I remember noticing because it was very hot that day and I thought it strange he would wear such warm clothing. He also seemed to be a former prisoner to me.”
“Former prisoner?”
“Yeah,” said Mr. Salt. “I have a few, uh, ex-convicts in my family and they all have this same steely, hardened attitude that they did not have before they went to prison. This man was just like them, but the only difference was that he didn’t look like the kind of man who had ever spent even one day behind bars. Struck me as a respectable member of society, you dig?”
“I think so,” I said. “Did he give you a name?”
Mr. Salt smiled. “Now, Mr. McDonald, you seem rather interested in a complete stranger. Do you know him?”
“Oh, no, I don’t,” I said. “At least, I don’t think so. I’m just interested in the kind of guy who would buy something like the Watch from someone like you.”
“A man of discerning taste and impeccable eye for authentic superhero artifacts, of course,” said Mr. Salt. “But no, he didn’t give me a name. He just gave me a big suitcase of cash that I had thought was from his work. You know those big suitcases of cash you sometimes see in movies but think don’t exist in real life? Well, I guess some people do pay for things that way after all. Life imitates art.”
“Seems a bit odd that a guy would lug around a suitcase full of cash to buy something from you,” I said. “I mean, most people don’t drag suitcases of cash with them to the Mall, not even when they plan to go on a shopping spree or buy something really expensive.”
“It is strange, I agree, but why should I care?” said Mr. Salt. “Money is money, regardless of how it was obtained or who gives it to you. That is another business lesson I’ve learned over the years.”
I nodded, but deep down, I was trying to figure out who this guy who bought the Trickshot Watch could possibly be. Who else could even be aware of the other Watch’s existence? It wasn’t like it was one of Mr. Salt’s most marketed products, either, given how he only showed it to Debra and I when Debra asked to see any Trickshot objects he owned. There was something very fishy going on here and I didn’t like it at all.
“Now that I think about it, though, the man did make a rather strange comment when I gave him the Watch,” said Mr. Salt. “He mentioned something about finally getting his hands on this ‘weapon,’ something he’d been seeking for a long time apparently. I found it odd because not too many people refer to the Trickshot Watch as a ‘weapon,’ but I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“Did you see where this guy went?” I said.
“No,” said Mr. Salt. “He just disappeared into the crowds of people in the Mall. Even though he was a very tall and distinctive man, he just vanished like he wasn’t there at all. I’m not sure how he did it, honestly. It seemed like he just took one step away from the booth and then I got distracted by a customer who came up to see what I had. When I next looked, he was totally gone.”
A theory started to form in my mind as to the identity of this man, but I didn’t dare voice it out loud then. “He just disappeared, huh? You didn’t see him leave?”
“No,” said Mr. Salt. “I did not. But I will admit that I thought I saw something black—pitch black, like midnight in the country without any stars—out of the corner of my eye, but it was probably just my eyes playing with me. I doubt it was anything real.”
I figured that Mr. Salt had likely seen one of Holes’, well, holes, but I said nothing. Mr. Salt didn’t need to know right now that he had just sold a potentially powerful weapon to a powerful and dangerous supervillain, though I couldn’t see what Holes would want with the old Watch. Whatever his reasons for buying it, I doubted they were pure or good.
“Anyway, I’m sorry I don’t have the Watch for you to purchase anymore,” said Mr. Salt. “Had I known that you were interested in buying it at a later date, I would have held onto it for you longer than I did. As it is, the Watch is now gone and I doubt you will ever see it again. That is, unless you can track down this man and convince him to sell the Watch to you, though given how he just bought it a day ago, that seems extraordinarily unlikely.”
I cracked a smile, but said nothing. But if I did say something, I would have said something like this: Who said I was going to buy it from him?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
An hour or so later, I was walking up the driveway of my house, my lips pursed and my thoughts anywhere but present. All through the bus trip home, I thought deeply about my visit to Mr. Salt’s apartment, which had turned out to be far less profitable than I thought it was going to be. Actually, it was the opposite of profitable, because even though Mr. Salt did not have the Watch anymore, I felt guilty about wasting his time like this, so I bought one of the cheaper artifacts he had on sale and went on my way.
The artifact in question I bought was the broken glass from a street lamp that had been destroyed during the legendary Alpha Sentinel’s battle with the Knights of Light in San Francisco twenty years ago. I had no way of knowing if that was true, but the glass shard cost about ten dollars, so I didn’t waste that much money. I had probably been ripped off with some junk that Mr. Salt had picked up off the street, but at this point I didn’t care.
What I did care about was the fact that Holes seemed to have the original Trickshot Watch now. I didn’t know why he wanted it or how he knew that Mr. Salt even had it in the first place. Had he researched Mr. Salt’s business or something? Or had he been in the Mall on the same day as Debra and I and saw us talking to Mr. Salt about it? It was impossible to say for sure, but if the latter was correct, then Holes might know my name and identity. If so, then I could expect an attack from him any day now, which was one of the reasons I’d been so worried about going home, though given how I couldn’t stay outside the house forever without panicking Mom and Dad, I decided that I’d just have to risk it.
TW had not been very helpful during the bus ride, admitting that he didn’t know why Holes would want the original Watch. TW’s only theory was that Holes may have stolen it in order to make sure that I didn’t get it, which seemed plausible to me, but at the same time, how would Holes know I wanted it?
It was frustrating and stressful. Frustrating because I had wasted almost all morning on something that didn’t pay off. And stressful, because if Holes had the original Watch now, then he might just use it against me at some point, especially if he knew my real identity.
But as I opened the front door to our house and stepped inside, I pushed such thoughts out of my mind in order to focus on the present. I was hungry and I had just gotten home in time for lunch. I hoped that Mom would have lunch all ready for me. I was so hungry that I didn’t care if Mom made broiled spinach, just as long as it distracted me from the utter failure of today’s mission.
“Mom!” I called out, dropping my backpack on the floor next to the shoe rack and rolling my shoulders at the same time. “I’m home! What’s for lunch?”
All of a sudden, Dad poked his head out of the kitchen and waved at me. “Hey, Jack! Welcome home. I thought you were going to be out all day.”
Surprised to see Dad, who wore a chef’s hat on his head, I said, “Uh, nah. I got the stuff done I needed to do faster than I thought, so I decided to come home for lunch and chill out for a while.”
“Ah,” said Dad, nodding. He straightened the chef’s hat on his head. “Well, you’re just in time for the McDonald family’s world famous spaghetti made with our top secret tomato sauce! Come on in and grab a bite to eat.”
Dad’s head disappeared back into the kitchen. Perplexed, I nonetheless walked into the kitchen to see that
Dad had a pot of steaming spaghetti noodles on the counter, along with an equally large pot of bubbling spaghetti sauce that instantly made my mouth water. The kitchen sink was full of utensils and dishes that Dad had used to make the spaghetti, soaking in the warm, soapy water. The kitchen window was open to let in a soft breeze, while the table was set with empty plates, bowls, and silverware for me, Mom, and Dad on top of a bright red tablecloth that looked fancier than what we normally had.
“Whoa,” I said, looking around the kitchen in astonishment. “How long have you been working in here?”
Dad—who was busily stirring the sauce—glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. “All morning. Made enough spaghetti and sauce to last all of us for the week. Once we’re done here, I’m going to take the spaghetti and sauce and put them in individual containers, which I’m going to take to work for lunch for the next week or so.”
I blinked. “Speaking of work, shouldn’t you be at the construction company today? I thought you had left for work earlier.”
Dad shook his head as he turned his attention back to his sauce. “Nah. Today is my day off. I guess I didn’t tell you. I slept in a little bit, but not much, because I wanted to get a head start on the spaghetti before it got too hot today.”
“Where’s Mom?” I said. “If you’re here—”
“Out with friends,” Dad said, again without looking over his shoulder at me. “She’s been planning this for a while and I told her she could go and hang out with her friends for the day if she wanted. So I’m in charge of taking care of the house today, and so far, it’s been really easy, much easier than hauling rebar at the job, anyway.”
I was about to say that I didn’t remember Mom telling me anything about her going out with friends today, only to catch myself and remember vaguely that Mom had mentioned that she was going out today at breakfast. I must not have been paying attention to what she said because of how much in a hurry I was. I felt a little embarrassed about that, to be honest, so I didn’t say anything about that.
Instead, I said, “Oh, okay. I didn’t know you cooked.”
“I’m not as good as your mom, but I got skills,” said Dad. “How else do you think I made your mom fall in love with me? I cooked her a great meal on our first date and she fell head over heels in love with me after that. Women love men who cook, by the way.”
Given how Dad had apparently been working all morning without burning the noodles or sauce, I thought Dad was severely understating his own cooking skills. But I wasn’t one to argue with Dad. Besides, I was too hungry to argue with him about anything. The spaghetti looked and smelled great.
So I grabbed my bowl, put some spaghetti and sauce in it, and sat down at my place on the table. The spaghetti looked even better up close, and when I put some in my mouth, it was like an explosion of taste in my mouth.
“Wow, Dad,” I said after I swallowed my first helping of spaghetti. “This is really good.”
“Of course it is,” said Dad. “Just because I’m more comfortable with a hammer than a spatula doesn’t mean I don’t know how to make good spaghetti. Eat as much as you want. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
I nodded and put another forkful of spaghetti in my mouth when Dad suddenly stopped stirring the sauce and looked over his shoulder at me curiously. “Oh, by the way, how did your date with that girl go? Debra, I think you said her name was?”
Because I had a mouthful of spaghetti when Dad said that, I could not answer at first. But after I finished eating and swallowing my spaghetti, I looked at Dad and said, “It, uh, didn’t go very well.”
“It didn’t?” said Dad. “Why?”
Because I let myself get distracted by Mr. Salt’s Watch, which he ended up selling off anyway, rather than actually paying attention to Debra. Now Debra probably hated my guts and wanted nothing to do with me after this.
But that would require a lot of explanation I didn’t feel like giving at the moment, so I said, “Debra and I just didn’t get along that well. We didn’t fight or anything like that, but it was just kind of a bad date. You know what I mean?”
“I think I do,” said Dad. “And I’m sorry to hear it turned out that way. It sure seemed like you were really excited for Debra when you told me you asked her out, but this happens, I guess. Life doesn’t always go the way you want it to sometimes. Ask me how I know.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said with a sigh. I stirred my spaghetti in my bowl. “It’s still frustrating. And I feel like it is all my fault.”
“Hey, it takes two to tango, Jack,” said Dad as he moved over to the kitchen sink and began rinsing off and drying the dishes lying in the soapy water. “If the date went badly, it wasn’t just your fault”
“No, it was definitely my fault,” I said. “I didn’t pay as much attention to Debra as I should have.”
“Well, why not?” said Dad, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the clinking of dishes in the sink. “Haven’t seen Debra for myself, of course, but given how excited you were about going out with her, I figured she had to be drop dead gorgeous.”
“She is,” I said. I looked down at my spaghetti. “But I got distracted by something else.”
“Distracted by what?” said Dad. “Did you see something in the Mall that caught your eye or something?”
I hesitated. I glanced at the Trickshot Watch I wore, which looked like an ordinary watch on my wrist because I wasn’t currently transformed into Trickshot. I still hadn’t told Mom or Dad that I was Trickshot yet because I wasn’t ready to tell them, though I had a feeling that the day was getting closer and closer all the time. Right now, however, I needed to give Dad a different reason why I ignored Debra. If I told him the truth, then he might figure out my real identity.
So I said, “Yeah, sort of. She wanted me to buy her something at this kiosk, but it was too expensive and I didn’t have the money for it.”
Dad dropped a spoon in the sink and looked at me. “Are you serious? That’s why your date went south?”
“Well, yeah—”
“Then that Debra girl doesn’t sound like she’s worth your time,” said Dad as he picked the spoon out of the sink again and rinsed it off before putting it in the drying rack. “You don’t want to date a girl who thinks she can just tell you what to do with your money, especially on a first date. I was lucky, because your mom didn’t insist I buy her something on our first date together.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to think you’re right,” I said. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever go on another date with Debra again. Besides, she probably hates me now, because she didn’t waste any time in leaving as soon as her dad showed up to pick her up.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t,” said Dad. “Life advice, Jack. Don’t pine after girls who don’t pine after you. Great way to waste your time and make yourself depressed. Ask me how I know.”
I didn’t need to, because I could tell that Dad was speaking from personal experience. And I had to admit that he had a good point. However attractive Debra was, if she was going to treat me this way because I didn’t buy her a three thousand dollar gift on our first date, then she probably wasn’t worth dating again. I still felt horrible about it, though, because this was the first date I’d ever gone on and it had ended so horribly.
“Hey, Jack,” said Dad, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear the news about those two supervillains, Holes and Aeolus?”
“Huh?” I said, looking at Dad. “What about them?”
“Nothing much from what I can tell,” said Dad with a shrug. “But the federal government is getting involved with Holes, from what I heard, because he apparently broke out of federal prison a while back and is considered an extremely dangerous man.”
“You think?” I said sarcastically as I ate another mouthful of spaghetti. “Given how he used to give Grandfather trouble in his heyday, I’m not surprised the feds have gotten involved. I’m just surprised that they didn’t get involved sooner.”
&nbs
p; “Yeah, I don’t really remember this guy all that much when I was a kid,” said Dad. “Then again, by the time this guy showed up, I was already married and focused on raising you and Thomas, rather than on whatever villain my dad, your grandfather, was fighting that week. Still, I remember Father complaining about him one time, because his powers made it hard to hit him.”
I almost said that I understood because I’d had trouble hitting him, but then remembered that Dad still didn’t know my secret identity and closed my mouth. “I bet it was. He can create holes to redirect attacks and stuff, right?”
“Right,” said Dad. “I wouldn’t want to fight him myself if I was a superhero. I’m just wondering what he’s doing back in Rumsfeld, what with Father having disappeared ten years ago and all.”
“Maybe he’s after the new Trickshot,” I said. “Like, getting revenge for when he was taken down by Grandfather or something.”
“Well, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense,” said Dad, shaking his head. “The new Trickshot obviously isn’t Father, and he might not even be connected to him. Then again, given how no one knows where Father is, maybe this is the only way Holes can get his revenge.”
“I guess so,” I said. “Regardless, he’s definitely one we should look out for, because—”
I was interrupted by a sudden ringing sound, which I realized was coming from the land line. Dad was closer to the land line than me, so he dried his hands and walked over to the phone, which he answered and said, “Hello, this is the McDonald household. Who’s calling?”
I couldn’t hear what the voice on the other side of the phone said, but Dad’s face suddenly contorted with anger and he shouted into the receiver, “What the hell are you talking about? This has to be some kind of cruel joke.”
The voice on the other end kept speaking, but its tone had become harried, like it was trying to speak as fast as it could before Dad hung up.
