Face the Change (Menopausal Superheroes Book 3)

by Samantha Bryant

  Suzie sat on the couch with her feet curled up under her, sipping coffee and staring out the window at the still steadily falling rain. Her headphones bunched up her hair into a bubble shape. She wore one of Patricia’s jersey-style weekend shirts, which hung nearly to her knees, and she was beautiful beyond belief. Patricia stopped in the doorway and waited for her heart rate to return to some semblance of normal. It was utterly ridiculous for a woman her age to feel like this. So much about this whole situation was ridiculous.

  The fact that Suzie was still here had to be a good sign. If she’d been truly mortified, she’d have snuck out during the night. Patricia backed out of the room as soundlessly as she could and went to the kitchen. She poured a cup of coffee and gobbled a few pieces of bacon. She took a sip of the coffee, squared her shoulders, and walked back to the living room affecting an ease she totally didn’t feel.

  She sat down on the other end of the couch, and Suzie turned with a wide grin on her face. “Good morning,” she chirped, setting down her cup and removing the headphones. She slid over to Patricia, hugged her carefully around the coffee mug, and planted a kiss on her cheek before flopping back down on her own end of the sofa. The shirt rode up, and Patricia got a glimpse of the little lacy panties that had so entertained her the night before.

  Patricia couldn’t help it. She smiled back. “Good morning, indeed,” she said, hoping Suzie couldn’t see the way her flesh heated up. The worst thing about being a redhead had always been the way any exertion or emotion was obvious on her porcelain skin. The two women sat watching each other for a long moment before Patricia put down her mug and spread her arms. Suzie took the invitation willingly. With Suzie back in her arms, most of the weird subsided. She had to admit, it felt pretty right.

  A phone chimed. Suzie sat up quickly, clipping Patricia’s chin with the top of her head. She rolled off the couch quickly and took the call, rounding the corner to the kitchen. Patricia checked the clock. Seven thirty. It was still early. Suzie couldn’t be late for work yet. She tried not to eavesdrop, but at the same time was jealous of whoever stole Suzie’s attention away. She tried to focus on her coffee.

  When Suzie came back into the living room, she looked surprised, and she still held her phone up at an angle, like she’d forgotten to put it back down. Patricia was on her feet in a flash and hurried to Suzie’s side. “What is it?”

  “Leonel’s back in—and he’s agreed to do the press conference.”

  “Press conference?”

  “Come on. I’ll fill you in on the way. My clothes should be dry enough by now.”

  Sally Ann Gets the Silent Treatment

  Sally Ann thought Gabe Driver looked depressed. He didn’t look up when she entered his room. He continued fiddling with the device in his hands. It was another model car. His way with vehicles apparently extended to models. She looked at the shelf over his bed and wondered what the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang model might be able to do.

  This one looked like the Delorean from Back to the Future. While she stood in the doorway, he knelt to put it on the floor, then hit a button on a remote control. The car rose up and flew around the room, coming back to land at the man’s feet.

  Sally Ann whistled. “Does it travel through time yet?” Gabe smiled before he pushed himself off the floor to lower himself into the desk chair. His face was swollen and black with bruising. “Jesus Christ, man. What did you run into out there?”

  Gabe shrugged. They both knew she had already seen the report. Gabe had picked up the trail on Cindy Liu and her father and followed them eastward across Indiana and into Ohio. They’d been in a silver minivan driven by a large, African-American male, approximately age thirty, two-hundred twenty pounds, trained to fight. His weapon had been a SIG Sauer P229, typical of the Secret Service.

  Neither man had fired the weapon, though Cindy Liu had, a shot that distracted Gabe and let the other man lay him out, giving him a concussion. The trail was lost in the Qmart parking lot, and Gabe had been picked up by an ordinary ambulance and taken to a hospital where he struggled to make it clear his not talking was a choice, not a medical condition.

  Gabe didn’t talk, ever. They’d worked together on many missions, but Sally Ann didn’t know what his voice sounded like. She probably never would. That used to bother her, when they first started working together, but now Sally Ann knew him well—as well as anyone at the Department did—and she could feel he was frustrated, angry, and probably a little embarrassed, even though he wouldn’t tell anyone any of that, or anything else.

  She wasn’t good at being touchy-feely. But she also knew Gabe didn’t really have anybody. He was a loner, even more so than she was. He lived in the apartments the Department kept rather than choosing a home outside. She might be all he had. So, she’d try. “I got some info on the guy you fought,” she said, offering Gabe a folder.

  Gabe spread the papers out across his desk. Sally Ann paced the narrow space to give him time. The report didn’t say much. Mekai Davis, trained for the Secret Service. Current assignment: Bertrand Dietrich. Dietrich’s file was sparse for a man who rated Secret Service protection. Sally Ann had a team looking into him. She did think Gabe might be comforted by the amount of training the man had in various kinds of hand-to-hand combat. It wasn’t like being beaten by a lucky punk. Davis was a badass. So was Agent Driver. If the two met again, she wouldn’t bet against Gabe.

  Sally Ann heard the desk chair squeak and turned back around. Gabe was putting the papers back in the folder. A cut across his knuckles had darkened the bandage that covered them, and she was angry again on his behalf. Cindy Liu had cost them too much. And, clearly, she had more powerful allies than their initial research had shown. She knew they’d find the slippery scientist eventually, and make her pay for the damage she had caused, but it pissed Sally Ann off that her agents were getting hurt along the way.

  She wasn’t sure what else to say to Gabe. In the same situation, the only thing that would make her feel better was another chance at the fighter who had bested her. And that wasn’t something she could hand the man. Not yet. She spotted a deck of cards on a small bookshelf near the door and picked them up, thinking she’d challenge Gabe to a few rounds of poker to distract him.

  Touching them was like sticking a fork into a light socket. The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the floor with the cards scattered around her like confetti from a parade. Gabe crouched beside her, touching her shoulder and staring into her face, his light brown eyes full of concern. She tried to tell him she was all right but had to shove him out of the way in a rushed run for the toilet. She mostly made it, and carefully wiped up the vomit that had gotten on the rim of the commode and the floor in front before standing up and closing the door behind her.

  She was shaking from the violence of the emotions in those playing cards. She didn’t know if the emotions imprinted in the paper were that strong or her work to build her skill at reading the psychic signals had been more successful than she’d known. Either way, she was hiding in Gabe’s bathroom, trying to calm her nerves and figure out what to say to him when she came back out. She ran some water to rinse out her mouth and splash her face, then sat down on the closed toilet lid to wait for her hands to stop shaking.

  What had she seen? It had hit like a movie on fast forward, images and sounds and smells and feelings and impressions all piled up on each other until it was hard to pick out any one piece in the maelstrom. Gabe must have played a lot of solitaire with that deck to implant so many emotional landmines in the cards. There’d been a lot of metal, and a feeling of being crushed. Screaming and blood. An angry man yelling and waving a gun around. Gabe himself, sitting quietly in a chair, staring at his folded hands while a man in a lab coat wrote in a notebook.

  And the Director, looking older than she could ever remember seeing him—gray at his temples and dressed in an army uniform. He didn’t look like a Baldwin boy in this image, but she still somehow knew it was the Director. That must be how t
he Director looks to Gabe. She closed her eyes and rubbed them, trying to blot out the images before they took her over again.

  She took a moment to steady herself against the bathroom wall, then pushed the door open. Gabe was still on the floor picking up the cards. He settled them in his hands in an even stack and put them back on the shelf. Sally Ann was grateful she wouldn’t have to touch the cards again. Now that her little paper-reading skill seemed to be ramping up into a fuller power, it could be hard to shut off, and she didn’t want to wander through that particular deluge again. Gabe’s pain wasn’t any of her business. She wouldn’t look too closely at what she learned from her visions. If she were ever to learn Agent Driver’s story, she’d want to learn it from the man himself, not his solitaire deck.

  “Come on, Gabe,” she said, shooting one last look at the deck of cards that held her colleague’s painful history. “Let’s go get a beer.” He wouldn’t ask any questions. Not out loud anyway.

  Leonel’s New Look

  Leonel pulled the red shirt on and tucked it into the trim black pants. The gap between the collar and the first button was embarrassingly low, revealing a wide expanse of his muscular chest. The flowing material reminded him of something a brigand might wear on the cover of a romance novel. He pushed away thoughts of what David would think if he saw it. David had stepped away, so he didn’t get a say. Leonel called over the partition wall to Jessica. “I look like a gigolo, or maybe a pirate.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad. Come out and let me see.”

  “Hold on. I need to put on the mask.” He had qualms about the outfit, but the mask he liked. Warm, golden yellow and cut to cover the top half of his face, the mask effectively disguised his identity. It made him think of the sun in a drawing by a child, with thick, squarish rays spreading off in a semicircle. It molded to his face very well, thanks to the castings they’d taken to ensure a perfect fit. When the mask was in place, he almost couldn’t feel it and was amazed by how little it impeded his vision. The techs had outdone themselves, combining beauty and functionality. It accentuated his jaw. For once, when he looked in the mirror, Leonel truly liked what he saw.

  “Stop primping, Leonel. Come out and let me see.”

  Leonel sighed, thrust his shoulders back and stepped through the door, pushing it back dramatically with one arm and striking a pose. He stood for a moment with his hands fisted on his hips, and his feet spread, waiting. When Jessica didn’t say anything, Leonel turned his head dramatically to the side and shook out his hair, then spun forward to make the locks spread out around him and resettle like one of Charlie’s Angels.

  A low wolf whistle was followed by some applause and laughter, and Leonel turned to find he had an entourage. Sally Ann, Suzie, and Patricia now stood alongside Jessica.

  Leonel blushed scarlet. “Jessica, you should have told me we weren’t alone anymore.”

  Jessica laughed. “And let them miss the big reveal? No way.”

  Leonel would have argued more, but in the next moment, Suzie hurtled into his arms and squeezed him around the waist, squealing. “They said it would be weeks before you even got to leave the hospital.”

  “Suzie? What are you doing here?” Leonel hadn’t seen Suzie in months, not since a few weeks after the fight on campus. He and David hadn’t been able to make it to her graduation, though he had, of course, sent a card and a gift.

  “I work here now. I’m the Director’s new assistant.”

  Leonel lifted Suzie into the air and spun her around in an exuberant hug. “Qué genial! The Department is so lucky to have you, and I’m so happy to see you again.” He had missed the younger woman—she was sharp and organized, as well as caring and funny. She had helped them figure out what happened to them when the changes first came upon them all and was there when they tracked down Dr. Liu and tried to stop her.

  Suzie laid a hand against the wall to steady herself once Leonel set her down. “It’s good to be here. And look at you. You look amazing, Leonel. Guapísimo!”

  “You don’t think it’s too much?” Leonel turned to make sure Suzie saw the whole ensemble, including the soft black boots hugging his calves. “I don’t look like a pirate?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  Leonel had his doubts, but he appreciated the support of his friends. Leaving Jessica and Suzie to catch up, he walked over to the other side of the room, where Patricia and Sally Ann were talking quietly. Sally Ann jumped up as he arrived. “I’ve got some logistics to handle, Fuerte. See you later.” The short woman held out a fist for a bump, which Leonel returned carefully.

  “Fuerte?” Patricia had folded her arms across her chest, but she was smiling.

  “It means ‘strong.’ Sally Ann wants it to be my code name.”

  Patricia considered. “It’s not bad.” She gave Leonel’s ensemble a slow up and down. “This isn’t bad either. They’ll have you on magazine covers in no time.”

  “So you know about the Unusual Cases Unit, and the Director’s plan?”

  “Suzie told me.”

  “And?”

  “Honestly?”

  Leonel nodded, bracing himself for the sting he was sure would come.

  “I think you and Jessica are perfect for this. Exactly the kind of heroes the public needs.”

  Leonel must have looked as gobsmacked as he felt because Patricia laughed. “What? I’m a cynic, not an idiot. You thought I’d make fun?”

  “Honestly?” Patricia’s turn to nod. Leonel looked back at Jessica who was turning around in front of a mirror, checking the flow of the cloth of her own costume in movement. “I did. I mean, I feel weird about this. But I want to help, and the Director thinks I’m the man for the job.”

  “On the outside anyway. Luckily, you’re a woman on the inside, where it matters. So, we’re in good hands.”

  Leonel felt like crying again, but this time from happiness. His relationship with Patricia was contentious at times—they’d shouted at each other and even thrown the occasional punch. He knew the redhead cared, deep down, but it was good to hear it out loud once in a while. Patricia wasn’t a hugger, so Leonel settled for patting her on the shoulder.

  Jessica bounded over the table to land next to Leonel and hooked their arms at the elbow. “Come on, Leonel. You and Patricia can catch up later. Right now, we’ve got an appointment with publicity for some photos and to talk about interviews.”

  Leonel offered a hand to Patricia, who shook it firmly. “I’m glad you’re one of us again, Patricia. We make a good team.”

  Sunday in the Park with Patricia

  It was still warm considering it was approaching midnight. Quiet, too. Annoyingly quiet. Patricia had been hoping to work out some of her aggression and restlessness on a deserving criminal—a nice mugger or vandal, maybe a drug dealer—but everyone seemed to have stayed home watching Netflix. So far, she had only seen a couple making out on a bench and the usual group of homeless guys in the copse of trees near the bridge.

  One of the homeless guys gave her a little wave as she jogged by—she remembered him from the night last week when she’d rescued him from a group of teenagers who thought it was funny to beat up an old guy with no place to go. She dipped her chin and raised her scales on the cheek facing him for just a moment, reminding him she was in the park and would be there if needed. She’d been taking these night runs for months now—she didn’t sleep much since she’d gone through the change—and she nearly always found some action.

  The extra run wasn’t doing much to work off Patricia’s energy tonight, though. She could have used a good fight to soothe her tensions. After all, she’d signed over her life to a group she knew too little about and fallen into bed with a woman thirty years her junior. She still had no idea where Cindy was. Her two best friends were coming out to the world as freaking superheroes with costumes and everything. Dear God, but she wanted to punch someone.

  A scream rang out, and Patricia fought down an entirely inappropriate feeling of joy
as she zeroed in on the sound. It came from the east side of the park, somewhere near the meadow: the most isolated part of the park, and therefore the most likely spot for bad things to happen. Her favorite part.

  After taking a moment to remove her shoes so they wouldn’t be destroyed by her transformation and hang them by their laces across a tree branch, Patricia let her claws and scales loose to cover her pale, freckled skin and ran toward the meadow. She stopped just past the bridge, ducked behind the light post and emergency box, and looked out at the field.

  Something was definitely going on. A group of maybe ten or fifteen people stood in a circle around a large magnolia tree. They were all very still. Weirdly still. With a quick clench of her jaw and the flexing of something inside her eye, Patricia let her facial scales come up and opened the vertical slit of her pupil wide to bring in all the light she could. The screams that had brought Patricia running to the area had subsided, but she still had a bad feeling about the scene in front of her. This had to be the same people from the jewelry store heist Sally Ann was investigating. But why would they be in the park?

  With her enhanced vision, she could see that the people stood perfectly spaced around the tree, as if they were a performance group, though nothing about their clothing suggested they belonged together. The three people nearest her were a skinny African-American boy who looked to be about fifteen years old, wearing basketball shorts and no shirt; a young white woman, probably around Suzie’s age, in a colorful dress and strappy sandals; and an older white man, bearded and scruffy in a long, dirty trench coat and sweatpants that were way too warm for the weather, probably another homeless guy.

  It was hard to imagine an event that would bring this group of people together, or explain their behavior. At least a good one. She knew she should stop and call it in. That’s what the protocols said to do. But Patricia had never been a fan of protocols. She liked to improvise. For that, she’d have to get closer. She could always call in backup if things got out of hand.