Lady Superior (21 page)

“You’re putting a lot of faith in a man who was working with a woman out to destroy the city.”

“If I was in your position and someone gave me the choice between my sister and hundreds of thousands of people—or even millions of people—I’d pick my sister every single time. It isn’t even a question. As for trusting you? I think that’s on you. If you ever think about screwing me over, just remember I can rip a car in half with my bare hands.”

Todd let his answer remain unspoken. Instead, he asked, “Where are we going? Back home?”

“Yeah, I’m going to drop you off if you’re cool with that. You don’t strike me as the type to hang out. I’ve got a guy I’ve wanted to meet up with for a few days and haven’t had the chance. Thought I’d try to do that before this Delphi stuff sets off.”

“Can I offer you some advice?”

Kristen kept her eyes on the road, but her brow arched high. Dating advice from a guy like Todd didn’t strike her as something that’d prove useful. “What kind of advice?”

“If you’re interested in having children, stay away from the drugs.” Todd’s voice carried a note of regret. “IUI is your best option. IVF if you’re desperate. Never drugs, especially not drugs and IVF at the same time. If you get that desperate, stop while you still can.”

“Todd, can I offer
you
some advice?”

“I’m all ears.”

“Don’t talk to a woman that isn’t your wife or girlfriend about having kids unless she brought it up first. Ever. What enters or exits a lady’s bits is only your business when you’ve been made a partner at the firm. My firm is currently closed for business.”

“Right. Understood. Strained metaphor, though.”

“I just like the idea of vaginas with lawyers.”

Chapter 11

After dropping Todd off at home, Kristen made it only a few steps into her own apartment before her Temple phone rang. She shouldered her door shut and pulled the phone from her pocket. “Hello?”

“Hey. Is Todd still with you?”

“No. You need him?”

“No, that’s good. The plan we talked about to nail Delphi? It was bullshit.”

Kristen tossed her purse onto the kitchenette counter. “What do you mean?”

“Todd’s too close to Delphi. She can read minds by touch. What happens if she decides to pay him a visit? She’d know everything. Besides, I seriously doubt she keeps the ring at home.”

Walking toward the back room, Kristen’s heart sank. Logically, Jane probably wasn’t wrong. That didn’t make it feel right, though. Kristen went out on a limb to put faith in him. Not even an hour ago, they’d come to an accord. She knew what would come next. Jane would ask her to lie. Kristen steeled herself. “So what’s the real plan?”

“Remember how I mentioned Milwaukee would sink? We’re going to give Delphi a chance at a proof of concept. Meet me at the Temple building tomorrow morning.”

Kristen rolled her eyes. Of course it would be the morning. “What time?”

“Seven. Keep an eye on the news in the morning, too.”

She slapped her forehead. “Seriously? Seven? I was going to make plans!”

“I know, you’re getting a rough intro to the business. I’m sorry about that, but we need you right now. Once this stuff with the ring is over, hopefully you’ll have some time to yourself.”

“Hopefully?”

“No promises.”

Kristen walked through the apartment, plucking trash and dirty clothes off of the floor as she went. How the place got so filthy considering how little time she spent there, she had no idea. “Fine. I’ll be there at seven.”

“Thanks.”

After dumping the handful of dirty clothes into a basket, Kristen ended the call and looked at the phone in her hand. Her finger slid onto the power button. She held it down, counting in silence the ten seconds until it shut down. Shutting Temple out seemed the only way to get a day’s rest.

Kristen took her finger from the button and pocketed the phone. She swapped it for her own, checking it for the first time since visiting Temple. Four missed calls from Emma. Kristen closed her eyes, leaning her head back. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

Sorry, Em. Not today.

Opening her eyes, Kristen dismissed the call notification and skipped to her text messages.

Nodding to no one, she tapped out a message to Jack.

Busy today? Can’t stay out too late, but have some free time.

Kristen waited, tapping her foot. After talking to Jane, every second seemed more precious than the last, each passing moment wasted in the march toward the next inevitable emergency. No, she wasn't required to stare at her phone until Jack replied—but his answer, if he had one at all, determined whether or not she had to find alternate plans.

Five minutes later, Kristen was pacing, phone still in hand. It buzzed.

Joel invited me to his place tonight. Between you and me, I’d rather hang with you. Canceling on my boss might be a bad idea though.

Hold on
. Kristen tapped back. She dialed Joel's number. “Sup, Kris?” he answered.

“I'm trying to get Jack to go out tonight. He already has plans with you. If I talk him into canceling on you, will you be mad about it?”

“You want to go out with Jack?”

“Is that bad? Is he a weirdo?”

“No, he's cool. I mean, I think he's cool, but that's because I'm a dork.”

“We're all dorks. Answer the question, Joel. Is it okay with you?”

“Yeah, it's cool. I think I'd be more pissed off if he didn't cancel. If your options are going out with a hot blonde or painting orc statues...” Joel let the sentence hang.

“Joel, you're an asshole, you know that?”

“What? I said it was fine!”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “At least you're my asshole. Thanks. Catch ya later.”

“Later!”

Click.
Kristen swiped back to her texts.
Joel said it’s okay
.

You asked him?

He’s like my brother. So yeah, if you want to go out, it’s fine. If you don’t, that’s fine too. Another time maybe?

No, let’s do it. Movie?

How about dinner?

I could do dinner. Casual or fancy?

Kristen pursed her lips. Casual made more sense for a first date, but a fancy dinner did sound nice. Would saying
fancy
put him off, though? Fancy dinners set certain expectations. Requesting a fancy dinner on the first date could send the message she had expensive taste.

She tapped out a message.
Can I call you? Easier to make plans.

Go for it.

She called. He answered with an eager, “Hey!”

“Hey.” Kristen forced herself to smile; she learned a person could, in fact, hear a smile over the telephone. A person’s voice was just different with a smile behind it. “We’re going to enter the no-judgment zone, okay?”

She could hear Jack’s hesitation in the slow way a single word escaped his lips. “Okay.”

“I don’t usually go to fancy places, I’d like to go somewhere fancy just this once to celebrate my new job. Let’s pay for our own stuff so neither of us gets slapped with a huge bill. Are you okay with going somewhere expensive? This is the no-judgment zone. If you’re not, just say so and we can do something else. If all you want to do is fast food and some video games, that’s cool with me.”

 “I just got my first paycheck and wouldn’t mind celebrating that. As long as we’re in the no-judgment zone, I’ll warn you that I can’t go fancy very often and have any paycheck left. You won’t think I’m an asshole if I don’t pick up the bill?”

“I’d think you were an asshole for insisting you pick up the bill after I said I want to split it. I don’t go for chivalry. Do you have something to wear to a fancy place?”

“What's your idea of fancy?”

“More than twenty dollars per plate, less than a hundred.”

“That's great, I think we'd have to go to Chicago for a hundred per plate. Yeah, I think I have something to wear. Do you?”

“I think so.”

“Cool. Let me see where we can get reservations on a Saturday and I'll call you back?”

“Sure. I'll start getting ready. If you can't find a place, we'll just get a booth at McDonald's, light a candle, and play pretend.”

Jack laughed. “That almost sounds like a better idea. I'll see what I can do. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye!”

Kristen hung up and clutched her phone, suddenly excited. Even if Jack didn't turn out to be her type, a nice dinner was cause enough for anticipation. With a prior agreement that they'd each pay for themselves, there were no strings attached, either. If it worked, wonderful. If it didn't, no harm done. Who wouldn't get excited by a guilt-free dinner?

Kristen unloaded her pockets, dumping items on any nearby surface as she moved to her closet. She swung the closet doors open and wasted no time picking through it. She pushed laden plastic hangers aside one by one to part the sea of clothes. The closet was anything but organized. Sporting clothes hung next to casual tops with formal attire shoved in the middle. As she perused her collection, Jane's warning about her shortage of black became fresh in her mind. Black wasn't her preferred color by any means. Those few garments that'd been riddled by bullets were all she had; if she didn't get a proper outfit soon, Lady Superior would be on the news in pink and yellow.

She pulled a dress from a closet and held it out, letting the hanger dangle from one finger while she looked it over in contemplation: an emerald asymmetrical spaghetti strap dress that shimmered when the light hit it. The material tapered at the bottom, knee-length on one side, mid-thigh on the other. Though she liked it, opportunities to wear it were few and far between; it never seemed like the right choice, no matter the occasion.

Kristen jammed the dress back into the closet. She pushed the next hanger aside. She stopped, then pushed it back, looking at the emerald dress again. She
did
like it.

Is it too much, though?

Kristen pressed the dress to her body and faced the mirror. She recalled what the saleswoman had said when she bought it: the emerald green brought out her hair—her blonde hair. Kristen let the dress fall away to hang limp over her forearm.

What am I doing?

Going on a date was stupid. What did she expect to happen? Even if it went perfectly, even if Jack ended up being the mythical
one
, it would never go well. She wasn’t a blonde. She didn’t work security at Temple Financial. It was worse than that. She was Maiden Milwaukee—Lady Superior—and had absolutely no idea where she would be or when at any given moment. Jane could call her in the middle of dinner, and she’d have no choice but to get up and go. Doing anything else would be selfish, and she knew in her heart that no matter how much she whined about it, she didn’t want to do anything differently. If someone died because she ignored something important for a fancy dinner, she’d never forgive herself.

Kristen put her face into her hand. She was a living cliché and she knew it. Every hero in every comic book faced that problem: how do you live that double life? How do you live that lie?

She envisioned the possibility of sleeping with Jack, or any other guy. In her mind she saw herself riding someone and losing her wig in the process. What was the alternative? Revealing herself before every first date? Damn good way to lose a secret identity.

Go just this once
, she told herself,
and think about it later. If you change your mind, you can call it off.

Nodding to herself, she returned to the closet. After slinging her dress over her shoulder, she used both hands to untangle a nest of bras hanging from a single wire hook. She hated every last one of them. After a struggle, she pulled free a black, unadorned, strapless number. Pre-emptive anger welled in her stomach. She wasn’t made for strapless, but spaghetti strap dresses weren’t made for anything else.

After finding a matching purse and heels, Kristen showered, toweled off, and brushed out her wig. She supposed she’d need to get a few new wigs, too. They didn’t last forever, especially given she wore hers at nearly constantly. Still wrapped in a towel, she moved onto makeup, applying it, wiping it off, then applying it again. Too little became too much with a single stroke of the brush. Her inexperience became a source of frustration, her knowledge of makeup limited to applying lipstick and, in her high school days, gratuitous amounts of eyeliner. She settled on a dusting of rose on her cheeks and a coral red lipstick. Whether those colors were a fashionable combination for blonde hair and a green dress, she didn’t know. She hoped Jack wouldn’t know, either.

Paranoid, Kristen checked her phone to make sure she hadn’t missed Jack’s call. She hadn’t—he’d texted her.

Bacchus at 6?

“You were supposed to call me, dumbass.” She checked the time—there was time to finish preparations—and tapped her reply.
Never heard of it, but works for me.

Pick you up at 5?

Can I meet you there at 5:30 instead?

Do you know how to get there?

GPS.

K. Meet you there 5:30.

As Kristen laid the phone down, it buzzed again. She turned it over in her hand to look and winced reflexively as an image popped up, averting her eyes. She didn’t even see it, but instinct screamed dick pic. It wouldn’t be her first time for that particular rodeo, but it wasn’t a rodeo she ever wanted to revisit—or ever visit in the first place. She tried to talk herself away from the possibility. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. She’d gotten pictures of men flexing in a mirror before—still embarrassing to look at, but not quite as revolting or violating.

Kristen took a breath to steel herself and looked at the picture. Jack stood in front of a mirror wearing a white button-up collared shirt—the top two buttons left undone—beneath an open, black jacket. Kristen’s brow rose as she looked him over, the fit of his shirt suggesting muscle definition previously hidden by his hyper-casual Otherworlds’ attire. His shoulders seemed broader than she remembered, though it could have been the jacket. He wore his hair in a subdued, modern pompadour, dark hair messy in a styled sort of way. Stubble had grown in on his face since she last saw him, too. With the picture, he attached an accompanying message:
Too formal or not formal enough? Do we match?