Sidekick (9 page)

“Partnership?”

“Okay, you’re right. Partnership is probably the wrong word. I was thinking more mentorship. Like you mentoring me.”

“I certainly didn’t think it was the other way around.”

“Good. Good. See?” I wagged a finger at her. “We’re on the same page already.”

Dead silence.

“Look here’s the thing,” I said quickly. “I need you to teach me how to be like you. I don’t want to be a bunny fighting marshmallows.”

Ryder blinked slowly. “I’m sorry?”

“A bunny!” I shouted. “Look, I can do this. I know I can. Today something came over me. I have never felt so alive. And saving that boy, or rather helping you save that boy, that was the best thing I’ve ever done! And, well, I really need some money. Does the city pay you? Or maybe we could start hiring ourselves out to do events. You know, like, we could be the hot crowd control chicks. I was thinking—”

Ryder raised her hand again. I stopped talking.

“Explain to me why you do not already have a job?”

My eyes widened as I cocked my head. I was expecting her first word to be
no
. This was going better than expected.

“I do have job. It’s just not a very good one. And I owe my boss money, and I think he might be cataloguing me in a mail order bride system. And I’d get a better job, but I don’t really have any skills. And—”

“And you naturally thought of crime fighting,” she said dryly.

Whoops.

“No! I mean, you have lots of skills, way more skills than most people. That’s why I want you to teach me. I just…I don’t know…this seems right. I need to fix my karma. I have been the beneficiary of bad things. I need to…give back.”

“And why would I do this?” she asked, pinning me in her gaze. “As they say, what’s in it for me?”

Still not a no.

“Well, lots of things. Obviously, you can’t be everywhere at once. I mean we really could have used you at the bank the other day, and you kind of let us down. I’m sure you had a good reason, I’m just saying. And when’s the last time you went on vacation? You know, went to the beach. Got a tan. Well you probably don’t tan much. Is that racist? I babble when I’m nervous. Anyway, I bet you’d like a vacation.”

“At this moment, very much so,” she said.

“Huh? Oh. That was good. Very funny,” I said laughing nervously. “So what do you think?

Ryder tapped the side of her mug with a very long fingernail.

“I will give you one chance.”

“Really? Holy crap! Suddenly my feet were screaming…probably because I was jumping up and down. I stopped quickly. Not cool. Wait. Why?”

“I have a number of reasons,” she said slowly. “But most importantly, I saw the footage of you at the bank.”

“You did? You own a TV?” I scanned the walls. I wondered if there was a super-cool techno-room somewhere. I bet there was. I bet—

“There is little I don’t know about this city,” she said dismissively. “But more to the point, when a deadly situation arose, you took the attention away from someone less able to defend herself, which is quite remarkable.”

“Yeah…I mean, yes, my bravery was quite remarkable that day.” I had originally been thinking stupid, but I was liking her analysis much better.

“I was impressed with your bravery…although your judgement remains in question. You were obviously unprepared to face the threat,” she said face still impassive. “Regardless, again today, when that little boy was in great danger, out of the hundreds of people on the street, you were the only one who came to his aid.”

Well, I
had
thought the guns were fake, but I wasn’t about to look a superhero in the mouth. “This is awesome Ryder. I swear I won’t let you down. I’ll—”

“I said I would give you a chance,” she said arching her perfect eyebrow. “I should have, perhaps, called it a test.”

“Oh, a test. I’m not very good at tests. That’s kind of my sister’s thing.”

Ryder narrowed her gaze.

“Right a test. No problem. Yes sir. Thank you sir—I mean Ryder. Er, by test, what exactly do you mean?”

“You will fight crime.”

“Oookay.”

“I will call you when it is time for your test. I will expect you to come to whatever location I give you, immediately.” She rose to her feet in one fluid motion. “You will have one chance to stop a crime and apprehend the criminal.”

I chewed my lip then said, “Now by crime, are we talking petty larceny, or eating people’s kidneys type of crime?”

Again she just looked at me.

“Okay, you surprise me.”

We stayed staring at each other for a few moments.

“You may go now.”

“Wait. That’s it?”

“That is it.”

“No training? No suggestions? No tips?”

“Wear shoes.”

“Anything else?”

“I have always found that a well-tailored outfit intimidates criminals.”

I waited for more, but nothing seemed to be coming. “Okay, well, then, thanks…I guess. I’ll expect your call.”

I walked really slowly to the elevator hoping that she’d change her mind and offer a few more words of wisdom. Nothing.

I pressed the down button and turned to wave. She was gone, disappeared once again into the foliage.

Well, at least I had a lot to think about on the long walk home. Yup, long walk home…that I’d have to sprint! Holy crap! I was late for work!

And I still had to pee.

Chapter Twelve

Mr. Raj was not impressed with my showing up an hour and a half late, but he didn’t fire me. He had pressing business that required my help. I spent three hours stuffing envelopes with a thong from the thong drawer and a photograph of one of the vipers, personalized by yours truly with a lipsticked SWAK in the corner. As far as first days went, I suppose it could have been worse.

After my shift, I stumbled back to my apartment, did a face-plant onto my bed, and stayed comatose for a good six hours. I would have slept longer, but the evil pigeons living outside the window by my feet woke me with their early morning burbling.

Surprisingly, though, I didn’t wake up grumpy. Actually, I woke up feeling like I had ants in my pants instead of cockroaches in my bed.

I was ready to get started.

Started on my path to superness.

I just needed to figure out how to get started.

Then it occurred to me—a list!

It certainly sounded like a good idea. I would make a list of everything that a superhero might need. I already knew number one—a killer outfit with matching shoes. That had been Ryder’s main advice, and it seemed rude not to take it.

Next, with the killer outfit, I would obviously need some sort of makeover. Growing up
we
had always been a kind of corn silk blonde. When I ran away, for lack of a better term, I dyed my hair a very unfortunate brown. At the time, it didn’t really seem to matter what color I chose. I had to do it, but it still felt like I was betraying Jenny. We had always tried to look the same despite the differences. Now, though, I was feeling like it was okay to get something new. After all, I wasn’t just auditioning for the role of crime fighter for me. This was the way out for the both of us. I could feel it. And I needed to look the part. So I put hair dye down on the list.

Which led to the next problem. Money. Hair dye cost money. Actually everything cost money. Food, most importantly. I couldn’t think of any new ways to
make
money, so I decided to put it on the list and worry about it later. Only the list was important now. Everything else would follow.

I sat on my bed and pondered a little longer, tapping my pen against my teeth. What else did a superhero need? Gadgets! Ryder had all sorts of rappelling gear, bulletproof costumes, and whips. I needed something too. I had no idea what, but it was on the list now, so it would definitely be taken care of.

Next, had to be fighting. If I was going to be grappling with criminals of all shapes and sizes, I needed to have some way of defending myself other than distraction and luck. There had to be a gym around here that took down-on-her-luck type walk-ins and made them into fighting machines. I put it on the list.

Soon I ran out of ideas, so I sat staring at the piece of paper on my lap. It was a good-looking list. No one could deny that. Maybe it needed some little flowers on each corner and some edging.

Embellishing my list took up another twenty minutes. At which point I realized I still hadn’t actually done anything. I thought about going to the library to research superheroes, but my feet were puffy pain-balloons. Practical shoes were definitely number one, but that was impossible without money. So I drew an arrow on the margin of my list to indicate that money was now number one. Then I spent another twenty minutes rearranging the priority of items on my list. After which I realized the list was messy and needed to be rewritten on a fresh sheet of paper. The list deserved it.

After all my hard work, I decided to reward myself with a nap.

Two hours later, I was still asleep, dreaming of large biceps.

A buzzing noise jerked me from my happy place.

I reached over to my cell resting on top of the toilet, being very careful not to knock it into the bowl. It was bound to happen one of these days, but I was learning that I liked living on the edge.

“Hey, it’s Pierce.”

Pierce? Who was Pierce? I didn’t know any Pierces, which was kind of funny given my former life. You would think I would have run into at least one Pierce on a yacht or something. I mean—

“Pierce Stricklin. The reporter from the bank?”

“Oh! Yeah, hi, I would have called you back, but I was…” What? Stalking superheros? Mailing thongs? Sleeping on your pretend bicep? “Busy.”

“No problem. Look, I was just finishing up my piece on the bank, and I could really use a quote from the Good Samaritan that vanished from the scene.”

“Really? Who’s that?”

“Ah…you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, your picture is all over the papers. Everyone is trying to get a hold of you for an interview, including the police.”

“Oh…terrific.”

This was bad, bad, bad. The fact that the tabloids hadn’t already picked up on my real identity was a miracle. The bank’s camera must have been low-grade. My father, however, almost certainly knew the truth. He had minions for this sort of thing. I didn’t want to think about what his next move would be. There had been some talk awhile back about my being committed if I caused any trouble. I wondered if my face being splashed all over the media qualified as trouble.

“I know we barely know each other, but it would be a real scoop if maybe—”

“No! I mean…I would love to, but I really can’t—”

“Is there some reason you don’t want anyone to know it was you at the bank?”

“There is. There is. You see…well…have I mentioned I’m really impressed with your investigation skills? You picked up on that right away. Did you have to go to school for that, or—”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

“It is?”

“Sure, I like a woman with a little mystery.”

“That sounds like a line from an ‘80s sitcom.”

“Yup, mysterious and abrasive, that’s my dream girl.”

“Sorry. I’m a little on edge. I would like to help you out. I just…can’t.”

“It’s okay…really. I don’t suppose you’d still like to get together though? Maybe dinner?”

Oh boy, would I! I paused for a second to make sure I didn’t say that out loud. “I’d love to.” Aside from all the obviously handsome reasons I had for talking to him, I also had some serious ones. If anyone could give me more information about Dark Ryder, it would be him, and if I was going to impress her, I needed all the information I could get.

“Okay, great.”

He gave me directions to a place by his work, and we agreed to meet at nine.

I clicked my phone off, shot up in bed, and did a little happy bounce. I realized midair my feet no longer felt like they were going to rupture. That clinched it. I had too much energy to sit still any longer. It was time to do some research.

***

It’s true. You really can find anything on the internet these days.

Given my non-existent monetary funds, I decided to tackle something free. Gadget research. I made my way to the public library and typed
DIY weapons
into a search engine. I waited a few minutes to see if my query would flag a SWAT team, but when nothing happened, I jumped right in.

Most of the ideas were completely impractical for anyone but the very, very rich—which kind of seemed like a personal attack—but I got a few ideas, made a list, and then decided to hit the streets to the nearest electronics store.

Even though my shoes were still painfully inappropriate, and I suspected the white mark on my jacket was bird poop, my enthusiasm was surging.

I had a date with an extremely hot guy, and I had a plan to make an almost-deadly weapon. Things were definitely looking up.

I wandered a few blocks until I found a shop with video games, comic books, and promising electronic doodads in the window. A glowing sign above the door read Dreaming of Electric Sheep. The weirdness of it almost kept me walking, but I figured I’d give it a shot before moving on.

When I stepped inside, a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ryder nearly knocked me over.

The temperamental universe was speaking to me again. I knew it.

At the counter sat an average-looking guy flipping the pages of a technical magazine. A little bit of grease glistened on his chin, mostly likely from the half-eaten pizza slice laying on the counter by his elbow. Every now and then, he cast a glance over to his phone. Occasionally he tilted it up to look at, what I was guessing, was a text message, but generally he ignored the constant barrage of noise coming from the little device.

I made my way through the aisles trying to find everything on my list, but I wasn’t having much luck. I needed help.

I walked over to Mr. Customer Service as the phone on the counter buzzed again. This time the guy didn’t even look at it. Instead he simply muttered, “Just not that into you.”

“Um, excuse me?”

He lazily rolled his eyes up to mine.

“I was wondering if you could help me with this.” I handed him my list.