After the amulet is good and buried, Ollie goes to work. Dave insists that he can take a day off of wherever he works at. (I still have no idea.)
Dave and I are sitting in the kitchen drinking lemonade, and I start to think about where Ivory and Dominic could be.
"Ivory is crazy, right? And if he kidnapped Dominic because he wanted a son, he probably wants a big happy family, right? That's usually how psychotic kidnappers work. They kidnap their estranged children, and then they go for their spouses next. He might want them to all be together." I know it's a long shot, but at the moment it's the only thing I have left to go on.
"You think he's going to go after Taylor? But how will he find her? She skipped town, remember? Nobody knows where she is. Except... us." Dave's eyes widen. "What if he comes here to find Taylor? Once he realizes she's missing, he's going to look for clues as to where she went. What if he finds that hard drive? Then he'll know where she went... and she has no idea he's even alive. Maya, she's in trouble if Ivory is trying to find her. We have to let her know what's going on," Dave insists.
"How? All I know is that she's in Lincoln, Idaho. I can't contact her. The only person who probably knows how to contact her is..." my eyes drift down to the newspaper, still flipped over to the second page, where there's that picture of the chubby woman from that newscast, "...her sister. Dave. Where does her sister, Marie, live?"
"How am I supposed to know? I'm not exactly friends with her," Dave scoffs. I give him a stony look.
"I'm not talking about that, Dave. You do have a directory of some sort, right?" I ask him. He nods but still looks skeptical.
"You're just going to find her sister and be all like, 'Hey I just need to tell Taylor that her psycho ex-boyfriend is back from the grave, has kidnapped her not-dead son, and that she's probably next on his hit-list and might be in danger? Oh btw he's like a teleporter, so you better hurry'?"
"What else am I supposed to do? I'm not exactly thrilled about helping Taylor, you know. I'm just being a good person or whatever. Plus I kind of owe her for kidnapping Dominic in the first place," I admit. Dave nods and gets up, opening the drawer stuffed with phone chargers and important information. He pulls out the thick directory and tosses it over to me. I catch it and rifle through it for Maria's name. I find Maria under 'Garcia,' but when I look further down, I don't see Taylor's name anywhere. Weird. I mean, like everybody knows where she lives anyway, but still.
"There's her address. Do you want to go give her a visit?" He looks doubtful of my plan, but he doesn't say anything. This is why we're friends.
"I have another brilliant idea. Is my costume out of the wash yet?" Another bad thing about physical costumes- you have to actually work to get the bloodstains out. He nods. "Perfect. Let's do this thing."
"I'm really starting to think you don't know the proper definition of 'brilliant," Dave tells me with a grimace. "Because if you're thinking what I think you're thinking... well..."
"The Guardian Angel looks out for people, Dave," I say in a patronizing tone. "I'm just doing my duty."
"I think I'm going to regret ever encouraging you to do this," Dave mutters under his breath.
"Damn right you are." I give him my brightest smile and calmly saunter out of the kitchen and into the laundry room adjacent to the bathroom. My- or should I say Angel's (shudder)- costume is hanging up on the wooden drying rack, ready to be worn. The bloodstains are gone, thanks to my extensive expertise in this field. (Which is probably a bad thing, considerably.) Dave's footsteps come up behind me, and when I turn to greet him I see he's holding the dreaded boots.
"What was it like?" he asks as I take the shoes from his hands and shove them onto my socked feet.
"What was what like?" I inquire, pulling the hoodie over one of Ollie's old Coca Cola muscle shirts that shrunk too much in the dryer and now belongs to me.
"Being a good guy for the first time. Fighting crime as a superhero. You know," he prompts, shrugging. "Remember? Saved a guy and his family from death at the hands of a psycho invisible dude who ran an illegal gambling operation? Is this seriously not ringing any bells for you?" I ignore his relentless sarcasm and decide to answer the first question truthfully.
"A lot more painful than I expected it to be." I gesture to the bruises spanning across my face as way of reply. "But that's probably just my luck. I bet 'Your Highness' has never had his beautiful face marred by anything more than a paper cut," I scoff.
"Yeah, but that's because he's 'Your Highness,' Maya. He never actually fights crime, just tries to scare the criminals off with his abs," Dave says with a laugh. "He has great muscles, admittedly, but he never uses them for anything more than supporting his own ego. You should be proud of yourself. I think you can make some real change in this city, Maya. You're definitely not afraid to get your hands dirty." He glances up at my face.
"You say that like it's a good thing," I reply bitterly. "I think I'm just fooling myself by thinking I could be anything more than a gutless ex-villain. But I'll keep this facade up for a little while longer, or at least until something goes wrong. Because something will. I'm like the harbinger of bad luck. I don't even need that creepy amulet," I say dryly, pointing to the yard where a freshly-toiled patch of earth conceals the safe and the dangerous necklace (two words I never thought I'd use together) underneath. Dave frowns and shakes his head.
"God, Maya. Don't... Don't talk about yourself like that." I'm sure he doesn't mean to, or at least I don't think he does, but for a fraction of a second his gaze flickers down to my wrists concealed underneath the hoodie sleeves. Then his eyes flicker back up to meet mine. I narrow mine in turn. This is what you get, Maya, when you carry around with you the physical evidence of your mental instability. You get the looks of pity and the walking-on-eggshells-around-you. Did you think that you would receive anything more? Self-respect? Because you're so tough because you can take a blade to your own skin? When people see you, all they'll see is the scars. And all you'll ever be is a freak, whether you feel that way towards yourself anymore or not.
"Whatever," I reply, voice cold and not betraying the the emotions quivering underneath the layer of calloused uncaring, like magma moving underneath a volcano ready to blow. Because the truth is, I do care. And I'm tired of pretending I'm ok. I never wanted pity. That was never my goal. But it looks like that's what I'm going to get whether I manage to suffer my through a smile or burst into tears.
"Wait, Maya!" Dave calls out as I turn to leave. I don't want to hear his sorries, see the concern in his eyes, or the crinkle of worry in his brow. But I turn around anyway. "You forgot your leggings," he says, a crooked half-smile lighting in his face as he holds out the black suction cups that double as pants. Even though he may not be completely aware of what he did to warrant such a reaction from me in the first place, his eyes plead for forgiveness. My heart softens, my shoulders slump, and I gingerly take the leggings from his outstretched hands.
Who am I kidding? Dave and Ollie are the greatest things that have happened to me in a long time. I'd be a fool to push either of them away just because they're concerned for me. I should feel lucky that I actually have someone other than just myself to look out for me. It's been a long time since something like that happened, and I think I'm just not used to that. But maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if I did get used to it.
"Thanks, Dave," I murmur, hoping he hears the many meanings weighing behind those two simple words. By the way that he nods almost imperceptibly and gives me a small smile before breaking eye contact, I think that he does. So I skip the sappy, uncomfortable pleasantries to follow and I walk out of the room, kicking off my boots and quickly changing into the leggings. (Which I definitely don't hate any less, by the way.) Once we're both ready to go, Dave tears out Maria's address from the directory with a small smile on his face and we get into his Chevy. (Which still is dented from my little scrap with Tate... oops.)
"You sure you're up for this?" Dave asks as he pulls out of the driveway. I've already cloaked myself, so if Dave's neighbors were to look over they would just see him talking to his imaginary friend. But he doesn't seem to care at all. I admire that about him.
"Of course," I scoff importantly. "I'm the Guardian Angel now. I can do anything," I reply with as much sanctimonious narcissism I can possibly muster. When we're safely out of the view of his neighbors and anyone who might recognize him with me, I make myself visible again- but wearing regular clothes. It's hard to have a conversation with an invisible person, I get that.
"Oh, but of course," Dave says as he rolls his eyes. "How could I forget? Maybe they should have just dubbed you 'Her Royal Majesty' instead," he adds sarcastically.
"It would only be fair," I reply with deadpan. We both grin at each other like idiots, and then I proceed to feel even worse for acting like such a jerk to Dave earlier. Am I so self-absorbed anymore that all I do is wallow in self-pity with no regards to the feelings of those around me who can't stand to see me self-destruct? I'll try harder, I promise, I think as I watch Dave. He continues to drive down the road with lingering amusement brightening his already megawatts-beyond-happy face. I don't deserve you, but I'll try.
Dave surprises me with his epic navigational skills as he winds his way through the city with ease, heading towards Marie's address without even utilizing his state-of-the-art GPS. When he sees my bewildered look, he gives me a sideways grin.
"Ollie's the one who always gets lost," Dave explains, his eyes soft with adoration as he taps the GPS with his finger. "That's how we met, actually." Frustratedly, he doesn't elongate, so I have to give him a circular hand gesture of encouragement.
"C'mon," I urge, sitting sideways with my legs draped over the console between us. "How did the legendary duo stumble upon each other?"
"I'm driving," Dave protests, but he's obviously holding back a laugh of defeat. Determined, I inch up closer until my feet are almost dangling in his lap and I give him the best puppy-eyes I can manage without popping the capillaries in my eyes. Finally he looks at me and bursts out laughing. "That is the scariest look I've ever seen, darling. I think I'll tell you the story if you stop staring at me like that. Please." Immediately my hopeful, adorable look downturns into a scowl. I shoot him deadly daggers with my eyes, but he just continues to smirk. What a smug son-of-a-Twinkie.
"Those were my puppy-eyes," I mumble, slinking down in my seat out of embarrassment. Dave starts to giggle hysterically, not stopping until he starts to wheeze. Even then, the faint chuckle bubbles up from his lips. My scowl deepens even more.
"Love," he says, sounding like he's choking, "I think you'd better stick with intimidation and ruling-by-fear and whatnot. Leave the puppy-eyes to Ollie," he advises.
"Oh. Is this because I like to 'get my hands dirty?' Is that it?" I snark. When he nods solemnly, I punch in the shoulder with just enough force to make him yelp and almost run us off the road. Another suppressed laugh twinkles in his eyes. "Screw you," I growl, but then I'm laughing too. "Just tell me the story already."
He shrugs amicably, glancing from me to the road and then back to me. He says, "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you." He taps his fingers on the steering wheel with an innocent look on his face, absolutely milking the moment. Finally he opens his mouth to speak.
YOU ARE READING
Super?
Adventure"Stop pretending to be an idiot, idiot." Ouch. It burns. "You're starting to sound like a dear old friend of mine," she adds, her tone implying that her "friend" isn't so much of a "friend" as a mortal enemy who she probably also dragged into an all...
