Jasper says, “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”
“Iced tea.” She writes it down on a stained notepad. I expect her to walk away, but instead she says, “Anything else?”
“Want something to eat?” He’s speaking to me. I shake my head. This date isn’t going to last very long. Not with the easy way he’s smiling up at Vee. I’m going to say something rude or boring, and he’s going to realize that we are not meant to be. Also, me ordering food in a restaurant is complicated since I’m allergic to half the menu. Of course, Vee would make something special for me if I’d let her, but I’m not a child. That’s not the first impression I want to make.
When Vee finally leaves, Jasper drums his fingers on the tabletop in a happy little rhythm. He dips his head, trying to catch my gaze.
“You look familiar,” he says. “Have we met before?”
I meet a lot of people. Travel a lot with the research team at the Ziro Foundation. It’s possible I met Jasper somewhere before, but his face doesn’t ring any bells. I’d remember the gold flecks in his eyes and the way one of his front teeth is just crooked enough to be endearing.
Maybe it’s better if I cut this short. If I’m already cataloguing his features, it’s only a matter of time before he notices me staring and I embarrass myself.
“I think I’d remember if we’d met before,” I say. I check the time. I’ve been here for a half hour. Never mind that he just got here. Forty-five minutes is long enough for a first date, right? If I stick it out for fifteen minutes, I can tell Clarissa I tried and save myself from the hurt of waiting to hear from Jasper when he’s never going to talk to me again.
“You’re probably right.” He makes a disheartened noise. See? Doomed to failure.
But Vee returns with his iced tea and also a basket of tortilla chips with salsa and queso we didn’t ask for. When I go to point it out, she gives me a wink and says, “There’s onion in the salsa, but you should be good with the queso.”
It was Vee who was there for my first allergic reaction. Mother was chasing a dehydrated supervillain causing droughts in East Africa. Vee was left behind to make sure little Morgan did basic things like putting his shoes on the right feet and getting proper meals. Except it turned out my aversion to onions wasn’t only childish picky eating. When I finally choked down that first spoonful of French onion soup, I started to choke for real, sending us on a panicky ambulance ride to the ER. Thus began my lifelong fear of eating things I shouldn’t and making sure I was always armed with a trusty EpiPen in case my careful planning wasn’t careful enough.
“Don’t like salsa?” Jasper asks when she goes. He dips a chip into the salsa and sure enough, a big glob of it splashes onto the others, contaminating the whole thing.
Well, that’s just great.
“So, Jasper,” I say quickly, turning the subject away from myself. “Clarissa says you and Alyssa went to med school together. Are you a doctor too?”
He works a mouthful around until he can talk past it. Still, the words are garbled when he says, “I’m a henchman.”
My stomach drops. I can’t have heard that right. “A what?”
Jasper shrugs as he fishes around for another chip. “A henchman. I hench. If you need henching, I’m your man.”
I glance up at Mother, like she might be listening. Did her eyebrow arch get a little higher?
“You’re a criminal?” I ask. “Does Clarissa know about this?”
He sticks out his bottom lip like he’s considering this. The skin is chapped. His stubble is dark and scruffy against his cheek. Suddenly, I’m annoyed he didn’t have the consideration to shave. What about that first kiss? Just because we won’t see each other again doesn’t mean we can’t have one little kiss.
“I guess,” he says. “Technically.”
“Technically?” Not that there will be a first kiss. Not with someone like him. Henching? I didn’t even know that was a verb.
And yet, he doesn’t notice my mounting incredulity. Instead, he stuffs another chip into his mouth and says, “Good and evil are relative terms, don’t you think? You sure you don’t want some of these? The queso is awesome. I wonder if she has guacamole too.”
Relative terms? They most definitely are not. You don’t need to be a superhero to know some actions help people and others hurt. I clench my fists under the table.
Jasper licks melted cheese off his fingers. Like he’s having a conversation with himself, he says, “I mean, my employers are certainly criminals.”
“Employers? You have many?” I do my best to look casual as I reach for my drink, but my hand shakes with growing rage.
He shrugs, like we’re talking about the news. Stocks are up. War is ongoing. What can you do?
“The economy is tough. Hard to find full-time henchwork these days. I’ve got a few freelance henchgigs. Mostly, though, I work for Walter Wolfe. You’ve heard of him?”
I’m gripping my iced tea so tightly the plastic cup creaks. I consider throwing it at Jasper. Who confesses to criminal activities on a first date? Walter Wolfe claims to be a businessman, and maybe he was once. He made a fortune in industrial chemical manufacturing over a decade ago, and now he owns real estate all over the city. But the common wisdom back at SPAM was it’s all a front for more illegal activities. He’s just very good at covering his tracks, and technically his most obvious crimes are the sort that can be handled by regular human law enforcement, so we never got involved.
Also, I don’t work at SPAM anymore, so he’s not my problem. But if Jasper’s involved in any part of Wolfe’s operation, then our rosy future together is officially over. Doesn’t matter about his charming crooked teeth or his flecky eyes. I have standards, and they involve not running from the law.
