“A date.”
My eyebrow shot up. Oh. OH! My eyes widened. I slammed the folder shut, realizing I had misread the situation. Flustered, I sat up straighter, running a hand through my beard. If I had known, I’d have ironed my shirt. At least I had taken a shower before leaving the house. Did he expect flowers? A hug? A handshake? The spiral took hold.
“Aww, you’re back.” I had never been more thankful for a nosy teenager in my life. “Couldn’t get enough, could you? The pizza, I mean. Get your minds out of the gutter.”
We must have both looked as if we were caught with our hands in the cookie jar. It took a moment before I noticed that Becky awkwardly hugged herself, fidgeting as if our discomfort radiated outward. I had to stop it.
“PIZZA!” I shouted. It took a moment, but both Booker and Becky chuckled at the outburst. “The usual,” I said. “Soda for me and water for?—”
“Soda for me, too.” Becky nodded and left us to our awkward first date. Even though his cheeks were still beaming, he flashed a grin. “It’s not a work session.”
I hardly knew how to navigate Booker during work. During interviews, I offered my two cents, but I felt likedead weight. I had considered asking Ricardo to fire me. At least at Secret Identities, I knew how to do my job. I was just as clueless about how to handle a date with this handsome man.
“A date?” Might as well get the awkwardness out of the way. “What prompted this?”
He squirmed. Booker, a man capable of making a scientist break down and confess to stealing reams of paper, didn’t like being in the hot seat. I enjoyed the less-than-confident version of him.
“Save my life once, you get a firm handshake. Twice? A date to Vanguard’s best pizza joint… It’s the least I could do.”
Obligation. It knocked the wind from my sails.
“No,” he blurted. “That came out wrong.” He leaned back in the chair and let out a long sigh. “I meant to say… I didn’t mind having you lying on top of me. Is that bad? Cheesy?”
“Second cheesiest thing here,” I said with a smile. Sails filled again. “I appreciate it.” I didn’t know what to do with it, but I appreciated it. Who knew if he meant it, but I wanted to see where the night took us.
“Why Vanguard?” He asked.
“Born and raised,” I confessed. “Lived in Southland all my life.”
“Rough neighborhood, isn’t it?”
If only he knew. Then I remembered he knew the exactneighborhood from taking me home. “From the outside, it looks that way. But we’re just like everybody else. Trying to survive.”
“Why Secret Identities?”
I shook my head. “This isn’t an interrogation.”
“Force of habit.” Did I tell him his awkwardness bordered on endearing?
“Why Vanguard?” I asked.
“They assigned me here. Before that, I did three years in Sin City. Before that, I was on the West Coast. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the ocean from my office.”
“How are you liking it?” I wanted to pat myself on the back for having a genuine conversation. No motives. No wanting to hide. He somehow disarmed my insecurities. It made me suspicious, but I locked that worry in a compartment in my head.
“I like it. I wish the subway ran on time. There are so many supervillain lairs down there. I wish I didn’t need super insurance for my car.”
“You’ll be thankful. I blame Synergy—” and my co-workers “—but there seems to be a superhero battle every few days.”
“After Sin City, I shouldn’t be surprised.” He uncrossed his arms and leaned on the table. “But I like it so far. It’s been an adventure.” The way he smirked while staring me in the eye made me wish Becky would magically appear.
“I needed a job,” I said, going back to his earlierquestion. “Secret Identity, I mean.” It was hard to think it had been a year since I started. “Arthur wrote a horrible job description. He needed warm butts in seats. He would have taken anybody.” I recalled the copious number of supers in the waiting room. I made the cut while he had to turn them away.
“Why’d you stay?”
I could have lied and said I was good at my job. I got it done, but until the pushback with Director LaToya, I never thought I carried my weight. “They’re different.” Everybody tried to make me feel like I belonged, but that was baggage reserved for a second date. “They get me in a way most folks don’t.”
“But you’re not convinced?” He said it and quickly covered his mouth. “Sorry. Occupational hazard.” He leaned forward. “If you haven’t noticed, it’s hard to turn off the job. I’m not saying it’s ruined my social life, but if you shot me down for tonight, I’d be home watching Real Housewives of Vanguard.”
