by Baron Sord
Sadie continued wailing.
“She needs me,” Tanya said.
The deck between her and her sister was a minefield of glass shards.
I said, “We need to clean this mess up. Go inside and get some shoes so you don’t cut your feet. And get a broom and a dust pan. I’ll get Sadie and bring her inside.”
Tanya glared at me, “How do I know you’re not going to kidnap her?” She was serious. She was also a teenager.
“For fuck’s sake, Tanya. I’m trying to help here.”
“I don’t know you!” she growled. “You ran into my backyard! You’re trespassing! How do I know you didn’t push Sadie in the pool?”
“Are you serious?” I chuckled.
“Hells yeah I am! I should call the police!”
“Fine!” I heaved a disgruntled sigh. “Sit right where you are and watch while I bring Sadie inside. Then get some shoes and a broom and clean this up. It’s your fucking mess.”
“Fuck you!”
Obviously, getting mad at a teenager wasn’t going to diffuse the situation. Someone had to be the adult. Soaking wet, I picked up Strawberry Sadie, who was finally tiring of crying and now sniffling and snorting more than wailing. She seemed more confused and scared than anything. I settled her into the crook of my arm and walked her into the house. I set her gently on the living room couch. Nice house. Expensive. Sadly, money didn’t make people less stupid.
I walked back outside and closed the screen door but left the slider open. I didn’t want Sadie getting accidentally locked inside.
I said to Tanya, who was clearly the bigger of the two babies here today, “There. Sadie’s safe. Don’t let her out until you clean the glass up. And keep an eye on her. She shouldn’t be alone by the pool.” I turned to go. “Oh, and learn CPR.”
“I know CPR!” Tanya snarled.
“Take a refresher course,” I grunted.
As I walked away, Tanya gawked at me like an indignant goldfish, dumb eyes and stupid mouth gaping. She didn’t say a thing.
The least she could’ve done was say thank you.
Nope, Tanya couldn’t even do that.
Who knew being a superhero could literally be a thankless job?
Fricking teenagers.
Grumbling to myself, I walked along the side of the house and hopped the gate.
To say that being a superhero had suddenly become unfun would be an understatement. The gravelly voice of a movie trailer announcer echoed through my head, In a world ruled by annoying teenagers, superhero Doug Moore decided he’d rather test tax software at YouDoIt instead of save lives…
That put a smile on my face because I would never feel that way.
My job was boring. The superhero life was not.
But I had to wonder, was the fresh scent of new starting to wear off?
Did things only get worse from here?
Turned out they did.
Not in an obvious way.
In the boiling bullfrog way, where you put the frog in room temperature water and slowly turned up the heat.
In my case, I was the dumb frog.
Sometimes, you just didn’t feel trouble brewing, not even with super powers that allowed you to predict the future distress of other people. Nobody said anything about me having the ability to predict my own future distress.
—: Chapter 19 :—
Thursday morning, I hopped out of the guest house like a sleepy bullfrog and stumbled across the yard toward the main house, wearing only my jeans. Passed the pool and went into the main house kitchen to make food.
Food, food, food.
I was starving again.
Like any hungry bullfrog, I was in the mood to eat anything smaller than I was.
I found a note from Arnold on the kitchen table.
I drove to work. Didn’t want to wake you.
What time was it?
11:02am
I hadn’t emailed or called Sanjay.
Maybe I should go to work for once?
Who was I kidding?
I wasn’t looking forward to the medieval torture chamber masquerading as YouDoIt, Inc. While drafting an excuse email to Sanjay and making breakfast, a distress signal stabbed me in the forehead.
…Dad! What’s wrong! Dad! Wake up! Dad!
I clicked send on the email and ran out the front door.
With Arnold’s Prius gone, I had no car. How far away was the call? I closed my eyes and concentrated. I was getting better at gauging distances.
…Dad! Open your eyes! Please, Dad! Say something! I can’t feel your pulse!
Only a few miles.
I could run it.
First, I ran into the guest house, grabbed the first T-shirt I could find, socks, shoes, and pulled my black ski mask out of my back pocket (where I now carried it at all times). Put the mask on my head without pulling it over my face — didn’t want to be caught wearing my disguise while leaving the house. When I hopped the front gate, I almost bowled over Vanessa and Stefan.
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Doug! You scared me!” As always, she looked like a zillion bucks.
“Can’t talk now! Emergency!” I blazed up the street at a normal human sprinting speed. Once I turned a bunch of corners and got to 1st Avenue, I pulled the ninja mask down and poured on the speed.
The speed limit on 1st was 25mph.
Hit my top speed and passed cars like they were standing still. Vaulted over several 4-way intersections with STOP signs, flying over any cars that were driving past crosswise.
Turned more than a few heads.
Farther up, I came to a 4-way at Robinson. It had stoplights. When I jumped, I didn’t have time to register that the stoplight was on the same post as a streetlight higher up. As I soared through the air, I realized I should’ve aimed for the gap between the horizontal bar for the stoplight and the one above for the streetlight. It was too late to correct my trajectory now.
So I flailed my arms like an idiot.
Didn’t do a damn thing.
GONG!
I banged into the horizontal streetlight bar at something like 40mph. Hit it with the bones in my forearms and spun end-over-end before slamming into the ground 20 feet below. Rolled another 30 feet before I came to rest on my back.
It was an epic, flailing fail.
No pain at the moment, but I knew I’d feel it later.
Checked my mask was still on (it was), jumped up, and kept going. For once, I hoped somebody did video that. I wanted to watch it on YouTube later so Arnold and I could enjoy a good laugh.
Running top speed again, I burned up 1st and turned east on Washington. Took that to El Cajon Blvd and ran down the middle of the road and jumped over the big fancy “The Boulevard” sign that stood in the center island. The sign was so big, it stretched almost all the way out over all six lanes. It was also tall, at least 20 feet to the top of the 1940s style lettering.
Vaulting it in plain sight was frivolous, I know, but call it jumping practice so I didn’t bang into any more streetlights.
As I flew over the big sign, I gasped as I nearly chopped my head off. Chopped, because I hadn’t noticed the lone utility wire running across the entire road just past the sign.
Missed it by that much.
Talk about close call.
Note to self: going forward, take the old proverb “Look before you leap” more literally.
A few minutes later I ended up outside some quaint suburban house in Normal Heights, not even breathing hard.
A guy with a silvering buzz cut wearing a San Diego Padres jersey was up on the roof of a small home, kneeling while hammering asphalt shingles near the edge. A ladder leaned against the side of the house. He was a beefy guy, maybe 60 years old and plenty healthy. The distress call I had heard said something about not being able to find some dad’s pulse.
Was this the dad?
Guy looked fine to me.
He stood up abruptly on the roof and started to wobble. Waved his arms and stumbl
ed toward the edge.
I launched myself onto the lawn. Landed and planted my feet, arms out.
“Shit!” The man shouted as he fell backward off the roof.
Landed right in my arms. I caught him easy, then set him down on the grass.
He blinked quizzically, “Who’re you?”
“Your second chance.” I grinned.
“What?”
“You just fell off the roof, buddy.”
He snorted, “I did, didn’t I. Did you catch me?”
“Yup.”
“Well fuck me,” he laughed. “I could’ve broken my neck.”
“Or worse.”
He looked up at the roof thoughtfully, “I got dizzy all of a sudden when I stood up.”
“It happens.”
“How the hell d’you catch me? I weigh nearly 220.”
I winked, “With my arms. You okay to stand up?”
“I think so.” He got on his hands and knees, planted one foot, then stood up like it took effort. Flailed his arms and grunted, “Whoa!”
I grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him.
He grumbled, “My balance is for shit these days.”
“You okay?”
“I’m good. Got an inner ear thing. Wrecks my balance. Were you just passing by or something?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Just walking up the sidewalk.”
“Daddy?” A gorgeous young blonde woman got out of an older Toyota that had just pulled up to the curb. “Is everything okay?”
“Hey, princess,” the dad said. “I’m fine.” To me he said, “My daughter.”
“I can see that,” I grinned.
The daughter walked up the brick walk. Her long blonde hair was pinned behind her neck and she wore a tight fitting business suit and pumps. She also wore sexy librarian eyeglasses. She reminded me of Pinstripe slightly, but her beauty was less severe and more sincere. Probably because of the eyeglasses.
The daughter smiled at her dad, “Who’s this?”
“I’m nobody,” I smiled.
She turned to her father, “Dad, were you on the roof again?”
“Yeah. Fixing shingles.”
While looking at the ladder and stack of shingles, the daughter sighed with frustration, “Dad! I told you not to go up there! It’s not safe.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he sighed with disappointment. Everybody knew getting old sucked, especially him.
I was pretty much done here, but I needed a polite excuse to leave.
“Funny thing is,” the dad said, “if it wasn’t for him catching me…”
“Catching you?” the daughter asked. “How did he catch you?”
“Ask him.”
She gave me a look.
I grinned, “With my arms.”
She glared at me, “Who’re you again?”
“Just someone walking by,” I said. “I saw your dad teetering on the edge so I ran up and caught him.”
“Caught him?” she said with obvious disbelief. “He weighs 230 pounds!”
“220,” the dad said proudly. “I’ve been losing weight.”
I said, “I should probably go.”
“Don’t go away too fast,” the dad said. “Let me get you a Bud or something.”
“I should really go,” I smiled, edging down the lawn.
“What are you talking about, buddy?” he laughed. “You’re my second chance! Like you said! The least I can do is offer you a beer.” He threw his arm around my neck and dragged me into his house.
The daughter followed us into the kitchen.
Dad pulled two bottles of Budweiser from the fridge and popped the caps on a bottle opener screwed to the wall over the kitchen sink.
The daughter eyed the beer in her dad’s hand, “I hope you don’t plan on going back up on that roof.”
He grinned at her, “Not today, princess. But there’s always tomorrow.” He winked at me and held up his bottle of Budweiser for a clink.
I clinked his and we both took swallows.
“You a Padres fan?” he asked.
“Sure,” I shrugged. I never watched baseball, but his jersey said he did.
“Figures,” he grinned. “So, second chances, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess.” This was weird.
The daughter was again confused, “What are you two talking about?”
The dad said, “When he caught me, he said he was my second chance.” He looked at me, “You some kind of guardian angel or something?”
“No,” I chuckled. “Just a regular person.” I couldn’t tell them the truth, no matter how hospitable they were.
The daughter said, “What’s your name, anyway?”
I finally took a good look.
Aside from her sexy librarian eyeglasses and stunning face, her tight business suit didn’t hide much. Instead, it accentuated a hint of cleavage that poked up above the buttons of her blouse. Her boobs weren’t huge, but they were real and had a nice shape. Her slender calves were visible below her tight skirt.
Yeah, I had the urge to grab everything under that skirt, but I repressed it like a gentleman. And yes, I felt guilty for drooling over her in front of her dad.
I looked away and took a big swallow of beer.
“Your name,” she demanded.
Dad smirked, “She’s an attorney. Asks a million questions and loves to argue. Isn’t that right, princess?”
“I do not, Dad!”
He chuckled and winked at me, “What’d I tell ya?”
“Shush, Dad.” The princess smirked at me, “Back to the question. What was your name again?”
I almost said, Does it matter? But, how weird was it to refuse a person your first name after they invited you into their house? Unless you were Lady Liberty, of course, in which case, refusing to say your name was business as usual.
I sighed and lied, “It’s Chance.”
“Shall I assume your first name is Second?” the daughter snarked.
“Ha!” The dad chuckled. “Smart as a whip.” He swallowed more beer.
“What’s your name, really?” she demanded.
“It’s really Chance,” I lied. They didn’t need to know.
Okay, the princess thought, this guy is a trifle annoying, but he sure is cute. She glared at me, but it was a smiling glare and her hazel eyes sparkled with desire.
“You single?” the dad asked me, pointing the neck of his beer bottle at me.
“Dad!” the daughter laughed.
“She’s single,” he said and sipped his beer.
“Stop, Dad!” She giggled nervously. Why am I acting like a teenager? I stand in front of judges and juries! Besides, looks don’t make the man. I learned that the hard way with Nick.
The dad said, “Ever since that asshole Nick left you, you’ve been a spinster. It’s been what, five years? When am I gonna get grandkids? This house is awful quiet with your mom gone, God rest her soul.”
“Uhh…” I chuckled. I didn’t want to get dragged into any family drama. The Princess was beautiful, but I was too young to settle down and start a family. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was a few years older than me. If she was looking for marriage and kids right away, I was probably the wrong guy for her. I said, “Maybe I should go.”
The dad said, “You haven’t even finished your beer, Chance. It’s a party foul to leave an unfinished beer.”
The daughter smiled at me, “You don’t have to finish your beer.”
Was she blushing?
She was.
She was also nervously curling a loose lock of spun gold blonde hair that curled behind her ear. Why are his eyes so dreamy? I can’t even look at them without trembling.
Okay, my heart was pounding. I may have turned handsome since the alien eclipse, but after a single week, it still hadn’t sunk in, and having gorgeous women lose their composure in my presence was still a thrill. Maybe I’d get tired of it some day — twenty years from now.
“Drink,” the dad ordered.
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I could finish one beer. I took a swallow.
“So, Chance,” the daughter said. “What do you do?”
Okay, we were doing this. “I, uh, software.”
“Computers,” the dad said. “See? He’s got a good job too. What did I tell you? Chance is the man. Good with his hands and his brain.”
Remembering how Vanessa had wanted to turn me into Slick Rick, the Corporate King, I blurted, “But I’d rather draw comics.”
“Draw what?” the daughter asked.
“Comic books,” I said. “You know, Spider-Man, Batman. That kind of thing. I’m building up my portfolio so I can switch over from software to comics.”
Dad grinned, “An athlete and an artist with a good job? What’s not to like, sweetheart?” He nudged his daughter with an elbow. “I bet he’s good with kids too, what with the comic books and what not.”
“Wow, Dad,” she said nervously, “Bromance much?”
The dad laughed. “So what? Doesn’t make me gay. I can tell a good man when I see one. Twenty years on the force, you learn a thing or two.”
The force? Was this guy a cop?
“Dad!” She laughed giddily. Dad is right. I would totally date this guy. Talk about second chances. Nick could barely hold down a job. Chance looks like he has plenty of potential. In and out of the bedroom…
If her dad hadn’t been here, I might have flirted with her. Being that he was a cop, forget it. I chugged the rest of my Budweiser and set the empty on the counter. “Thanks again for the beer. I should really go.”
“Not until you ask my daughter to dinner,” the dad chuckled. “To which I grant you permission, Chance.”
They both stared at me expectantly.
The daughter thought, He better ask me out. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. How could a woman as beautiful as her ever doubt a guy like me would ask her out, given half a chance?
Yeah, I had been waiting my entire life for a woman like her to be interested in a schlub like me. So what if her dad was a cop?
“Uhh,” I chuckled nervously, “I don’t even know your daughter’s name.”
“It’s Justine,” they both said at the same time.
“Justine Escala,” she giggled.
He laughed, “And I’m Doug.” He offered his hand. “Doug Escala.”