I had barely rounded the corner in the hallway when my phone rang. I answered, and Dee was talking before I could say a word. “Barry, watch your back. I think we kicked a hornets nest yesterday.”
“You don't say,” I answered.
“Yeah, we should talk. Lunch at one o-clock work for you?”
“Sure, but...”
“OK, cool, pick you up in the quad. Bye.” She hung up before I could tell her about my encounter with The Mook.
Sparing a quick glance behind me to make sure I was not being followed, I dashed outside and ran across campus to a little used study lounge in the Health Sciences building. I didn't have any classes in that building, so it was very unlikely anyone would think to find me there. A small group of students sat in one corner quietly bemoaning their struggle with organic chemistry, but otherwise the place was mostly empty.
My heartbeat gradually slowed. I began to feel a bit more calm. Thinking it over, I began to wonder if I was really in any danger. I mean, the guy hadn't really threatened me. Not explicitly anyway. Probably not at all. He couldn't help how he looked. OK, well, maybe he could... I doubt anyone was forcing him to spend twelve hours a day at the gym... but that was still no reason to judge the man unfairly. Well, whatever his intentions, this was really Dee's problem, wasn't it? All I could really do was give her the business card and the whole story and let her figure out what she was going to do. Maybe she would be fine with selling the building for a quick profit and be done with it.
Somehow I doubted that, but hey, a guy can dream.
I decided to set aside these worries until our lunch date and get some studying done until then. I cracked open my Theory of Computing text and dove in. My eyes kept scanning the same paragraph over and over, but it just wasn't sinking in. Too many thoughts crowding to utilize the same neurons. Nevertheless, I kept slogging away at it.
Eventually, 1:00 arrived. I packed up, slung my back pack over my shoulder, and ran outside to the quad. Dee pulled up just as I got there.
"Jump on," she instructed even before she had completely stopped.
"You don't want to just eat at the student union?" I asked.
"No, I've got something better planned. Here wear this," she said as she handed me a spare helmet. It was dark blue and included a built in eye shield. It was also covered with Hello Kitty stickers. She saw me looking at the stickers and said, “It was a phase I went through. Just put it on, its not infectious.” I strapped on the helmet, climbed on the Vespa, and we were off.
We zipped along, eventually winding our away along streets unfamiliar to me. We finally stopped in an alley behind a strip mall. Dee jumped off and knocked on the back door of a Vietnamese restaurant. When the door opened, she greeted the diminutive oriental woman who appeared, speaking rapidly in what I assume was the woman's own language. The woman just nodded in answer, disappeared back inside, then returned a moment later with a large paper bag with the top stapled shut. The two women shared a brief conversation, none of which I followed, then Dee turned and handed the bag to me.
“Hang on to it tightly,” she said as we climbed back on the scooter, “I've been looking forward to the Kapiek Sen Soup for a while now.”
We continued on, eventually finding our way back toward familiar areas of town, and came to a stop in front of the textile factory.
“We are going to eat here?” I asked.
“Sure. I mean, the courts might say I own the place now, but it won't really feel like home until I've had lunch in it.” We climbed off the scooter and walked to the main door. “It's always been that way for me,” she continued, “We moved around a lot when I was growing up, and this was sort of a tradition. We would show up someplace new, get carry-out, then sit and have our first meal in the place even before any of the boxes were unpacked. That was always how I knew I was home.”
As she talked, she fumbled with an assortment of keys hooked to a carabiner clip attached to her belt. She eventually found one that fit the padlock that held the chain on the door.
“Yatzee,” she declared, “No climbing the walls today.”
The chain fell away and the doors opened. I followed her in, still carefully carrying the warm bag of Vietnamese food. She picked a sunlit spot near one of the windows for us to lay out our banquet. Dee tore the paper bag into two large rectangles that we used as place-mats. There was an impressive variety of dishes to choose from. Fried rice, some sort of dumplings, stir fried vegetables, noodles, and two different soups.
“Wait, we need the right ambiance to fully appreciate this,” she said as she began digging in her backpack. She came out with a small battery powered iPhone dock with speakers built in. She plugged her phone into it and tapped at the screen until a soulfully instrumental oriental tune was summoned. Finally, Dee grabbed one of the soups and a plastic spoon and dove in. I grabbed a container of fried rice and started eating also.
“It's really good,” I said around a mouthful of rice.
“Yup,” she agreed, “Best stir fry you can get without using your passport. And their noodles are amazing. They make them fresh daily.”
“You order from them often?” I asked.
“Well, I don't order exactly. I helped the owners out of a jam a while back, and they were super grateful, so now I get free leftovers from their lunch buffet.”
“So, that's one of the benefits of being a superhero then.” I regretting it almost as soon as I said it. I was charging into a conversation I was not sure I was ready to have.
Dee laughed. “I'm sensing you aren't sold on the whole superhero claim.”
“Well, it is a pretty wild thing to take in,” I cautiously admitted. I didn't say crazy. I most definitely did not use the word crazy.
“The world is full of heroes, Barry. People are just not always willing to recognize them as such.”
“Sure, but there's a difference between a hero and a superhero, isn't there? I mean the super part sort of implies some sort of superpower.”
“Not necessarily,” she countered, “Look at Batman. No laser vision. No freaky mind powers. Nothing but a lifetime of training and a can-do attitude.”
“Well, that and a few billion dollars.”
“Yes, there is that,” she laughed, “My budget is a bit more modest. Still the bat cave has nothing on this place. Here, try some of the noodles.”
“Wow that really is good,” I declared after a mouthful.
“Yeah, I think the secret ingredient is crack, because I'm totally addicted to this stuff.”
I took another helping of noodles and said, “so, about your bat cave... I had a run-in with someone on campus today.” I told her about The Mook.
“Yeah, I had a similar experience after signing the conveyance papers,” she admitted, “Right after signing and getting the keys, a couple of suits pounced on me just outside the courthouse. Don't worry... I fought them off with my ninja-like wit.”
“It's not a laughing matter, Dee. These people seem really serious. And if they are as corrupt as you say, who knows how far they might go... what they might do.”
“The corruption does run pretty deep,” she answered, “I mean, the conveyance happened only 24 hours after the bidding closed. The wheels of bureaucracy never turn that quickly unless greased with plenty of corruption. It seems the crooks rigged the rules for maximum speed. I thought I'd be waiting another week for the keys, but here we are.”
“And you're not worried about getting mixed up with people like that?”
“Don't worry, Barry, I can take care of myself.”
“You are not a superhero, Dee!” I nearly shouted it. Then more quietly, “I'm just worried about you is all.” I was also worried about myself, but I didn't say it.
Dee was very quiet for a while, then said, “You don't get to tell me who I am, Barry. I've spent a lifetime becoming me. Only I get to decide.”
I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say.
The truth was, I had only known Dee a few days, and yet I already cared and worried about her. Unfortunately, she was crazy, and I wasn't qualified to deal with that.
My introspection was interrupted by a sudden noise. Someone was coming in through the main doors. Dee looked up at the same time I did. I saw her stiffen as the three men entered.
“I think the hornets' nest has come home to roost,” she said.
I decided to not comment on her mixed metaphor.
Devious Origins Page 9