Blackjack Messiah

by Ben Bequer

  “You’re going to show them this video, aren’t you?”

  He nodded, at the end of a laughing fit.

  “And Moe too.”

  “Everyone,” he said. “It’s going on the Tower newsletter.”

  I chuckled, “Figured as much.”

  He wiped his face and took a few breaths, calming himself until he was ready. “Oh, man. That was funny…about the other thing. You’re going to do great. Okay?”

  “I am,” I said. “Thanks.”

  As I hung up, he’d started laughing again. I felt the gentle movement of air as the door opened behind me. “Hey, what were you boys giggling about…” The words fell out of her mouth as I saw her entire face shift in the mirror. “What the fuck?”

  “Call Jeff. I’m sure he’ll be happy to fill you in if he can catch his breath.”

  Her mouth curved upwards, but she stepped into the bathroom and took a handful of my new locks, kneading them between her fingers. “They feel more natural than the extensions I had.”

  “When did you have extensions?”

  “Remember Edger? Chick with forearm blades?” I had a vague memory of her. I’d never met her, but she had a pretty bad rep on the East Coast. Apogee could see all of that written on my face. “She tried to kill the mayor of New York a couple of months after I put on the suit. I stopped her, but she sliced me with one of those stupid blades. Took a chunk off my ear, and shaved part of my hair off. And not in that flattering, “Oh, I should have looked like this all along,” way. It was more like, “What the fuck happened to your head.”

  “Lemme guess, your ID was secret then?”

  “Worse, I had just come out, so everyone knew who I was. I broke that bitch in two, but the damage was done.”

  “So, extensions?”

  “Yeah, my PR people knew a guy who knew a guy, so it's not like they tied rope to my head, but it was bad.”

  I took her in my arms and kissed her, our hands roaming. The hand in my hair tightened and she tugged hard enough to hurt. Pushing away a little, she looked up at me with a dangerous glint in her eye. “Yeah, this will work just fine.”

  I hooked a thumb in the towel at my waist, but she shook her head breaking our embrace. “Sorry, babe. We both have flights to catch.”

  Shaking my head to clear the hormones, I followed her into the bedroom. She was naked but for her underwear, and I caught my breath. I watched her dress feeling strangely guilty. The guilt felt ridiculous, but I guess it was that ingrained idea that people deserved their privacy. She caught me looking, and it took an act of will not to blush.

  My clothes were laid out on top of my suitcase, and it was time to go. I was slipping a leg into my jeans when something bounced off my back. I turned to see a black elastic hair tie on the bed. “Tie that mane back before you get on the plane. TSA are trained to distrust people who look like aging rockers.”

  The hair spilled everywhere. It caught in the waistband of my jeans as I buttoned them, and it took three tries to free it all from the collar of my shirt. I tied it back before pulling the shoes onto my feet. Her phone had rung as I finished. She hung up, slipping it into the pocket of her business suit and glided across the room to me, grabbing sunglasses from the dresser.

  “I called a car while you were in the shower. It just pulled up downstairs. The doorman is holding them, but they won’t wait long.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  She put the sunglasses on me, perching them so they were straight on the bridge of my nose, then kissed me. We didn’t spend a lot of time together, but it seemed like we maximized the time we had. I didn’t know when I’d see her next. In our line of work, there was a chance this was our last moment together. I resisted the urge to say something dumb. It was a losing battle, but she bailed me out.

  Brushing her lips against mine, she caressed my cheek and said, “Go be a hero.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Raymond & Dustin

  The car was a black SUV, the short Hispanic driver wedging my luggage around the baby car seat that took up the majority of the trunk space. I carried a backpack with a laptop, tablet, earbuds, a couple of magazines with articles dogeared, and a hat. I popped it on my head, my new head of hair pressing into my scalp.

  It was a baseball cap with Battle’s team logo stitched into it. The logo was basically the Cicada, it was all Superdynamic would allow. Moe had brought the idea of marketing to him, and he listened with feigned interest until Moe suggested they donate proceeds to a charity that helped victims of super fights. The big guy was pissed that Jeff hadn’t taken him more seriously, but what could he do? Money was not a thing Superdynamic needed or wanted. Not for himself, at least. I didn’t know how much capital was tied up in the tower but suffice it to say we could colonize Mars for less money.

  The driver opened the door for me, and waited for me to get comfortable before closing it. The interior was black leather, the temperature set cool. I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I don’t know if this look would fool people, but the ID in my wallet and the papers we had generated before I left were legit enough that they would pass anything but a deep inquiry.

  I was flying out of Newark, roughly half an hour even in early morning traffic. I caught the driver peering at me in the rearview for the first couple of minutes. Well, that was quick. Stupid disguise, it couldn’t even fool a damn fancy taxi driver. Bubu was sending texts, but something was going on with the international connections and all I got was gibberish. I wrote him a long email to ask if all was good, and when we could talk. If Graydon Chase was going to get involved in the business, he needed to know. Same with Annit, but my emails came back rejected. Something was going on.

  I sent an email to her business email from our ProtonMail self-destruct email server, using our code. While Bubu was usually fast on the reply, Annit was more likely to take a day or two. She also liked to write massive emails, four or five pages worth, and every single sentence was required reading. She was as intense about the law as Apogee was about breaking a bad guy's jaw.

  We pulled up to the curb at the airport. The driver helped me unload the luggage, and I could see the question in his expression. I was very good at being aloof, and I hoped that would get me through the next five minutes. The last thing I needed was someone saying the word “Blackjack,” at the airport. I should have rented a car. A long, lonely drive where nobody would give me shit.

  All of my stuff was on the curb, and I slung the backpack over my shoulder when the driver came up close to me. I got my wallet out, thumbing through the assorted bills for a tip when the driver said, “Hey man, you play guitar for Blues Revenge, right?”

  I froze in place, searching the man’s expression for sarcasm and found none. Now that I really saw him, I realized he was young. Mid-twenties at most and there was no fear in his posture, just a kind of excitement. He really thought I was in a band.

  I put a hundred dollar bill in his hand. “I get that all the time, but no, I’m just a guy with long hair.”

  “That’s crazy, man. You look just like him.”

  “You can tell people I was if you want.”

  “You know I will. Have a good one, sir.”

  I had four suitcases with various things in them. The agents on the curb helped me load them onto a cart. The airport was bustling, and it took me about thirty minutes to get the luggage checked and pass through security. I kept waiting for TSA or Homeland Security to pull me out of line. They would be firm, but polite, and I would go. There would be questions. I would have to call Maddie or Jeff, and it would be hours of sitting alone in a cold room waiting. Powermaster was supposed to pick me up in Kansas City. I’m sure he would get a good laugh at my delay.

  Those things didn’t happen. The only hiccup in the process was the full body scanner, which I was too tall to use. Instead of lifting my arms over my head, I put them out at my sides and then out in front of me. With two hours before takeoff, I ordered bacon, eggs, and toast. The w
aiter did a double take when I ordered a side of pancakes with half the breakfast still on my plate, and I thought for a second I had taken it too far. But he brought the pancakes and I ate in peace. I read the magazines, the sunglasses stowed in the backpack.

  My phone rang as I slid money into the billfold. Only three people had the number, so it surprised me to find a New York area code listed without a caller ID. I almost declined the call but answered with a shrug.

  “Dale, is that you?” Graydon Chase said.

  “Yeah, it’s me, man. What’s up?”

  “Shit, I’m the weird date who calls too soon. I’ve always been this way. Ask my wife. I didn’t let her get home before asking for a second date. It’s sad, really.”

  His oversharing was meant to be disarming, but it set me on edge. “It’s no big deal, man. What can I do for you?”

  “I just wanted to let you know that I was impressed by our chat. Not just the tech stuff but you. You carry some burdens, man, and you do it well.”

  “Thanks,” I said, stumbling over the word.

  “I embarrassed you. Jami’s going to kill me.”

  “No, its fine, man. Sorry, I’m at the airport. I haven’t flown commercial in a long time, and I’m already tired.”

  “Well, I called to tell you I have twelve of my best numbers people working on something for you. It’s a multi-tiered rollout plan that would see your tech in everything from civil engineering to the goddamn International Space Station.”

  I took the phone from my ear and looked at it, then looked around to see if this was some kind of prank. When nobody jumped out of the rafters to laugh at me, I put it back to my ear. “But you haven’t even seen the specs yet.”

  “Maddie showed me pics of the castle. If you can reproduce anything close to that, it’s over. Nobel Prize on your mantle.”

  I could and was doing so, but I didn’t think they’d let me keep the Nobel in prison. “Listen, man, I’m flattered, but…”

  “No, no, no, wait,” he said. “Just listen. Consider whatever my people cook up as a counter-proposal. You get the first dance at the ball.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I knew exactly what he had in mind, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  “I mean, you come to me with your proposal first. I’ve already told you what I have in mind, but I want to hear your thoughts before I ever show it to you.”

  “Well, I told you what I want.”

  “Dale, what you want springs naturally from what you can do. Trust me on this. I’ve seen genuinely horrid people drag themselves out of the muck with one good idea.”

  I didn’t know how to respond. It was hard to fight through his exuberance, but there was still so much to think about. But I found myself trusting him. “I’ll take what you said into consideration, but with this new thing I’m doing, I don’t know when I can get back to you.”

  “My door is always open. This is my personal line. Save it and call anytime. Even if it’s just to shoot the shit.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Gray.”

  “We are going to do great things together, Dale. I feel it in my bones,” he said with a vigor that was hard to deny. “Be good, man. Stay safe.”

  I put the phone down. My first instinct was to call Maddie and tell her about the conversation and chastise her for showing Chase pictures of the castle. She should have asked me first. I needed to think, and I knew she would press me to say yes on the call with her. I resolved to call her after I’d come up with a decent proposal. This situation came down to control, and I wanted as much as I could get.

  I ambled to the gate and found a seat apart from the crowd. Nobody bothered me, and I plugged the earbuds in and listened to music. The gate filled up until I was surrounded by people. None of them paid me any mind, and I returned the favor until they called for boarding. I walked past the podium, towering over the flight attendants, and by the time I sat down my fear and apprehension had faded. For once, something worked the way it was supposed to.

  Coach on modern airlines wasn’t designed for big guys, tall or wide, of which I was both. The armrests were tight against my waist and my knees were inches from the seat in front of me. The woman in the aisle seat next to me - because of course Apogee got me a middle seat - was forced to lean awkwardly into the aisle for space, and the guy in the window seat pressed against the side of the plane.

  This wasn’t going to work out for four hours.

  Once we took off, I got up and walked to the stewardesses, who were readying the cart with drinks. One of them started, the cart jittering in her hands, the other yelped in surprise.

  “Sorry,” I said, hands out trying to seem as inoffensive as possible. “Is it possible to upgrade to first class? I’ll pay whatever the difference is.”

  The girl that jumped didn’t like being snuck up on, waving me off, “We’re a full flight, or didn’t you hear the captain?”

  I looked past the girls, through the measly flaps they use to separate the classes. First class didn’t look full. “I see seats open.”

  The stewardess actually put her hands on me, pressing me back toward the coach section. She was about to go into a tirade but when I didn’t budge, she stopped, her whole demeanor going from stern to angry. “I don’t have time to-”

  “Listen, lady,” I said, feeling my blood starting to boil. I was going to sit up front. Whether the stewardess was going to spend the flight jammed in an overhead compartment or not, was entirely up to her. Without realizing, my face hardened and my posture went rigid enough to drive her back a step. This wasn’t how I intended to restart my life. I took a deep breath and tried a different tack. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m willing to pay.”

  Someone nudged me from behind, and I turned fast, startling the guy.

  “I come in peace,” he said, raising his arms.

  “Sorry,” I said. “You surprised me.”

  “Oh, my bad, man. I didn’t mean to interrupt you guys,” he said, gesturing to the stewardesses. “I was just wondering, are you Blackjack?”

  The mood changed. Where the women had been combative, truculent, they were suddenly terrified. They knew that name, and not for good things. Then again, this might get me the bumped to First Class without any more bullshit. I smiled at the guy, “Yeah, I’m Blackjack.”

  “Holy shit, I knew it,” the guy said, leaning in. “Are you undercover or something?”

  “Sort of,” I said.

  “Alright, alright. I won’t bother you anymore. But can I ask you for one thing?”

  The guy turned bashful, suddenly aware of the stewardesses.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Can I get your autograph?” he said, handing me a pen and a drawing. The pen and paper sketch was of me, on a napkin. The guy had some talent. “My kid’s a huge fan of yours. Me too.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. Someone made a mashup of your adventures, the PG-rated version, and I watch it all the time with my boy. He’s fourteen and watching all that stuff has him interested in going to engineering school, of all things.”

  I started to respond and found myself overwhelmed.

  “My name’s Raymond,” he said, shaking my hand. “My son’s called Dustin.”

  I must’ve stood there, staring at him like an idiot, because he prompted me to sign the napkin for him. I put it against the side of the plane and did my best signature.

  It was my first autograph.

  The guy stared at it as if I had handed him gold.

  “I just want to thank you,” Raymond said. “The kid was getting into trouble and...frankly, his mother and I were really worried, but now he has you as an example.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “A villain turned good guy. If a guy like you can come back from what you went through, anyone can, right?” Raymond looked to the stewardesses for approval. “I mean, I don’t mean that as an insult…”

  “No, no,” I said.

  “I just mean th
at it’s never too late to turn your life around.”

  I put my hand on the guy’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Ray. It’s fine.”

  He smiled, “It is? Sorry, I’ve never met anyone as famous as you. Thanks, and sorry to bother you.”

  Raymond walked off, leaving me like churned water in his wake. His kid looked up to me? My first instinct was to kick the guy in the ass for letting his kid have such a fuck up as a hero, but after a few seconds, the woman I was fighting with caught my attention.

  “That was very nice,” she said, looking over at her companion. The other stewardess came forward, taking my arm.

  “Maybe we can figure something out, Mr. Blackjack,” she said, taking me forward to the first class section. When the steward that ran First Class saw her approaching, he excused himself and walked over.

  “What’s going on, Christie?”

  Christie patted my arm, “This gentleman has earned himself an upgrade. This is Eric, the head steward. He’ll take care of you.”

  “Really?” I said.

  She let me go and headed back, “I’ll get your luggage.”

  Eric flashed me a pleasant smile, completely unaware of who I was or what had happened. He gestured widely to an open seat and guided me in that direction.

  ——

  The flight took about three hours. I was sauced an hour in, and thanks to Eric’s free-flowing Vodka bottles, I kept it going the first half of the flight. At around the two-hour mark, I passed out and had the most restful sleep I’ve had as an adult.

  A few minutes before touching down, Eric asked me if he could gather the stewardesses for a picture, but I talked him out of that without hurting his feelings. I needed to fly this one under the radar and the last thing I needed was to appear on everyone’s Facebook and Instagram - “Look who I met on my flight to Kansas City!”