Smokey outright laughed at that. “I already sent her a few pics. If she thought I was having too much fun, she’d have let me know.”
“Or flown here at light speed and punched a hole in the boat.”
We both chuckled at that. I occasionally needled Smokey about how powerful Atalanta was, but I honestly thought he’d had it right earlier when he mentioned that she wasn’t the jealous type. It just didn’t seem to be her style. If she ever felt that Smokey had done something inappropriate as a boyfriend, my impression was that she’d simply end the relationship.
“Well, I think I’m going to leave you to your moping,” Smokey said after a few moments. He then gave me a clap on the shoulder before preparing to go back to the party.
“Hey,” I said as he started to walk away. “Any thoughts yet on when you want to go home?”
He turned to me but continued to walk backwards, saying, “Honestly, I’m leaning towards giving it another night.”
I gave him a smile and a nod, essentially conveying that his decision was fine with me. He really seemed to be enjoying himself, and for the umpteenth time I was happy Mouse had suggested bringing him with me. I had been having a lot of fun going to various events the past few weeks, but having my best friend with me made those experiences transcendent in a way that was difficult to explain.
After he left, my mind quickly turned back to thoughts of Cat and her unspecified power. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that my focus on this was bordering on obsession, but I couldn’t help myself. I simply had to know.
I might have stood there at the railing indefinitely, simply replaying in my head what had happened and trying to determine what it meant. At some juncture, however, I noticed someone approaching me.
It was Cat.
As she walked towards me, I picked up feelings of nervousness, trepidation, and anxiety. No – it was actually more like dread.
Once she reached me, she just stood there for a moment, plainly uncomfortable. But then I sensed something resolve in her.
Plainly nervous, she said in an unexpectedly soft voice, “So you know about me.”
“Not really,” I admitted. “I mean, I know that you have some sort of power or ability, but that’s about it. I have no idea what it is you can do.”
“But you want to know.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Her brow crinkled for a second and she asked, “How’d you even find out about me? Did someone tell you?”
“No,” I assured her. “Nobody betrayed your confidence, if that’s what you’re asking – certainly not Vestibule.”
Cat smiled. “Yeah, I know she’d never tell. We’re tight, and even if we weren’t, she adheres to the motto that blood is thicker than water.”
“And I respect that,” I said. “So, your power – what is it?”
Cat stared at me for a moment, then looked down at the ground.
“I thought I’d be able to do this,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Thought I could just walk over here and tell you.” Then, looking up at me, she added, “But I can’t.”
“I don’t understand,” I stated with a frown. “Why is this such a secret? Why can’t you just blurt it out?”
Cat’s eyes suddenly looked watery, and I could tell that she was on the verge of tears.
“I like you,” she finally said. “Not in a boyfriend-girlfriend kind of way, just as a friend. And I got the impression that you liked me, too.”
“I do,” I admitted. “You’re smart, witty, and just a lot of fun to hang out with. But what does that have to do with your power?”
“Because if I tell you,” she said flatly, “you aren’t going to like me anymore.”
“Huh?” I muttered, perplexed.
“You aren’t going to want to be my friend. You won’t want anything to do with me.”
I simply stood there for a moment, trying to process what she was saying, then exclaimed, “That’s absurd! What could be so bad that I would stop being your friend or wanting to hang out with you?”
“Please,” she said. “Just let it go. I really want us to be friends.”
“As far as I’m concerned, we are,” I assured her. “But the thing about friends is, they trust each other. Part of what makes a friendship is letting people in as opposed to keeping them at arm’s length. So the real question here is, are you going to let me in?”
She didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me, and I could sense her wavering.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t,” she finally said, before turning and walking away.
Chapter 16
I gave it maybe fifteen minutes so that it wouldn’t appear that I was storming off mad (especially since I wasn’t), then I chased down the others to tell them I had to go. I found them on the dance floor near the DJ, clearly enjoying themselves. Even Cat appeared to have shrugged off the doldrums that had plagued her during our brief chat and was showcasing her dance moves.
Rather than approach them directly, I reached out telepathically to let Smokey know I was taking off and got a mental “Good luck” from him with respect to my upcoming dinner plans. I also opened a channel to Vestibule, putting her in charge of getting Smokey back to my cousin’s place if I didn’t make it back in time.
It hit me then that I hadn’t shared with Vestibule or Cat that I would be leaving.
Mentally, Vestibule bristled slightly.
Mentally I sighed.
I then broke the connection and teleported.
***
I popped up at home – a three-story mansion that was technically the ambassadorial residence of the Caelesian envoy to Earth. My alien grandmother had been the original ambassador, but now I somehow found myself stuck with the title. I didn’t care for the position, but it was hard to complain since it came with practically no duties and some nice perks (like diplomatic immunity).
Since my family’s departure, the place was now home to only me and Myshtal. Frankly speaking, it had felt big when my mother and grandparents had been living here as well. Now that they were gone, it felt absolutely humongous. However, it was the only place where my family had all lived together (albeit for only a short time), so it had essentially become “home” to me.
With the time change, I only had a small window in which to get ready before dinner. My plan had been to take a quick shower and change clothes, but first I needed to turn off the alarm system, which had started beeping the moment I appeared.
Stepping to a numbered panel situated on a nearby wall, I quickly punched in the security code. A moment later, the beeping stopped. The next order of business was to visually give the mansion a once-over to make sure everything was fine. With that in mind, I shifted into super speed and checked the place out from top to bottom.
A minute later, I was able to confirm that there were no issues – nothing untoward had happened during the time Myshtal and I had been gone. No kid had accidentally hit a baseball through any of the windows. No storm had come along and torn off the roof. No skillful cat burglar had picked the lock on any of the doors.
The only thing of note was that the diode on the answering machine was flashing, indicating a message. After checking on everything else, I went back to it and hit Play.
Frankly speaking, I expected any messages to be the telephonic equivalent of junk mail. With the pr
evalence of cell phones, almost anybody who needed to reach me could – and would – call me on that device. For many people, the home phone number was now reserved for individuals, organizations, and events they really didn’t feel a need to talk to: pushy salesmen, sweepstakes entries, the guy who bullied you in high school but now acts like you were friends… And that’s before you even got to the unsolicited ones, like robocallers and telemarketers.
In this instance, there turned out to be two messages. One was a political ad, encouraging me to vote for a particular candidate in an upcoming primary (which I might have done if I were of the age of majority). The other was a message from Kenyon, the former caretaker of the embassy, who had been custodian of the place for decades.
Under the formal definition of the word, “caretaker” refers to someone who looks after a residence during the owner’s absence. However, once my family moved in, there wasn’t much for Kenyon to do. Thus, he had recently retired (and been given a healthy pension by my grandparents). That said, he generally checked in once a week to see if we needed anything, and my grandfather – recognizing the man’s desire to stay active – usually found something for him to do.
Kenyon had kept up the practice of reaching out during my family’s absence, but I had been less capable than my grandfather in terms of identifying issues that could utilize his knowledge and skills. On this occasion, the message, as expected, just consisted of him checking in. I mentally made a note to find something this week that would require his attention.
Hearing the messages on the answering machine, however, brought to mind something else: my cell phone was still off. Pulling it out, I hit the power button and quickly saw that I had missed about a half-dozen calls and texts. For a moment, I worried that one of them – or several – were from Gray.
Mister Gray, as he preferred I call him, was the head of a secret organization that had been granted almost limitless authority by governments worldwide. Ergo, although he had no superpowers to speak of, he was one of the most powerful men on the planet. Moreover, events had recently unfolded that required me to go to work for him. Bearing in mind that Gray had often treated me like I was a threat to humanity, it was a situation that I found distasteful in the extreme, but there was nothing I could do about it. However, as a result of some shrewd negotiating by Mouse, being in Gray’s employ did not mean I had to leave the Alpha League. In addition, much to my surprise, Gray had been fairly accommodating, telling me to take some time after my family left and that he’d call me when he needed me. Still, just knowing that I was part of his organization rankled.
Thankfully, none of my calls were from him; all but one were from Mouse, and the first also indicated a voicemail had been left. I almost snickered at the thought of Gray leaving a voicemail, as it simply wasn’t his style. If he had been trying to reach me and been unsuccessful in doing so, I had no doubt that I would have quickly been approached by several Men in Black telling me to turn my phone on.
Putting Gray out of my mind, I played back Mouse’s message.
“Jim,” I heard Mouse say, “call me when you get this. It’s not a big deal, but – if you have a little capacity – I have a project I could use your help with.”
Noting the time, I saw that the call had come in while I’d been having brunch. The other calls from Mouse came sporadically after that, but with no accompanying voicemail. As with the calls, all but one of the texts were from him as well, and essentially repeated the same message: he could use some help with a project, but my presence wasn’t mandatory.
The remaining call and text were both from Electra, along with a voicemail. In short, she was simply confirming that dinner was still on. Like Mouse, her messages had come hours earlier, so it probably looked like I was ignoring her (or had changed my mind).
Still hoping there was a chance of getting out of dinner, I called Mouse back first. I didn’t get an answer, but left a voicemail stating that I was completely at his disposal and to call me back asap. I then sent him a text stating basically the same thing.
Next, realizing that I was cutting it close, I texted Electra back a “thumbs-up” emoji. A response came back almost immediately: the word “Hoo-ray!” accompanied by fireworks. Apparently, she had been awaiting my response, and I suddenly felt bad for keeping her in suspense for what had probably been hours.
Fighting guilt, I took a shower and got ready at super speed. As a result, I still had a few minutes to kill before dinner.
Considering how uncomfortable the evening was likely to be, there was no way I was showing up even a nanosecond early. That being the case, I went to the living room and plopped down in an easy chair. Closing my eyes for a second, I tried to relax, telling myself that it was only dinner. At the same time, I put some effort into trying to avoid the subject that had preoccupied my thoughts for the past few hours: Cat and her mysterious power.
Apparently I was a bit more tired than I realized, because before I knew it, I had dozed off.
Chapter 17
I woke up with a start, nudged awake by something like a soft fluttering. I realized immediately what it was: my phone vibrating, indicating an incoming call. I pulled it out, but by that time the caller – whom I noted was Electra – had hung up. Noting the time, I saw that I was five minutes late for dinner. A moment later, a text popped up:
Just arrived. Are you here yet?
I didn’t have to look at the name to know that it was from Electra. I immediately wrote back, stating:
I’m here.
Pocketing my phone, I then teleported, popping up in the rear parking lot of the restaurant where Electra had made dinner reservations. Much to my surprise, Electra herself was standing near a corner of the building, and was just turning in my direction. I waved and began walking towards her.
It was cooler here than on the West Coast, and she was dressed for the weather. Outfitted in a form-fitting black sweater, blue jeans, and black boots, she didn’t show as much skin as I’d grown accustomed to seeing lately, but it didn’t detract from her beauty or allure. In short, despite my misgivings about the evening, I couldn’t help smiling when I saw her.
As I drew close, I heard a familiar musical note ring out – the sound Electra had set to indicate an incoming text. She glanced down at her phone, then gave me a skeptical look.
“Just saw your message,” she stated, then held up her phone so I could see it. “You sent this before you left, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “So?”
“So you lied.”
“No, I actually beat the message here – which I knew would happen – so it’s true.”
“You know, there are so many ways I could tear that apart, that it isn’t even funny,” she said. “But I’m just so glad you came that I’m going to give you a pass.”
“Thanks,” I said. “What are you doing back here anyway?”
“I know you,” she said. “This is your modus operandi – teleporting into the back parking lot, the roof of a building, etcetera.”
“Hmmm,” I droned. “I didn’t realize I was so predictable.”
“Only to the people who know you,” she replied with a wink. “Come on, let’s go eat.”
Looping her arm into mine – a move which caught me by surprise – she began leading me to the front of the restaurant.
Chapter 18
The restaurant where we were having dinner was a hibachi grill – a place Electra and I had visited several times while dating and really enjoyed. Upon entering, we found her father Vir waiting to be seated, along with Esper – another member of the Alpha League, who also happened to be Electra’s maternal aunt (as well as the most powerful telepath on the planet).
“Dad, you remember Jim,” Electra said.
“Of course,” said Vir, smiling as he extended a hand in my direction. “Nice to see you again.”
“You, too, sir,” I stated in response as I shook his hand.
He was maybe an inch shorter than me (which put h
im at about five-eleven), with wavy brown hair and handsome features. Knowing that he shared the same power as my girlfriend, I had imagined getting some kind of mild shock when we shook hands – perhaps as a warning regarding his daughter. Nothing like that happened. In fact, from what I could sense, Vir was sincerely glad to meet me. Still, there was a mild sense of relief when he released my hand.
“Jim,” Esper said, stepping forward to give me a hug. “It feels like it’s been forever.”
“For me, too,” I remarked, then regretted it as I saw Electra look away with my peripheral vision. “But, as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“So it does,” Esper noted, sharing a glance with Vir.
A moment later, the hostess appeared, telling us that our table was ready.
***
Dinner turned out to be way more fun than I ever would have imagined. First of all, having a hibachi chef prepare your meal is like getting dinner and a show in one. On this particular occasion, our chef first regaled us by twirling and juggling his cooking utensils, agilely tossing his knife, fork, and spatula in the air, catching them behind his back, and so on.
The entertainment continued as he began placing food on the grill. From stacking onion rings into a small volcano that blew smoke to repeatedly tossing an egg into the air with his cooking implements (and catching it with the same), it was an enjoyable spectacle. Last but not least, as he began cooking some shrimp, the chef tossed pieces at us, daring us to catch them in our mouths.
All in all, dinner preparation alone was worth the price of admission, so to speak. The fact that the meal itself turned out to be delicious was just icing on the cake, and I found myself grateful that Electra had strong-armed me into coming.
As to Vir, he turned out to be a really fun guy. Although I was wary at first, he had an easy-going manner that quickly put me at ease. Frankly speaking, he didn’t seem like a man who had spent the better part of two decades locked up. He had a bright outlook and an animated personality that was rather unexpected, to be honest. More importantly, although I had been expecting it, he never once brought up anything about me and Electra (or more specifically, our relationship issues).
Isolation Page 9