Her lips press together slightly, and she shakes her loose long dark hair over her shoulder. “That’s what the old comics are about. I’m talking about the new breed of superheroes. The new breed of villains. The gray area. I think you need to broaden your views and your writings to think that your superheroes may not always be good and your villains may not always be bad.”
My mouth snaps shut. Again Lelani’s insight cuts through more than just my work persona. It goes straight to the core of what I’ve been struggling with on the case. The Golden Arrow. The White Rabbit. The dirty cop. Me. More shades of gray than I’m comfortable with. Good guys who are bad guys. Bad guys who aren’t all bad. It’s not my usual fodder. I’m a comic book purist. But Lelani has a point. The gray-area stuff makes a damn good story.
Her hand drops off my arm, and she walks forward into the lobby. With a little wave at someone near the front door, she turns to look at me again. Appraising. “Take my suggestions or leave them. I am simply suggesting giving your Hero Girls villains a more contemporary appeal. Let readers see a complicated villain that they can identify with. Let them explore the idea that every good guy makes mistakes. Does whatever it takes to get the job done. That every antagonist has his or her own story.”
With that, she walks off toward the front door. I watch her go, stymied by the insight. By the laser-point focus that woman has. She nailed every problem on the head and gave me a way to work through them. She is a freaking genius.
Lelani rises on tiptoe to kiss the person she’s meeting on the cheek before they head out. But I know that cheek. That brush of blondish hair under a backward hat. The person she’s meeting is Ryan. My Ryan. I watch as they make their way to the parking lot. Seeing “a girl from the gaming group” indeed.
I stare after them for a long moment before performing an about-face and pushing the elevator call button again.
So Ryan and Lelani are a thing. Interesting. Ryan and I obviously haven’t been talking enough lately, but I plan to jump on him about that tonight after work. Lawrence mentioned that Ryan had a date . . . but Lelani?
I shrug and step back on the elevator, no longer stuck for direction with my work. Lelani is worth her weight in gold as far as I’m concerned. She’s given me lots to think about, and more importantly, she’s given me the seeds of a story.
Date night. Or it would be if Matteo hadn’t drawn our professional line in the sand seven days ago in a parking lot lit by a burning arrow. I’ve spent this entire last week throwing myself at my work and L’s costume. I’ve caught up on all my Hero Girls sketches and have used every free moment to work on my design for Her Galaxy—anything to keep my mind from wandering to that kiss. Matteo made it clear he likes me. His lips certainly didn’t lie. But until this case is solved, we can’t be together, and if Rideout somehow convinces him I’m a suspect, I may lose Matteo for good.
At least Andy and I are back on speaking terms. The moment I realized that the Golden Arrow had planted the sketch into the test print of the comic book, I went straight to Andy. Screw the promotion or what going to Andy could do to my chances; this sketch couldn’t get out to the general public. The drug lords would come after Genius for sure. I told Andy I’d screwed up the test proof and inserted a sketch from another project by mistake. We corrected the file with Marvelous Printing and ran the prints the next day.
I feel awful keeping something like this from Matteo, but if someone on Matteo’s team is dirty—and my suspicion can’t help but land on Rideout—I don’t want them knowing the Golden Arrow has the journal and is trying to publish it. Best I can figure, the Golden Arrow set the fire with the express purpose of diverting attention so he could change a file on the printing press. Another connection. Another puzzle piece.
The news has also gone quiet; the Golden Arrow seems to have gone underground. The case is in a holding pattern while the arson team sorts out the fire and the burglary team sorts out Casey Senior’s office. Agent Sosa is also reviewing Huong Yee’s interview. On TV the justice system works so much faster than it does in real life.
I lean over the mirror, applying mascara for the second . . . third time? I’ve screwed it up at least twice now because my mind keeps going to Lawrence’s story and wondering why, if all the drug ringleaders were busted in the eighties, it is coming back around now. Had someone gotten out of jail wanting revenge and the Golden Arrow got wind of it?
There’s a knock, and I swallow hard, heat rising to my cheeks and the tips of my ears. When do I ever get nervous for a date? No, a nondate date. When it’s with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, who kissed me like he was heading into epic battle—that’s when. I smooth the black lace of my bodice and hurry from the downstairs bathroom. I kick aside the black-tulle, green-sequin mess that is the scraps from L’s Comic-Con bustier and nearly trip and fall into the door.
Matteo stands on the other side, ever dashing in his button-down shirt rolled at the cuffs. “I didn’t think flowers would be appropriate, but I come bearing coffee.” He holds out a paper cup to me, the scent of cinnamon in the air.
I take his offering and give him a small smile. The man knows me. I’d much rather have coffee than flowers. Much more appropriate and appreciated. A gift for all occasions.
“You look . . . really nice.” Matteo’s eyes burn as they travel down my length and back up. My heartbeat speeds up, faster than a speeding bullet. Despite my concern about how many secrets I’m juggling, Matteo is irresistible. I give in to the temptation to flirt. “What, this old thing? I’ve had it for years, and I just thought it needed to get out beside a suit for the evening.” I give a slow twirl, letting him appreciate the costume. The way the black-lace sheath dress hugs my generous curves. I spent hours updating my old Ms. Genius costume from a con, replacing the skimpy leather leotard base of the costume with a forties-era lace-bodice dress. I added my homage to Ms. Genius’s lightning bolt to the top of the dress in glimmering gold satin, and at my hips lies Ms. Genius’s signature scarlet wrap. Comic book chic.
He watches my slow twirl, and I revel in satisfaction watching him watch me. Any guy who loves a dressed-up geek costume is okay in my book.
I make a show of asking him to do a twirl of his own in my entryway. “You, however, are not dressed properly for the gala. Matteo, this is a costume ball.”
He shifts uncomfortably. “I brought this.” He holds up a black plastic Zorro mask, complete with a single elastic band to hold it on his head.
“No.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I was prepared for this too.” I lean down and grab a plastic bag sitting by my feet near the door. I hand it to him, and he raises his eyebrows at me.
“My costume, I presume?”
“It may not fit perfectly, but it will do, and we’ll go together with our forties-throwback stuff. You can only be one superhero. This is one of Ryan’s. I made it for him a few years ago. Navy paratrooper pants. Navy army-inspired jacket with the insignia, and”—I back away a few steps and pick up the cardboard shield I made for Ryan—“tada!”
Matteo looks like he might argue with me, but he shrugs his shoulders and heads toward the downstairs bathroom. “When in Rome.”
CHAPTER 22
We arrive at my office building twenty minutes late to the party, and I already can’t focus. Matteo makes a really hot Captain America, and we touched-but-not-touched the whole car ride here. Every time I snuck a glance at him, I swear he was just turning his head from watching me. If I were a betting woman, I’d say he’s just as hot and bothered as I am, judging by the sheer volume of times he’s adjusted the neckline of his costume. So much for a calm professional front tonight.
The building glitters, lit up like the Eiffel Tower, from strings of Tivoli lights on the trees and strung up outside the main entrance. It’s magical, surreal. A huge banner hangs in the lobby declaring the thirtieth anniversary of The Hooded Falcon.
We join the queue for coat check, and I nearly break my nec
k trying to see everything at once. Food stacked high on trays, carried by black-tie waitstaff. Buffet tables scattered around the perimeter of the large open lobby—I immediately spot my favorite artichoke dip. The very air in the room shimmers, from the lights strung across the ceiling, to the lights onstage where a live band assembles, and to the cocktail tables set up around the room with sequined tablecloths. A funky sixties-style chrome bar is set up for the occasion, flanked by two ice sculptures of the Hooded Falcon—one the original, one the current reboot. In short, it’s magical, and it fills my geek heart to see hundreds of people in mostly Genius-inspired costumes turned out to celebrate my favorite fictional character.
When it’s our turn, I hand the girl my long velvet coat with the maybe-real-I-don’t-want-to-know fur collar—a treasured find from a thrift store. I fought Lawrence over it and won. The attendant hands me back a ticket. Then Matteo and I turn to face the room, shoulder to shoulder, Ms. Genius and Captain America among our caped compatriots.
It’s all I can do not to grab his Captain America–clad hand and drag him to the dance floor to join the crush of people. The urge to be close to him distracts, though I know that Matteo is a professional; he’s dedicated to keeping this about work tonight. I’m almost relieved as we push through the crowd to the bar. I need to keep my own head on a swivel. There’s been no word from the Golden Arrow all week, and I can’t help but feel he or she might be here tonight. This is, after all, a gala for superheroes.
The line for the bar is a million leagues long, so we settle in for the long wait. It gives us a good vantage point and a good reason to people-watch—how I like to label “spying on my coworkers” to myself. The guy in front of us wears an impressive adaptation of the original Hooded Falcon. His brown forest cape is draped expertly over one shoulder, and a quiver of real hand-fletched arrows sits on the opposite. I’m admiring the detailed stitching when I realize that I know this stitching. I did this stitching.
“Ryan!” I reach forward, grab the man’s shoulder, and spin him around.
“Oh hey, MG!” Ryan’s gaze flicks from me to Matteo, back to me, then across the room. He offers his hand to Matteo with a “Hey, man.” We all stand awkwardly for a long stretch. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about Lelani. We’ve both been so busy this week. In fact, I’ve hardly seen Ryan all month. He’s watching Matteo with a hostile look that makes me think I know why Ryan’s being weird. I’ve never let a guy come between us before. It’s a rule in our house. Yet for all he knows, I met this guy in the coffee shop and pretty much dropped off the planet.
Matteo clears his throat. “I see a colleague of mine. I’m going to go say hello. I’ll be right back, MG?”
“Yeah, okay.” No need to ask me twice. I want space to talk to Ryan.
Ryan’s face jumps to life the second Matteo leaves. “Did you bring Lawrence? I need to talk to him, and he’s not returning my calls.”
“No, I—uh—think he went to visit his drag mom, right? He’ll be back soon. I think he told me a week?”
Ryan frowns at me. He can so tell I’m lying. It’s why I’ve avoided talking to anyone about Lawrence. With all I’m carrying around, I’m about to come apart at the seams, and Ryan knows me best.
“What did you need to tell him?” I ask.
Ryan studies my face for a minute, then glances around the room again. He looks back to me, and something odd happens. I realize that Ryan is deciding about whether to say something. Ryan, Lawrence, and I are always honest with one another. How has our relationship gotten to this point? I’m keeping secrets from him, and it looks like he might be keeping a secret of his own. Lelani.
I nearly hit my head with my hand. Of course, Lelani. He wants to talk to Lawrence about her, and he’s not sure how I’ll react because she’s my boss. My shoulders relax.
“It’s okay, Ry. I know what you’ve been keeping from me.”
He looks startled—his eyes fly to my face, and I swear color drains from his cheeks.
I motion my hand forward. Jesus, the guy looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. “About Lelani?”
Ryan still looks like I could knock him over with a feather. The line shuffles ahead, and I grab Ryan’s arm and drag him up with me. “It’s no big secret. I saw you guys leaving for lunch the other day. It’s okay if you’re seeing my boss.”
Instantly Ryan relaxes. He shakes his hands slightly and blinks. “Oh . . . You saw that, did you? Yeah.” He runs his hand down his face, then places it back on the thick leather belt that wraps over his cloak and costume beneath. “We’re seeing each other. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“That’s okay. I know it’s a delicate situation.”
Ryan’s face hasn’t regained all its color yet and still has that hesitant, watchful quality. He leans in closer to me. “Listen, while we’re being honest, I looked into your boyfriend.”
Ryan and his damn hacking.
I make some sort of noncommittal grunt. This shouldn’t surprise me. Ryan and L are protective, but it still violates my privacy. Not to mention what he probably found out. Secrets revealed indeed.
“He’s a cop.”
I square my shoulders; no need to take this lying down. “Yeah, I know. I knew all along. He doesn’t like telling people.” It’s as close to the truth as I can get in this setting. I should have been honest with Ryan from the beginning, saved us all this trouble.
“I can see why. He’s working on that Golden Arrow case.”
Ruh-roh. “Yeah, I guess.” Time for distraction measures. “So what are you going to order? I’m thinking about getting a whiskey sour.”
“MG.” Ryan’s hand isn’t gentle on my arm, and he forces me to face him again. I’m eye-to-cloak with his costume, more specifically the large golden pin in the shape of an arrow that holds his cloak closed. Either Ryan has leveled up in his costume creation, or someone else has been fiddling with my costumes. Lelani. My thought derails when Ryan gives me a small shake. “This is serious. That case is dangerous.”
I sigh. “I know. Ryan . . .” I glance around at the people near us in line. Almost everyone is on their cell phones, no one paying attention to us. “I’ve been helping a little on the case. It’s how I actually met Matteo.” There, closer to the truth without all the bells and whistles.
Ryan moves back a half step, taking me in. “You sure that’s a good idea? The news reporters say that the drug lords are threatening anyone even involved with the case now. That’s you, in case you’re missing my point.” That’s Lawrence; that’s Matteo too. It’s probably even Ryan since he lives with me. I bite my lip so hard, I wince.
The line shuffles forward again, and I glimpse Matteo making his way back toward us. “I can’t stop now, Ry. We’re close to solving the case.”
“But—”
I don’t let Ryan finish. I paste a cheery smile on my face and reach a hand out for Matteo. “Oh good, just in time for a drink.”
Matteo gives me a quizzical look but puts an answering smile on his own face. “How about that martini, then? Shaken not stirred?” He does a James Bond impression, and I like him just a little bit more for how bad it is.
Ryan looks between us, back stiff, face cold and impassive. “She doesn’t like martinis. I think I’ve lost my date. I’ll catch you later, MG.” With a swirl of his cloak, Ryan melts into the crowd on the dance floor.
Matteo openly frowns at Ryan’s back now. “What’s that all about?”
Nothing is going my way tonight. “That was my roommate telling me that he found out I’ve been lying to him about you being a cop.”
“Oh. But how did he—”
“Don’t ask. Ryan has his ways.” I will not get a second best friend arrested while I am still trying to protect the first. “Either way, he’s mad at me, and not you.”
“I’m sorry, MG.” For a moment it’s Matteo looking at me, not Detective Kildaire. “I’ve made things complicated.”
I sigh. “Let’s just ca
tch the bad guy so we can move on, okay?” We step up to the bar, order our drinks, then turn to survey the room. There are so many people to watch, I don’t even know where to start sleuthing.
“I guess we can go talk to Tej. He’s the only other member of the team we haven’t looked into. I can introduce you to all the marketing people.”
We take a quick tour of the room and find Tej at a cocktail table eating Swedish meatballs with his wife. I let Matteo steer the conversation. I feel like I’m recovering from a one-two punch in my life: first, Lawrence has been forced into hiding because of my choices, and now, my other best friend is pissed—for good reason—that I lied to him about my boyfriend. And he doesn’t even know the half of it.
With only partial attention, I listen as Matteo casually questions Tej about his alibi for the night of the explosion, then about the afternoon when I saw the Golden Arrow at the Casey mansion. I don’t know how he sounds so normal asking people these things, but Tej and his wife are all smiles, sharing their alibis without a second thought. I can tell when Matteo starts using platitudes like “Maybe we’ll see you next weekend for the movie marathon” that he’s ready to move on. I look around for a suitable reason to drag Matteo off and find our next victim.
“I’m sorry about the promotion,” Tej says, snapping my attention back to the conversation.
“Sorry?”
Tej’s eyes widen, and he looks a bit like he wants to eat his words. “Yeah. Um . . . I guess they’re going to announce it formally on Monday, but I thought they would have told you at the same time as Andy.”
My eyes fly across the room to where Andy and Casey Junior are laughing over drinks. Most definitely celebratory, bro-hug, good-ol-boys-club, no-girls-allowed drinks. All around the table, everyone is frozen, watching my reaction. And I wait for the wave of anger, of injustice, of anything to crash over me. But it never comes. In my head, I’m clinging to the life raft of Ryan’s words. And my conversation with Lawrence. I’m shocked to find I’m a little bummed, but . . . that’s it.
The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow Mysteries Book 1) Page 22