by Julie Kenner
This ninja, seeing how easily a random chick incapacitated his friends, decided to draw his katana from the sheath tied to his side. The blade flashed under the fluorescent lights as he waved it in front of his face and squinted menacingly at her. She grinned back, then dropped to the ground and swept her foot out and around, tripping him where he stood. He went flying into the first guy, knocking a stack of comic books on his head. Hailey slammed her heel into his stomach and he bellowed in pain.
Last guy. He stood at a distance, then reached into his hand and pulled out a shuriken—a Japanese throwing star. He flipped it like a Frisbee and sent it spinning in her direction. She leapt into the air—very Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon—and the star ended up only skimming the heel of her boot before lodging itself in Superman’s plastic chest, just below the S.
Hailey fluttered back to the ground and started after the guy. But he and his buddies had evidently had enough of Karma Kitty. They took off down the aisle, as fast as their ninja legs would carry them.
“Phew,” Hailey said, brushing off her skirt. “That was close.” She turned back to her friend and the Asian guy. They were both staring at her, mouths open, eyes wide, expressions freaked out beyond belief. She suddenly felt self-conscious. “Uh, you can stop looking at me any time now.”
“Oh. My. God,” Thomas marveled. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my entire life. They all came at you at once.”
“No, they didn’t. They came one after another. Just like in those dumb kung fu movies.”
“Maybe to you, Neo, but we mere mortals just watched you take on five guys at one time. You had them all down in five seconds flat.”
“Wow. It sure didn’t feel like that.” She rubbed her forehead. “I hope I didn’t hurt them too badly.”
“Dude, they’re bad guys, remember? You should have killed them.”
“Um, yeah, except there’s that whole pesky lifetime in jail, maybe the death penalty thing to consider,” she reminded him. “It’s not like we’re in a real-life comic book here.”
“It certainly feels like it, though.” Thomas looked down at her shoes. “I so need to get a pair of those in my size FedEx’d to me for tomorrow. What was that Web site again?”
The pirate Asian guy cleared his throat. In the excitement, Hailey had forgotten about him. He bowed to her, a deep respectful bow from his waist, then retreated down the aisle, almost as fast as the ninjas had, but in the other direction.
“I wonder why they were after him,” Hailey mused as she watched him go. “Some kind of ‘ninjas are way cooler than pirates’ game?”
“Pirates are way cooler than ninjas, FYI,” Thomas corrected. “But no, I doubt it. Those guys looked really serious. And Hiro looked really scared.”
“Hiro?”
“And you call yourself a comic book fan?” Thomas scolded. “Did you really not recognize Hiro Kim, Japan’s premier manga artist? We were talking about him earlier, remember? He does that pirate manga called Shadow Booty Clan.”
“That guy wrote Shadow Booty Clan?” Hailey cried. “That’s, like, the most best-selling comic of all time.”
“Duh. The latest volume even hit the New York Times best-seller list.”
“So why would a boatload of ninjas be chasing down Hiro Kim in the middle of Comic Con?”
“Beats me.”
Hailey suddenly remembered the shuriken the ninja had chucked at her. She walked over to Superman and yanked it out of his stomach. She realized it wasn’t a real throwing star at all, but a toy one, made of black plastic. On the back it said BOOTH 4294, MEIYOSERAPH AGENCY.
“Weird,” she mused, turning the star around in her hand. “We should check this out. Maybe it’s a clue.”
“Um, hello? You’re trying to solve the Case of the Weirdo Ninja Fight now? How about figuring out why you’ve suddenly morphed into your comic-book cat first?”
“We’ve already solved the cat thing.”
“By attributing it to magic shoes? Oh yeah, you’re a regular Nancy Drew.”
“Veronica Mars, actually. So what do you say we go check out the booth?” She glanced at her watch. “Oh wait. Shit. I’m totally late to go meet Collin.”
“Just tell Mr. Hollywood you got stuck battling a herd of ninjas. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Hailey cringed. “No. That’s the problem. He won’t. In fact, that’s exactly the type of thing he just won’t understand. The kind of thing I wanted to avoid trying to explain to him ever again. After all, he still hasn’t gotten over my alien abduction.” Whoops. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“What a closed-minded fool.” Thomas fanned himself.
Hailey gritted her teeth. “I’m serious,” she said. She looked at her watch again. “Crap! I have to get changed. I can’t go looking like Karma Kitty.” She kicked off her boots and ran to the bathroom, quickly discarding the costume for street clothes. Her muscles ached and her brain felt like mush. Being a superhero evidently took a lot out of a girl.
She exited the bathroom, bags in hand, and handed them to Thomas.
“Wow, that was faster than Superman in a phone booth,” Thomas observed. “Though not half as sexy.” He ran a hand down the Man of Steel’s plastic bicep for emphasis.
“Um, yeah. So, I’ll catch you later. And don’t you dare put on the shoes,” Hailey said, calling over her shoulder as she dashed down the aisle.
“Wow. If they looked up ‘selfish friend’ in the dictionary, they’d find a big fat picture of you.”
“I hope they photographed my good side.”
It took her a good forty-five minutes to hail a cab outside of Comic Con. By the time she got to the restaurant, she was over an hour late. As her cab pulled up to a red light, she saw Collin, across the intersection, exit the restaurant, hail a cab and get in.
No! This could not be happening! “Follow that cab!” she cried in desperation, waving a finger at the vehicle. If only she’d remembered to get his cell phone number when she had the chance.
“What do you think this is, a fuckin’ movie?” the Queens-born driver asked, taking a precious moment from his very important cell phone convo to address her. “I ain’t running a red light for you, baby.”
“Please!” she begged, watching as Collin’s cab pulled out into the street.
A man banged on the cab window. “Are you getting out or not?” the driver demanded. “I ain’t got all night, you know. Some of us have to make a living.”
Hailey sighed and reluctantly left the cab. She walked into the restaurant and up to the maitre-d’. He informed her that Collin had been waiting for an hour and finally just left. Sorry, no message. The man gave her a disapproving look.
It’s was the ninjas’ fault! she wanted to shout at him, but she knew it would do no good.
If only she could find Collin. Explain what had happened.
Explain? a voice inside of her jeered. Explain what? That you turned into your comic-book character and fought a platoon of ninjas with your bare hands to save a pirate manga artist from certain death?
Okay, maybe not that. But she could give him some kind of excuse. A rational one. Like, she had been held up at her signing. Or her publisher had scheduled a last-minute meeting she just couldn’t miss. Something, anything to convince him that she hadn’t meant to stand him up.
So you’d lie to him? the inner voice jeered. Is that really the right foot on which to resume the relationship?
It wasn’t, of course. In fact, it was pretty close to the reasons they broke up to begin with. But still, what could she do?
She hailed a new cab and instructed him to drop her off at the Comfort Inn in Hell’s Kitchen at which she and Thomas were staying. When she arrived, she went straight to his room. He answered the door in bunny-footed pajamas. She was just grateful it wasn’t vintage women’s lingerie like the last time. After all that had happened, she didn’t think she could take a three-hundred-pound Vivienne Westwood tonight.
“
Didn’t make it, huh?” he asked sympathetically, ushering her inside the tiny room and closing the door behind them. “Poor dear.”
She flopped on the second bed, a lump forming in her throat. She tried to tell herself that she shouldn’t be so disappointed, but she couldn’t help it. Seeing Collin again, after all these years, had really made her realize how much she missed having him in her life. And to blow a possible second chance like that? Stupid. Truly stupid. She should have skipped the costumes. Thomas would have understood. And then she’d have gotten to the restaurant early, met him at the door. They would have wined, dined, talked, maybe even danced. Made up for lost time.
But no. She’d screwed it all up. She wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to talk to her again.
“I saw him get into a taxi as I was pulling in,” she told Thomas. “He’d waited an hour, according to the restaurant guy.” She groaned. “He must think I’m a total bitch.”
“Well, duh. I think that and you’ve never even stood me up.”
She threw a pillow at him. “You’re not helping.”
“Sorry, sweetie. It really sucks, I know,” Thomas said, looking at her with pitying eyes. “You were really looking forward to it, weren’t you?”
“More than I wanted to admit,” she said with a sigh. “I really love him still. Seeing him today brought back so many memories.”
“Can you call him? Explain what happened?”
“I don’t have his cell number. And I have no clue what hotel he’s staying at.” She rolled over onto her side and flipped through one of their comics. “Too bad Karma Kitty didn’t have some kind of Super Smell. Then I could just throw on the boots and sniff him out.”
Thomas laughed. “If only you knew you’d need it when you created her, we could have drawn it in. It’d actually be a pretty funny superpower. Would have made perfect sense, too, since all of Karma Kitty’s powers have to do with cat things. And we all know how good my Fifi is at sniffing out the catnip.”
Sudden inspiration smacked Hailey across the face and she jerked up in bed. “That’s it!” she cried, hope surging through her. “That’s totally it!”
Thomas gave her a blank look. “Er, what’s it?”
“Drawing it in,” she replied. “When I put on the boots, I have all the powers of Karma Kitty, right? And we control what those powers are through the artwork. What if you sketched up a few scenes where Karma Kitty is gifted with the power of Super Smell? That she can sniff out . . . bad guys or something. Then I’d put on the boots and sniff out Collin. Figure out where he’s staying and go apologize.”
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Maybe the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say, and I’ve heard a lot of stupid things in my life. Like the time George Michael claimed he was—”
“Yeah, well, before tonight you would have said me putting on magic boots, becoming Karma Kitty, and fighting a flock of ninjas was the stupidest thing you ever heard.”
“Touché.” Thomas considered. “But still . . .”
“Fine. I’ll draw it myself, then. You’ll see.” She grabbed Thomas’s sketchbook from off his bed and uncapped a pen.
She was no artist, but she did her best, sketching her comic cat sniffing the air. She then slipped on her boots and took a whiff. Nothing but the same old slightly dirty laundry smell the room had when she first entered. She sighed and kicked them off again.
“Oh well,” she said. “I guess it was a dumb idea.”
Thomas peered over her shoulder at her drawing. He scowled. “Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “Of course that’s not going to work. It doesn’t even remotely resemble Karma Kitty. No offense.” He huffed with annoyance. “Fine. Give me the pen.”
She handed it over.
“For the record, I still think this is ridiculous,” Thomas muttered as he took the sketchbook from her. “But if it’s going to work, it’s only going to work when drawn by a genuine Karma Kitty artist like me.”
Or Collin, Hailey thought, wondering if he had taken up drawing again after they parted ways. It was such a shame when he gave up over those stupid rejections. To give up something he was so good at. Something he loved.
Hailey looked over Thomas’s shoulder, watching, until he yelled at her for invading his space. So she retreated to the other bed and flipped on the television. But she couldn’t concentrate on the show. She was too impatient to see if this crazy thing would actually work.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” she reminded him, after what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time to be working on a single sketch. He, of course, shot her a dirty look that told her that it most certainly did. Artists!
She lay back down on the bed and tried to be patient. Tried to focus on what she was going to tell Collin once she found him. Some kind of easy excuse. Something believable that didn’t involve pirates or ninjas or her turning into a cat-woman. Would he forgive her? Would he be interested in rekindling the relationship? Maybe they’d end up getting married this time. Start a family, even.
Hang on, Hailey. First things first.
“Okay, I’m done,” Thomas announced, breaking her out of her white-picket-fence dreams.
She practically dove to the other bed. “Let me see.”
He held up the sketchbook, out of her reach. “No way, José. This piece of garbage is going into the trash the second you’re done tracking down Mr. Hollywood. I can’t afford to have it end up on DeviantArt or something. My fans would never forgive me.”
“Fine, fine. As long as it works.” She grabbed the boots again. “I guess I don’t need the rest of the costume,” she decided, yanking on the footwear. “Don’t want to freak him out with cat ears and a tail. Though maybe I’ll wear the skirt. He was totally eyeing it earlier.”
She zipped up the boots again and once again that nauseous, tingly feeling came over her, followed by an overwhelming sense of power.
And—she sniffed—cigarette smoke?
“Thomas Mark Carol, you’ve been smoking!” she exclaimed, shooting him an accusing look. “You told me you quit.”
Thomas scowled and opened his mouth to give some lame excuse, then his eyes widened as he realized what was happening. “It worked!” he cried, jumping off the bed and clapping his hands together in glee. “Oh my God! You have Super Smell!”
Her eyes widened as she realized he was absolutely right. She could smell the burger and fries the guy was eating in the next room. The stench of urine on the sidewalks outside. The cheesy J. Lo perfume on the desk clerk downstairs. She could smell each and every thing with a crystal clarity that was both enticing . . . and disgusting.
Thomas was back at his sketchbook, drawing furiously. A moment later he looked up. “Okay,” he said, breathless with excitement. “Now shoot hundred-dollar bills from your fingers.”
She stared at him. “You’re kidding right?”
“Hey, the Super Smell thing worked. Figured it was worth a try.”
“Fine.” She held out her fingers and concentrated. Sadly, not a single penny drizzled out.
Thomas scowled. “Boo.”
“Makes sense, though,” she said, lowering her hands. “Karma Kitty has the same powers as a cat, only exaggerated, right? It’s not like she can fly or shoot lasers or anything.”
“True. Brutally disappointing, but true.”
“Anyway, Super Smell works. And that’s what matters.”
“To you, maybe. I would have found the money-producing super claws I designed far more useful.”
She rolled her eyes at him and then sniffed again, closing her eyes and concentrating on visualizing Collin. His delicious scent—Jil Sander with a mixture of aftershave—that she used to love breathing in. The smells bombarded her, fast and furious, and at first it was hard to catalog them individually.
Then she caught a whiff of something. Something distinctly Collin-like—somewhere to the northeast. “Well, I guess the best thing to do is jump in a cab and stick my nose out the wi
ndow,” she determined. “After all, midtown Manhattan isn’t that big, right?”
Thomas shot her a doubtful look.
She sighed. If only Comic Con had been held in rural Maine. Would have made things a lot easier. “Well, here I go anyway,” she said, rising to her feet. “Wish me luck!”
“Meh, you don’t need luck,” Thomas said, giving her the thumbs-up. “You’re Karma Kitty!”
She threw him a grin, exiting the room while praying he was right.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Comfort Inn’s elevator was broken, but Hailey didn’t care. She skipped down the steps, practically dancing for joy. This was too cool. Too, too cool. If only she’d had superpowers back in the day when she and Collin were together. Maybe she could have kicked some alien-abductor ass and made it to the church on time. They’d be married right now. Living happily ever after.
She pushed open the front lobby door and stepped out onto West 46th Street. No use dwelling on what might have been. It was time to make the present what it should be.
The nose-out-the-cab-window thing turned out to be a lot easier than she thought it’d be, and the cab driver didn’t even seem taken aback by his sniffy, indecisive passenger. Guess you got a lot weirder than that as a NYC hack, and as long as the meter ran and she didn’t, it was all good for him.
Not fifteen minutes later, she asked him to stop in front of The Rock Hotel, right outside of Times Square. Collin’s scent was strong here and she was positive this had to be the place. She paid and exited the cab, stuffed sack of Chinese takeout in hand. (The smell had been irresistible to her newly sensitized nose, and they had missed dinner, after all.)
Walking straight to the front desk, Hailey asked for Collin’s room number. But the snotty clerk informed her that “due to privacy concerns” he couldn’t give that information to some random girl off the street. After much pleading, he did agree to ring Collin’s room, but no one answered. He suggested she come back later.
Hailey knew Collin was in the building; she could smell him clearly now. He was probably just ignoring calls or in the bathroom or something. So she headed over to the elevator, determined to sniff him out. The doors slid open a moment later, revealing a stiff, uniformed man inside. She stepped into the elevator and the man politely inquired as to what floor she’d like to go to.