by Dave Nesbit
She got me to the rear exit of the place by taking a door at the shops office. “Feel free to stop by anytime.” She said with a smile.
“Thanks I just might.” I said with a smile then got out of the door, turned down the alley and headed to the opposite side of the block.
Now I was just another kid with a backpack and motorcycle helmet. Taking a deep breath, I made my way to Atomic records.
Thankfully the store was open. Walking past the clerk who nodded to me in recognition, I took my time picking through the collection. Feeling glad I had chosen a bag big enough to hold any haul I might I get. Sticking to my five records rule I grabbed a few selections from Public Enemy, James Brown, The Clash, The Crystal Method, and Sun Ra. Then added John Lydon's Rotten: No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs. A pretty respectable haul.
After paying for my new additions, it was time to go meet Cathy. We had agreed to meet for lunch and she had picked the place. I had mentioned it kind of obliquely to Mr. Thomas and he gave it a thumbs up. Apparently he and the boss went there for lunch every now and then. He gave me the address and thankfully my phone was smarter than I was and managed to get me there five minutes ahead of schedule.
The place was a fairly upscale joint that served steaks and BBQ. The interior had a lot of brushed and polished stainless steel, contrasting with a black velvet like fabric on the walls. If the food was as good as the decor it was gonna be a great meal. Sadly, as I looked around, it became obvious that the gentleman at the door did not seem impressed by me, at all.
“Can I help you?” His name tag said “George.” He was a short stocky man with a pleasant but wide oval shaped face. He had a hipster’s growth of hair on his chin, and was dressed in a navy blue sport coat and white shirt with slacks to match his jacket.
“Uh yes two for lunch please?” I said.
“Would you like to see a menu before you sit?” I think he was trying to get over to me the idea that this place was not a McDonald's. For a brief second I considered using my power to give him the mother of all wedgies. But then passed on the idea. So far I had a good reputation for being responsible. I’d save mischief for when it was needed.
“No thanks, I'd rather see one at the table.” I said with a smile. I had a month and change worth of pay I hadn't spent. Unless they coated their food in gold, I could afford it. With a shake of his head, George led me to a table and I got comfortable. Pulling out my book I settled in to kill time with a good story.
I hadn't been sitting for more than a minute when the chair in front of me became occupied.
Looking up, I was surprised to see it wasn't Cathy. Instead there was a very beautiful and very serious looking woman of Mediterranean heritage. Olive colored skin, dark hair and a figure that, even as she sat, would cause clothes with less strength than hers to declare surrender.
“Can I help you?” Wondering what the hell this was about.
“I certainly hope so Mr. Larkin. You're a very hard man to get a hold of.” She smiled prettily and offered her hand. “My name is Colette Fazil, I represent Adidas.”
My brain took a moment to focus on the notion. “Don’t get me wrong Miss Fazil, but what would a shoe company want with me?”
“You'd be surprised.” She said. “We sell shoes, we have a clothing line, and we'd be willing to pay you handsomely to wear them when you're out in public.”
The waitress saved me from looking like a complete moron at that moment. Smiling at her, I ordered a cup of coffee. That gave me a second to regroup. I had no idea of how to handle this. Or for that matter how she had even known I was going to be here. I was gonna have a chat with Hamilton the second I got back to school.
“Define pay me handsomely.” I said. What I expected was enough money to maybe buy a used Toyota or pay for a semester at the University of Wisconsin
Instead she rattled off a sum that sounded more like a telephone number to me than any sum of money I’d ever considered possible. Then added “We would also like to work with you on a custom shoe, and clothing line.” She grinned. “We understand you have a look that speaks to a certain demographic.” Which I think was her polite way of saying. ‘You wear jeans and t-shirts constantly, let them be ours.’
Okay this would be a hard offer to turn down. It was time to delay a bit. “Do you have any information on the offer, I'm afraid I'm legally too young to sign a contract.”
“Of course.” She reached into the bag next to her and pulled out a folder. “Ask your friend Mr. Hamilton to look it over. He is a lawyer.”
Now that creeped me out. They had done their research. Which made sense and scared the shit out of me at the same time. It dawned on me that if a shoe company knew that much about my life it might be best to wonder what a potential enemy might know. Thankfully, I looked up and saw Cathy walking in. “If you'll excuse me, my date has arrived.”
“Of course.” Collette said. “Look it over and get back to me. I have my card attached inside.” She smiled prettily but in a manner that made me think she rehearsed it regularly. As she got up and walked away, the sway in her hips was hard to miss.
Cathy walked up and looked at me, then followed Miss Fazil’s exit with an air of curiosity. Today she was dressed in a red plaid kilt and white shirt complimented with a black waistcoat. The boots she wore went past her knees and acted more like advertising for the show her legs might lead to. “Who was that?” She asked as she sat down.
“Would you believe an agent from Adidas asking for me to make a custom clothing and shoe line?” As I said it, the whole idea seemed ridiculous. My taste in clothes was about as basic as you could get, and shoes were way more a matter of function over form to me.
Cathy grinned. “Actually I would. You’re a valuable commodity.” She said as George came up without a word and handed us both menus.
“How do you figure I'm valuable?”
Cathy sighed. “You're adorable. Kind of a moron, but cute.” She said with a shake of her head.
“Well it’s nice to know I have my upsides.”
Which is when she did something that was a very pleasant surprise. She leaned over the table and kissed me. Not the sort of chaste kiss you expect when you're a teen but one with a nice partially open mouth, a touch of a tongue and a lot of promises. She pulled back with a grin then quite primly put a napkin in her lap as the waitress approached. We ordered. I had a steak the size of Lake Michigan and she had a Caesar Salad.
“I'm not arguing, but what was that for?” I asked when the waitress walked away. Feeling glad at that moment that we were sitting so my body’s reaction to that kiss wouldn’t be obvious.
“Because I'm afraid you're the rarest of things. A good guy.” She said with a raised eyebrow.
“Really. Are we in that short of a supply?”
“Looks like it to me.” She shook her head. “Right now private security firms, criminal syndicates, and militaries all over the world are falling over themselves to hire as many “Touched” as they can. And you sit there wondering why a shoe company might want to hand you some money.”
“Would it help if I said I was a bit busy to watch the news?”
“Perhaps.” She grinned. “But I expect an amazing meal and night on the town when you sign the contract and deposit the check.”
“I like this plan. We don’t have a football team but I'll act like it’s homecoming.”
“Deal.” Our food arrived and I dug in with gusto. Trying hard not to send spittle or stray food particles toward Cathy's meal. “I am amazed at how much you can eat and not look like you swallowed a wheel barrow.” Cathy said as she took in my performance.
“The blessing and curse of being ‘Touched’.” I admitted. “We have a metabolism that supports the appetite, but the appetite exists because our bodies need to store potential energy.”
“It makes a weird kind of sense.” She said as I destroyed a potato. Really, I was trying hard to be on my best behavior. I might not have been succeeding at it, but I was tryin
g.
Which is when the front door to the place opened and I saw three guys in suits walk in. It struck me as they talked to my new buddy George that these guys weren't exactly comfortable in their outfits. More like they put them on to try out the feeling of being a “suit guy” but they had a desire to be wearing jeans and a shirt. I could empathize. My attempts at formal wear usually made me feel like I was acting out a role I didn’t quite fit.
They looked to be a blue collar bunch out for lunch after church. Collectively their hair was longish and graying, the sort of guys who would have been more at home in a factory and... Oh shit.
One of the guys turned and I recognized him. He'd been on TV a few days ago apparently suggesting that “normal folks” rise up against people like me. It was Lynn's ex-step-dad. Great, nothing about this was going to go well.
“Trouble?” Cathy turned her head.
“That obvious?”
“I wouldn't suggest going into professional poker.” She said with a grin.
“One of the leaders of Humans for Humanity is here. I really don't want to deal with them right about now.” I whispered trying hard not to draw attention to us.
Cathy looked at me curiously. “Humans for Humanity?” She looked confused at the term.
“They’re a group who feel ‘The Touched’ are an existential threat to normal people. I have a feeling they’d like to do away with all of us.”
She shook her head. “Well it didn’t take long for someone to organize the racism angle.” She said with a sad tone to her voice. Then she brightened. “You could use your power to drop the soup in his lap.” She suggested.
“True, but my boss might get annoyed at me.” Looking around I saw the waitress and caught her eye. “Mind if we bail on here early, and find someplace else for dessert?”
“Sure.” She said and collected her stuff.
The waitress came up, “Can I get you anything else?” She asked with a professional smile.
“The check please.” I was hoping that maybe we might escape this without a major faux paux that would send me back to beginner’s leadership training.
“Sure thing, it'll be just a minute.” She walked off and I put my book into my backpack. Cathy took the chance to collect her belongings.
Which is when my luck chose to run out. He recognized me. The downside of having fan pages and other bits of media attached to your name is that people who don't like you can find them too. He nodded to his friends at the table and got up.
“Well, shit.” I said.
“We're going to have that confrontation?” She didn’t sound afraid, more like certain.
“Sure looks like it.” I replied.
“Well if he's mean to you I'll clock him with a plate.” Cathy said with a wicked grin, part of me had the feeling she welcomed the potential confrontation, which was great for her. I just knew I didn’t want to have to explain it to Hamilton.
“Thanks, I'm pretty sure I can afford your bail.”
“Always a good thing to know.”
I was collecting my stuff as the waitress came up, she handed me the check just as he got to my table.
“Going somewhere?” He asked.
“Yep.” I said trying to sound nonchalant. “My friend and I decided to have dessert elsewhere.”
“Maybe you should stick around.” The guy said. “My friends have never seen a real freak in the flesh.”
Looking down I saw Cathy putting her hand on a plate. As funny as that would be, I really didn’t want to have to explain the situation to her family, who I had yet to meet. ‘Hi, sorry about getting your daughter arrested for assault,’ ran through my mind.
What came out of my mouth was “Well tell them to keep looking, maybe in a mirror,” and grabbed my bag.
He stiffened at that. With a look that spoke of imminent violence. Maybe I should learn to put an editing function in my brain. Cathy chuckled and then he got red faced. It dawned on me that he wasn't used to being shown disrespect. He was a solid man, despite the gut and he had a face that spoke of years of using his looks to scare people into getting what he wanted. I don’t think it had dawned on him how much potential trouble he might have actually been in at that moment.
A week ago I had benched pressed a car. Right now I wanted to see how that translated into pitching him through a window. I wouldn't, but the idea sounded great in my mind.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He said stepping right up to me; his face in mine. I could smell whiskey and cigarette smoke on his breath; proving that it was actually possible for him to be even less pleasant.
“You don't know me from Adam. Yet here you are up in my face because I can do stuff you can't. You're a sick, jealous man who needs to let go of the bullshit he's in love with.” I grabbed my bag and made to walk off.
Which is when he grabbed my arm.
It dawned on me then that he was perhaps not the brightest bulb in the pack. Looking down I saw his jacket was open, and he made a point to show off the nickel plated .45 in his belt. Cathy lifted the plate.
“I'd appreciate you letting me go.” I said, wondering how this was going to end. From the corner of my eye I saw one of his friends holding up a phone. Fuck, this had disaster written all over it. It finally dawned on me that maybe I was being set up to be in a propaganda video for his chapter. The idea that he might seem a hero to people almost made me violently ill.
“Or you'll what?” He had a smile that made me want to punch him right through his skull.
Just as I had that thought and remembered the sheer look of terror on Lynn's face and how much I'd really like to deck him for that alone, the door opened.
Sure I would love to believe that General Watson walking in right then was a coincidence. I'd also love to believe in Santa Claus, but personally I don't think the world operates on that level. Watson looked at me and I saw Mr. Thomas with him as well, they both looked to be enjoying a normal everyday conversation.
I would have bought the idea of a coincidence if they weren't immediately looking at me as they came in. They walked right past George and straight up to me and my new “friend.” Watson flanked me and Mr. Thomas was directly behind Lynn’s former abuser.
“Ryan.” Watson said. “I didn't know we'd find you here.”
The guy bothering me was trying to take this all in. He looked like he wanted to object to the intrusion but a look from Watson shut him up.
“We were just leaving.” I said.
“Probably a good call, there's still a whole afternoon out there.” Mr. Thomas said. It seemed less an observation and more like a nicely worded suggestion.
Lynn's step-dad was trying to decide how to handle this. Seeing an opportunity, I took my cue and made my escape. Part of me wondered how Watson and Mr. Thomas would handle all of that, but frankly I was just glad to be away from that asshole.
“Well, that was intense.” Cathy said as we walked out and made our way down the street. The city bathed in that almost too white light of an autumn afternoon. I relished the breath of fresh air, to help wash away the smell of that clown.
“True.” I answered looking for another place to duck into. “Not exactly what I had in mind for a nice lunch date.”
“Darn, I was hoping you were trying to get me to slug someone.” She said and turned into a little bistro, taking me with her.
“Well if I knew it was going to be that kind of date…” before I could get further though we were approached by an older Italian looking woman who appeared to be the owner of the place. Or at least her bearing made it seem like everything there was hers. She smiled at us and offered a booth in the back.
The feeling of this place was different than where we had been before. That place had been all new energy and the desire to impress everyone who came in. This was like walking into someone’s living room. Familiar smells of coffee and baked goods filled the place. A crowd of folks from the neighborhood were hanging out and the conversation around me was not at
all subdued.
We took our seats, and Cathy ordered for us. “I get the feeling you've been here before.” I said taking in the whole scene, this felt like an establishment that was much more my speed.
“Just a lot. I like to come here after record hunting.” She said with a smile. “Trust me, the cannoli are amazing.”
“Seems like a reasonable plan.” I paused. “See, if you'd decked that clown I would have missed this.”
“Not likely, I'm a hit and run kind of girl.” She winked and laughed.
“Well you haven't hit me yet. Or ran.”
“The day is young.” She said with a gleam in her eye.
“Good point, I'll be on my best behavior.”
“Hopefully not.” She said with a Cheshire smile. “Now then, who was that guy?”
“It's a weird story.” I told already told her about him being the local head of Humans for Humanity. Then I filled her in on how he had also been Lynn's step-dad and the idea that he had been abusive to her. The coffee and cannoli arrived as I finished the story and the nice lady smiled at us both with a look of approval I didn’t quite understand.
“Now I wish I had hit him with that plate.” Cathy said.
“With a head like that I doubt it would have done much good.” I bit into one of the pastries and was pleasantly surprised. “Okay you're right this is a winner. I've got to come back here again.”
“You're very welcome.” She sighed. “Hopefully it makes the day a little better after running into a jerk like that.”
“Well that and being in good company.” I said.
“I do my best.” She looked serious as she traced lines through the coffee rings on the table. “How are you going to handle it? He's not gonna be the last person to call you a freak.”