‘Good!’ She waved and blew Sammy a kiss before closing the door behind her.
‘Uhh... what was that?’
‘Jay. You have a date.’
‘Uhhh... yeah. I guess-’
‘With the woman who broke your heart, left you on the night you were going to propose-’
‘I remember, Sammy. I was there.’
‘And now without warning is taking you out for pizza?’
‘Well, I figured I’d pay.’ I reasoned. ‘Richest man in the world and all that.’
He eyed me. ‘You don’t think that’s why she’s suddenly interested in you, is it?’
‘What? No.’ I frowned. ‘Of course not.’
Is it?
Chapter 10
Scenes From An Italian Restaurant
I rummaged through my wardrobe, looking for something that said “smart, cool, single and carefree”.
There was nothing.
Typical.
‘You know, you could always program an outfit into your Power Belt.’ Sammy reminded me, laying on his front on my bed, his feet in the air.
‘Okay, firstly? Stop calling it a Power Belt.’
‘No.’
‘Secondly, if Em sees me wearing this thing, she’s going to know something’s up. She works in the industry, remember?’
‘Yeah, for SabrexTech. Not for Borleath, who makes that.’ He pointed to the belt, which was laying in front of him. ‘Plus... I dunno. You could tuck it under your shirt.’
I stared at him, lowering the t-shirt I had been holding up in front of a mirror.
‘I could tuck the belt in.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Underneath the shirt that it’s projecting.’
‘Well, yeah, I... oh.’ Sammy’s face fell.
‘What about this?’ I grabbed a white shirt and held it up.
‘No, no good.’
‘Why not?’ I frowned. ‘I like it.’
‘Well, two reasons why not. Thematically it doesn’t go with the red and black of your costume-’
‘I’m not going to go out wearing the colours of my costume when I’m not in costume! Who do you think I am, a Power Ranger?’
I watched as the reference began to sail over his head, although he caught it just in time. ‘Oh, yeah. That’s a good point. Why did nobody realise that the five-’
‘Six.’
‘What?’
‘Six. You forgot about the Green Ranger.’
‘Everyone knows that the Green Ranger doesn’t count.’ Sammy shrugged. ‘Anyway, these five kids who practice martial arts and always hang out together always wear the corresponding colours to the original five Power Rangers, who practiced martial arts and always hung out together.’ He scratched the tip of his nose. ‘Pretty damned suspicious stuff, if you ask me.’
‘Exactly. I want to avoid wearing red and black. White and... blue,’ I said, eyeing a pair of jeans, ‘will do nicely.’ I paused. ‘What’s the second reason?’
‘White shirt? At an Italian restaurant?’ He shook his head. ‘You sure that’s such a good idea?’
‘Why?’
‘If you get something that’s heavy on the sauce, it’ll stain forever.’
‘I’ll be fine, Sammy.’
‘We’ll see.’
The car arrived at bang on 8. A large car, what they call a Town Car and we British would call a Saloon, glided up to the doors and the driver got out to let me in. It felt a little weird to me, but hey. I figured I may as well start living the life of a rich person. I got in and sat down next to Emily. She wore a blue dress which was mostly covered up by a long black coat. From what I could tell (I was trying not to leer) the dress flattered her petite figure, and she smiled through light make-up at me when she saw my reaction.
‘You like?’ A slender and toned leg raised up as if to show off.
‘Yeah.’ I smiled uncertainly. ‘I feel a bit under-dressed now.’ I’d gone with the white shirt and blue jeans, but thrown on a brown leather jacket as well, which Sammy had somehow got couriered over from a nearby high-end shop.
‘Nonsense, you look great.’ She said seriously. I nodded, just as solemn as her statement had been. ‘Shall we go to this Italian place, then?’
‘Yes, let’s.’ She pressed a button on the central console between us, and a faint popping sound came over some hidden speakers.
‘Yes, Miss Roarke?’
‘We’d like to go to Alfredo’s now, please.’
‘Of course, Miss.’
The car pulled away smoothly, and we smiled at each other.
‘SabrexTech perk?’
‘Something like that, yeah.’ She nodded.
We watched the city glide past, and I realised “down the street” wasn’t just a few doors down, or even a couple of blocks. Emily was pointing out places she had been to eat, or where famous PIs or Auggies had stopped a particularly dangerous villain.
‘Em?’
‘Yeah?’
‘How do people here honestly feel about Powered or Augmented people?’
She paused. ‘Why?’
‘Just curious. Sammy told me that the reactions to that PI that showed up to fight Nemesis weren’t as open and amazing as he thought they’d be. My nurse when I lost my legs, too... she suggested that PIs weren’t all we thought they’d be, back home.’
She stretched, leaning back and then settled in, considering her words. ‘It’s a funny thing,’ she began, ‘we spent so long looking up to Superheroes in comics, TV shows and movies, we never really took the time to think about the impact they’d have on the real world.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, let’s look at it this way. Remember when we were together?’
‘Yeah.’ I smiled at her, and she answered my smile with one of her own, before regaining a more serious attitude.
‘Well, let’s imagine that, one day, a handsome, athletic, taller man came into my life and I decided I would have rather been with him more.’
‘I don’t have to imagine that.’ I gritted my teeth.
There was a long pause, and she slowly nodded. ‘Okay. I can see that, yeah. Bad example. Well,’ she backtracked, ‘what if you had someone in your life who was more handsome, taller, more popular, better respected...’
‘You mean like Sammy?’
‘What?’
I explained how people, when we had first arrived, mistook me for him. She laughed and slapped my chest. ‘No, I said more handsome. But okay, how did that make you feel?’
‘You slapping me?’
She quirked an eyebrow. ‘Sammy being mistaken for you, because he’s more... classically handsome.’
‘A little annoyed, I guess.’
She nodded. ‘Now imagine that he was more famous than you, more successful, had powers you could never have, and he did nothing to earn any of that.’
I paused, thinking. ‘I’d be a little annoyed, yeah.’
‘Good. Now imagine your home is over-run by people like that, making you a de facto second-class citizen.’
‘But non-Powered people aren’t second class.’
‘Aren’t we?’ She looked at me as if I were a child who had said something particularly foolish and naive. ‘Jay, who gets to live in the city? Who gets relegated to the housing areas?’
‘But you live in the city...’
She continued, ignoring me. ‘Who gets to be on cereal boxes and have TV shows because they reacted well when alien invaders accidentally did something to their DNA... and who gets to clean up their mess?’ She shook her head. ‘We’re second class here, honey. Capehill belongs to the Capes.’
‘But...’ I struggled to come up with an argument but couldn’t. As I tried, the car glided to a halt. Emily put a hand on my leg and squeezed my knee softly.
‘We’re here.’ She appraised my outfit. ‘Let’s ruin that shirt.’
We stepped out of the car, and I got blasted by a hard chill. The salty smell in the air told me what my eyes
didn’t need to - we were on the waterfront. ‘One of the best Italian restaurants is near the docks?’
‘Yeah,’ Emily said vaguely.
‘Seems like it’s an out of the way place for high-end clients.’
We stepped into the doorway of the restaurant. ‘Well, truth be told, I’ve always suspected this place was a front for the Mob.’
I stared at her openly. ‘We’re eating at a Mafia restaurant?’
‘Keep your voice down!’ She hissed and opened the door. ‘Let’s go have some food.’ She grinned and affected a terrible Brooklyn accent. ‘“Try the veal, it’s the best in the city.”’
The restaurant wasn’t what I had expected. Not a red and white chequered tablecloth in sight, no curly haired waitresses trying too hard to be alluring with too many blouse buttons undone, asking “whaddayawan’?” and chewing gum, and no overprotective big-brother type of cooks with their sleeves of their dirty white shirts, spattered with sauce stained, rolled up to expose meaty arms.
There wasn’t even a crooked chef’s hat in sight.
A polished black floor with shimmering silver flecks, reflecting the overhead lights and looking like an onyx ocean, met me when we walked into Alfredo’s. Light grey tables with darker flecks of slate inset were perched atop gleaming stainless-steel columns, artfully arranged around the eating area. There were booths along the sides, and a muted large TV positioned at an angle behind the bar. Soft music was being piped through hidden speakers, and whilst the vibe wasn’t exactly what I would consider romantic or business-like, there was definitely not a family feeling to it.
‘Welcome to Alfredo’s,’ a tall man approached us. ‘Do you have a reservation?’
Emily nodded. ‘Table for two, name of Roarke. We requested a private booth?’
The man checked his list, nodded, and gestured. ‘Right this way, Mr and Mrs Roarke.’
A jolt like someone kicked me in the sternum rocked me, but Emily seemed to take it in her stride. She also took my arm and gently pulled me towards a secluded booth in the corner. I sat with my back to the bar, so all I could see was Emily and the grey brickwork behind her.
‘I can see why you like this place.’
‘Oh?’ She tilted her head slightly.
‘It’s all blacks and greys. It’s like your apartment.’
‘And you’re doing your part to fit in with the colour scheme.’ She said, leaning over and lightly running a finger up my shirt.
‘You’re not.’ I smiled, gesturing to her blue dress - not daring to even consider copying her movement with her.
She laughed, a light, tinkling sound that twisted my heart. ‘A girl has to have a splash of colour in her life every now and then. Besides, the blacks and whites make the colours more vibrant and stand out more, don’t they?’
I nodded in agreement. ‘Until they become too overwhelming.’
She eyed me curiously. ‘Jason Anson, when did you grow such a cynical old heart?’
‘During the war.’
Her eyes froze on my neck momentarily, and I was aware of the silver necklace around it. She nodded once, and looked down, reaching for a menu. ‘What should we have? I’m starving.’
I sighed, mentally cursing myself, and took a menu. ‘I’m not really in the mood for pizza.’
‘Will wonders never cease?’ Emily teased.
‘I might go for the Spaghetti.’
‘Sure, if you’re a tourist.’ She chided.
‘I am a tourist.’
She glanced at me. ‘You’re not staying?’
‘I... well...’ I stammered out.
‘I’m teasing.’ She smiled easily, although there was something in her voice... ‘I’m sure you have a whole life to get back to England. A new home... new people...’ she looked me in the eye. ‘New loves.’
‘No.’ I whispered, unable to keep eye contact with her. ‘Not since...’
‘The war?’ She took my hand. ‘She must have been special.’
What?
I snapped my gaze back up to her in confusion. ‘What?’
The waiter came over, interrupting us. Emily snaked her hand away rapidly.
‘Hi! I’m Mark and I’ll be your server for this evening. Our specials today are the gazpacho soup, the Capresi salad, and the salted caramel cheesecake.’
‘Hi Mark,’ Emily said, switching gears instantly. ‘I’ll have the dough balls as a starter, and the prawn linguine as a main.’ She looked over at me and forced a smile. ‘What about you, Jason?’
I cringed slightly. Back to being Jason... ‘I’ll have the...’ I scanned the page quickly. ‘Antipasti and the spaghetti and meatballs.’
‘Both excellent choices.’ Mark nodded, as if he were honestly truly impressed with our ability to name basic Italian food. ‘And for wine?’
‘The house white will be fine.’ I said quickly.
‘Oh, come on, it’s a special occasion.’ Emily smirked, and turned to the waiter. ‘What’s your best champagne?’ As Mark opened his mouth to respond, she shook her head. ‘No matter. We’ll have a bottle.’ She looked at me challengingly, as if she wanted me to refuse. I raised an eyebrow and looked at the waiter, furiously scribbling on his pad with a tiny black pencil.
‘Each.’
‘What?’ Mark stopped scribbling and looked at me.
‘We’ll have a bottle of your best champagne... each.’ I looked back at Emily, who looked at me in surprise.
‘Right away, sir.’ Mark practically snatched our menus away before we could change our minds and scurried off.
‘A bottle each?’
I shrugged. ‘Why not? You’re paying.’
And the night went on.
‘... And so she runs off into the woods, and we’re desperately calling for her to come back. After, like, a minute she came trotting up with a deer leg in her mouth, looking so pleased with herself.’
Emily snort-laughed and choked a bit on her champagne. ‘No!’
‘Oh, yeah!’ I grinned. ‘Her owner just looked at her, turned back to us, and said “It could be worse. At least it’s not a stick, I hear those are dangerous.”’
We were halfway through our main course. I had avoided getting any sauce on my shirt, and things felt just like old times. Mostly. We were older, more mature, and had spent some time apart so we were catching up properly, outside of a hospital room and with the added benefit of quite expensive alcohol. The champagne didn’t seem to be worth the price tag, but I was hardly an expert. We enjoyed it enough, and that was the main thing. I looked around for the waiter, wondering how early was too early to order dessert.
‘Where’s Mark?’
‘Oh, you know waiters.’ She shrugged. ‘They only ever show up to check on you when your mouth’s full of food. Anyway, I can’t believe owners still took their dogs for walks that late on in the war.’
‘Oh, every day.’ I nodded. ‘Rain or shine, he was out there with that Labradoodle. Plus aside from a few flyovers and air battles late in the war, we were mostly unaffected.’
She looked at me suspiciously. ‘You moved?’
‘No.’
‘So you were pretty much right next to the last battle.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s not like I spent much time in Stevenage. Plus, after the Danti bombed the town to hell, it didn’t look much different to how it was before the Danti bombed it to hell.’
She laughed and slapped my arm. ‘Be serious.’ She paused. ‘Plus, you’ve already told me Mrs Windsor died in the war. Plus...’ She pointed at the silver chain around my neck.
‘Yeah.’ I sighed.
‘What...’ She dipped her finger in her drink absently and stirred it. ‘What was she like?’
‘Uhh...’ My mind raced, clouded as it was by the champagne. ‘Well. She was beautiful. And smart. Sometimes it was a struggle for me to keep up.’ She raised an eyebrow, and I pushed on. ‘She challenged me every day to be the best version of myself, and...’ I paused, struggling to know how close I could
get, without her realising I was talking about her. ‘And when she was... gone, it broke my heart.’ I blinked away tears I didn’t know I’d had.
‘It’s okay, Jay.’ Emily looked at me sadly. ‘You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to. She must have been special, to make you wear jewellery after she died.’
I shook my head. ‘You... you’re kidding. Right?’
She looked confused. ‘Okay, you’ve lost me.’
‘Emily, I was talking about you.’
She stared. ‘But I never gave you a necklace to wear.’
My heart pounded in my ears. Of its own accord, my left hand went to my neck, and slid the chain up between my thumb and forefinger, until the engagement ring was resting on my palm, clearly visible.
‘Oh!’ She gasped. ‘That’s...’
‘It was for you.’ I choked out. ‘I was going to propose the night...’ I trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.
‘Oh, God.’ She moaned softly. ‘I can’t... I mean...’
Mark bounced over to us. ‘Hi guys! How’s your meal going so far?’
We turned and stared at him; me with an obvious engagement ring on a chain, her in obvious distress with tears now in her eyes.
‘I’ll come back.’ He tactfully retreated, and whilst I was mostly grateful, a small part of me was surprised that he had shown up when we didn’t have mouthfuls of food.
We sat in silence for a long while after.
And the night went on.
‘Em?’
She sat in silence, poking a cream covered prawn around her plate. She refused to look at me, or anywhere except the prawn. It was the last thing on her plate, but she gave it her full attention.
‘Em, please.’
She shook her head sullenly.
‘Nothing you do will bring that prawn back. It’s gone.’
She sniffed, nodded once, and continued to push it around the plate.
‘Please talk to me?’
She looked up, venom in her eyes. ‘And say what?’
I was taken aback. ‘Uhh...’
‘What am I supposed to say? I’m sorry I broke your heart?’ She spat. ‘Sorry I ruined what you thought would be a perfect life of mediocrity? But I wasn’t happy, Jay.’ She shook her head. ‘Don’t you get that? I wasn’t happy at all.’
Guardian's Rise Page 13