by C. C. Ekeke
“And why hit that raw?” Groban exclaimed.
Raphael spread his burly arms. “I know you wanted to improve picking up girls. But her?”
“It’s not true,” Simon interjected. “Right?”
Hugo raised both hands to calm his worried friends. “What about Abby?”
“You two are banging,” Simon replied. “And she gave you an STD.”
“NO!” Hugo protested. No wonder girls were giving him salty looks. Countless pitying expressions littered the quad. Hugo then saw Brie, dolled up in couture and flanked by her squad. She promptly turned away, exchanging a fiendish sneer with Kendall Caruso. Spencer’s dark eyes lingered, burning with barely restrained fury.
Hugo gulped hard in comprehension. This rumor sounded like Natalie Rodriguez’s handiwork—meaning Brie was behind it. He turned back to his friends. “Where’d you hear this?”
Groban held up his phone for Hugo. “The Bearcats Chatter Snapchat and IG accounts before Snack Period.”
Easy A Does it Again, Spotted at Apple Farms with her Latest Victim, the caption read. The Snapchat post had a picture of Hugo and Abby from last night standing dangerously close.
He laughed, confusing his friends. One of the Paso High kids he’d seen at Apple Farm must've spread the bogus rumor. “Nothing’s happening with Abby. She’s my brother’s best friend’s older sister. Last night was the first time we’d met.”
Brent, Raphael, Wale, and Groban all visibly relaxed.
Simon gawked. “Abby is Dallas’s sister?”
“My reaction exactly,” Hugo exclaimed. Hopefully Jordana doesn’t believe this. Angry footsteps advanced from behind. Hugo’s smile vanished. “Shit.”
“Seriously?” Jordana barked. “Easy fucking Abby?”
Hugo squeezed his eyes shut. “For the love of Jehoshaphat…”
Simon and Raphael backed away, offering zero support. “Ruh-roh,” Wale murmured. Groban resembled a deer in headlights.
Only Brent didn’t understand. “Huh?”
Hugo turned slowly. Jodie’s rage dwarfed Hugo, despite him standing over a foot taller.
“If you’re banging that bargain basement slut,” Jodie fumed, wagging her finger, “then you and I are done!”
Raphael took a seat. “Oh, I’m watching this drama.”
Yards away, Brie and her crew cackled.
Hugo focused on Jordana, cheeks burning at her affronted tone. His deep-rooted urge to pacify surged. Like with Brie… He caught himself in time. As a superhero, Hugo couldn’t be a people-pleasing doormat. Same with his personal life. “First off,” Hugo started with surging confidence, “nothing happened with Abby.” He should’ve stopped there. But Hugo wanted to clarify this relationship with Jordana. “And if something was, it’s not your concern.”
Jordana recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “Excuse you?”
“Ooph,” Simon remarked.
“Not good,” Groban murmured.
Hugo internally flinched at his boldness, but kept plowing ahead. “Secondly, I told you I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. You said you were cool. Are you or are you not?” He waited, secretly hoping she’d chill and move past this.
Jodie blinked, unsatisfied. “Ya wanna know something? I don’t need this.” Adjusting her topknot, she stormed off.
Fear crawled up Hugo’s spine, warning that he’d never attract another hottie like her. Fear demanded that he chase Jordana and beg forgiveness. The old me would, another voice said. Pathetic and desperate for a girl's love. The reminder helped Hugo kill that fear. He stayed put.
Simon ambled to his side. “You gonna fix that?”
“Nope.” Hugo was done chasing self-involved drama queens.
“Good call,” Simon murmured proudly.
As Jordana crossed the quad, Briseis watched with relish. Of course, she and her minions were watching. Only Jen Thomas looked dejected by the drama.
“Backstabbing bitch,” Brie coughed as her former best friend passed.
Jordana snarled something in Spanish without slowing. Natalie cringed, understanding whatever she’d said. Spencer burst out laughing.
Brie glared after Jodie, then her friends. “What'd she say?” she demanded peevishly.
Hugo turned to his friends, who stood in shock and awe. “Jordana Buchanan?” Groban nodded approvingly. “Bogie, you filthy animal!”
Brent didn’t join the praise. Betrayal burned in his blue eyes.
Hugo’s stomach curdled. “Brent—”
“I’m grabbing a churro.” Brent strode away, seething.
Hugo moved to follow until Simon blocked him. “I got this.” The Korean boy scurried after Brent.
“He never made a move,” Hugo rationalized to the others. “Never even said he liked Jodie.” The defense was thin. A blind man could see Brent liked Jordana. Some friend you are.
“There’ll be other girls.” Raphael patted his back evenly. “Brent will calm down.”
“But will he forgive me?” Hugo really liked Brent. Losing him over a girl sucked.
The STD rumor still had legs by lunchtime. But many saw the rumor as bullshit. Still, Brent hardly said two words to Hugo. Jordana ignored him. Hugo disliked the tension disrupting their social circle. He decided to text a more sympathetic ear.
ME: Can we talk?
Marshmallow: Go fuck yourself. Or Abby.
Hugo winced from the text’s rancor. A glance around the quad revealed no sign of the sender.
ME: You know the STD rumor isn’t true.
Marshmallow: I’m not stupid! You know why I’m pissed.
Marshmallow: Think I wouldn’t find out about Jodie???
Hugo couldn’t believe his eyes.
ME: Hypocrite much? And why are you mad? You ended things a month ago!!
Marshmallow: Lose my number, asshole.
ME: Were you and Brie behind the STD rumor?
No response. “Should’ve expected that,” Hugo murmured. That didn’t make the rejection any less wounding. After eating, he figured a walk might clear his head. While shouldering his backpack, Hugo noticed Taylor von Stratton watching him with a puckered brow. As if deciding something about him. Taylor sat with the Songs team, her blue-and-white cheerleading dress fitting delectably. Golden hair fell down her shoulders in sleek sheets. Jesus, Taylor looked good.
She probably believes the rumors. Hugo then noticed her blushing under his gaze. She glanced away and then back, batting those long lashes. Sex in her eyes.
Hugo instantly stiffened down south. It was on. Now what?
Raphael’s abundance theory bubbled up. If he’s wrong… Hugo banished such pessimism. Digging up some confidence, Hugo strode in Taylor’s direction.
Ignoring the surrounding chatter, he maintained eye contact while approaching. Taylor’s sharp intake of breath spoke volumes.
Hugo nodded toward the auditorium—walking past her.
…and kept walking.
…and walking.
…and God, Hugo felt stupid.
Until hearing Taylor address her friends several feet back. “I gotta…get something. Watch my stuff?”
Eager footsteps scurry across pavement after Hugo. Triumph seared through his veins. “That actually worked,” he marveled. Soon after he slid through the auditorium doors, Taylor slinked in behind him.
Beyond simple hellos and denying the STD rumor, neither Hugo nor Taylor spoke as they entered a vacant service closet holding hands. Slow yet passionate kisses. Hands and mouths all over bare flesh. Lots of flesh. Hugo gladly lost himself in Taylor’s flesh to forget today’s drama.
When lunch ended, Hugo left the auditorium grinning stupidly. “Exactly what I needed.”
By the time sixth period ended, Hugo waited in front of school for Simon. Along the way, he received high-fives from several boys. Many also gave him effusive compliments.
“Thanks?” Hugo replied, baffled.
Simon arrived, smiling from ear to ear. “Wow, Bogie!” he cried, slinging
his headphones around his neck. “Taylor von Stratton?”
Hugo staggered back. Was there a telepathic super on campus? After Halloween, I wouldn’t be shocked. “How’d you hear about Taylor?”
Simon scoffed. “From Taylor. She’s bragging to everyone and saying the STD rumor is bullshit.”
Hugo facepalmed. “Jesus…” Taylor had a bigger mouth than Natalie Rodriguez. Before he could respond, his cellphone buzzed. His ‘work’ cell from Ms. Ortiz.
Hugo put several yards between him and the school before answering. “Hello.”
“Superpowered weapons smugglers are on the move outside Sacramento,” Ms. Ortiz declared in her ‘Lady Liberty’ voice. “I’ll need you for this.”
Hugo stopped abruptly, almost tripping. “Seriously?”
“Like a major coronary. You ready?”
“Born ready,” Hugo blurted out.
“Then get your ass over here, Kid Liberty!”
Hugo hung up, heartbeat spiking. Not even the sidekick status bothered him. “My first official mission.”
Simon beamed as he approached. “Holy shit!” He thrust his fists out.
Hugo, still dazed, bumped both with one of his.
Simon straightened with concern. “What about dance practice?”
Hugo shrugged, nonchalant. “Libby and I will handle this in no time.” He scurried across the street toward the mall alleyway. “Gotta go.”
Simon waved after him proudly. “Handle your business.”
Hugo stepped deep into the empty alleyway, then rocketed out at insane speeds.
Chapter 14
Colin had guys’ night plans with friends, leaving Quinn at the mercy of her slumber.
She stood on the rocky Rhode Island coast, the blue Atlantic Ocean stretching on forever. The afternoon sun was a golden disk hanging near the skies’ summit.
Quinn’s attire confused her. A maid of honor dress, dark green and low-shouldered. But whose wedding? Quinn looked to the couple at the altar, and understood.
Annie Machado in a lacy white wedding dress, the skirt billowing from gentle breezes. Her best friend looking beyond ecstatic standing with a priest and Johnny, clean-shaven and dapper in his tuxedo.
Quinn turned left. Both bride and groom Friends and family filled the seats, watching the nuptials with collective joy. She should’ve been happy for Annie and Johnny. Yet worry kept churning. As if anticipating a looming threat.
A low hum drew Quinn’s attention above. She screamed.
The goddess fell from heaven, landing in a crouch before the altar.
She rose, slender and long-legged, sheathed in the golden suit of a hero. Hatred etched her chiseled and beautiful face. Her eyes burned like twin suns, ocean gusts whipping her golden tresses into a frenzy. The wedding audience recoiled. Annie shrieked, clinging to Johnny.
Quinn knew this golden goddess. “Morningstar...” That was the only word she said as Morningstar unleashed a sweeping backhand of light, incinerating every wedding guest. What remained were blackened, smoking skeletons. Another light blast speared through Annie, Johnny, and the priest. They collapsed to the earth in crumbly cinders. All this occurred in seconds, before Quinn could even blink.
She fell on her ass, scrambling to the cliff’s edge. Morningstar hovered over her triumphantly. She raised a hand roiling with fiery light. “You ruined my life, Bauer. Now I take yours.”
Morningstar’s hand blazed. And Quinn’s flesh boiled, agony devouring her mind as everything turned white…
…and she awoke shrieking like a banshee. Minutes of flailing terror passed until Quinn remembered where she was. She stumbled out of bed for her kitchen, sweaty and disoriented. After four glasses of cold water, she finally relaxed. Morningstar was locked away in a supermax for life. No one died. Quinn sighed and sank to the floor. Her microwave showed half past five in the morning. Quinn had slept a few hours yet felt wiped. Maybe this support group was a good idea. Annie’s ‘death’ had felt too real. Speaking of which…
Quinn stood on steadier legs, returning to her bedroom to fetch her cellphone. Annie sometimes got up this early. They hadn’t spoken since their aborted dinner a few days back.
ME: Hey Giac. Checking in. Wanna rescheduled dinner for the weekend?
Annie: Booked solid until next week. Sorry. Call you when I’m free.
That reply came hours later around lunchtime. Quinn frowned at the text. The abruptness and tardiness was unlike Annie, even during a spat. Quinn’s thoughts went to strange places over what was wrong.
“A few of us have noticed,” her friend, Chantelle, had replied when Quinn called. “Annie’s been ‘off' for months. And her drinking’s gotten worse.”
Quinn winced. “Right,” she said, cradling her cell. Quinn hadn’t caught anything abnormal, so absorbed with her own career. Annie always worked hard and played hardest.
Yet now that her best friend was isolating herself from everyone. Worry pressed on Quinn’s shoulders with tangible weight. “What do we do?”
“Dunno,” Chantelle replied, equally bothered. “I pray she gets through whatever’s troubling her.”
Unfortunately, Quinn's pitch meeting was in fifteen minutes. She boxed her Annie concerns, getting in business-mode on the elevator to the fifth floor.
Jensen Clarke, her leggy friend from Digital Marketing, was waiting near the Kennedy conference room. She carried her laptop, rocking a stylish work dress. “Thanks for requesting me on this,” Jensen gushed nervously.
“Of course, Jenny.” Quinn offered the graphic designer a smile. “We don’t have the project yet. But I take care of my buddies.”
Jensen looked past Quinn, and stopped smiling. “Speaking of buddies…”
“QB!” Jess Richardson-Palmer scurried up and hugged her, ignoring Jensen. Unsurprising. Ad Sales employees usually treated many outside their department with disdain.
Quinn eyed Jensen sympathetically while exchanging small talk with Jess.
What she disliked was seeing Jess’s boss, Dave Packer, trailing his petite subordinate. The Ad Sales VP was barrel-chested with a chubby, ruddy face. Slacks and a button-down white shirt were his usual attire. He brightened seeing Quinn. Usually his son, Scott, attended minor pitch meetings. Packer did blockbuster deals. Missy Magnificent’s fourth comeback wasn't a blockbuster.
“Ready to style and profile?” Packer boomed, rubbing pudgy hands eagerly. “Watch Ad Sales work?”
Quinn kept her surprise muted. “Can't wait.” She turned her focus to the guests trailing Packer.
Leading the group was a radiant waifish girl on the cusp of womanhood, flanked by a beefy bodyguard and two manager types with expensive suits. Missy Magnificent was taller than Quinn expected, around five-foot-ten. She looked thin and delicate out of costume. The jeans, sunglasses and off-the-shoulder tee were casual celebrity chic. Missy's light honey complexion came from a recent Jamaica trip, thick bangs hovering over thin eyebrows. Placing the Gucci shades atop her head, she offered a hand. “Hi, I’m Missy.”
Quinn shook the teen’s hand heartily. “Nice to meet you, Missy. I’m—”
“Quinn Bauer.” Missy’s eyes gleamed. “Love, love, LOVED your Vanguard interviews.”
Quinn’s cheeks warmed from the compliment.
Missy Magnificent had the attractive, heart-shaped face of a nineteen-year-old. But her blue eyes bore the scars of someone who’d grown too fast too soon. Missy introduced herself to a dumbstruck Jensen. Quinn rolled her eyes, then realized that her friend didn’t regularly meet superheroes.
Everyone entered the glass-walled room. Missy’s team took one side of the long table, SLOCO Daily on the other. Missy’s bodyguard stood against the wall behind the hero.
Quinn kept her eye on the entrance. “We’re waiting for one more person.” Jono McGowan was late. But after the Vanguard interviews, Quinn feared he’d try hijacking this project. Like by inviting his buddy-pal Packer.
Quinn had made a contingency yesterday, just in ca
se.
“Sorry I’m late!” Everyone turned as Helena Madden powerwalked through the doors. The editor-in-chief donned a simple black turtleneck tee with a maroon leather jacket and white jeans. Her spiky hair was longer than usual. After greeting Missy and her team, Helena plopped down beside Quinn.
Packer turned beet red. “Helena,” he stated with zero enthusiasm. “I thought Jono was coming.”
Helena looked over and smiled. “I thought only Jess was coming. What a coincidence!”
Quinn watched the exchange, secretly pleased when Helena flexed her authority like this. Checkmate!
Packer nodded with icy courtesy and grunted something quietly at Jess. She popped up and darted from the room. No doubt Jess was fetching a bowl of Packer’s favorite candies.
Quinn dared not look at Helena or Jensen at the risk of laughing. “Shall we begin?”
The meeting started with Packer and Helena explaining a SLOCO Daily Sponsored Profile. Jensen showed slides of past sponsorships on the conference room’s massive TV. She sounded nervous but delivered her presentation seamlessly. Jess returned with a bowl of chocolate candies right as Jensen finished. She placed it before Packer, who promptly scarfed them down.
During the presentation, Missy and her entourage had absorbed everything in blank silence. Now the superhero leaned forward while explaining the ‘New’ Missy Magnificent. “I want the world to see my new mission,” she emphasized. “Protect The Junction’s residents. Which heroes besides some badly dressed vigilantes do anything for them? I want to be their hero. And I will.”
Her sincerity was surprising, gripping. Quinn and Helena exchanged an impressed glance. The former replied, “So the angle is your professional and private journey. Showing people your new dedication.”
Missy nodded in agreement. “Correct.”
Quinn sucked in a breath, unsure how this next part would be received. But Missy needed to understand this wouldn’t be some positive puff piece. “But if we want this project to work, we can’t just cover Missy’s bright and shiny new path.”
Missy’s two managers beside her straightened like watchdogs. The hero’s face darkened. “Meaning?”
“We dig into the negative,” Quinn clarified, fingers steepled. “The partying, the rehab stints, Extreme Teens, the name change, Blur. Your whole story.”