One More Day (17 page)

“Sure.” I glanced at Justin. “Thanks again. It really is looking great.”

“Thank you. Nice meeting you,” he said to Jenson, and she smiled. Jenson and I let ourselves out and started walking back down the block in the direction we’d come.

“Was that really work?”

“Yes. We have a Dr. Death sighting in Midtown. Figured you’d want in on it.”

Chapter Nine

Our “Dr. Death sighting” turned out, after five hours of searching, to be a bust. Ryan, Jenson, Ariana, and I all got back to Command shortly after midnight, more than a little frustrated and pissed off. I didn’t doubt he’d been there. He was a Detroit super villain, after all. It was just that he was endlessly slipping through our fingers and now we knew that he’d been bargaining for samples of our blood for his experiments. It wasn’t just me who had a personal hate on for him now, but no matter how badly we wanted to catch him, we still just kept hitting walls when it came to actually getting a hold of him.

I was still asleep when I heard the buzzer of my suite door going off. Which meant some asshole was wanting to talk to me at… I glanced at the clock.

Oh. It was after noon.

I got out of bed and ran a hand through my hair. I looked at the small monitor that allowed me to see the corridor, and I saw Ryan, Jenson, and David standing outside my door. I took a breath. This was probably going to be the kind of conversation that stressed me out.

I opened the door, and Jenson looked me over, a concerned expression on her face. “Were you still asleep?”

“Slept like crap,” I answered. “Come on in.” I waved them in and they walked past me. David stood near the window, and Jenson and Caine sat on the couch, and I took the chair and studied them. Jenson seemed the same, but David seemed kind of stressed and Ryan kind of looked like he wanted to destroy something, but maybe not me this time. “Okay. Spit it out. What’s wrong?”

“That livestream guy? The Detroit Unpowered guy?” David said, and I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, what about him? Did I disrespect somebody again?”

He looked grim, and exchanged a glance with Jenson.

“What? What is it?”

Jenson took a breath. “On last night’s show, he put forth a theory he has about you.”

“Okay. And? There are lots of theories about me.”

“He believes you’re the suburban burglar,” she said. “He posted videos of you tearing down that motel in your burglar days, and then now. Pointed out similarities in how you move, in the angle you use when you take off flying, stuff like that. Judged your height and size…”

“It’ll blow over,” I said. I kind of felt like throwing up. I’d finally started to think that maybe everyone had forgotten about my burgling days.

“I don’t think it will,” David said. “Lots of people are backing his theory. It’s all over on social media. Even the morning news on most of the local channels reported on it today.”

“Shit,” I groaned.

“They’re calling for you to face the charges. Make a statement. They also want Alpha to come forward with what he knows about you.”

I released a low, bitter laugh. “Well, that’s just great.”

“Portia is planning to do a press conference,” Jenson said.

“To say what?”

“What do you think? That it’s a ridiculous theory and she’s disgusted by these unfounded attacks on a hero who has protected this city time and time again.”

“We all know that’s bullshit though,” I said.

“Only the burglar part,” Ryan said. “The rest is the goddamn truth.”

“And nobody knows but us, and none of us are going to rat you out,” Jenson said. “I say, let Portia do it. It’ll all blow over. I mean, I don’t doubt that he’ll keep talking about it, because he is persistent if nothing else. But the rest of the public will forget about it eventually.”

My mind was fixated on something she’d said.
None of us would rat you out
. But there were other people out there who knew who I was. What I was.

“You wouldn’t rat me out,” I said softly.

“Of course not,” David said, and Jenson nodded.

“Killjoy knows,” I said, meeting Jenson’s eyes.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Wait. You and Killjoy are, like, together. Right?” David asked me, and I shook my head.

“And, he’s not okay with that, exactly?” he asked with a pained look. I shook my head again.

“Shit,” he muttered, repeating Jenson’s response. We sat in morose silence for a little while, then David sat up again. “Just because he’s not happy with you, that doesn’t mean he’d rat you out. I mean, whatever happened between you, he’s one of us. Kind of,” he said, furrowing his brow. “I don’t think he’d do that.”

I kept to myself what Killjoy was. What he had been. What he maybe still was. I didn’t want to have to admit exactly how stupid I’d been. How blind.

“And whether he does or not,” Jenson said,” I think we still move forward with Portia’s presser regardless. And sooner rather than later. She’s ready to do it today.”

“Do you expect me to talk?”

Jenson and David exchanged a look, and Jenson finally spoke up. “It might be better if you didn’t. You aren’t exactly a patient, laid-back person,” she said. “Unless you want to,” she added quickly.

“No, I don’t want to,” I said, slumping back in my chair. “I’ll lay low for a little while. I don’t feel like answering stupid questions from asshole reporters right now.”

Jenson stood up. “Okay. I’ll tell Portia to do it. Hang in there, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

Ryan stayed where he was, and Jenson and David left my suite to go talk to Portia.

He was silent for a few seconds, then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “So… what did Killjoy do? Am I going to have to hunt him down and break his face? I mean, I might need you to help me, but…”

I smiled in spite of myself. At this point, I was just relieved to have him talking to me again. “I don’t think any of us could break Killjoy’s face.”

“We could break it. But it would heal again and we’d have to break it again,” he said, and I laughed. “What’d he do to you, Jolene?”

I shook my head. “We got into an argument. And I realized he wasn’t who I thought he was. He didn’t feel the way I thought he did. And I was too blinded by a bunch of muscles and a Scottish accent to see it.”

Ryan kept his steady gaze on me. “Is he going to be a problem?”

I shrugged. “I hope not. I have no idea. He’s pretty pissed at me and he doesn’t strike me as the forgiving type. Mostly, I figure we’ll just stay out of one another’s way.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. He’s an idiot.”

I shook my head. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Such as?”

“Such as, I really am sorry about before. It’s nice to have you talking to me again.”

“I just needed some time. I wasn’t trying to give you the silent treatment. Just didn’t know what to say. It bothered me more than I thought it would, that you knew shit and didn’t tell me. I thought we had a certain level of trust. We need that, working together the way we do. I was kind of surprised, I guess, on top of being pissed.”

“And I hope you believe me when I say that I wasn’t specifically trying to hide things from you. I was thoughtless, but I wasn’t trying to be sneaky.”

A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “No, I get that. Though you have to admit that when you do sneaky, you’re pretty good at it.”

“Former burglar,” I said with a shrug, which brought us back to the Detroit Unpowered guy. “It would be kind of great if we could get this streamer guy to obsess on someone else.”

“Agreed. Maybe we’ll send him some anonymous tips about Death and Daemon and those assholes. You know, people who are actually worth criticizing.”

I nodded. We sat in silence for a few moments. “For the record, it’s good to be talking to you again, too,” he finally said.

“Thanks. I’ll try to be better about the whole trust thing. It isn’t something I’ve had to deal with very much. I’m really good at keeping things to myself, though.”

He nodded.

“Like your name,” I said quietly. I looked up to see him watching me. “Do you regret telling me?”

“No. I don’t regret it at all,” he answered, meeting my eyes.

“And I promise I won’t make you regret it. Portia said no one knows your name. Including her,” I added.

“Nobody does.”

“But I do.”

He took a breath. “I figure you’ve had enough secrets and lies by now from the people you’re supposed to be working with. And so have I. I think we both deserve better. Don’t you?”

I nodded.

He met my eyes for a moment, then he stood up and let himself out of my suite. I watched as he closed the door behind himself, relieved that he wasn’t pissed at me anymore.

And then it hit me that my mother had probably heard Detroit UnPowered’s theory already via the news as well.

“Shit.”

I took a bus to Mama’s neighborhood and walked the rest of the way to the entrance of the trailer park, then scuffled down Perdition Lane toward our little yellow and white trailer. Mama’s car was, as expected, sitting there in the driveway. She was always off on Fridays.

I skipped up the steps and knocked. Mama answered the door, pushing it open silently. She closed it, then looked up at me.

“Is it true, Jolene?”

“What do you think?” I asked, which I knew was a coward’s way to answer.

“I don’t know what to think right now.” She shook her head and walked toward the tiny galley kitchen. “I did wonder sometimes where you went in the evenings, but I figured you maybe had a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or something that you were keeping to yourself until you were ready to tell me. And then the superhero thing came out and I figured, well, that had to be it!” She paused, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Just tell me, Jolene. Is it true?”

I answered my mother the same way I would have answered anyone else. Which makes me an absolute piece of shit.

“No, Mama. Of course it’s not true. That Detroit UnPowered guy is delusional. And Portia’s having a press conference later today to tell everyone so.”

“Why aren’t you going to be at the press conference?”

I smiled. “Come on. You know me better than anyone. Do I handle that kind of thing well? Talking in public, let alone being accused of something in such a public way? It’s much better to have Portia handle it, and it’ll all blow over. I just heard a little while ago, actually, and I figured you’d heard, too.”

She sighed, then smiled. “I knew he was full of it. You’ve always been a good girl.”

I forced myself to smile back. I was definitely, absolutely going to hell and I was a terrible person. I’d keep trying to make myself into the person my mother believes I am, but it’s not smooth going. Maybe someday, I’ll get there.

“Do you want me to make lunch? Can you stay?” she asked, and I thought about turning it down, but in the end, I didn’t want to. After all of the stuff with Connor, then this mess, I wouldn’t have minded going back to being a little kid again, having Mama taking care of me.

“Sure.” She made grilled cheese sandwiches and we at down at the little dinette table and ate and talked. It took everything in me not to spill the beans about the house, but I figured maybe it wasn’t the best time, because she’d immediately wonder now where I got the money. Another couple of weeks, and the house would be ready and this stupid mess will have all been a memory.

We watched Portia’s press conference together, where she calmly and coolly refuted the theory that I was ever a burglar, going over my many brave deeds, the people I’ve saved, and reminding everyone that I had paid, nearly dying, trying to make Mayhem pay for the lives they’d destroyed a few weeks back.

“She nearly gave her life. She nearly lost it all, and we’re standing here today questioning whether she’s a good person or not. Think about that. And then think about the fact that maybe we should stop considering anonymous streamers and bloggers to be acceptable news sources. Thank you.”

“I like her,” Mama said after it ended.

“Me too. She’s a good one.”

“I’m surprised it wasn’t Alpha out there. He always seemed to love giving speeches.”

I shrugged. “He’s taking a more behind-the-scenes approach to leadership,” I said. It wasn’t technically a lie. He was way, way behind the scenes. “And Portia’s just so good at this,” I said, gesturing toward the screen.

“She really is,” Mama agreed.

I stayed for a little while longer, then I hugged her goodbye and made my way back to Command. I snagged a few slices of pizza from the dining hall and took them up to my suite. I settled down on my couch with the pizza and my laptop and started searching, seeing what I could find out about the masked streamer.

After about an hour, I was starting to get frustrated. Not even a hint of who he was when he wasn’t wearing the mask. A knock at my door shook me out of my reverie, and I got up and let Jenson in. She glanced at my laptop, which was playing an older stream of his, and raised her eyebrows.

“Trying to figure out who he is. Where he is,” I said, flopping down on the couch. She sat next to me. “I wonder if David could track it somehow.”

“Normally, he could. He’s tried already,” she said, and I looked at her in surprise. “You’re not the only one annoyed right now, you know. We’d rather not have our friends messed with.”