The Last Superhero (31 page)

“
What?”

Her eyes turn back to me,
her hand covering mine over the sheets.

“
He'll
take care of you.”

No. Stop it. There's no need
to make a drama-filled scene.

“
You're
not dying.”

She scoffs. Coughs. Averts
my gaze.

I don't need a man taking
care of me, Mom. As it turns out, it's going to be me taking care of
him because God knows I'm going to do everything in my power to get
him out of whatever strange place it is they have taken him to and
away from all this crap even if that means living the rest of my life
under a rock.

As long as it's with him.

“
Simon
told me you're selling the bookstore.”

It was burned down by angry
anti-Steven people, Mom. Nothing to sell anymore.

“
That's
the idea.” Lies make everyone so comfortably numb and I've been
spreading some of that over my loved ones as of late, haven't I?

See she's turned back to me
and there's hope in her eyes.

“
You
don't need a man taking care of you, darling.”

Finally!

“
No,
Mom, I don't. Never needed one. That I choose to have one is another
thing.”

And what a controversial
choice I've made.

“
That's
my girl.”

She shuts her eyes because
she's heard what she needed to hear.

I'm about to blurt something
about knowing Steven had been visiting her, but she's drifted off and
I'm not rousing her again.

So I trudge my way out of
the room, eye the two cops standing in the hallway and see Simon's
also there.

“
Giana!
Oh my God, Giana, are you okay?”

“
I'm
fine.”

“
What
happened? I saw the news and I went by the bookstore.”

“
They
burned it to the ground.” As soon as the words escape through
my lips a quivering takes control of my body and he holds me to him.

“
It's
okay. The insurance will pay for it.”

Ever the businessman.

He pushes me off a bit so he
can see my face, “Your insurance is up to date, right?”

“
I
think, yes. I should call the accountant.”

“
I'll
do it for you.” His eyes stray and I see Dad standing a few
feet from us, talking with Ross. “Do you have somewhere to
stay? You can go home with me. Clarice is very worried about you.”

“
I
should get to my place, but Mr. Agent over there doesn't want me to.”

“
Mr.
Agent?”

Oh, don't bother with the
details...

“
It's
a long story.” My face seems to be giving away my mischievous
intentions because he's giving me that 'what the hell are you
thinking' look. “Get me out of here and I'll tell you
everything.”

“
Have
you lost your mind?”

“
No,
Simon, is not my mind I've lost.”

And he feels it, believes
it, takes my arm and quickens the pace as we reach the elevators
without being noticed and Ross shouts, “Where the hell are you
going?”

And Dad's furious glance
warns, “Giana Armstrong!”

But the doors have closed
and Simon doesn't know if he should laugh or not as his face beams
the way it used to when we were just a couple of kids pulling off a
prank.

Or every time he'd open up
the locker where I'd been trapped.

We rush through a back
entrance and into his car and drive as fast as we can to my apartment
building, parking right next to what used to be my sofa.

“
What
the fuck?!”

“
Oh,
there you are!”

Mr. Brownstone's spitting
all over the sidewalk, kicking into place the plastic bags that once
I rip open reveal my clothes.

“
You
can't do this without a notice!” I shout and Simon's trying to
pull me back. “You can't do this to me!”

“
I
don't want your kind around here.” He steps into my personal
space.

“
Let
me go!” I cry, but Simon doesn't yield. “This is illegal!
I paid you another month's rent!”

He produces a handful of
bills tied with a rubber band. “I don't want his dirty money.”

A screeching of tires comes
from the street and a roaring voice runs to us.

“
Giana!”
Dad's beside us in a millisecond. “What the fuck is going on?”

“
Go
away, Dad, this is none of your business!”

Mr. Brownstone turns to Dad,
defiance in his eyes. “So you're the father? I've been
forgiving your daughter's late payments for too fucking long. She's
been living off my good intentions for the last two years and then
sends that murderer to pay her rent.”

“
What?!
Who?!” we all ask in unison.

Mr. Brownstone eyes us all
before answering. “That madman, Salvatore!”

Simon's grip on me softens
and I manage to shake him off.

“
What
are you talking about?”

“
He
brought me this to cover your late fees and another three months of
rent.” He pushes the bills to my chest with a hiss and that's
when Dad loses it.

“
Don't
you dare treat my daughter like that!” He grabs Mr. Brownstone
by his shirt collar. “Don't you dare fucking touch her ever
again!”

Now it's Ross holding Dad
back while I'm too confused to think.

Until something inside me
snaps and I pocket the money and signal Simon to help me pick up my
bags because we're leaving.

“
Yeah.
You do that. Leave now before I call the cops on you, you crazy
bitch.”

Everybody stares as Dad
lands a punch that knocks Mr. Brownstone out.

“
Come
on, baby,” he says, going for the bag nearest to him, “let's
get you someplace else,” and walks nonchalantly over to Simon's
car.

But we can't move, too
flabbergasted by the sight of Mr. Brownstone lying unconscious on the
sidewalk, trying to process Dad's extraordinarily heroic act.

“
Hurry
up before he wakes up!” Dad's quick to shake us off it and even
Ross joins in to help me salvage whatever is left of that Giana who
has slowly but surely turned into somebody I used to know.

32

Ross believes it better that
we stay at the hotel, where he and his people can ensure our safety.

Dad's of two minds because
he wants to keep me safe but not concealed from everyone else so, to
him, going home with Simon isn't that farfetched of an idea.

I don't give a fuck as long
as somebody promises me I'll get to see Steven ASAP.

“
What
good will it do if I meet with the president?”

We're having dinner inside
the hotel room, where Simon has joined us, awaiting an answer on his
request to take Daphne and me with him, and he's the one that chokes
on that statement.

“
The
president?”

“
He
sent some guys to tell me he wants to meet with me.”

“
That's
good, isn't it?”

Dad's holding his burger
under his eyes. “She's not a republican.”

I make a face he averts by
biting into his food.

“
It
could help,” Ross intervenes. “He may be able to give the
order and let you into where Steven is. However,” he continues
before I can blurt anything out, “there's no way we can know or
make sure he's open for it.”

“
Giana,”
Dad's hand touches my thigh under the table, “eat, please.”

I haven't touched my food
except for a fry or two. A glance around and Mari Paz is digging into
her chicken while Daphne's wolfed down her salmon burger.

Wolfed. HAH.

Apparently, that chuckle
came out for real 'cause everyone's staring at me now.

Recompose your face. Sit
straight. Stare back.

“
Does
the president even know Steven? I mean, really know him?”

“
I
think we'll know if he does once we get there,” Ross says.

Agh. Not the answer I was
looking for.

Better eat and not talk
anymore because that's the sting of tears I feel poking the corners
of my eyes.

So I down half of my dinner
and head out to the balcony for a smoke and Dad joins me.

One of the things we share
even though he wishes we didn't. That's why, when we do it, we do it
in complete silence.

“
Thank
you,” I say about halfway through my cigarette. “I'd
never seen you punch anyone.”

“
I
would've done it sooner if you had told me you were late with rent.”

“
I
didn't want to bother you with that.”

He sighs some smoke out
through his nostrils. “You're my daughter. No matter how old,
you're still my baby and I feel compelled to care for you.”

“
Compelled?”

“
It's
what fathers do. Care for their children.”

Avert those dark eyes that
peer into your soul because they know you too damn well.

“
I'm
sending Mari Paz back and staying here with you.”

“
Why?
No.”

“
She's
got to go back to her job in Madrid.” He takes a pause, a drag,
an exhale. “While my job is here, making sure you and your
mother are okay.”

“
What
about your private practice?”

“
I've
been sharing my office with a colleague for the last year or so.”

“
I
didn't know about that.” I wish my words would whip him
somehow, but he doesn't even react. “What does Mari think?”

He turns to me, arm over the
railing, eyes on mine. “That I'm doing the right thing.”
A hand that grabs my elbow and pulls me into an embrace. “That,
right now, you need me here, with you.”

“
I'm
sorry I've gotten you all into this mess.”

“
You're
really in love with that man.”

To this I give a step back
and we flick our cigarette butts in unison and go for another because
the conversation is gonna take longer than expected.

“
He's...”
How to describe him without sounding like a giddy schoolgirl?
“Wonderful, Dad. He's wonderful.”

“
So
many guys your age and you have to fall for someone so old.” He
thinks on that for a second. “How old is he anyway?”

“
In
human years or superhero years?”

“
Which
one's worse?”

“
Human
years: 102.”

He winces. “What?”

“
Yep.”

He opens and closes his
mouth trying to come up with words that don't make it out.

“
Fuck,
Giana. You really can't date normal people?”

“
Normal
people?! What the hell?”

“
That
guy, what was his name? The one with the DeLorean?”