Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“How’re ya?” Niamh asked, not bothering to get up.
“Oh, Neeeve.” Fred laughed. “Irish. Gotcha. I read the name on the messages and couldn’t make sense of it. Hi! Yes, we’ve been in contact.”
“And Tristan.”
He had already slipped the pen into the diary to save his spot and now stood with it mostly closed in one of his hands. His eyes were currently dimmed with fatigue, but his long wings fluttered—clearly an attention tactic.
“Another cape wearer, huh?” Fred nodded. “I’ve seen a ton of them in this town. Are you anti-superhero as well?”
“Only when someone needs saving,” he replied, and his eyes glowed a little brighter. He might turn out to be as bad as Ivy House. “I’d rather do it myself.”
“Cool contacts. I need to get me a pair of those. I have some green ones, and some blue ones, but I didn’t know they made some that glow!”
“And you met Mr. Tom.” I pointed back toward the door.
“Yup.” Her head bobbed in acknowledgment.
“Please, have a seat,” I offered, and gestured toward the couch opposite Austin and me.
“Can I get you a refreshment?” Mr. Tom asked.
“Yeah, that would be great,” Fred replied. “Maybe a pop, if you have one? And a little cheese wouldn’t hurt. Everyone has cheese, right? It’s one of the four major food groups.”
“Of course I have it.” He turned on his heel and strode through the door.
“What’s the wig fer?” Niamh asked. “Or is that part of the ensemble?”
“Oh, this?” Fred peeled the fake beard and mustache off her face. “It’s to prevent facial recognition by the eyes in the sky.” She pointed upward. “Cameras.”
“We don’t have cameras posted in this town or in the five surrounding towns,” Austin said. “Your indiscretions in the Dick world do not count against you here.”
“Right?” Fred said. “The Man!” She gave a thumbs-down and then did a raspberry.
“We have a different set of rules in this town than in…most other places in the country,” I said carefully.
“Like the Mafia?” she asked. “No one here dresses like Mafia…”
“Like that but…not as dangerous.” I wiggled my hand. “Mostly. Anyway, we’ll get to that in a bit. I’m curious about something. Why, when you make millions every year, uh…working for yourself,” I said politically, “would you decide to take a job making a fraction of that amount?”
“Well…” She raised a fuzzy eyebrow. “What was your name?”
I flattened a hand to my chest. “Sorry, I’m Jessie. I’m the owner of this house and, along with Austin, Niamh’s boss. I’m the one who would actually be paying you.”
“Hi, Jessie.” She flashed a smile, showing slightly crooked white teeth. “Here’s the deal. I’m sliding down that slippery slope toward middle age, and I’m tired of all this. I’m tired of hiding. I have to wear scratchy face stuff all the time, dress normally, hunch over when I’m out and about, watch myself in places that have security cameras, keep eyes in the back of my head—I mean, staying out of jail is a lot of work. You have no idea. I tried to do nothing for a while because—not to sound boastful—I don’t have to work anymore. I live frugally, and I’ve made enough money to live off the interest of my investments. But that’s bored me to tears, and I found myself thinking, you know, maybe I could semi-retire. Work for someone else, yeah? I just do what I’m told, have a chat by the water cooler, and keep busy with low stakes.”
“Why the high price tag, then?”
Her smile widened. “Someone willing to pay that much has a great need of my services and respects my talent. Given my past, that person’s need would outweigh the desire to do the right thing and turn me in.”
Made sense.
“And you found Niamh?” I asked.
“She found me, really. I posted on a board that is not totally reputable, we’ll say, and she contacted me. She described this place, and how I’d have to follow the rules here or it’s dangerous, but that my past wouldn’t be a problem. Sounded good. Figured I would check it out. The towns around here are cute, though the people are pretty…serious. The ones without capes, anyway. A lot of muscle. Are you guys a bunch of health nuts or something?” She turned her face a little to side-eye me. “This isn’t a cult, is it? I don’t want to get mixed up in a cult.”
“No, it’s not a cult”—which was just what a cult leader would say, I mused—“but it’s not something you’re probably used to. We do have a great need, and we can pay. Now, honestly, I am a little concerned about your history of theft. There are a lot of valuable items in this house, and it wouldn’t go well for you if you tried to take them.”
“Ah, gotcha.” She nodded knowingly. “Definitely like the Mafia, then. No sweat. I only stole from those other places because they were ripping people off. Screw those guys. I figured they’d get to see how it felt. Then it became a game, then a challenge as they got better. But now…yeah. Like I said, I’m worn out, and I’d rather not bother with any of that. Clean slate without going to jail, like Niamh said.”