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“Nothing special.” I’d lie until I couldn’t. I know, I know, usually I was willing to throw out the most graphic details of my life. But I hadn’t quite wrapped my head around the situation with EO.
“Griffin.”
Griffin pulled out his phone. With a couple flicks of the finger. He dropped it in front of me. A pedestrian had snapped a photo of me in the alley and EO rescuing me from the snake lady. All three sets of eyes stared at me, urging me to come clean.
“I almost got eaten before work. Nothing new there. Griffin, weren’t you held hostage in a bank last Monday?”
“Xander, is Alejandro being dodgy?”
“Very. He’s hiding something.” Great, all three of them were in on it. Against one of them, I might stand a chance. But Bernard had a sixth sense, and with the other two in his corner, it was only a matter of time before they ferreted out the details of what happened after.
“What about work?”
I don’t know what they were fishing for, but Bernard would not let this go. Usually, I wasn’t the one in the hot seat. I suddenly had sympathy for Griffin when we grilled him about his love life.
“Scarlet is selling Midnight Alley. I’m trying not to think about it. I love my job. Hell, I love the club. She mentioned selling it to an employee. But damn, we work at a club and none of us have that kind of money.”
“I say this with love.” Whenever Xander started a sentence that way, it was about to be a kick to the ego. “But I can’t see you as an owner. The stress would be rough.”
I nearly jumped as Chad rested a hand on my shoulder. The man’s superhuman ability to waltz in and out of a dozen conversations bordered on eerie. He gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t listen to him. I think if anybody at that den of sin has a clue, it’s you.”
“Thanks. I think?”
The coffee shop owner gave me a pat. “I was in a position like you not too long ago. If it wasn’t for Bernard, I would have had to close the doors. You’re capable of more than you think. Just make sure you rely on the people around you.”
The vote of confidence was appreciated. I came in here a jumble of thoughts about EO, but nothing like impending doom to put your life in perspective. Reaching across the table, I swiped a sausage link off Xander’s plate and devoured it before he could protest.
Across the coffee shop, cell phones vibrated. There was only one thing in Vanguard City that warranted an all-points bulletin. As I fished out my cell phone, my suspicions were right. The HeroApp™ had gone crazy. There were multiple names streaming across the app, alerting the populace to their attack on a skyscraper in the business district.
“What the ever-loving-hell?” Griffin mumbled.
Chad turned on the television to Hero News, and the reporters were already on the scene. Zipper sped into the coffee shop, looking for his morning fix of caffeine. The speedster ground to a halt, his hand wrapped around the thermos that waited for him every morning.
“Whoa,” I mumbled. For all the years I had been coming to the HideOut, I had never seen the superhero standing still. The skin-tight suit hugged every lean muscle of his body. I had seen him do interviews, but it was almost awkward not seeing the blur of his coming and going.
“Reports are saying the Nocturnals are inside the skyscraper. The group of five supervillains have been on the rise in recent days. There have been no demands, and their intent remains a mystery.”
“I need to head out,” Bernard said.
“Give ‘em hell, Papi.” I paused, eyeing the big man. He raised an eyebrow at the same time Griffin kicked my leg under the table. “I assume you’ll be giving a public statement when the Centurions save the day?”
“I should head out, too. Somebody is going to need a band-aid.” Xander stuffed the last sausage in his mouth, and the two men exited.
“Eventually, we’re going to sit him down and have a talk,” I said to Griffin.
“There’s no ‘we’ in that conversation,” Griffin said.
“It seems they are letting the hostages onto the penthouse terrace. We’re counting six of them, but—"The reporter on the television gasped. “They’re running for the edge of the building.”
Several men in the coffee shop stood up, hands covering their mouths as we watched in horror. One moment Zipper stood next to the counter holding a full thermos of specialty coffee, and the next, the metal container fell where he had been standing. He was fast, but could he make it up the building, past the Nocturnals, and save the hostages before they hurled themselves off the building?
“Don’t do it,” Griffin whispered, as if the people on the television might listen.
He reached out, lacing his fingers with mine. Nothing about this was unique, or even uncommon. But it was rare that the villains attacked in broad daylight and that we’d watch a televised massacre. Much like Griffin, I had faith that the heroes would come to their rescue, but it didn’t lower my anxiety.
“Oh no!” a nearby man yelled.
The reporter in the helicopters swore as a hostage, a woman in business attire, ran at top speed. Without hesitating, she hurled herself off the building. Whatever was going on inside must be terrifying for them to commit suicide. Did they have faith they’d be saved or was this the lesser of two evils?
