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I was a little surprised when she didn’t push back or try to force feed me. She downed the last of her smoothie and wiped her lips with a napkin. She looked serious. She put her elbows on the butcher block.
“Doctor,” she said, “we need to have… the talk.”
More awkwardness. I figured this was about my display the night before. Had to be. I cleared my throat.
“Right,” I said. “I’m sorry about the…” I glanced down at my lap. Kira shook her head.
“It’s not about that,” she said. She leaned toward me over the kitchen island. “I have a confession to make, Doctor. It’s about me. About you and me.Ourhistory.”
“Our history?” I said. “I’ve seen our history, remember? Our history is you stalking me, stealing my mail, hacking my router, and spying on me from the bushes.”
“You’re absolutely right,” she said. “And that’s what I can’t really explain. I think Ilikedwatching you from a distance. I could see how awkward you were. The way you kept to yourself, lost in your own little universe. No friends. No relationships. No adventure.”
She was right, of course. Her little film had proven the point in spades.
“I’m a loner,” I said. “Always have been.”
“To be honest,” said Kira, “I found the whole package kind of irresistible.”
I sat up in my chair. Was she playing another game? I’d never felt the least bit irresistible. Toanybody. I never expected to have a stalker with some strange long-distance crush. Especially one who looked like Kira.
“And whataboutnow?” I asked. “Now that you’ve turned me into this… this physical masterpiece.”
She shrugged. “That’s the weird part,” she said. “Now you’re just another guy.”
I guess I should have been hurt. Or insulted. Or disappointed. But mostly I was confused. What Kira seemed to be saying was that back when I thought I wouldneverhave a chance with a woman like her, I actuallydid. And now that I looked like somebody who mightactuallyhave a chance with her, Ididn’t. It was a head-spinner. Over the years, I’d been attracted to plenty of women who had stuck me permanently in the friend zone. But this was a wholenewzone. The Kira zone. And I was totally lost.
“Don’t feel bad,” said Kira. “I’m no prize, believe me. I have baggage. I’m not easy to be with.”
At that point, all I could do was laugh. “Tell me something I don’t know,” I said.
And that was it. No meaningful looks. No hugs. She’d said what she needed to say, and then she shifted gears. She took the plate and scraped the seaweed into the garbage, where it belonged. At leastthatwas a relief.
“Come with me, Doctor,” she said. She headed back toward the door that said UTILITY. “I’ve got something else to show you.” I got up from my chair as she pulled the door open. She had a strange smile on her face. “You probably shouldn’t have too much in your stomach for this anyway.”
CHAPTER 61
A FEW MINUTES later, we were standing on a narrow ledge that projected from the side of the building and I was preparing to die. We were about sixty stories up, wearing silver overalls over our clothes and helmets on our heads. Kira said the overalls were fireproof. But fire was the least of my worries. I was way more afraid of ending up as a bloody speck on the sidewalk.
“Adjust your straps, Doctor,” said Kira. “Like this.”
The straps were attached to big chrome canisters on our backs. They looked kind of like old vacuum cleaners. I looked over as Kira pulled the loose ends of her front straps down tight across her chest. I did the same. Then I tightened the belt around my waist. I felt the canister press even harder against my back.
I looked over at Kira like she was nuts, because I truly thought she was. This whole project seemed suicidal. But she wouldn’t back off.
“Don’t worry,” said Kira. “I’ve bench tested these things a dozen times. Doc Savage knew what he was doing. The thrust and aerodynamics all add up.”
I’d read about some of my great-grandfather’s inventions. Fluoroscopes for night vision. The first hi-def TV. Ejection seats for airplanes. But I never knew how much of it was real. And I definitely never expected to be standing on a ledge wearing one of his 1930s-vintage jetpacks. That part felt absolutelyinsane.
Kira took a step forward. She was standing right next to me, just one foot from the edge.
“Trust me,” she said. “Trust your great-grandfather.”
I didn’t. Not for a second. Not when it came to a 600-foot drop. I felt like throwing up. Kira reached over and made a small adjustment to a dial on the side of my jet canister.
“What are you doing??” I asked.
“Giving you a richer mixture,” she said. “More power.”
