Chapter 8
Booker: I ate too much pizza.
Drew: Said no man ever.
Booker: I’m going to dream of mushrooms.
Drew: …
Booker: Get your mind out of the gutter!
Drew: I’m going to file a complaint with HR.
Booker: Not my worst “date.”
The steam escaped from the top of my coffee mug.
I had gotten to work early, but instead of heading to the office, I lingered in the Synergy lobby.
I rested my elbows on the table as employees walked in by the dozen.
They held briefcases, checking their watches as they picked up speed toward their desks.
I knew Synergy continued to expand, but I hadn’t realized how many people worked in the building.
Any of them could be our secret informant.
The man in the green tie and matching socks.
The woman in the sensible black skirt and nude pumps.
Even the man in black pants and brown shoes…
no, he was probably the villain in this investigation.
Did he get dressed in the dark, or did he not understand how to match his colors?
I wondered how many of Synergy’s employees had a dual identity.
Most of Secret Identities had at least one alter ego.
Some of us more. But how many of them came here, hiding secrets, compartmentalizing their identity to make themselves more effective?
Or protecting themselves from the judgment of their peers?
I pivoted on my stool, watching the line for the coffee shop grow longer. These employees, even as they stared at their watches, wouldn’t be deterred from their morning caffeine fix.
A man in line casually reached out, grabbing the ass of the woman in front of him. As he gave her a squeeze, I resisted the urge to break at least one of his fingers. A second later, I caught her reaching back, cupping his package.
“Oh.” Perhaps they didn’t wear masks in the workplace.
“People watching, huh?” Orion took the stool on the other side of the small bar table. He gave a slight tip of the head. “Guy in the fedora, obviously working for the Illuminati.”
I fought from rolling my eyes. As the employee walked by, I spotted the tattoo on his neck, poking just above his collar.
It wasn’t the assassin’s trident, but it did say membership sigil.
Could Orion be right about another conspiracy?
If I suggested as much, we wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks.
“Don’t worry, they’re not selling company secrets,” he assured me. “He works here so he can afford his porn addiction.”
As much as I wanted to scoff at Orion’s obsession, I admired him.
He didn’t hide any aspect of himself. Janet might do it as a form of shock, but he simply didn’t care what anybody thought.
Of course, he didn’t spend last night breaking three noses, seven fingers, and a knee.
It’d have been more if I didn’t need a decent night’s sleep.
“You’re staring.”
I sipped my coffee, focusing on a couple of women sitting on a couch on the far side of the lobby.
Whatever the blonde spoke about, it had the other two captivated.
The sharing appeared effortless. If I randomly spit out that I had nearly been stabbed before I beat a man with his own baseball bat, would Orion flinch?
Would I be sitting in Arthur’s office as he handed me my termination notice?
“How do they do it?”
Orion followed my line of sight. “Feign interest?” I forgot his natural cynicism.
“Interact with one another? They make it look effortless.”
Orion laughed hard enough that the people around us backed away. Laughter at that volume usually came before a mad scientist threatened to kill us all. I thought he might be mocking me, but the tears streaming from his eyes were genuine. What had been so funny?
“You’re asking—” He held up a finger, sucked in air, and continued laughing. Half the lobby stared at us. As quickly as it started, he stopped, his neutral face with a hint of disdain locking into place. “My best friend is a sentient computer.”
He had a point, but he knew himself well enough to craft a companion.
Before Connor had a body, they had been inseparable.
I’m not sure it mattered how Connor came to be; their friendship had always been authentic.
I tried formulating the words, even the idea.
This had been an ongoing trial that left me feeling broken.
“Something’s off about you.”
He wasn’t wrong. Though I’m sure he meant my usual big smile and determination to make those around me happy. Since the night with Booker, the barrier that kept my identities separate had fractured. I had let it slip then, and with Carmen.
“How are you always you?” It was the best I could come up with.
I couldn’t ask for advice on how to reconcile the differences between bubbly Drew and the eager violence of Hellion.
I could only imagine the moment I let my identity slip that I’d be sitting in Arthur’s office, staring down that disappointed expression.
Orion’s eyebrow crept up his face, giving away his curiosity. “I don’t know how to be anything else.” He crossed his arms, sitting upright on the stool. “My theories drive people mad, I know. I see your eyes roll every time I mention the demonic portal system under the city.”
I forced my eyes to stay in place.
“Why would I dim myself for somebody else’s comfort?”
To belong? To fit in? To have the people he called friends like him? I had a thousand reasons why I dimmed my light. Not one of them was about me. My insecurities came from… wanting to… I didn’t know. I envied his ability to give the world the middle finger and be himself.
“You’re not worried about what people might think?”
“I’m smarter than most people on the planet.” We had yet to test this theory, but he liked throwing it around when convenient. “Why would I care what they thought?”
Because…
“If they don’t like me, that’s their problem.” He broke into a smile. “I’m a delight.”
Because… I couldn’t finish the sentence.
I wanted people to like me. It felt good when we had that connection.
I envied his ability to live his life as he wanted without care, but I didn’t understand it.
It must have made more enemies than friends.
I knew he operated with the world at arm’s length, but did that change when he met Hudson? The whole thing sent my mind spiraling.
“Drew.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I get what you’re asking.” He tapped his forehead. “Remember, I’m smart. Let people like you for you. You can’t force a relationship by building the bridge yourself.”
Like me for me. I nearly scoffed at the idea.
I imagined leaning forward and whispering, “My favorite pastime is hearing the cries of the guilty.” Dramatic, but also not wrong.
If I revealed myself, his eyes would go wide.
He’d be curious at first, and when I explained hunting for bad guys to take out my aggression, he’d withdraw.
By the end of the conversation, he’d give me pleasantries, but whatever relationship we had would be crushed.
No, Orion didn’t want me to be myself; he wanted me to be the curated version of myself.
“I’ll try,” I lied.
“Now, can we talk about your great big secret?”
I calmed, ensuring the mask stayed in place. The excuses and deflections were loaded and ready for wherever this conversation went. What if I denied nothing? Maybe I’d let the unknown hang to test the waters.
“What’s going on with your sexy ginger?”
“My ginger?” It took a moment before I connected the dots. “Booker? Nothing’s going on.”
“Do you want something to go on?”
After the pizza arrived, we stopped talking about business.
As I devoured the first slice, ignoring the molten cheese, he talked about…
books. While I chewed, salivating over the taste of mushrooms, he talked about his love of reading.
No superhero shenanigans, no crooks busting in and needing to be dealt with.
He couldn’t wait to talk about books I remembered reading in school.
He was fast to say, “I wasn’t a great student. I have a lot of catching up to do.”
He talked about Great Expectations as if it were the superhero Olympics.
He couldn’t decide if he loved or hated Miss Havisham.
His enthusiasm was infectious. As cheese hung from a slice of pizza to his lip…
it had been easy. I added more titles to his list, insisting he needed to read Lord of the Flies and Brave New World.
“Earth to Drew.” Orion waved a hand in front of my face. “Coming back to us, space cadet?”
“Just thinking another friend would never hurt.”
“Yeah. Friends.” He leaned back and whipped out air quotes. “Friends. Nobody goes to space for a friend.” Sliding off the chair, he gave me a nod. “Careful, it’s the unsuspecting ones who get under your skin. I should know.”
“What if Booker is an artificial intelligence, too?”
He shot me a dirty look. “No, Drew. Conspiracies are my thing.”
Snatching my coffee, I followed Orion toward the elevator. I pulled out my phone, staring at the last text from Booker.
Booker: Not my worst “date.”
Date. Such a loaded word, even in a friendly manner. He had piqued my interest. Unfortunately… like everybody else, he only knew Drew. For anybody else, another friend would be wonderful. For me, it meant another person who only saw the mask.
Unknown: Have you reconsidered my offer?
Drew: Who is this?
Unknown: Had many offers lately?
Drew: Carmen, your cloak-and-dagger methods aren’t impressing me.
Unknown: The offer has an expiration date.
Drew: It expired before you offered.
“Did somebody spit in your food?”
I looked up from my phone to see Booker rounding the corner. He traded in the trench coat for a soft mint-green shirt and crimson-red slacks. I didn’t have the heart to ask if he was attending an off-season Christmas party. Did he know the shirt made the hair of his beard turn more red than orange?
“Telemarketer who won’t get the picture.”
“Want me to have them terminated? I know people.”