Not All Heroes Wear Capes

9: Start Your Engines!

Cecelia waits and waits for the last person to arrive so she can go home. It's over an hour after the interview was supposed to begin, but there's still no sign of this...Natasha. Tired, grumpy, and ready to be off her feet—Cecelia sifts through her files to locate the one she's looking for. There's got to be a way to contact this woman.

Robbie Grimes. The only reason she's bothering to read this man's file is because of his proximity to Natasha. When he was emailed about the interview, he gave no response. Calls to his residence netted her nothing more than his answering machine. All accounts cite him as wholly unremarkable. She's got nothing more to go on than a few comments from his friends and rumors. That won't build a story.

She tries his home phone one more time and is surprised when he picks up.

"Hello?"

"Yes, hello, Mr. Grimes. My name is Cecelia Price. I'm..."

"No thanks. Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."

"Even if it involves Natasha Emerson?"

"Meet me in thirty minutes. Fraiser Park Mall. I'll be in a green hoodie sitting in the food court."

Before she could even agree—he had hung up. Well, he's just a ray of sunshine, isn't he?

Quickly, she packed up all of her belongings. He hadn't given her a lot of time to make it over to the mall. She hoped like hell that traffic wasn't horrible. This interview was an important chance she couldn't miss out on. With exactly five minutes to spare, Cecelia comes to a halt in one of the dimly lit parking garages. As fast as her heels could carry her—she dashed toward the doors.

Bracing herself for the worst, she stepped inside the packed mall. People were scattered everywhere—laughing, talking, and shopping without a care. Her eyes zoomed in on the food court on the lower level. Scanning the tables as she came into range, she still couldn't see the person she was looking for.

"Green hoodie, green hoodie, green hoodie. Come on. Where are you?"

Suddenly, the crowds shifted, and a spot of green poked out. Robbie was sitting at one of the far tables, sipping on a drink while bouncing his knee. He glanced down at his watch, then looked around. Impatience oozed out of every pore. The look made Cecelia practically sprint before he decided to leave. Out of breath, she gasps at him.

"Robbie Grimes?"

"Yeah, and you must be the reporter. Sit. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."

"That's fine. This won't take long. Just tell me where I can find Natasha."

"Fuck..."

He muttered a string of other curse words. A silent war seemed to rage within him as he debated whether to tell her what she wanted to know or give her detailed instructions on how to jump up her own ass and die. Finally, he stared her straight in the eyes.

"She can't know I told you where she is. None of us want the attention and she's had the worst kind. She doesn't deserve that."

"You care about her, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. More than I probably should, considering what's wrong with me."

A look of remorse crossed his face, but only lingered for a second before his steely mask was back in place. Cecelia had a feeling if she caused Natasha even a pinch of trouble that Robbie would see to it that she regretted it. Not wanting to find out what that entailed, she quickly tried to ease his fears as he handed over Natasha's address.