The Super Jerk Trilogy (Now 3-in-1)

7. I'm Not Here To Make Friends

{Sarah}

The conference starts without a hitch. I'd watched Trevor approach a young black woman with a press badge and start talking to her. She seemed charmed by him, which was good, because we'd probably be getting by on charm from now on. And plus, Trevor had really bulked up since high school, gaining more muscles in his shoulders, chest, and arms. He actually looked like a superhero now.

   "Looks like he really knows what he's doing," Hank says, as we watch him hand the journalist a small piece of paper and point to something on it.

   "It is his plan, so I should hope so."

   "How long'd you say he's been a super for?" Hank asks, out of the blue.

   I look over at him, surprised. "I didn't think you cared."

   "Well, I don't, really. He doesn't really have what you'd call a super personality."

   "Neither do you, but look where you are." I'm offended that Trevor's been questioned on his super abilities from day one, and he's had to assert himself multiple times on just how capable he is.

   "That's 'cause if I didn't, people'd start askin' me why I retired. Supernova's a big name, kid. Household name to aspiring supers."

   Okay, so he had a big ego. "Well, just because Green Phoenix isn't a household name like you doesn't mean he's not capable."

   Hank says nothing, but that's enough to tell me what he thinks. He can preen and strut around all he wants, but that's his approach. Trevor got by on charm and nerdiness, and that suited him just fine. In fact, I would have argued that it was working in his favor.

   "Okay, so I did it." Trevor hurries back over to us, not noticing the tension. "Sorry it took so long. She kinda wanted my number."

   I manage a smile. "So did you? Give it to her, I mean?"

   "I may be a playa, Campbell, but not that kind of guy," he says, keeping a straight face. Then it cracks, and he grins. "Nah, I'm kidding. Kitty'd kill me if I did."

   "All of that aside," Hank grunts. "She's gonna ask your questions?"

   "Yeppers." Trevor gives him a thumbs-up.

   About ten minutes later, the crowd starts applauding. From here, if I stand on the bench, I can see the mayor, standing off to one side as an aide announces him. He has an upswept hairdo, looking like Elvis in the seventies. His necktie's loud, with contrasting bright orange and green stripes. And when he smiles, his teeth are so white it looks weird against his spray-tanned skin.

   "So the total opposite of Mayor Green," Trevor says, hopping up on the bench next to me.

   I shrug. "I guess."

   We manage to tune out most of the conference. The second he mentions "municipalities" and "red-lining," it makes it easier.

   So when he opens it up for questions, our reporter's hand is the first to go up, and miraculously, he calls on her.

   "Mr. Mayor, what do you have to say about the decline in supers recently?"

   "Our crime rate has increased, and that is very worrisome, I'm afraid. The police are a little out of practice, with the supers doing their job for them all these years. Like I mentioned, we're doing everything we can to locate Silver Bullet, our best crimefighter."

   "Do you think, Mr. Mayor, that it's expected to keep happening?" Merlin, she's good with those questions. She's asking them like they're her own.

   "Unfortunately..." He stops for a second to lean over and say something to the guy next to him. "We don't know that. We think the answer may be yes. Ever since Silver Bullet's disappearance, there has been a considerable decrease in super activity."