Hero Stalker

Part Thirty-Five

I stole two precious hours of sleep before my phone rang and woke me up.

Valerie, was the one groggy thought I could muster as I pulled a pillow over my head. I'm late. I'm fired. But it wasn't 'The Imperial March'. In fact, it was 'I'm Sexy And I Know It'.

I rolled over and snatched my phone off my nightstand. "Hi, Dan." I tried my best to sound happy to hear him.

"Gloria! Hi! Good news. My stepsister has the flu."

"How is that good news?" Was I too tired to make the connection?

"She and her boyfriend had planned to go to the Police Ball tonight, but now she's given me her tickets. Would you like to come with me?"

The Police Ball. "It's Saturday?" Funny. That news would have normally made me feel happy. But somewhere between constructing a giant sushi roll and dealing with Slasher's impossible standards, I'd completely forgotten Valerie's big catering gig. "Crud."

"Sorry?"

I sighed. "I'd love to come. I mean, I will come, it's just . . . Valerie's doing the catering, so I pretty much have to stuck with her. I won't need your other ticket."

"So I'll see you there!" Dan said, enthusiastically. What kind of coffee did the precinct serve?

"See you." I hung up and squeezed in another hour of sleep before I heard 'The Imperial March'.

"You slapped my nephew?" Valerie screamed when I picked up. Needles yipped in the background.

"I'm so sorry, boss," I mumbled.

"Do that again and you're fired. He's just a boy, for Christ's sake. He's got a youthful spirit. You should know better than to take the things he says seriously."

"I'm sorry. Really."

"Remember to dress appropriately tonight, too!"

"Boss, I always follow dress code." My tired lips outran my common sense and let loose with a borderline complaint. Just say 'yes', Gloria!

"I know. I'm starting to wonder if you own anything beyond blouses and pencil skirts. This is black tie. You know what that means?"

It meant I'd be squeezing into my old prom gown again. "Yes. I have a dress."

"Good. Meet me at Le Hotel Gran Orignal at seven. I have to get my hair done. Remember, in our line of work, appearances matter." She hung up. My eyes fluttered shut once more.

I dreamed that Slasher was forcing me to run on a giant treadmill, and I didn't wake up until Vicky banged on my door.

"Gloria!" Her high-pitched voice cut through the pillows I'd stacked on my head. "Your friend's here!"

What friend? Annabelle? She never woke up before noon. "What time is it?"

"Three in the afternoon! Don't be so lazy! Get up!"

Oh, to be fifteen and popular and full of energy. I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled down the stairs, my extra-large tee-shirt dangling down past my knees. Vicky stood at the bottom of the stairs in her cheer uniform, which consisted of a purple and white sports bra and a matching spandex miniskirt. She probably had practice later. Amanda stood next to her, dressed in a soft brown pencil skirt and a sharply tailored jacket that flared in at her waist.

I'd crashed a meeting of the pretty people club.

Vicky giggled. "Gloria, you didn't tell me you were going to a ball."

Just call me Cinderella. "What? How do you know?"

She pointed at Amanda, who shrugged. "My co-worker told me yesterday that the rude woman who'd embarrassed herself at the dedication ceremony had somehow landed another catering gig. Figured she'd drag you along."

Of course. Amanda's job gave her weekends off.

Amanda smiled at me. "Thought I'd come by and see what you were up to. Want to go to the spa?"

"That sounds like fun!" Vicky said. "You should go, Gloria!"

I still owed Mom a hundred bucks for rent. "I can't."

"My treat," said Amanda.

Were there any better words in the English language? "Sure!"

Two hours later, I found myself in paradise.

Lord, thank you for Amanda. My toes shone as the pedicurist rubbed oil all over them. Another woman was painting my nails to match my bright red dress, which currently sat in the back seat of Amanda's car. My bruises had even stopped hurting.

I felt naked without my leotard on, but I'd taken it off for my massage and hadn't bothered putting it back on. In protest of the Centurions' actions, not because I was giving up.

Although I was considering giving up.

"Having a real job has perks," Amanda said from the chair next to me, flashing her blood-red nails. "Why do you keep working for that annoying woman? She can't be paying you what you're worth, not if you're living with your mom."

"Someone has to do it." I hated answering this question. "Sushi Queen employs hundreds of people. If it wasn't for me, Valerie would make everyone's lives miserable." I was tough. I could take it. It was the only heroic thing I'd ever done. Maybe the only heroic thing I'd ever do. "I'm useful there."

Amanda took a long sip of her iced tea. "You've got some valuable talents. You ever want a better job, let me know. I've got contacts."

I decided to change the subject. "Where in Baltimore did you go to college?"

She gave me a weird look. Right. That was knowledge I'd picked up from tracking her online. "Hopkins," she finally said. "I came back here to get my doctorate. I probably should have stayed in Baltimore."

"You never forgot the place where you grew up." The story Slasher had told me about her mother flashed through my mind. You never did forget the place where you grew up . . . but different people remembered it for different reasons.

"I think I'd settle for the place I grew up never forgetting me." She sighed as a woman rubbed oil into her hands.

I'm thinking of quitting the team. I could tell Amanda that. Maybe she'd be able to give me some advice. But I couldn't admit to a cancer researcher and superhero that I had neither a salaried position nor the skills to be a Centurion.

Instead, I lay quietly in my chair and tried in vain to relax.

Thankfully, the spa was located only two blocks from Le Hotel Gran Orignal, where the ball took place this year. I ducked into the bathroom to change into my dress while Amanda paid the bill. I didn't want to know the price.

My old prom dress was fire-engine red, with tight faux silk up top and cap sleeves. Fabric roses encircled my neck. The taffeta ruffles of the skirt fell down to my knees and ended in a red fringe. It reminded me of how sexy and exiting and adventurous I'd yearned to be in high school. And it felt tighter than I remembered, as did my strappy gold stilettos.

Amanda's eyes widened as I stepped out of the bathroom, my heels clicking on the metal floor of the spa. The desk clerk, a young black woman wearing an elaborate gold collar necklace, bit back a laugh.

"What?" I said.

"That dress!" Amanda said. The clerk quickly stared down her computer. Blood rushed into my cheeks. My reflection stared up at me from the polished floor. I liked this dress. At least, I used to like it.

"I have to go. My boss is waiting." I turned and headed for the doors as quickly as I could. My feet wobbled in my stilettos. The weight of the Centurion purse swinging on my arm nearly threw me off balance. Too bad I didn't own another one.