Pumpking

issue 20

4 hours without incident

Ash jumped out of the chair, his plate already emptied like a vacuum had hit it, “I need to go.”
I sighed and leaned back in the chair, frowning. That man played it close to his chest. I wanted to know, what had I said that had been so inspired?- was it something to do with the case or had he remembered that he’d left the oven on?
Whatever, I wouldn’t spend all day wondering about it. I wouldn’t.
I lay down on the couch to digest and think for a little while and found I had a headache. I closed my eyes for a few minutes, since it was probably stress related.
I must have fallen asleep. I dreamed that I was falling from a very tall building. And that on the ground below were grinning skeletons, reaching up to capture me. I called out in the dream and suddenly I had huge wings, dark like a bat, buffeting around me. I reigned down my ire against the beasts below, flaming energy burning in my palms. I woke with a blanket over my shoulders and a pillow under my head. Must have been one of the hotel staff.
I sat up, yawning and rubbing my eyes. The digital clock near the bed told me I’d slept for almost ten hours. Geez. Way to waste the day.  I padded lazily to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, emptied my bladder and ran a comb through my hair.
The outside door rumbled with a knock. I jumped and put the comb down, heading to open it.
The woman on the other side was pristine and trim. She couldn’t have weighed more than a photo of herself; lithe and blonde, blue eyed, she had a matching plum -suit over perfect suede pumps. Her legs were shapely and thin, accentuated by the sheer stockings and her makeup looked airbrushed on. We took each-other in slowly. Finally she pasted a wide smile across her mouth and stepped forward.
“Stephanie Sims,” She held out a hand that I was obliged to shake, “I’m Mr Whisper’s assistant.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m… uh… his witness under protection? Dion Moriarty,” And with that smooth introduction she could probably tell how vast the difference in our class was. Even her toes were probably manicured.
“Pleasure. Now, Mr Whisper has instructed me to wire thirty-thousand dollars to the account of your choosing. I took the liberty of contacting the bank and collecting your… ahem, information.”
I might have asked ‘isn’t that confidential?’ but I was afraid she’d give me the same answer that Whisper did.
“And as for the current living arrangement, Mr Whisper has booked the hotel room for another month. All the restaurants are running a tab, so feel free to eat in any of the six attached to the hotel. Consider it job perks. Here is Mr Whisper’s credit card. It doesn’t have a limit, but there are daily withdrawal limits, so if you need something over those, please contact myself or Mr Whisper with the details and we can pick it up for you,” She stepped past me and placed a few bags on the kitchen counter, pulling out a long white box from the first. “Mr Whisper has reserved seats at le Chardon d'Or. Since you are unable to return home at present, he took the liberty of finding some appropriate evening wear,” She opened the box and motioned for me to examine the item within.
Holy shit that was a four-thousand-dollar price tag. I pulled my hands away before I so much as breathed on the fabric, “I can’t wear something like that—what if I drop something on it?”
Stephanie’s lip twitched and then curled into a small, pleasant smile, “Well try to avoid dropping anything on it. But I assure you, Mr Whisper would be disappointed if you didn’t wear it. He spent two hours this morning picking it out for you.”
“Doesn’t he have anything better to do with his time?”
“Apparently not,” She paused, realizing how rude that sounded and politely moved to the next box. She wasn’t going to take it back, but also didn’t want to continue that dialog. What a strangely masked woman. I suppose she was exactly the sort of individual that Whisper must have gotten along with; the double face, the perfect, good money upbringing. I wonder if she had ever cleaned a kitchen sink in her life. I wasn’t sure I liked her. But by that token, I didn’t know her so how could I decide that? She was like a chameleon, it was sort of unnerving, I couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.
She went on, “I took the liberty of finding some appropriate jewellery and accessories,” Three small tiffany bags appeared.
I didn’t think I wanted to know what else she’d bought. How could she throw these expensive items around like they were candy? Even the rich men at the hotel I worked in didn’t spend this sort of money on their girlfriends or wives. I was neither. Which begged the question, how much money were we talking about here? I was feeling squeamish just thinking about it.
“I can’t… I mean, it’s lovely but…”
“Mr Whisper thought you might object. He said to inform you that if you refuse to take these gifts and the offer of employment he would add up their total value and debit it from your life savings,” She was reading from a small white card.
My stomach turned leaden, “So if I don’t accept them, he’ll charge me for it all?”
“I believe that was his meaning, yes.”
I needed a drink. I sat down in the nearest chair, my vision swimming red with anxiety, “But what is to stop him from doing that anyway?”
“Frankly speaking, Miss Moriarty; nothing. Mr Whisper would not do that sort of thing. Crippling someone with debt are not the actions of a hero.”
“Neither is threatening someone with it.”
She adjusted her lapel and moved to the next box. Conversation over, apparently, “Mr Whisper also selected some more under-garments since you did not have any spares. I… well the taste… he is a gentleman. Moving on; in the unlikely event that you are in need of a more appropriate outfit for your sidekick duties, he has provided a very fetching one,” She peeked in the last bag and nodded, like fetching was all I was getting out of her for adjectives. That, as her British clipped tone would suggest, did not bode well.
“Sidekick duties?” What the hell was happening? Didn’t he just want help solving a damn murder case- why the credit card, the fancy dress invitation to dinner? Did he think I was some sort of—no, don’t overthink it, Dion, maybe he was trying to apologise for the way he’d been acting. Daystar had said I should cut him some slack, that he put his foot in his mouth more than not. Maybe this was some sort of roundabout apology?
Still- I caught a glimpse of the ‘under-garments’ that he’d picked out. Sure, it was Victoria’s secret, and those were designed to be admired but… “I don’t wear thongs… these are all…”
“Men’s taste,” Stephanie cut in primly, “He doesn’t mean anything by it, but you know men- no idea what women actually wear for comfort.”
She was good. I could see why he’d hired her. Smooth. Like she wasn’t also wondering how he knew what size I fit. That bothered me a lot. Some of these were custom- the kind that had exact measurements to them. The kind that I would have expected came with a store-clerk measuring your hips and ‘tutting.’
“Well, I’ll be back around seven to pick you up. Please be ready by then. In the meantime; feel free to take full advantage of the hotel facilities and relax,” Conversation end. Had she been timing it? 
“Okay.”
With a small nod she was gone, leaving thousands of dollars in expensive clothing and naughty underwear in front of me as well as a credit card that had no limit.
I didn’t move for a few minutes, staring at the bundles and trying to decide what to think. If I let my mind wander away from eccentric, I would probably freak out.
Sidekick?
There was a four-thousand dollar expensive dinner dress and all I wanted to know was, what the hell had he picked out for a hero costume?
Screw it; I had a few hours to kill. If I didn’t like it, I didn’t have to wear it, right?
I dragged almost everything into the bathroom and stripped to my bra and undies. The costume was a few pieces and it took some figuring before I found the zip down the left side. It was skin-tight black halterneck dress. While it was designed to look like a very short skirt, it was actually a pair of skin-tight shorts underneath. The gloves hit me at biceps and fanned out. I had a pair of little pumpkin earrings that I could tell were real gold and real pumpkins. There was a belt with the same pumpkin motif and a pair of thigh-eating leather boots that must have cost a whole cow.
I put it all on and stared at myself in the mirror. Holy shit.
I looked like something out of a Halloween fetish porno magazine. There was a heart shaped hole over my squished boobs, it made them look a lot bigger than I thought was decent.
Sidekick? More like vixen- the boots didn’t have heels, but I couldn’t imagine running away from invading robot armies in them- I was only missing the whip.
I stripped almost as hurriedly as I’d put it on. No way was I--- not the first person to wear this.
I was taking the right boot off when I spotted the small drop of blood on the inner lining. The outer boot was almost unblemished until I knew what I was looking for, and then I noticed the small spots where it had been washed or soaked for too long. Oh man.
Was this eccentric, crazy man full of secrets who was one of the world’s most powerful individuals...? Actually crazy? I’d heard stories about the older, retired heroes who would pick out replaceable sidekicks, chilling tales about secret training orphanages, that sort of conspiracy theory.
I was not wearing another woman’s kinky costume. Besides, I’d never seen any hero actually in this sort of get-up. It was a little too Halloween for some of the famous names out there. Maybe the owner was dead. Looking at all the stains I hadn’t noticed until removing it, it had seen some serious use. How had it not ripped from the injuries? Or was it not leather? Maybe it was that new nanite fabric that repaired itself? Chou had seen a dress in a magazine made of that stuff.
What happened to the real owner? Every time I thought I learned something about Whisper, more questions popped up. He was the most infuriating individual.
I stripped back down to naked and turned to the other bags. Guess I better see the evening dress. Maybe it wouldn’t fit.
After the costume feeling like it had been designed for me and only me, despite being second-hand, I doubted it.
The dress was amazing.  No sleeves, but a gauze shawl that wrapped around my shoulders. I knew instantly it was designed for my hair to be worn down, brushed on one side. The fabric was a deep teal that was dark like midnight. As a redhead blue could be an dubious colour on me, but the slight green tint made the dress highlight instead of clash and the sprinkle of spiralling glitter down the waist drew the eye. I stood still, staring down at it. I felt like a million dollars in that dress. It was like it hugged me in all the right spots and told me nice things.
It was an evil, evil dress.
I actually caught my breath in the mirror when I saw what it had done to me. I looked like I should be on the red carpet, rubbing elbows with people who earned too much money for looking good. maybe I had missed my calling in life. The idea of eating while wearing this dress made my already leaden stomach sink further. I did not even want to breathe on the fabric.
He wanted me to wear this? I wanted me to wear this! But it was a little too… I mean, it was the sort of dress I would wear to impress a guy.  A dress that was designed to take a man’s breathe away and stash it in your purse. I shifted, trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do. I couldn’t, simply couldn’t wear it. And yet, to not wear it would make me cry a little inside and also; Whisper had threatened me. Even if it wasn’t a very heroic thing.
There I went again, confusing him for someone like the police.
I took the dress off with the gentlest of care, trying not to shake or drop it. The accessories were diamonds. I guess diamonds went with everything. God, the earrings alone were worth what I made in a month.