Conference call. That evening. By encrypted video app. Me and my besties, going over our options for our next jobs. I needed a break, but somehow seeing my friends didn’t boost my mood. I was still in the freezing-cold Chicago apartment, while, from what I could tell from the hazy background of their video, they were living it up on a rooftop bar back in San Francisco. They were scouting for new employers, too, but – somehow – they’d contrived to do it in a more hospitable place than me.
Rachel was in one of her many violet evening dresses with slit thighs (better combat mobility), looking effortlessly glamorous. Inez had the cowboy hat she took everywhere, no matter how many times it threatened to blow off in the rooftop winds.
Rebecca Munoz hadn’t been the only meeting I’d had that day. None of the other job prospects looked any brighter. I still hadn’t gotten over that swell of anger and bad memories. I told Inez and Rachel about my meetings, and I wasn’t sparing in describing what Rebecca Munoz and I had said to each other.
“Dontcha think you were a little hard on the gal?” Inez asked.
Rachel chimed in, “Poor thing sounds like she just wasn’t ready to step into our world.”
“Then she shouldn’t have come to us in the first place,” I said.
I was being hard on her, and they knew it. Usually, they supported me in that. But – unlike usual – it bothered me that I was being a hardass. They sensed that too.
I couldn’t stop feeling pissed, for reasons I had trouble putting my finger on.
“It wasn’t our kind of job, and she should’ve known it,” I said. “And the way she acted – like she kept assuming I knew things, like who this Pearson creep is–”
“Hold up there,” Inez said. “Pearson? As in Dallas Bader Pearson?”
Perfect. I’m the Chicagoan, and the Texan is the one who’d heard of Pearson. “How’d you know?”
“Not many other big-name Pearsons in Chicago. You’ve heard of any others?”
“Surprised you’ve heard of one. No offense. It’s not your area.”
“Yeah, but I pay attention to the world around me.”
Rachel asked, “Darling, who hasn’t heard of Dallas Bader Pearson?”
“Are you two screwing with me right now?”
“Do you see my face right now?” Rachel asked. “It’s my very-not-screwing-with-you face.” She was, I admit, managing a reasonable poker face.
Inez said, “What Rache means to say is that we’re always screwing with you – but we still know the name.”
“You two aren’t from my city, and you know more about it than I do.”
“Your city? Last time we all talked ’bout Chicago, you didn’t act like it was yours.”
Yeah. But it was.
“Come on,” Rachel said. “I follow the news.”
I fixed her in my gaze. After a few seconds, her very-not-screwing-with-you face cracked.
“OK,” Rachel said. “All right. I follow people on Twitter who follow the news. But that’s how most people do it.”
“So what do people on Twitter who follow the news say about Dallas Bader Pearson?”
“There was a big scandal a year or two ago. He was forced to resign from some civic position, city council or the like. It started with a sexual harassment allegation.”
“Started?”
“There was more than one,” Rachel said.
“It came in a box of a dozen,” Inez added, scowling.
The anger was back again. I didn’t know why this was affecting me. I dealt with monsters and criminals as a regular part of my working day. But I was on edge, and this was pushing me over.
“And then after that, allegations of abuses at his church, financial crimes, all kinds of bizarre stories,” Rachel said. “He was asking retired couples, dementia patients, to sign over all their properties to his church. Things like that.”
“So a real swell guy.” I dug my nails into my palm.
“A couple of his surrogates have Twitter accounts, and posted some really bizarre defenses of him. That’s what really made it blow up there,” Rachel said, with a faraway look as if half-remembering all this. “People making fun of them. It was in everybody’s trending topics.”
I turned to Inez. “Is that how you heard about this, too? Twitter?”
“I don’t have anything to do with anything called Twitter.”
“So how’d you hear about it?”
“Rache.”
I actually snorted. “Great. Perfect.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised nobody’s hired us to assassinate him already,” Rachel said.
“I don’t think Rebecca Munoz was looking to get anybody killed.” Probably. The thought must have crossed her mind, but she hadn’t mentioned it.
I wondered why not. If she knew enough to find me, she must’ve known what I was capable of. Maybe she just wasn’t that kind of person.
But it was almost always naive to think that.
“And what a shame that is.” Rachel flapped a hand through the air as if brushing away a fly. “Honestly, a man like that – I’d be tempted to take the work pro bono. It would do the world a favor.”
“We’re not in this to settle someone’s family squabble,” I reminded her. “That doesn’t pay. Not in the end.” And it didn’t matter how many bills Rebecca smacked on the table.
Reputation is important for us mercs. You start messing in domestic disputes, get known for it, and soon enough that’s all anyone comes to you for. And you get bankrupt and miserable.
“I know. You know how many expensive habits I have to support. Still…” Rachel let the thought linger, “…after that business with the Creation Constellation, I’ve started to build up a little heroism complex. Money isn’t the only thing that feels good.” And now we were working with old-fashioned heroines, too. The three of us used to work alone. But, in the incident Rachel had alluded to, three more women had joined our team… including Black Widow, a real Avenger.
“There’s revenge, too,” Inez said, with a grin that, back when Inez and Rachel and I first met, would have made Rachel back away fast.
Rachel said, “Yes, well – that was the unspoken part of that sentence, but you go right ahead and say it.” A tolerant smile. “Also, I would have gone with ‘vengeance.’”
“Rebecca Munoz wasn’t trying to hire me for anything like that. It was all about her kids.” I unclenched my hand. My palm stung from my nails. “And they’re adults, and they can make their own choices. For all we know, they’re on Twitter making fools of themselves like all of Pearson’s disciples. And there’s nothing we can do to change that.”
“That’s a little defeatist, don’t you think?” Rachel asked.
“She’s right, Rache,” Inez said.
Rachel looked like she couldn’t decide whether to seem offended or startled. “I thought you were on my side! Aren’t we gearing up to argue Neena out of her decision to refuse the job?”
“We sure ain’t,” Inez said. “What do you think we’re gonna do? Point a gun at those kids and scare the cult out of them? Those types don’t work like that.”
“Well, no…” Rachel hesitated. “Damn. But it would be nice to do something.”
“We’re not the right kind of team for this one,” I said. “Not our skillset. Not for what the client wants.” A tired kind of numbness was seeping through my muscles. I couldn’t stop thinking about the word Rachel had used. Defeatist. It felt like a defeat, all right.
That wasn’t something I experienced all that often, and it wasn’t helping with my anger issues.
“All right,” I said. “So we’re decided.”
• • •
My posse had expanded recently, but Inez, Rachel, and I have always been the core. They’ve been with me since we knew we were forming a group.
We all had histories we don’t talk too much about. We all didn’t stand up in times and in places where we really should have. The three of us, coming together – well, it was maybe a chance to start putting some of those wrongs right again. Rachel had it right. We were all starting to develop a heroism complex.
But we were still mercs. We still needed money. And things had gotten more complicated lately. Like I said, the three of us weren’t alone any more. Atlas Bear, a Wakandan exile with precog abilities, and White Fox, a South Korean superagent, had joined the team around the same time Black Widow had.
Don’t get me wrong: I liked our new partners. Liked them a lot. But.
But.
They all had their other loyalties. Atlas Bear to Wakanda, no matter that she’d been exiled. White Fox to South Korea. Black Widow to the Avengers, and God knew who else. I was still working out how I felt about them, let alone how to manage them.
Inez and Rachel, though – I knew how I felt about them. More importantly, I knew how they felt.
• • •
I don’t know when I realized I would take Rebecca Munoz’s offer. It was probably right in the middle of when I was telling Rachel no, and Inez was giving her some very good reasons why we shouldn’t.
Neither of them seemed surprised when I called them up later that night, and told them I wanted to take the job. The rooftop party was still going in the background.
I don’t know how long I’d been laying there in that freezing-cold apartment bed, trying to get to sleep, just staring at the frosting apartment windows. I didn’t want to know what either of my watches said.
I dialed the contact number Rebecca Munoz had left me.
She sounded like she was still up too.
“You’ve got my starting price set,” I said. “But that doesn’t count expenses. I’ve done some checking around, and your credit rating isn’t great.”
Even though this was just a regular phone call, I could feel the acid in her eyes.
“I’m a single mother in Chicago,” she said. “Of course it’s not.”
“You’ll still be on the hook for expenses. And I can’t promise that, once I get your kids out, they’ll want to stay out. Understand?”
“Understood,” she said. “And agreed.”
I couldn’t bring myself to say I was hired. That felt too final. I still wanted to find out more about these twins, whether they really wanted to leave. Or could even be talked into it.
So I just hung up the phone. That was finality enough for now.
I lay back on my bed and wondered how the hell I’d found myself like this. I didn’t used to trap myself into so many emotional decisions. It’s an understatement to say that a job like mine is best done cool-headed. If you want to get anywhere, you had better be like ice.
Ever since I’d had to kill my mother, I’d found myself bothered by things that had never bothered me before.