“Sure. I should probably let you go. So you
can get some important work done.”
“Um, I don’t… Yeah, well I will call you
tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Sadie hung up immediately. It stung, but he
completely understood her position. At the same time he didn’t know
his position and wasn’t ready to act. Yet, those difficult thoughts
would be for a later time as the scintillating smell of burning
coals took over all of Chris’s attention.
In front of the fire, were most of the
Supers standing or sitting in chairs. Chris just missed stepping
into the fire pit from the excitement of seeing a grill cleaned and
set up by one of the drivers. Frank came out of nowhere and pressed
a cold beer against Chris’s arm, making him jump.
“Just like the backyard,” said Frank, and
motioned with his eyes for Chris to take the bottle. Frank took a
long swig of an already open beer in his other hand. Chris studied
the bottle cap and looked around Frank’s person for an opener.
“Jesus. Too much like the backyard.” Frank grabbed the beer back
and turned to one of the Super’s chairs.
“Sup, Frank. That for me?” asked Hal.
Frank ignored him, put the lip of the cap on
the armrest, and then slammed his palm on the top to send the cap
flying off and suds overflowing. He handed it over to Hal,
“Sure.”
“I’ll trade you one of mine,” said Hal, and
handed over a beer hiding in a small ice chest.
“Thanks,” said Frank, and threw it at Chris
who was watching the whole thing.
Chris handled the flying beer surprisingly
well. It was unclear if Frank wanted him to catch it or see a
vaudevillian juggling act ending with the bottle comically
shattering, but at the very least the cap was a twist off.
Soon all the Supers were in chairs around
the fire with a beer in hand or nearby. The four drivers knelt or
crouched next to the fire prepping the food in a form of hierarchy
Chris hadn’t noticed until now. Where did he and Frank stand in
this system? Frank didn’t act like he was beneath the Supers, but
Frank and Chris were. It was natural. The A-listers and the
B-listers. Chris found Johnykin talking to Jean and Rachel.
Although Johnykin was the clear winner in the beauty department,
the other two women exuded their own glamorous looks.
Once the food sat roasting, the drivers
produced more chairs and sat among the Supers they chauffeured
around. Klaus continued whatever conversation he had started during
the ride right back up again with their driver accompanied by a
soft hand on her knee. Frank sat with Alan and Grant discussing the
mission and what went well and what didn’t.
The last chair was next to Frank, which
would have put Chris into a tagalong position in a conversation he
didn’t feel needed him. The only other viable option was sitting
next to Johnykin, but after the phone call with Sadie he wasn’t
keen on socializing with three super powered women.
“Sit down already,” said Frank. “You’re
making everyone nervous just standing there.” Chris sat.
A couple more beers made the rounds through
the group before the late lunch was ready. Without a word, the
drivers got up from their seats and doled out the food on plates
for everyone. Chris was in love with the idea of the barbecue
without really noticing what they had to eat. Plus it didn’t take
much to fill him up as he already had three beers taking residence
in his stomach. Another beer, probably from Frank but Chris wasn’t
sure, accompanied the meal. Then after everyone ate, the drivers
served as clean up, and more beers surfaced.
All talk around the fire carried fits of
laughter with them. Jokes good and bad jumped around and sparked
silly stories that hardly needed to be coherent. Eventually the
talks also became less self-contained and more one large tale with
everyone listening in and adding on. The fire burning low along
with the beginnings of dusk pushed the chairs into a closer
circle.
Through fuzzy eyes, Chris swept the faces of
everyone to see inebriated smiles like the one on his own that was
hurting from laughing. This wasn’t so bad, he thought. Frank was
right; it was just like the backyard but more drunk. And now Chris
watched, like so many times before, Frank push into a divided
topic.
“Alright, alright. I want to hear the good
stories now. What kinds of shit have you guys run into? You’re in
the biggest cities in America. Come on Alan; tell us what you’ve
hit in Chicago. We read the coverage but what really happened at
the game?”
Alan looked slightly above Frank’s head. The
smile from the jolly times didn’t disappear, but was now waiting to
beat a quick retreat. The decision took too long. Grant jumped in
to bail out his partner.
“That was… messy. We didn’t really expect
anything to happen but shit happens, right.” Grant took a swig and
looked across the fire at Johnykin.
Alan waited long enough. “It was fine. The
tip-off was from a reliable source. We were where we needed to be
and saved countless innocent lives. That’s what mattered.”
“Sure it did. And I always enjoy a last
minute brush with death because someone doesn’t feel right about
their job.” Grant looked down at the dirt and dug his shoe into it.
Somewhat aware of the loose remarks caused by one too many beers he
put his bottle down and continued the study of the ground disrupted
by his foot.
Frank gave a chuckle and then looked across
the fire at Bernard. “I want to see New York someday. I know you
get a ton of work out there.”
“What, are you interviewing everyone,
Frank?” asked Johnykin. Her voice softened the question at the end,
but it was clear she was ready to fight.
Frank puffed with delight at the chance to
get into it with Johnykin. Bernard cut in between with a loud and
overdrawn, “Yeah,” before laughing at himself and then really
mending the atmosphere. “It’s busy in the city that never sleeps.
Hard to remember the last time I got enough sleep myself. A lot of
low level thugs, purse snatchers, punks trying to put up graffiti.
The usual. The only really crazy one was with that biker gang. Holy
shit.” Bernard's huge smile fluttered over to his partner Jean, but
she didn't reminisce in such a jovial manner.
“It was terrible. They were harassing a
family. Fucking monsters,” said Jean. Johnykin put her hand on top
of Jean's and then shot a deadly look at Frank.
Chris finally felt the situation for what it
was and followed in Bernard's footsteps of putting the party train
back on track. “I can't wait to see how we'll be remembered in the
future. You know someone's going to make a movie out of all this.
Real Supers saving the day. I wonder how many more will come out or
be discovered or however it works. It would be so cool to see
someone fly. I mean... can anyone here fly?”
An explosion of laughter went off in the
group. Chris didn't expect that reaction, but it fitted what was
needed and Frank's interrogations lost all steam as the jokes
started up again.
“Oh my God, Johnykin. I need a sidekick like
yours,” said Rachel.
“He's my partner,” said Johnykin.
“Even better. Sidekicks with benefits,” said
Rachel. “And if you're not in need of him, I’ll be more than happy
to take him off your hands.”
Chris would have turned red if his cheeks
weren't already flush from the empty bottles scattered around the
fire.
Johnykin winked at Chris and continued to
play up the dialogue, “He's a married man Rachel, but he's still
mine and I still have a need for him.”
The women laughed and the men smirked. It
wasn't the funniest or most original just something that needed to
be said to keep the spotlight on easier topics. Chris saw how
reluctant they all really were. Not as much as him, he thought, but
still reluctant. They weren't going to whine about it like Chris
had. There was a job to be done and they felt responsible to do it.
Chris thought more about it as the dialogues continued around small
talk and stupid jokes. These people, these Supers, should feel
responsible. They had gifts and were capable to help so many. What
was he doing here? His gifts had nothing to do with operations and
missions.
Chris's buzz wore off the more he sat
thinking and occasionally adding half a response to the floating
conversations. He still sipped on a beer to give his hands
something to do, but the thinking brought him to the disappearance
of Klaus. Frank noticed Chris’s search around the fire.
“He and the driver slipped away an hour
ago,” said Frank.
“It was bound to happen. He’s not married is
he?” asked Chris.
“Nope. Free to play the game. How many beers
you going to have? Sadie’s going to kill you when I tell her.”
“Alright then, Lou. Give me a milk. Dramatic
pause! Chocolate.”
“You don’t say ‘Dramatic pause.’”
Nonetheless Frank fell out of his chair at the still life of Chris
in his best George McFly impersonation.
The rest of the group caught hold of the
mise-en-scène a little late but roared in approval of Frank flat on
his ass. He hurried to right himself, but the beers had a strong
grip on his coordination. Loose dirt did the rest, sending Frank
head first into the low fire. Chris jumped up and tackled his
friend away from the pit.
“Oh man, did you really just save me from
falling in the fire,” said Frank on his back with Chris on top of
him.
“First time for everything,” said Chris.
“You know this counts as a hug, right?”
“Oh, get the fuck off me.”
Frank pushed Chris off and stood up. He then
spoke to everyone, “That is definitely the end of my night, but I
want to say that great food and beer bring out the best stories.
Hopefully we’ll have plenty of all tomorrow. G’night everyone.”
The reaction was mixed; some gave small
cheers while the rest looked down at their own bottles trying to
decide if they'd had enough too. In the end, Frank had ended the
party by calling it a night. The group didn't follow him
immediately, but people stood up and talked for a few moments more
before closing off previous subjects with ambiguous endings to not
offend.
Chris stood too even without anyone to
really talk to. He listened in on Alan and Grant, but they didn't
say anything more; just making eye contact and then moving on.
Chris spied Johnykin and moved over to her group that was splitting
off.
“Hey, where are we supposed to sleep?” asked
Chris.
“How drunk are you?” said Johnykin. “You're
sharing tents with Frank again. The drivers already set it up.”
“You're going to share with Klaus
again?”
“Ha. He's already sharing with someone. I'm
in the car this time.”
“Oh, yeah. I should have put it
together.”
“You sure should have.”
Johnykin put her hand on Chris's chest as a
sign to say goodnight and walked past him. Chris turned to watch
her go and bumped into one of the drivers. After cooking and
serving everything, they were now cleaning it all up. Chris thought
of Sadie and how she would give him more than a death stare for
just standing around and watching people work. So, thinking how
proud she would be of him, Chris pitched in and grabbed all the
bottles left around the fire.
One of the drivers noticed and without a
word handed Chris a garbage bag to throw it all in. He smiled
expecting a smile back and cheerful thanks. The driver continued
cleaning. The mute action moved Chris to work even more diligently
in locating every last bottle even if it also pissed him off a
little.
A half an hour later Chris double checked
the camp site and was positive his giant garbage bag held every
beer bottle. He took it over to an area with another bag and set it
down with a slight huff of indignation. After a break in his ego,
realization took over to show him he was the last one up. The fire,
covered in dirt, let escape only a few wisps of smoke, but the
stars reached down to shed some light. Sadie would’ve at least said
‘thank you,’ thought Chris, I really do miss her. He took a few
steps to get his bearing and located the SUV he’d arrived in and
the two tents next to it.
He made his way up to them and stopped. The
lady or the tiger raced inside his head. Would a peak be enough to
figure it out? The mounting decision created a trickle of
electricity across the front of his head. It also made him
extremely tired. Forget it he thought and zipped down the tent
furthest away from the SUV. It was Frank and an empty sleeping bag.
Chris crawled inside the bag and laid his head on a small pillow
that sent the now pulsing electricity from the front of his head
around to the sides and back. But even with the alcohol induced
headache, sleep won out in seconds.
A sharp kick hit Chris's thigh at seven.
Then a familiar but not at all friendly voice added some more
encouragement.
“Get up. We're taking the tent down with or
without you in it,” said Frank. Without another pause the tent
collapsed on Chris's face.
“Shit, again?” said Chris, pushing the
fabric away from himself to make an escape. He scampered out as
fast as he could with the sleeping bag clinging to his legs.
The campsite was no longer a campsite. Any
remains of a fire or the chairs that sat around it were completely
gone. Half the tents from last night still stood if only for a few
more minutes and it was clear Chris was the last one up.
Breakfast was bread and fruit in your hand
while you bustled around, but most just had a cup of coffee. The
Supers moved around too, surprisingly helping clear things out and
into the trunks. Chris thought of last night and moved to help too,
but he felt the headache again and with the headache a stomach not
willing to hold down dinner. He turned away from the hustle and
spewed last night's barbecue into the dirt. No one noticed or no
one stopped to give him sympathy through noticing. It seemed to be
a common recurrence, he thought.