Banging the Superhero Read online

  Was that true? Did he always do everything to the extreme? He supposed that sounded right. He didn't do half-measured anything, and that included Alice. He'd loved her. Even though it was so fast, too fast some might say, to feel that way. He wasn't sure he'd ever stop loving her.

  And she'd told him she loved him too. She hadn't meant it. How could she have?

  How could she have gone from what she said the night before to loving him? It had been the stress of the situation. She'd worried one of them was going to die and she'd wanted to make what little they'd had between them "okay" beforehand.

  After that, he'd thrown himself in front of the laser for her. Right before he died, he felt such relief knowing Alice would be okay. Even as he worried about who would stop Zee—

  "Woo-hoo, where you'd go?"

  Ace focused on Lael. "I was thinking about Alice."

  "The girl really does love you, you know."

  "This conversation is not happening. I cannot, will not, discuss my love life—or lack thereof—with my sixteen-year-old brother."

  Lael laughed. "I get it. Okay. I'm good enough to shave your head but not to talk about Alice."

  "You got it, kid."

  * * * * *

  Ace stared at himself in the mirror. He'd done it. He'd buzzed off his hair.

  He hardly recognized himself. Rubbing the back of his neck startled him. He could actually do that. His cheekbones looked higher, his eyes more probing. Sighing, he hoped he'd made the right choice. It was time for changes. He had to get his life in order, the adrenaline under control, and he had to decide what he was going to do about work.

  He didn't want to be Batman. He wanted to be whoever he was supposed to be.

  Somehow, he didn't think that included endless references to fictional comic book characters.

  Alice.

  He closed his eyes. Now that was someone it did no good aching for. She wasn't going to happen. Not ever.

  He walked out of his room and moved through the hall, feeling very empowered to get rid of the bullshit that had been clogging up his life. He rounded the corner, ascended the stairs, and knocked on Draco's home office door. Without waiting for Draco's response, he entered, catching his brother on the phone.

  "Yes, Senator, I understand . . . ." Draco stared at him as he continued with his phone conversation, his eyes widening in shock. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to call you back. Something has happened."

  Draco hung up the phone and stood. "Are you having some kind of breakdown?"

  "It was time, past time really."

  "I'll agree with the needing a haircut part. I just didn't expect you to make yourself all but bald."

  Ace shrugged. "As Lael pointed out, I never do anything in half measures."

  "Smart kid, our brother."

  "I was thinking that I could go back to inventing. I could make things, like I used to before you opened Powers, but I could do it for Powers. I could invent things that would be useful for the company. Some of the other Superheroes might have things they could do too."

  Draco sat back down. "I think that sounds like a good idea."

  Ace blinked. Had it been that easy? "You do?"

  "Yes. I know you're not into the adventure like I am. You like it, but you like other stuff too. Make it happen."

  Ace smiled, feeling more positive than he had about work in a long while. One more thing remained for him to fix and it wouldn't be as easy. Steeling his back for the assault of words he expected, he went downstairs to the basement to use his personal work phone.

  Picking it up, he waited until Michelle answered on the other end.

  "I heard you were very ill." She didn't sound sorry.

  "Hi, Michelle." When she didn't respond in turn he continued. "I owe you an apology."

  "You do?" She sounded genuinely surprised, which he took as a good sign.

  "I do. When I pursued you for an intimate relationship, I didn't stop to think that you might have real feelings for me."

  "Well, aren't you presumptuous?"

  "In this case, I'm just being honest, and I think we're past the point of speaking half truths to one another."

  She sighed. "Okay."

  "I get that I hurt you really, really bad."

  "You did."

  He needed to continue, to make this right, if he could. "I never stop to think of other people's feelings, not when it comes to sex, and I was raised better than that."

  "So what are you saying? You used me?"

  He played with the phone cord. "In a word: yes. That night I used you because I knew that you wanted me and I wanted to have sex with you."

  "What happens now? I know I haven't been behaving exactly pleasantly at work."

  "No, you haven't, but as of right now, we wipe the slate clean. You're a good Handler, you're good at your job, and I'm taking on some new responsibilities. I could use help, if you want to be happy at work again."

  There was a long pause. Really, he knew it could go other either way.

  "I want to keep working at Powers and to have a positive working relationship again."

  "That's good, Michelle. I'll talk to you soon."

  He hung up the phone. Leaning his head against the wall, he resisted calling Alice. It was too hard. That relationship wouldn't be mended with one conversation and admitting he was a prick who didn't deserve her . . . . No, his instinct on this matter had to be correct. They shouldn't be together.

  * * * * *

  Ace sat on the floor, staring across at the "teacher" Draco had mentioned to Ace.

  Kevin swore he could teach Ace how to relax and control how his body functioned.

  "As Superheroes, we are well-functioning machines."

  Kevin spoke with a thick southern accent to match his cowboy hat and his cowboy boots over his denim pants and colored shirt. The only thing slightly off kilter about Kev's whole look was the carrot-red hair. It hung long and shaggy, sticking out from under the hat. On someone else, it would be goofy. On Kevin, somehow, it worked.

  His speech about machines got Ace's attention.

  "You're saying I need to tune up my parts?"

  "I'm saying you need to be more aware of how they work. There should be signals you're making too much adrenaline even before you do it. Maybe your hands sweat or your eyeballs twitch. I'm not sure. In my case, my nose itches."

  "What happens once I identify my particular response?"

  "Then we stop the response, thereby cutting off the adrenaline. This is called biofeedback."

  Normally, Ace would scoff at the idea. He wasn't into Yoga. He didn't meditate.

  But if Kevin, the Superhero who didn't act like a Superhero but pretended he was a regular guy, had somehow managed to use this technique to stop growing to seven feet tall and bulking out every time he got angry, then who was Ace to argue?

  He was willing to try anything if it meant he could control his problem.

  Anything to not be so out of control again.

  And besides, he needed something to focus on besides how much he'd missed Alice over the last two weeks. Even though that was all he seemed able to think about.

  He hoped this wasn't a permanent problem.

  He closed his eyes to focus. Alice's smiling face filled his mind.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alice kept her back straight as she walked, she hoped confidently, into Powers, Inc. The psychologist she had visited for the last month had helped her to see things more clearly. She had self-sabotaged any chance she had to find happiness with Ace because she was so certain he'd hurt her. If she ended things before they ever got too far, then she never had to be vulnerable enough to let anyone get the chance to cause her pain.

  The background of all of this, her father's death, her mother's coldness, and her uncle's tremendous betrayal, would take months, maybe years, to clear up. Yet, somehow knowing what she'd done and understanding why she'd done it, had freed her. She felt confident if she had to beg or to plead, she would get Ace bac
k.

  Of course, a tiny part of her wanted him to simply see her and fall to his knees, declaring his undying love. She'd settle, however, for dinner and seeing the light in his eyes when he looked at her. She'd kill to hold him in her arms just one more time.

  Moving to the receptionist, who looked busy doing her nails, Alice waited for a moment for the woman to acknowledge her.

  "Can I help you?" The woman paused—then screamed. "Oh my god, you're Alice Styles."

  Alice smiled her camera grin and leaned against the woman's counter. "I need to see Ace Hudson."

  "Do you have an appointment?"

  "No." She tapped her fingers lightly on the counter, listening to the click, click radiate through the hall. "I'm hoping he'll see me anyway. I'm a former client."

  "One second."

  The receptionist clicked on her keyboard, while Alice waited, pretending to be interested in the ornate light fixture attached to the ceiling of the entranceway. She couldn't be sure, but she thought it looked like a pseudo-contemporary miniature version of a space ship. Now why on earth would they have that?

  "Ms. Styles . . . ."

  She turned her attention back to the woman behind the counter. "Yes?"

  "I'm afraid that Mr. Hudson's Handler is reporting that he is not in the building at the moment."

  "He's not?"

  She heard the catch in her voice and hated it. There was no reason to get upset. If it didn't happen right this second, she would see him another time. She couldn't let herself get worked up.

  "No. She says he's not expected in at all today. But you can see Draco Powers, if you wish."

  She did not wish. Maybe her feelings were unreasonable, but she couldn't get over her anger toward him for escorting her from the room during Ace's time of need.

  She suspected Ace's domineering brother would do anything possible to keep her away from him. What business was it of Draco's? She and Ace loved each other.

  A sickening thought came to her mind. Maybe Ace was here, but had said he didn't want to see her. He did need her, even if he didn't currently want to acknowledge it.

  "Thank you anyway."

  Smiling, she walked from the building and put back on her sunglasses. It was a bright day. Staring up at the sky, she looked to see if she could see Ace's blond hair floating above her somewhere in the city.

  She sighed. No such luck. In fact, she hadn't spotted him—not once—since she'd been forcibly removed from his sight. Biting her lip, she wondered if she'd made a mistake not seeing Draco. She could have at least asked him if Ace was okay. Maybe he couldn't fly anymore. Maybe he was holed up at home, still sick.

  Oh god, she needed to go to him, to see that he was okay . . . .

  No, she shook her head. She would remain calm. Even amongst the secrecy associated with the Superheroes, she would have heard if he were dead. Lael would have called. She was sure of that. He would have thought to tell her. Also, an event that huge would have been on the news.

  She hoped.

  Sighing, she moved down the street, heading toward her car.

  * * * * *

  Alice stood backstage out of sight of her live studio audience, an idea formatting in her head. She'd walk out in a moment and they'd start the show, live, as soon as she did. Checking the clock, she made note of what time it was. Exactly two minutes until show time, and she was never late.

  This was her first live episode since the machines had turned on her a month ago. The network had been doing a major amount of promotion in anticipation of her return. After she did this shooting, she was scheduled to do an interview about her experience.

  She didn't want to talk to anyone but Ace.

  "Are you ready, Ms. Styles?" The production assistant spoke from behind her.

  She was as ready as she would ever be. Today, she would be making her favorite foods. The new show was called Cooking for Comfort and she'd show the audience what she cooked when she was worried and upset.

  After much consideration, she'd decided on chicken noodle soup and her mother's pot roast. The irony of this, of course, was that she hadn't eaten very much at all, not since Ace had pushed her out of his life.

  No food, nor any amount of counseling, could make the ache of knowing she let the one man go who had made her feel whole because she'd been too frightened to hold onto him with both hands.

  Nodding, she stepped out onto her set. Waving, like she always did, she wondered if the commentators would note she was ten pounds skinnier on the entertainment news shows that night. For the first time in her life, she really didn't care.

  Ace had liked her the way she was.

  If she did this—what she considered doing—and he didn't come back to her, then it was over, truly over, and she would have humiliated herself on national television, maybe internationally, if she were truly unlucky.

  Ace never did anything in half-measures and to get him back she would have to be extreme. There was no other choice.

  "Hello, everyone. How are you feeling today?"

  She smiled at the audience as she stepped behind the counter in her studio-kitchen, which had been modeled after her own home kitchen. She smiled as she remembered how much nicer the kitchen in Ace's house was. The one that his sister-in-law used to prepare food for her family, the family she—Alice—had scoffed at. Wow, there was no way in hell Ace would take her back.

  Seeing the red light that indicated she was live, she smiled her million-dollar grin. It felt good to be doing this, even if she might be sabotaging her career. She'd never felt more comfortable on screen.

  "Hello, everyone. I'm so glad to be here with all of you today."

  The audience clapped and hooted. She smiled at them.

  "Today, before I get down to showing all of you how I make my comfort foods, the very things I eat when my life gets terribly hard, I have some things I need to say."

  She swallowed. This was it. She would publicly lay all her cards on the table. At least, she'd know he knew the truth.

  "Recently, I made a terrible mistake. I'm sure you've all made your share of them too. We are human, after all, right?"

  The audience went silent and her producer motioned with her hands to tell Alice to get to the cooking.

  She would. Eventually.

  "I need to say something to Ace Hudson. You all know who he is, right? He's a Superhero who works at Powers, Inc., and he saved my life."

  The audience clapped and cheered loudly. Well, she smiled, so far so good. At least they weren't rooting for her to have died.

  "I'm enormously grateful to him for what he did, but even more than that—I'm in love with him."

  Now the audience hooted. She raised her hand to silence them. She wasn't done, even as her hands shook and her throat went dry with nerves.

  "I have a funny way of showing the people I love that I love them. I push them away. I treat them terribly. I'm working on changing that." She looked down at her counter and then back up at the camera. "Ace, I'm seeing a therapist. I want to be better so maybe I can deserve to see you again. And, if you're watching this or if one of the people who watched this is telling you about it, I hope you'll give me another chance.

  You have to know by now that I've been trying to see you. I come to the office every day. Anyway."

  She tried very hard to not let the tear escaping her right eye fall but she was unsuccessful. Great, she was crying on television now. "I don't deserve it, but give me another chance. Please."

  Swallowing her tears, she smiled her famous grin again. "And now that I'm done exposing myself to all of you emotionally, which is a tribute to how serious I am, because god knows I never let anyone past my self-made walls, I'm going to show you how I make chicken soup and pot roast."

  "And we're out." Her producer called as they went to commercial. "Are you crazy?"

  She nodded. "Maybe."

  The audience exploded with noise. Usually, this much talking would be deafening to her in the studio. Today, it felt silen
t. Terribly, terribly silent. Maybe he would call. Maybe he would stop by. Maybe.

  * * * * *

  The rest of the show had gone by in a blur. She'd done a good job with the pot roast. Her mother never watched the show, but she would be proud if she had. Cell phone in her hand, still clinging to hope, she climbed out of the car and walked to her house. The interviews the network had set up had drained her. She wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and pretend that it hadn't been five hours since the show and Ace had yet to contact her.

  Well his silence spoke volumes. He couldn't be clearer . Not interested.

  She supposed she would survive. Unlocking the door, she stepped into the house, forcing her calm demeanor to remain until she shut the door behind her. She would lose it in the bathtub.

  She'd taken two steps into the hallway when she stopped. A man stood there, before her. Oh god. There was a stranger in her house and she was unarmed. This was a nightmare. She backed up, holding her hands in front of herself as if she could protect herself that way. She knew she should have hired security, but after everything that had happened, she couldn't fathom further invasion of her privacy.

  "Take anything you want, but please don't hurt me."

  He was tall, and without her contacts, she couldn't see his face clearly. She could see he had broad shoulders and was bald.

  "Alice."

  The man spoke her name and she blinked.

  "It's me."

  She gasped, covering her mouth. She would know that voice anywhere. It haunted her for a month in her dreams, calling her name but never coming. "Ace?"

  "Yes." He was beside her in two seconds, pulling her into his arms. "I've been waiting for you all day. I got here at eight this morning thinking I could catch you before you left for work."

  The tears started in earnest as she sobbed against his chest. She couldn't even make out the words he spoke. She didn't care. He was here. That one thing was all that mattered.

  "Hey now, no tears." He kissed the top of her head. "You don't cry."