Zephyr VIII by Warren Hately

Author:Warren Hately [Hately, Warren]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Superhero
ISBN: 9781980953791
Google: bQHguAEACAAJ
Amazon: 1980953791
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2018-04-28T00:00:00+00:00

*

“‘THIS’LL BE FUN’” is girl-code for the most excruciating hour-and-a-half of my week so far, two young women and an androgynous creature with milk-white skin and a dyed aquamarine top-knot driving up to my place while Tessa and I eat, me giving an abbreviated account of my most recent misadventures, time-traveling to Nazi Germany, playing out Twilight’s origin story, my intention to track Miss Black’s killer. We don’t even talk about the Battle of the Century, despite that whole chaos only a week ago, and I sense my own guilty relief at the reprieve. I don’t know how much to tell Tessa about our family history and the internecine battles still to come.

Before she got her powers, my daughter grew up a fangirl, and with her apathy now in an armistice, or seemingly so, she can’t restrain the smiles of incredulity and amazement at half the shit I unpack as I explain the last week of my life, standing, both of us at the kitchen counter, me eating oven pizza and Tessa with black coffee and fruit. Half the time you might think I’m driven by a constant need for this affirmation, but the vapidity of Tessa’s gaze sours on me pretty quick.

“Hey, I’m not telling you a bedtime story here, honey,” I say eventually. “I left out the parts where I nearly died or felt like my heart was. . . .”

“. . . was?”

“I’m worried about you doing what I do and I’m sick of it being a big no-go area between us.”

“OK,” Tessa says. “So we’re not talking about you any more then.”

Still in her Windsong gear, my daughter folds her arms as I ruthlessly wipe hands on a dish towel and take a swig from my coffee too.

“It’s not all gallery openings and civic gatherings,” I say to her. “There’s the occasional moments of blood-freezing panic and mortal terror as well.”

Tessa slowly puts her cup down and smirks dismissively, conceited in her adolescent wisdom.

“That’s where you’re wrong, dad.”

“Yeah?”

“For most of us it actually is mostly gallery openings and awards ceremonies – with the occasional moments of blood-freezing terror and panic and whatever you said thrown in.”

“Mortal terror.”

“Hmmph,” she replies. “I didn’t think you’d own up to something as big as that, Mr Indestructible.”

“I didn’t think I’d held that much back,” I say. “Maybe not enough.”

We ponder this a moment before I add, “Oh, my ears.”

Tessa lifts her eyes back from her contemplation of grapefruit.

“What?”

“I hate my ears.”

“Yeah, on TV, I did notice the resemblance between you and Strummer was . . . well you’re kinda the . . . well, not the plus-sized version of him, but you know?”

“You should shop a rumor around to the tabloids that I’m doing steroids, ha.”

I smile a moment.

“Na actually, don’t do that.”

“Yeah dad, that’s an atrociously bad idea.”

“Sorry, I just keep thinking up stupid stories about me that would rake in the cash,” I say. “You could make 50k with that pitch, easy.”

“But not a good idea.”

“No,” I say. “I might wind up back on Oprah.

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