Wonder City Stories III #21

Fortunately, I had this one mostly written when the stomach bug took me down last week. :} I still owe a Madame Destiny reading -- many apologies for the lateness -- and that's my next priority.



Nothing Says Lovin' Like Somethin' From the Oven

"So I thought you needed to hang out with Jane," Angelica said, handing Kendis a bottle of root beer from the refrigerator. "Cause she'd just go back to usual without you."

"I thought so too," Kendis said, twisting the cap off and staring at it with a perplexed expression. "The thing is, she said she'd copied my power, so I didn't need to hang around an old lady any more."

"Just... copied your power," Angelica said, sitting down opposite Kendis at the kitchen table, beer in hand. "I always read that she borrowed or took powers."

"You know more than I do, sweetheart," Kendis said, taking a drink, then making sure her crutches were securely leaned in the corner. "If Lady J hadn't been there with her 'only tell the truth' field, I would've thought Jane was just trying to get rid of me. That's a damned tiny house."

Kit breezed past them, depositing a kiss on top of Angelica's head as he went to the fridge for ingredients for whatever amazing thing he was making that night. Angelica smiled up at him and wondered again how she'd ended up in this situation, where he had just never left after spending that one night with her. Amazing night. Nights. Every night. And he cooked. Okay, well, that all may have had something to do with why she wasn't throwing him out on his admirable, albeit skinny, ass. "You know, you don't have to cook for us," she said.

"I like being around food," he said, rooting around in the fridge, giving her a pleasant jeans-clad view of said ass. "And I like cooking. It's not a problem." He added, "You're the Jane Liberty fangirl." Yes, he'd poked fun at her for the Jane Liberty robe. And the posters. And the comic book collection. "There's never been anything about her copying a power without taking it?"

"No," Angelica said, wracking her brain for anything of the sort in any of the biographies or analyses she'd pored over as a teenager, secretly dressing up in her sister's old Jane Liberty costume party getup in the privacy of her room. "Never."

Kendis shrugged and glanced over at Kit's array of cooking items. Her thin, dark eyebrows rose sharply. "Hey, no offense, dude, but I'm sober."

Angelica fought the urge to duck. She'd known Kendis for enough years that she didn't think about it any more, and she'd forgotten to mention it to Kit.

"Ah, sorry!" Kit said, putting the cooking wine away in the cupboard with an apologetic grin. "I didn't even ask."

"No prob," she said, waving his apology off. "Thanks for understanding."

"Lotta my peeps are in recovery," he said. "I get it."

Angelica gave up making a mental tally of all the things in Kit's "positives" column. As far as she could tell, his only negative was "lack of job." Which wasn't exactly unique these days.

Kendis went on, "So I guess y'all don't need to scrape up cash for me any more, Ange, for rent and stuff. I can just get back to work."

"Thanks so much for being willing to take time off for this, though," Angelica said, reaching across the table and squeezing her friend's hand.

"Hey, there aren't many chances for me to save the world," Kendis said with a smirk, "between being a Quaker and not really having a world-saving style of power. Oh, and this," she waved at her legs.

"Oh, no, the braces are totally doable," Angelica said, swigging her beer. "Someone like Mel or that kid Brainchild could turn your leg braces into complete death machines." She paused and considered. "Though Mel would make them fabulous death machines."

"Riiight, just what I need," Kendis said, rubbing her face. "Anyway, they'll be glad I'm back at the nursing home. They're always shorthanded these days."

"How did you guys lose so much staff anyway?" Angelica said.

"Pastor Al's Shining Brethren Tent Revival," Kendis said in a tone she probably otherwise reserved for referring to dog shit on the sidewalk. "Like with your mom and sisters. They've got a big thing going now of only spending time with 'holy' people. Meaning other converts. So they can't work with us heathens. That ain't my kind of Christian, I gotta say."

"Nor mine," Angelica said. "My grandma's as holy as they come, and she believes in eating and keeping a roof over your head, even if it means working with non-Catholics."

"My granny wasn't big on me going the various ways I went," Kendis said, "but she didn't throw me out." She leaned her bottle against her chin thoughtfully. "Though if I'd converted to Judaism, she might've."

Angelica cocked an eyebrow at Kendis. "You? Converting to Judaism? Why have I never heard this story?"

Kendis snorted. "It was a long time ago and far away, and besides, the wench is dead." She lifted her bottle and took a drink. "Poor kid."

Angelica joined the toast silently. She knew too many dead people to press the question.

"I noticed that the men in black seem to carry around the Shining Brethren bibles," Kit said, throwing something into the wok with a sizzle.

"How'd you figure that?" Kendis asked.

Kit shrugged, and delicious smells started to fill the kitchen. "I was curious one day and snagged one while the guy wasn't looking."

Kendis and Angelica stared at him, but he affected not to notice.

"Half of it doesn't even have pages," he continued, "just a plastic block that looks like pages. And it reads like really bad Biblical fanfiction."

"You read fanfiction?" Angelica said, astonished.

"Biblical fanfiction?" Kendis said, appalled.

Kit shrugged again and grinned. "A guy's gotta have hobbies."