Mr. Business Suit held up one finger for Victo wait.
A low growl started in the back of Vic’sthroat. Without hesitation, he sent one thought across the distanceseparating them to speak directly into the man’s head. ::Now, orI’m leaving your starched ass behind.::
The way the guy flinched brought a smug grinto Vic’s face. With a dubious glance at the rain, the man duckedhis head beneath his briefcase and jogged up the few steps onto thebus. “Uh-huh, I know,” he said, laughing as he deposited his changein the fare box. “Kath, girl, don’t tell me! I’m not lookingforward to the meeting this morning, either.”
Inside the bus, his voice boomed loudly,obnoxious, and Vic wished he could somehow disable the Bluetoothfor the duration of the ride. Any electromagnetic ability would do.Where was a good super-power when he needed it most?
The quietude evaporated as Vic’s bus ate upthe miles. One phone call followed the next. More than once, Vicskimmed over the guy’s thoughts to see where his stop mightbe—somewhere close, please, Vic prayed. No such luck. The businesssuit should’ve clued him in; the man would be riding with them allthe way downtown, the last stop before Vic’s route swung around andheaded back the way it had come. Vic found himself stepping on thegas, gunning it in an effort to outrun the loud-mouth chattering inthe back seat of his bus.
He almost missed the Bowtie theater, Roger’sstop, and probably would’ve driven right by it as his mood darkenedif it hadn’t been for someone waiting by the sign. The windthreatened to turn her umbrella inside out, but she held it in atight grip with one hand; the other held her rain jacket’s hoodtight to the top of her head. Vic saw big, kohl-lined eyes as heslowed to a stop, and she pressed together too-red lips as ifhoping her lipstick was still in place. Before Vic could even openthe door, Roger was already disengaging the brakes on hiswheelchair. “That’s my girl, Jen. What do you think? Hot ornot?”
“She’s cute,” Vic admitted. He didn’t addthat she wasn’t his type.
As he initiated the wheelchair lift, shestepped back, but the moment she saw Roger, she shrieked like ateenage fan girl at a Hannah Montana concert. “Roger! Hey,baby!”
From the back of the bus came an annoyedsigh. “These damn wheelchair lifts,” Mr. Business Suit groused.“They take forever and I’m already running late. Can’t theyban these things during rush hour?”
A sudden cracking came from the bus’ssteering wheel, where Vic’s hands crushed it in anger. Here’s wherethat electronic power would be handy again—he’d jerry-rig the liftto fail and then they wouldn’t be able to finish the route beforeit was fixed. Vic tried to catch Roger’s eye, but theex-serviceman, who had obviously overheard the remark, busiedhimself with his fingerless gloves and ignored the world at large.But Vic could see by the muscle bunched in Roger’s jaw how thecomment bothered him. Channeling his own anger toward thebusinessman, Vic again spoke directly into the man’s head, thistime opening his thoughts to include Roger, as well. ::Arrogantasshole.::
Very few people knew of his telepathicability. When confronted with his thoughts in theirs, most assumedhis voice was just an extension of their own conscience. Someignored it, some heeded it, but rarely did they think he actuallyspoke to them mentally. They simply didn’t have the imagination toconsider it a possibility. Outside the handful of people who knewhis powers, only children seemed to believe in them when theymanifested.
This businessman was no exception. He laughedout loud, a fake, uneasy chuckle as if to show his comment aboutthe wheelchair lift had been in jest. Only problem was, Vic didn’tfind it funny. And it was his damn bus.
Once Roger was safely on the sidewalk, Jenthrew herself in his lap, hugging and kissing in an obscene displayof affection that dislodged her umbrella and got both of themsoaked. Roger’s brooding look was gone, replaced with a quick laughas Jen snuggled against him. Seeing them made Vic think of his ownlover, Matt, whose warm body he felt pressed to his whenever heclosed his eyes. Before heading out for work that morning, Matt hadcrawled into bed beside Vic and cuddled with him through theblankets for a couple minutes, capping the moment off with alingering kiss Vic could still taste.
Vic’s thoughts were rudely brought back tothe present when he closed the door and pulled into traffic only tohear his remaining passenger mutter, “Finally.”
The steering wheel groaned in protest. Vicrelaxed his hands, opening them—his boss had warned him the nextone he broke would come out of his pay. But God, he hatedassholes.
As he headed downtown, the only sound insidethe bus was the businessman’s obnoxious voice. Before long, Vicgripped the steering wheel again, this time to keep from rippingthat damn Bluetooth off the guy’s ear. He wouldn’t be sorry to seethis fare go—as it was, he couldn’t drive fast enough to thebus stop where the man would exit. Vic should’ve said something forthat comment about Roger, though. Sure, he was at work, and yeah,it could get him reprimanded, but he should have spoken up. His ownsilence seemed like compliance or, worse, agreement, and thatrankled more than the businessman’s laugh ever could.
Then the rain picked up, and a deviousthought slipped into the undercurrent of Vic’s mind, as sinuous asa snake. Vic knew where the businessman wanted to exit—a quickbrush over the guy’s thoughts showed a high-rise building at Broadand Second. In that busy part of the city, bus stops littered thestreet every other block. Though no one waited at the stop twoahead of the one outside the businessman’s office, Vic slowed andpulled over to the curb.
At first his fare didn’t notice. But when Vicopened the door and engaged the brake, letting the bus idle, thebusinessman cleared his throat to call out, “Everything allright?”
Vic suppressed a smirk. “Going a bit fast, isall. I have to sit here until the schedule catches up with me.”
Confusion flickered across the man’s face.“What?”
“Have to wait a few minutes.” Vic
