“Hey,” he said as I sat down. “That was fast.”
“Huh?” I muttered, not sure what he was talking about. The mission, maybe?
“Never mind – I forgot who I was talking to,” he stated with a self-deprecating shake of his head. “Anyway, here you go.”
He pushed something across the table towards me – a bottle of soda. Now that my attention was drawn in that direction, I noticed that he had one as well.
“Good timing,” I acknowledged, before taking a quick drink of soda.
Smokey gave me an odd look and for a moment, I sensed confusion coming from him. However, it vanished a moment later as he leaned in.
“So,” he said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone, “can you tell me about the mission now?”
“Uh, sure,” I answered. His phrasing struck me as a little odd, but I quickly forgot about it as I telepathically reached out and gave him a quick overview of events.
Although technically a telepath, I consider my abilities in that arena to be limited. While I can broadcast my own thoughts, I can only pick up the surface thoughts of others and anything they willingly want to share. True mindreading – being able to burrow into someone’s brain and ferret out information – is not really one of my gifts.
That said, telepathic communication occurs much faster than actual speech, so it only took a few seconds to bring Smokey up to speed. Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have been discussing the mission at all. It was classified, and I hadn’t been debriefed yet. However, due to our playing a significant role in saving the planet a few times in the past, several of us teen supers – including myself, Smokey, and my girlfriend, Electra – had been given special clearances. Thus I wasn’t violating any rules by talking to him about the Dream Machine mission. (To be honest, he was probably the only teen in the lounge who even knew about it.)
“Well,” Smokey said when I concluded, “sounds like you learned a lesson.”
I nodded. “Yeah – stay out of subway tunnels.”
Smokey grinned. “I was thinking more along the lines of keeping your eye on the ball.”
“That, too,” I said noncommittally. “But trust me, I’ll stay totally focused from now on.”
Smokey gave me a skeptical look. “Totally focused, eh?”
“Completely, from this point forward. Nothing will get by me.”
“Then in that case, you already know you’ve got inbound at eleven o’clock.”
“What?” I mumbled, frowning.
With a sly grin, Smokey subtly tilted his head towards the main area of the lounge. Looking in the direction indicated, I didn’t notice anything initially, but then drew in a sharp breath as I realized what Smokey was trying to draw my attention to – or rather, who.
Vestibule.
Chapter 4
Vestibule was one of those people for whom life had seemingly pulled out all the stops. Born into a family of blue bloods, she’d known almost nothing but wealth and privilege her entire life. Moreover, she’d been blessed with classical beauty and an eye-popping figure, which she had parlayed into a successful modeling career. Last but not least, she had the rare ability of teleportation – a talent that had earned her a spot with the teen affiliate of the A-List Supers, who operated on the West Coast and were typically considered to rank second only to the Alpha League in terms of power and prestige.
Upon seeing her, I let out a slight groan of irritation that caused Smokey’s grin to widen. Vestibule’s presence was not something I wanted to deal with at the moment, but it should have been expected.
In the not-too-distant past, we had needed Vestibule’s help to save the planet. Her assistance, however, had come with a price attached: a date with me. But as luck would have it, I had been summoned to my grandmother’s homeworld before fulfilling that commitment. During my absence, however, Vestibule had apparently come by the lounge regularly looking for me. (Only a handful of people were aware of the fact that I was off-planet at the time, and she was not in the know.) Thus, the fact that she was here now shouldn’t have been a surprise.
For a brief moment, I contemplated teleporting away (anywhere else would have been preferable), but then she caught sight of us and the opportunity was lost. A moment later, she was headed in our direction.
She was dressed in a form-fitting, white-and-gray mini dress that was just long enough to reach an area that could – if one were feeling generous – be classified as her thigh. She also wore matching boots that came up just above the knee, and an unusual shade of metallic lipstick that would have looked odd on anyone else but suited her perfectly.
She strutted towards our table like she was on the runway, effortlessly drawing the attention of almost everyone present. (All the males, anyway.) She certainly knew how to work a room. Seeing her approach, Smokey began to rise from his seat, preparing to excuse himself on some pretext. I told him to stay put; he stared at me for a second, then sat back down.
When she reached our table, she took a seat without waiting for an invitation, then graced me with a smile that probably made most guys euphoric.
“Face-to-face at last,” she said, eyes twinkling as she leaned back and crossed her legs. “You’re a hard guy to catch up with, Kid Sensation – even for a teleporter like me.”
“I typically go by ‘Jim,’” I stated flatly. “And for the record, we’ve been face-to-face before, but you blew me off.”
“That was on a previous occasion when I didn’t know who you were,” she clarified,
