Page 2 of Secret Spark
“Catch absorbs energy, so she doesn’t cause too much damage,” Sadie pointed out.
“Yes, she does.” Amit shook his head. “They all do.”
She bit back a retort in defense of her heroes. Particularly Catch. “It’s not the Supers we have to worry about. It’s the Villains. The ones who shoot fire and ice and mess with your head.”
Amit harrumphed and got on the phone. Sadie headed to the utility closet. There had been wind and electricity outside—most likely the work of Breeze and Volt. Which meant Hide could be lurking about. Hard to tell with someone who got all invisible. The Villains loved sneaky diversions.
Then again, they were led by Trick, a dude who did mind control. One guy she hoped to never cross paths with. Liars were the worst. Manipulative liars were the worst of the worst. A fact she knew all too well.
Sadie carried two brooms and dustpans over to the mess. She’d only have to do a thorough cleaning of three tables and a few chairs. Their tempered glass shattered mostly downward in compliance with city building regulations. At least staying late would mean extra money in her savings account.
A twentysomething white guy stopped in front of the gaping hole to snap a photo, then went on his way.
The bank across the street had probably been the target. It was one of those “private banks” that catered to a select clientele. Her meager savings account didn’t meet their minimum requirements, so at least her money was safe.
Amit ended his phone call with the board-up company. He grabbed a nearby garbage can and dragged it over. “There’s a reason we don’t have tables along this wall. Can you imagine how much our liability insurance would go up if someone got hurt by these jerks?”
“It could’ve been worse,” Sadie said.
“‘Protectors of the city,’ my ass. What’d be nice is if they weren’t destroying the city they’re supposed to be protecting. Why don’t they protect our insurance rates by watching where they’re going?”
“We can file a claim through the SuperWatch app.”
“Why bother? Nobody ever sees a payout.”
“Villains don’t care what they destroy,” Sadie said. “The Supers have to meet them where they’re at.”
“Can we do an exchange program with a different city? We get their Supers while they take ours?”
“Every city has similar problems.”
“My brother lives in Oceanview,” said Amit. “They don’t have nearly as many mishaps. Their Supers take it to the sky and over the water.”
“They’re coastal,” Sadie reminded him. “We’ve only got the river, and it’s lined with skyscrapers.”
“Over in Destine, they set up a fund to help with repair costs.”
“That was after the big robotic sidekick fiasco. And their taxes went sky high.”
Amit went on about dreading his phone call with Vector City Coffee’s owner. Sadie tipped a chair to the side. Bits of glass tinkled off the seat. What if something like this happened to the comfy couches in her dream café? Would the insurance rates be better if she leased space in a smaller building in a more residential area?
Reality sank low in her gut. One of the major obstacles to opening her café was insurance rates. They were cost-prohibitive. And what if disaster struck and she didn’t have a financial cushion for those couch cushions? And the paperwork involved, and having the proper building materials…
Superheroes and Supervillains played out their good guy/bad guy battles while regular people tried to do their jobs and go about their lives.
Still, the tradeoff was having crooked criminals running rampant through the city. High premiums and replacing the occasional window were better than the bad guys winning.
Another fact she knew all too well.
* * *
It was after midnight by the time Sadie got home. She swiped her keycard at her building’s main entrance. The blue-accented lobby was empty and quiet. She plodded on weary feet to the alcove of mailboxes. Okay, maybe itwasthe shoes, though she hated blaming them.
Her slim mailbox held a coupon for a nearby Mexican restaurant. Ooh, good junk mail for a change. She double-checked in case there was a newsletter from one of her favorite animal rescue groups hiding in the back. Or on the extremely unlikely off-chance one of the several exes who were “totally gonna pay her back” had made good on an empty promise with cash or an old-school check. That would probably bounce.
She headed out toward the elevators. A voluminous yawn overtook her face, which she didn’t bother covering. Her eyes got all squinty and she squeaked out a whoosh of breath.
Then she blinked and noticed someone waiting for an elevator.