Mr. Jones
Michelle stared at the letter, trying to figure out who sent it. “Mr. Jones” was a transparent pseudonym.
Was Juliette right? Was this whole thing designed to marginalize her? And why target Joey? Joey helped the people who needed it who lived on the fringes of New Orleans society—why would anyone want to shut that down? Sure, some of them were grifters and other shady types, but some were homeless people who just needed looking after.
And me, Michelle thought. What the hell? I’m not affiliated with any agency anymore. I don’t try any of that vigilante bullshit. Why would anyone even care?
“Michelle!” Joey said as she came running down the hall. “My children! I can fucking see them again!” She danced gleefully around Michelle, then glanced outside. “Why is that body on the porch?” The body sat up as Joey possessed it.
Michelle held the letter out to Joey, who took it and read it quickly.
“Is this Mr. Jones the motherfucker who’s been taking my power?” Joey was jumping from one leg to another as if she’d been hitting the Red Bull hard all day.
“I’m not sure,” Michelle said. “He could just be an errand boy. There’s no way of knowing. My guess is that they’re going to do something again—I just don’t know why they’re going after you.” She looked at Joey and didn’t like what she saw.
Joey’s eyes were wide, and she was jittery as hell. Losing her power wasn’t just making her nervous—it was making her angry, too.
“Joey,” Michelle said. “I know losing your power is horrible, but you told me when we were in the PPA that knowing where all the nearby dead bodies were all the time made you kinda crazy. Wasn’t it a little bit of a relief when it went away?”
Hands shaking, Joey gave the letter back to Michelle. “No, yes, no,” she said. “In the PPA there were so many bodies. And so many of them were dead children. You remember, Bubbles. And at first, when my powers vanished, I was just me. And that was nice. But then I started remembering how it was before I turned into Hoodoo Mama …” Her voice trailed off.
Michelle frowned as she closed the door. “I don’t know what to do. It’s clear they want me to stay the hell out of the public eye, and they’re willing to fu … mess with you to get me to do it. Maybe I should reach out to someone from the Committee.”
“No!” Joey exclaimed. “No! I don’t want anyone to know this is happening. What if they take my powers away forever? Jesus, Bubbles, what the fuck would I do then?” Her face began to crumple as if she was about to cry, and then a furious expression replaced it. “And, Bubbles, I want the fucker who’s been yanking my power. This Mr. Jones motherfucking turd prick-ass bastard is going to pay.”
“I’d like nothing more than to see him pay, too,” Michelle said. She needed Joey to remember what had happened when her powers were taken. That was the most important thing right now. “This time was like the last time, right?”
Joey nodded, but she was still shaking.
“So,” Michelle said. “They grab your power, use it, and then you get it back?”
“Yeah.”
“Then my guess is they can’t keep it. Otherwise, they’d just grab both our powers and be done with it. That’s what I’d do. And you were out both times they took your powers, so maybe there needs to be line of sight, or proximity?”
Joey nodded and looked relieved. “I’m glad you’re here, Bubbles,” she said, with just a hint of a smile. “I mean, you know I still think you’re a cocksucking bitch, right?”
“Well,” Michelle replied. “You got that half right.”
“Let’s see what the Pumpkin wants for breakfast,” Joey said as they went into the living room.
“Unless it’s beer and bourbon,” Michelle replied, “we’ve got to make a grocery run.”
“You go make the run,” Joey said. “I’ll be okay here for that long. But I’m pretty sure I heard her saying she loooves bourbon for breakfast. Girl after my own heart.”
Momma and Aunt Joey were laughing. Adesina felt the knot in her stomach loosen a little—until they came into the room. Then it was clear to her that they were putting a nice face on things. She didn’t need to slip into their minds to know that.
There was a smile on Momma’s face, but it wasn’t one of her real smiles. And Aunt Joey was smiling, too, but Adesina could see the ghosts in her eyes.
“You up for some breakfast?” Momma asked as she sat on the couch next to Adesina.
“Your mom says you’re not down with bourbon for breakfast,” Aunt Joey put in. “I keep telling her you’re my homegirl, but she doesn’t believe me.”
Adesina made her sincere face. “I’d love bourbon for breakfast, Momma.”
“Okay,” Momma replied. “But I’m going to pour it over your cereal. Yum.”
“Gah,” Adesina said. Once she’d been very bad and snuck a taste of Aunt Joey’s bourbon. It was disgusting. “I want French toast.”
“I’ll go to the market,” Michelle said as she leaned over and kissed the top of Adesina’s head.
“Be careful, Bubbles. They could grab your power,” Joey said. She bent down to tie the laces of her ratty Converse sneakers. Her hands shook as she did so. “It was bad when they took my power. It’d be much fucking worse if they got yours.”
Momma shrugged. “I’ve been out in public and they could’ve already gotten my powers. So I don’t think they’re interested in it, Joey.” She leaned over and kissed Adesina. “Don’t let Aunt Joey do anything stupid like go out of the house, sweetie.”
“I won’t, Momma,” Adesina replied.
Dan rubbed his face. He’d been about to explode when he’d had Hoodoo Momma’s power. Even after using it, he was still jittery as hell. But maybe that was because he was stuck in a van with Mr. Jones and the creepily silent driver.
“Uhm, can you drop me back at my house?” he asked as he fidgeted in his seat.
“Yes, Dan, we will drop you off at your house,” Mr. Jones said with barely concealed distaste. “I’m very disappointed in you, Dan. These things need to be timed properly and you didn’t do your part.”
A cold, slippery feeling slid into Dan’s gut. “Uh, I know,” he replied. “It’s like I told you. I’ve never grabbed a big Ace power twice. And I didn’t know it would be so weird the second time. I just don’t know what happened. I’m sure it was nothing.”
Mr. Jones didn’t reply. Dan rubbed his palms on his pants. A silent Mr. Jones was worse than a talking one.
He decided that the next time Mr. Jones wanted him for anything, he’d just say no. It’d never occurred to him that there might be limitations on what he could do, or that yanking a big power more than once might have blowback. He needed to figure out what the real parameters of his ability were. And there was no way Mr. Jones was interested in helping him with that. Mr. Jones was interested in whatever weird-ass mind-fuck shit he was up to. And nothing else.
The van slowed in front of Dan’s house. Dan was reaching for the door handle before it came to a stop. But before he could open the door, Mr. Jones’s hand was clasped hard around his wrist.
“Just a moment, Dan,” he said. “I forgot to give you your pay.” He held out a fat manila envelope.
For a fleeting moment, Dan thought about turning it down. But then he took it.
“I’ll be in touch,” Mr. Jones said.
Dan nodded. What he wanted to say was “Fuck no, you crazy prick. I’d rather eat ground glass than deal with you again.”
And it wasn’t until he got to the front door that he realized Mr. Jones had no wild card abilities in him at all.
I’m not afraid, Michelle thought. Well, not much anyway. The streets were still pretty empty despite the fact that it was Mardi Gras. She went into the local corner store and began grabbing what she needed to make French toast.
“Hey, you’re the Amazing Bubbles, aren’t you?”
Michelle looked up and saw a young girl. She was maybe sixteen with hair dyed black, black clothes, black Doc Martens, and a wealth of silver studded and spiked jewelry. A pale face with heavy black eyeliner and crimson lips completed the look. Michelle wondered how she hadn’t sweated through everything, including the heavy Pan-Cake makeup.
“Yeah,” she replied. “I am.” She dropped a loaf of bread into her basket and started to the dairy section. The girl followed.
“I thought what you did at the parade was awesome,” the girl said. “I mean, you were really great.”
Eggs, half-and-half, and butter went into Michelle’s basket. “Thanks,” she said as she walked to the produce section. “Just doing what I can.”
What if this is the wild card who can grab powers? Michelle thought. What kind of sick asshole would send a girl after me? But then she realized that if this was the wild card who’d grabbed Joey’s power, she would be just as helpless as Joey had been.
“Well,” the girl said, “I just wanted you to know I really admire you. You’ve been my favorite wild card since American Hero.”
Michelle smiled at the girl. If they were going to grab her power, they would be doing it soon. “Would you like an autograph?” she asked.
“Oh, I couldn’t ask for that,” the girl said. “But would you mind a picture of us together?” She held up her phone.
“Sure,” Michelle replied. Michelle put her arm around the girl and smiled as the picture was snapped. “And what’s your name?”
“Dorothy,” the girl said as she looked at the image. “Hey, this came out amazing.”
Michelle laughed. “Well, I am a professional. Or I was.”
“Hey, thanks,” Dorothy said. “Uhm, I just want you to know I don’t think you’re a lousy mother. I don’t care what anyone is saying.”
Michelle tried to keep her expression neutral, but she was irritated. And then she reminded herself that this was the way it was. You become famous, and you give up part of yourself. And Michelle knew she was lucky. Even with all the weird crap in her life, she could pay the bills and give herself and Adesina a decent life. So she made herself smile brightly and say, “I really appreciate that, Dorothy. It was nice to meet you.”
“Mr. Jones would like to see you and Joey Hebert in two days, nine in the morning, at Jackson Square,” Dorothy said. “He thinks it’s time for you to meet in person.” She gave Michelle a bright smile, then vanished.
For a moment, Michelle just stared at the spot where Dorothy had been. Yeah, I was not expecting that, she thought. Then she went and grabbed a bottle of vanilla extract. It was going to be one of those lives.
Joey was washing the breakfast dishes while Michelle dried. It was nice. Nice and normal, and that made Joey mad. She didn’t know why. But she knew it wasn’t the way she should be feeling.
After they’d finished eating, Michelle had asked for a couple of Joey’s zombies to knock her around and fatten her up. It took a while, but eventually Michelle stopped looking like a horrific thinspiration photo and was pleasantly plump. Joey thought Michelle looked especially pretty when she was plump. Joey liked her girls curvy.
Then they’d come back inside and started cleaning up the kitchen. Adesina was flopped on the couch, playing her game, so Joey didn’t bother to have her help. Sure, her mother might have said they were spoiling the child, but Joey didn’t see it that way.
“I had another message from Mr. Jones,” Michelle said softly while wiping a dish.
Joey looked over her shoulder to see if Adesina had heard. But she was still engrossed in her game. “What the fuck did he want?”
“He wants us to meet him in Jackson Square day after tomorrow morning at nine,” Michelle replied. “Oh, and the messenger was a sixteen-year-old girl who can teleport.”
“We’re not going to go, right?” Joey asked. “That would be fucking insane.” Joey wanted to hit something. Hard.
“I’m going,” Michelle whispered. She kept drying dishes as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do while talking about some thug who wanted to steal your powers. “It’s the only real choice we have. Unless you want to go underground, leave your home, and assume a new identity. Avoiding these people—whoever they are—just gives them power over you.”
“But they’ve already got power over us, Michelle,” Joey hissed, soapy water splashing on the floor as she angrily dumped the frying pan into it. “In case you’ve forgotten, they’ve yanked my power twice. Maybe they’ll yank yours next.”