Black leather framed with dark armor, head to toe, from the combat boots the whole way up to the oversized black hood with a metal mask covering part of the face, rendering him unrecognizable.
I’ve always been envious of the costume.
Beats the damn pseudo-spandex, that’s for sure.
“I, uh, wow.” Kennedy stands in the doorway of her apartment with a look of awe as her eyes scan the costume. “That’s just… wow.”
“Wow, huh?” I glance down. “Good or bad?”
“It’s just, uh, you know…”
“Wow?” I guess.
She nods, fighting off a smile. “Wow.”
I smirk. “It’s the original.”
“Seriously?”
“Straight from the second movie,” I say, touching an armored chest plate with a fingerless glove-clad hand. “Well, except for these gloves. The real ones wouldn’t fit because of the cast, so I had to improvise.”
“It’s, uh…”
“Wow?”
“Nice,” she says, touching the costume, fingertips grazing the armor. “Kind of weird seeing you like this, but still, it’s nice.”
“Thanks,” I say as she steps aside for me to come in the apartment. “I talked them into letting me borrow it. Might not give it back, though. I’m kind of enjoying it.”
“You should keep it,” she says, her eyes still scanning me as she closes the door. “It’s, uh…”
“Nice?”
“Wow.” She smiles playfully as she walks away. “I need to finish getting ready for work. Maddie, you've got a visitor!”
A moment after Kennedy disappears, Madison runs in. She skids to a stop when she spots me, eyes wide, mouth popping open. “Whoa.”
I push the hood off, shoving the mask up, her expression changing when she sees it’s me, face lighting up. She runs right at me, slamming into me so hard I stumble.
I laugh as she hugs me. “Hey, pretty girl.”
She looks up at me. “You think I’m pretty?”
“What? Of course.” I kneel next to her, grinning as I press a finger to the tip of her nose. “You look like your mom.”
“You think Mommy’s pretty, too?”
“I think she's the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Her expression shifts rapidly when I say that before her eyes widen. “Even more beautifuler than Maryanne?”
I lean closer, whispering, repeating her words. “Even more beautifuler than Maryanne.”
“Whoa.”
Smiling, I hold a bag out to her. “I brought you something. Thought maybe you’d want to wear it today.”
She grabs it, not hesitating as she yanks everything out, gasping. She discards the empty bag as she runs off to her bedroom, nearly slamming into Kennedy in the hallway.
“Careful,” Kennedy says. “Where are you running off to?”
“No time, Mommy! Gotta get ready!”
“Well, then.” Kennedy stares at her until she disappears, before turning to me as she runs her fingers through her hair, pulling it up. “You sure you can handle this?”
“I deal with vultures from Hollywood Chronicles,” I say. “I can handle whatever she throws at me.”
Kennedy doesn’t look convinced. “I heard you caught an assault charge two years ago from punching one of them.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“The front of Hollywood Chronicles.”
I shake my head. “Those charges were dropped.”
“Because you were innocent?”
“More like they were just as guilty.”
Kennedy rolls her eyes but doesn’t have the chance to say anything. Footsteps run our direction, an excited voice screeching, “Ta-da!”
Madison stands there, grinning wildly, clad in the little white and blue getup—a Breezeo costume. They’re bringing them out for Halloween but I managed to snag one early.
“Wow, look at you!” Kennedy says, smoothing Madison’s hair. “Prettiest Breezeo I’ve ever seen.”
“Jonathan thinks I’m pretty, too!” she says, smiling at her mother. “He told me so!”
“Did he?” Kennedy asks. “Smart man.”
“And you, too,” she says. “He says you’re the beautifulest woman in all the world.”
Damn. She ratted me out.
Kennedy seems taken aback.
“Well, that was nice of him,” Kennedy says. “I have to get going. You have fun, okay? And be good.”
“I will.”
She kisses the top of Madison’s head. “Love you more than Saturday mornings.”
“Love you, too,” Madison says, “more than even costumes and them other things.”
Madison grabs my hand.
“I’ll bring her back tonight,” I say, “fingers and toes still attached.”
Kennedy won’t look at me. I can tell she’s anxious, so I don’t linger, leading Madison outside. The town car is idling in the parking lot, the driver leaning against it as he waits. He smiles when we approach and opens the back door, but Madison drags her feet.
“Is he your friend?” she asks, looking at me.
“Why?”
“Grandpa says not to get in cars with strangers.”
“Oh, yeah, I know him,” I say. “He’s safe.”
She climbs into the car, and I buckle her into a booster seat as I sit beside her. As the car pulls away, I see Kennedy watching us from the front door of the apartment.
Madison chatters the entire drive to the convention center, telling stories, and I listen dutifully. She’s bursting with excitement by the time we arrive, but I’m somewhere on edge. While I was promised discretion, confidentiality agreements tossed around like candy at a parade, I know things don’t always go according to plan.
The car takes us straight to the back entrance, past the awaiting crowds. A woman meets us in an attached garage, one of the event coordinators, along with a small security detail. She smiles when we get out of the car. “Mr. Cunning! And Miss, uh…”
Madison grins. “Maddie!”
“Miss Maddie,” the woman says. “I’m so honored you could join us. My name is…”
Blah. Blah. Blah.
She launches into the spiel. It’s expected. Always happens. I vaguely listen as she babbles on about the company’s history, their record-breaking turnouts, laying the groundwork for me signing onto something in the future. Madison grows impatient and starts fidgeting, so I hurry the woman along, getting our wristbands for admission like everyone else so we can blend into the crowd.
“Security will be posted all around,” she says. “They’ll be keeping a lookout, of course, but should you need any help, don’t be afraid to ask.”
The woman leaves, and security takes us up a private elevator, straight to the main floor, letting us out inside the hall. The crowd is streaming through, rushing to get wherever they’re going.
Panels. Trivia. Shopping. Autographs. The room is filled with booths, with comics, with artists, with writers and actors and cosplayers... the whole shebang. This isn’t my first convention, you know, but usually I’m the one people line up for.
“So, whatcha wanna do?” I ask Madison. “It’s up to you.”
She clings to my hand, staring at it all with wide eyes. “Everything.”
Everything. I laugh. “We can do that.”
We start small, just walking around, taking in what we can see. Maddie’s in awe, gawking at everyone in costume, and I think she might be intimidated by the crowd, but it doesn’t take her long to warm up to things. I steer her away from autographs, since a lot of those people actually know me. She drags me from booth to booth, from table to table, excitedly announcing everything she sees, not lingering any one place long enough for me to buy anything.
“Whoa,” she says, coming to a halt in front of one of those standees, a cardboard cutout of yours truly. “Look, Daddy! It’s you!”
Daddy. Crazy shit goes down in my chest when she calls me that. It’s the first time I’ve heard her say it. I blink at her, so astounded, so enamored, that it isn’t until she repeats herself and people look her direction that I realize what she’s saying.