Author's Note: As usual, reviews are always appreciated!
Shawn sighed, watching with detached distaste as his breath plumed out in front of him in the chilled Chicago air. He wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to say yes to Crazy Jimmy's offer to accompany him and a gaggle of his groupie friends to Navy Pier, but he had and since Jimmy was his ride he was stuck right where he was, like it or not.
It wasn't that he didn't like Crazy Jimmy. Shawn was hard pressed to find someone he didn't at least get along with, unless one counted his father, which he didn't. Jimmy was a co-worker at the local pizzeria Shawn was currently employed at and had the difficult task of doing as little work as possible down to an art form. Mike Sanders, the owner of the joint, never fired the kid because he said that when he had the inclination Jimmy could work like a bat out of hell and, besides, he was funny. And making Mike Sanders laugh was equivalent to a sacrifice to the gods in their little haven of marinara sauce and pizza crust.
Crazy Jimmy wasn't crazy, either. He was the lead singer of a band called Crazy Jimmy and the Muskrats, though if you asked him he would have no idea where the name had originated. He shrugged it off to a few too many beers and the best bowl of Mary Jane he'd ever smoked. The nickname, Crazy Jimmy, had followed shortly after and had stuck to him like glue. Shawn had heard him play once or twice in little dive bars around the city and found, to his great surprise, that Jimmy wasn't half bad. He had the gravely voice that many rock singers coveted and if he lost the two pubescent back up singers and worked on his finger work with the guitar he might make something of himself.
Girls followed Jimmy around like he was the Adonis of the modern world. Shawn suspected the soft, silky brown hair down to his waist and well-muscled arms covered in tattoos had something to do with it. He had a pleasant, open face and was tall with broad shoulders and whether or not he would actually grace the walls of the Rock Hall of Fame he acted like he had. His stage presence was something to be admired and Shawn, who knew a thing or two about how to make people pay attention to him, was impressed.
Still, following along behind Jimmy and his fishnet clad girlfriends was not what Shawn had in mind for his evening. He had planned to call Gus that night and order in a heaping pile of dumplings, rice, and sweet and sour pork from the Chinese restaurant down the street from his apartment that also offered a strange assortment of unidentified meats that Shawn still hadn't worked up the courage to try. Perhaps they would have watched the movie Jaws, Gus in California and he in Chicago, their cell phones left on speakerphone so they could chat during the movie.
Watching Jaws in the month of October was a tradition dating back to their childhood. They had snuck the movie from Henry's collection of VHS cassettes labeled OFF-LIMITS…THAT MEANS YOU SHAWN! in big block letters. The moment the film had started, camera zooming in underwater as if from the eyes of the behemoth shark, Gus had his face half-hidden beneath the blankets so that he could cover his eyes at a moments notice. Shawn, on the other hand, delighted in every blood-curdling scream and flash of fin, as any ten-year old boy was inclined to do.
They might have gotten away with their midnight treachery, but Gus's sudden terror of water deeper than his ankles sent suspicion sweeping through Henry in a flood of fatherly intuition. After assigning Shawn some mundane task like sweeping off the patio, Henry had sat Gus down in what Shawn called 'The Hot Seat' in hushed and reverent tones. He'd been through many interrogations in that chair and, if Shawn were to be believed, his father had put him through countless unspeakable tortures while he'd sat there strapped down and unable to move. Of course, Henry had never done any such thing but a mind like Shawn's was not to be discouraged from dramatizing any situation to the point of outrageousness.
At age ten, however, Gus was inclined to believe anything Shawn told him and though he'd also been through an interrogation or two his thoughts always raced to the water boarding torture he'd read about in one of his history books. He broke, almost instantly, and Shawn was grounded for two weeks.
Now, as adults, they watched the film for tradition's sake more than anything else. Though Shawn still felt the primal chill of fear whisper down his spine during the first ten minutes of the movie. There was something unquestioningly terrifying about being dragged down into the depths by some unseen assailant.
"Shawn," Jimmy called, pulling the young Californian from his thoughts. "Dude, you're lollygagging. What gives?"
"Sorry," he called. "I got sidetracked by the cotton candy booth. They've got the green kind, Jimmy. I can't say no to the green kind."
"I hate the green kind," one girl said, pouting her rouge colored lips and putting a possessive hand around Jimmy's bicep.
He shook her off and she looked hurt, but didn't say anything. The young rock god walked to his side and looked down at him with surprisingly intelligent eyes. He looked comfortable in his jeans filled with fashionable tears and holes and his thin leather jacket. Shawn felt like he was turning into an icicle.
"You alright?" Jimmy asked. "You seem a little off tonight, buddy."
"Naw," Shawn denied. "Just not used to being this far north. It's cold out here, dude."
Jimmy looked at his large coat dubiously and snorted. "I'm pretty sure an entire polar bear went into making your jacket, man. WWF and PETA would be having a holy shit fit if they saw you in that thing."
"I'm from California," Shawn grumped. "Home of the year round bikini babe and street names like Sunnyside Ave. and Balmy Blvd. We don't get cold like this."
"We can go if you want," Jimmy offered, tone making it very clear that leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. "I can drop you off by your place and come back later."
"No way," Shawn said, glancing at Rouge Girl who was looking at him in distaste. "Your girlfriends might cause a riot while you're gone, man. I'd hate to be the cause of all that chaos."
"Sure you would," Jimmy snorted. "Look, let me take Jenna on the merry-go-round and then we can settle down for the fireworks, alright? Then we'll go."
"Alright," Shawn agreed amiably. "I think I'll play a couple of the games. Too much spinning either makes me puke or turns me into the Tazmanian Devil. Neither options are great fun."
"Those things are rigged," Jimmy warned, but Shawn smiled.
"Trust me," he said. "They can't get away with that with me."
"What?" Jimmy asked playfully. "Are you some kind of psychic?"
"Something like that," Shawn laughed.
"Prove it," Jimmy said, raising his eyebrows.
Shawn glanced at him, eyes darting over his muscled frame with precision born from years of training. He could hear his father's commanding bass tones ordering him to pay attention to the tiniest of details. In some ways, Shawn could never truly escape Henry. He was always in the back of his mind and Shawn grit his teeth against the sudden onslaught of fury that swept through him.
"Those sneakers you are wearing," Shawn said absently. "You've had them since you were in high school. They were given to you by someone you loved, your mom perhaps? You were burnt by something around the age of ten. I am going to guess and say it was a firecracker, but I could be wrong on that. You have at least one fish along with the two dogs. Oh, and you aren't in the least bit interested in Jenna. I'm guessing she's one of your friend's sisters or something that you are just trying to be nice to."
Jimmy looked at Shawn in pure shock, his mouth dropped open and his eyes wide in disbelief. Shawn waited patiently for him to say something, a small knowing smile quirked on his lips.
"Shit," Jimmy finally breathed. "Dude, that was amazing. How did you know all that?"
"A magician never explains his tricks," Shawn replied with an apologetic shrug.
"You aren't a magician," Jimmy reasoned. "You're a psychic."
"I've heard it both ways."
"Jimmy," Jenna, the girl with the rouge lips, called. "Are you coming? Meghan and I want to go on the merry-go-round."
"Go on," Shawn said, flipping his head towards them. "You're fans are waiting."
"This isn't over," Jimmy whispered in awe. "Later? We'll talk about it?"
"Sure," Shawn agreed. "Later, dude."
Jimmy backed away from him, expression pondering and thoughtful. He turned on his heels inches before he ran into the two girls accompanying him and wrapped his arms in theirs. He shot one last glance back at Shawn and grinned.
"Cool trick," he said finally. "Talk to you in a bit, dude."
Shawn raised his hand in a silent farewell and watched them meander out of sight. He turned with a sigh and made his way towards the midway watching as the ebb of people flowed around him. If Shawn wanted to he could instantly attain knowledge about each of them, some of it superficial and some of it damaging.
The man with the blue jeans holding on to the hand of a small girl with cotton candy smeared across her face was having an affair, smiling at his wife with the desperation of a caged animal. The old man running the Ferris wheel was a recovering alcoholic and if the way he fingered his last AA token was any indication he was strongly considering getting a drink after his shift. The teenage girl standing with a handsome young man as he patiently tried to win her a stuffed elephant on the ring toss had only recently discovered she was pregnant and judging by her expression was trying to decide how to tell the unsuspecting father.
These were intimate details of people's lives that Shawn had no business knowing, but did. Sometimes he wished there was an off switch to his abilities and that he could choose to turn them on only when needed.
He stopped his aimless walk and turned his attention on the games spread out along the midway, their scheming callers going about their nefarious business of luring in the unsuspecting public with word plays and false promises. Lights flashed and blurred in a mindless pattern and music tinkled from speakers set high above the crowd, creating a dreamscape of childlike innocence and magical possibilities.
Shawn heard the harsh pop of a balloon somewhere off to his right and he turned his head towards the sound. There was a small crowd of people near the Balloon Pop stand and Shawn made his way towards it, pulled by some unexplainable need to see who was at the center of it all.
"Two more balloons ladies and gentleman," the caller announced as Shawn made his way to the side. "Then the lovely lady gets her prize."
Shawn's eyes swept the crowd and landed on the woman in question, one eye shut tight and her lips pursed in concentration as she took aim. The woman was beautiful, sure enough. Dark auburn hair cut short framed her heart shaped face perfectly and her skin was the color of milk and honey, with a touch of natural blush on her cheeks. Her eyes were green and intelligent and her little pixie nose was quirked up slightly at the end, lending her face a playful, humorous quality. Her lithe frame was clad in casual blue jeans, white t-shirt, and tight fitting leather jacket that framed her curves flatteringly.
She was beautiful, true, but it wasn't her beauty that drew Shawn closer. It was her energy. Every eye was on her and she demanded attention without ever asking for it. She was a force of nature and Shawn knew he had to talk to her, to hear her voice say his name.
"Come on, Amy," a mousy woman standing beside her cheered. "You can do this! Show that sucker who is boss!"
"Shhh," the woman named Amy laughed. "I'm concentrating, Jess. That lion is mine."
Amy carefully took aim and threw the dart. Shawn watched it fly and measured the distance and the trajectory in which he threw it with his eyes. He knew instantly that she would hit it, but he still held his breath until he heard the satisfactory pop of exploding air.
"Yes," Jess cried, jumping up and down excitedly. "You got it!"
"Still one more," Amy replied with a small smile. "Then I've got it."
She took the last dart in her fingers, twisting it around and testing the weight. Shawn glanced at it and immediately saw the cheat. The point had been dulled and Shawn knew that if and when it touched the balloon it would merely glance off and plop to the frostbitten dirt with a disappointing thump. Amy would lose out on the stuffed lion she'd been working to win and the caller would walk away with a clear conscience and a few extra bucks. Not going to happen.
"Wait," Shawn called, seconds before she let the dart fly. "That's a bad dart."
The crowd turned towards him and he grinned, tucking his frozen fingers in his pockets. Amy was looking at him in confusion and her friend Jess was looking at him distrustfully.
"What the hell are you yapping about?" the caller snapped, jowls quivering in anger. "I ain't got no bad darts."
"I would check again," Shawn said easily. "The one she's about to throw isn't even sharp."
Amy looked down at her dart and her eyes widened in disbelief. She touched the tip of the dart with a manicured finger and when she pulled back she was staring at the caller with pursed lips.
"He's right," Amy said softly. "The thing would have bounced right off."
Whispers broke out in the small crowd standing around them and the caller glanced around uneasily. He knew he would lose business if he didn't play this situation off right and Shawn could tell he was trying to come up with a way to keep his losses to a minimum.
"Now, now," he said loudly. "I'm sure this was just a mistake, folks. I ain't a cheat, you know. I run a fair and clean game and always have, but I ain't perfect. Accidents happen."
"So I suppose you'll give her a new dart then," Jess said pointedly.
"Of course," the caller barked, pulling one from the pouch hanging on his apron and setting it in front of her. "There you are, miss."
Amy took the new dart in slender fingers and moved close to Shawn. She held it up in front of his face and smiled. She smelled like strawberries and it was all Shawn could do to not breath in deep.
"Take a look, Hawkeye," she said quietly. "Anything you see I should know about?"
Shawn smiled at her and took an obliging glance at the dart. He shook his head and she grinned, revealing straight white teeth pressed pleasantly against her plump lips.
"Good," she whispered. "Stick around for a minute, hero. I want a word with you."
Shawn suddenly felt very warm and he shivered deliciously in his jacket. Amy's lips quirked and she turned back to the board covered in overly cheery pink balloons and took aim once more. With a tiny cry she threw the dart with practiced precision and the balloon exploded outward sending tiny pieces of rubber shrapnel fluttering to the ground.
"Annnnd we have a winner," the caller shouted, pulling the white fuzzy lion from off the top rack. "Good game, little lady. Good game."
Amy took the white lion appreciatively and tucked it under one arm as Jess cheered and the crowd dispersed. She accepted the praise with a humble smile and a word of acknowledgment, but her eyes were focused on Shawn with a sort of intense curiosity.
"So," she said, eyes twinkling in the light of the midway. "Does my knight and shining armor have a name?"
"I have many names," Shawn replied seriously. "MC Hammer, The Masked Avenger, Sir Awesome, just to name a few. But, most people call me Shawn."
"Shawn," Amy laughed. "Hmmm…I like The Masked Avenger, but there's a problem."
"What's that," Shawn asked, smiling.
"You don't have a mask," she replied.
"Damn," Shawn said, frowning. "I must have left it in the Shawnmobile. I'm always doing that. Ricardo will be gloating as we speak."
"Ricardo?"
"My arch nemesis, of course. And my butler."
"You're arch nemesis is your butler? You are certainly the most puzzling super hero I have yet to come across, Mr. Avenger."
"Just Avenger, if you please," Shawn said playfully. "Mr. Avenger is my father. And no, my butler and my nemesis are both named Ricardo. They're identical twins, you see. One is good and the other is evil."
"Identical twins with the same name," Amy said with a snort of amusement. "Cruel parents…or really stupid ones."
"Actually," Shawn corrected. "It's pure genius, if you think about it. If they are both named Ricardo you don't have to worry about telling them apart. You address the right one every time because they have the same name."
"Ah," Amy said. "I see the genius in their plan now, Avenger. So, what exactly does a butler to a superhero do?"
"Cleans my spandex," Shawn said, pleased when Amy laughed. "You wouldn't believe how filthy they get when you're fighting the evils of humanity. We go through an entire container of super bleach every load."
"Super bleach," Amy repeated, eyebrow raised. "And what, may I ask, is that?"
"A combination of bleach and a secret ingredient," Shawn said with mock severity. "It's highly combustible, Miss—"
"Amy," she said, though Shawn already knew. "Can I know what this secret ingredient is?"
"I could tell you but I'd have to—"
"Kill me," Amy laughed. "Sure."
"Amy," Jess interrupted, smirking at the two of them with a knowing grin. "Caleb just called me. He's off work and he wants to get together. Will you be alright here by yourself?"
"Well," Amy said, eyeing Shawn with a small smile. "What do you say, Avenger? Keep me company tonight? I want to watch the fireworks."
"As long as the city doesn't need me I think we should be good," Shawn grinned.
"Oh," Amy nodded. "So, should I watch the skies for some kind of signal?"
"Yeah," Shawn replied. "Look for a Weinercar in the sky. That's my signal."
She laughed and Shawn felt the happy buzz of pleasure sweep through him. It had been a long time since he'd felt so giddy and he wondered if she felt the same. He waited patiently for her to say goodbye to Jess who watched him with the not quite trusting gaze of a best friend. Her concern didn't bother him because he knew that Gus would have done something similar if he'd been at Shawn's side, though Shawn would have stopped his questioning just short of the Crazy Test.
The Crazy Test had started Shawn's junior year in high school after he had dated a girl whose marbles ricocheted around in her head like bouncy balls thrown against a hard surface. Jill MacDougall seemed normal enough when Shawn had asked her out, but Shawn quickly learned that the calm waters on the surface belied the surging, seething chaos beneath. Stacy Henrickson had approached him the day after his date with Jill merely to request the use of his leather duster he'd worn as a Halloween costume the year previous for a prop in the play the senior class was putting on. Jill, however, saw her request as something more, perhaps a sneaky way of encroaching on her clearly marked territory, and had proceeded to tackle the senior girl, growling as she punched and bit with a sort of animal ferocity. Ever since that moment Gus had taken it upon himself to bludgeon any of Shawn's dates with a series of questions that began with how many cats is reasonable at one time and ending with how much a girl felt like stabbing someone on a scale of one to ten.
Jess finally left and Shawn was suddenly alone with the red haired vixen named Amy. She studied him beneath lowered lashes and he felt his mouth go dry. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? It had seemed so easy before, when they had been flushed from their victory over the caller and his dastardly scheme, but now that the initial glow had worn off all Shawn felt was his nerves sliding around in his belly like overcooked spaghetti noodles.
"I like the green kind," he blurted and she blinked.
"What?"
"Sorry," Shawn said, wincing. "I meant I like green cotton candy. I saw a stand a little ways back. Do you want some?"
"Am I allowed to pick my own color?" she asked playfully. "Or am I limited to green?"
Shawn grinned gratefully, pleased that she had chosen to overlook his nervous outburst with all the grace and humility of a queen. He motioned for her to walk beside him and, as they paid for their cotton candy and made their way down to the dock to watch the fireworks he found that talking to her was as easy as breathing.
She was everything he'd hoped she would be and as the first bloom of red sparks shimmered across the sky he worked up the courage to take her hand in his own. He knew his fingers were cold and he was sure that hers felt similar, but the moment his skin touched hers all he could feel was heat.
When the final barrage of fireworks exploded above them neither Shawn nor Amy were paying any attention. Shawn had kissed her and with the feel of her lips moving against his and her fingers against the back of his neck, pulling him closer, Shawn felt like he was flying up in the sky with the fireworks bursting around him in a kaleidoscope of color and sound, past the stars and the moon, past the blazing sun and into heaven. Or, since he wasn't sure where he stood with the Big Guy Upstairs, into Neverland, where he would join Peter Pan in his wish to stay stuck in a single moment for all eternity, but instead of never growing up he would wish to remain by Amy's side, with the smell of strawberries surrounding him and the feel of her fingers in his hair.