Inside Straight

Straight Arrow shook his head. “He’s a very brave man.”

“No, he’s a predictable idiot.”

They heard footsteps approaching. Noel turned on a tap and washed his hands. Straight Arrow looked over at the urinals. “Well, as long as I’m here.”

“Yes, best you be busy or people might think we’re trysting.”

“Go away,” the American ace said in a muffled voice.

It was Michael Berman who entered. They danced a bit in the doorway. “Hey, nice work,” the producer said.

“Thank you. Did I ruin your ratings?” Noel asked.

“Nah. Nats secretly love to see aces getting their ass kicked. Especially when a nat does the kicking.”

Noel moved on.

~ ~ ~

“You’ve got my power, right?” Wild Fox asked. “You create illusions.”

Noel smiled enigmatically.

“You’re a short-range teleporter,” Curveball said. “Is that it?”

Noel took a sip from his crystal champagne flute. The bubbly puckered the edges of his tongue and danced in his sinuses. He was impressed. Given the age and class of most of the American Hero contestants, he’d expected Asti Spumante, or some other equally sweet crap.

“Nah, he’s a fucking shape-shifter,” Hardhat said. “It’s the only way he could look that fucking hot. I know broads, and he was a fucking broad.”

“No. No. And no. As to how I attracted you—I’m an inter-sexed individual,” Noel said, with a happy anticipation of Hardhat’s likely response.

“Huh? What the fuck is that?”

“A hermaphrodite.”

“Huh?”

“A person who has the sexual attributes of both a male and a female.”

“You gotta cock and a pussy?” Disgust and fascination—but definitely more fascination—laced Hardhat’s words. Hmm, thought Noel. I can still be surprised.

“Precisely.”

“Uh, I need a beer,” Wild Fox said. His eyes roamed desperately around the crowded room, and he sidled away.

“Whatever you are, you’re one cold pendejo,” Earth Witch said.

“And why would you say that?”

“You sacrificed all your henchmen.”

“They were expendable.”

“They were your men.”

“They were tools, and I wanted to win.”

“How did you win?” Wild Fox asked, drawn back despite his unease.

“Brains and cunning.”

“So you don’t have any powers?” Wild Fox challenged.

“You’re not listening.”

“He’s saying he beat us because we’re stupid.”

Noel just smiled again at Earth Witch’s bitter remark. Hardhat dropped a broad, heavy hand onto her shoulder and said, “Get the fuck over it, Ana. He knocked our dicks in the dirt fair and square.” Curveball gave him an ironic look. “Uh, boobs…uh?”

“You better quit while you’re ahead, T. T.,” the blonde said. She looked up and saw Drummer Boy bearing down on her determinedly. He had two of his four arms folded across his chest, and the fingers on his other two arms were snapping out a nervous rhythm. “Uh-oh.” It was meant to be under her breath, but Noel heard it. She darted away while Earth Witch tried to intercept the rock-and-roll star.

Noel drifted over to the buffet table, where he grazed and observed. Earth Witch had failed in her attempted block, so Curveball was sprinting around the perimeter of the Warner Brothers restaurant with Drummer Boy stalking after her, taking one step to every two of hers. While Noel languidly consumed an egg roll, they made three complete circuits of the room.

In another corner, sex—rather than determined virginity—was decidedly in the air. Berman leaned against the wall while Jade Blossom, Pop Tart, and Tiffani all preened and vamped. He looked like a man at a buffet, savoring his choices.

“Hey, magician.” The words were strongly accented with the distant echoes of Spain filtered through Mexico and the American barrio. Rosa Loteria stood hip shot in front of him. There was no flirt here; the blue eyes flashed a challenge at him. She clutched her antique deck of loteria cards in a hand.

“My dear.” Noel gave her a bow.

“You can cut the sophisticated European crap,” she said.

Noel found himself smiling. “All right, what can I do for you?”

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward the Candle. His multicolored flames waved languidly around his head like a psychedelic halo. “That pendejo motherfucker” (Noel reflected that there seemed to be a lot of pendejos present tonight) “has been giving me rafts of shit because I drew Los Platanos during the challenge.”

The back of Noel’s mind supplied the translation—the Bananas.

“Yes, I can see how that would be rather less than useful.” He reached out and took the deck from her. It was old, probably Napoleonic, and very beautiful. Noel began shuffling the cards. “And you want to learn how to do this—” and after each shuffle he flipped out La Muerta over and over again. The opulently dressed female skeleton looked coy, as if she knew a secret. Noel found his thoughts going back to his conversation with Straight Arrow, and the situation in Egypt.

“Yeah. That’s what I want,” Rosa agreed.