Galilee Rising(44)

Jem's eyes fill with sadness, and his face falls. I can't stand to see him in pain, especially when I'm the cause. I pull my legs up to my chest, hugging my knees and gaze up at the moon. "I'll take us back in a minute."

"Fine," he almost whispers. We both stare up at the night sky in silence, misery filling the space between us. "I'm not Justin, Joanna."

"I know," I say after a pause. I stretch my legs out and set my hands on the deck for support. After only a moment's hesitation, I move my hand on top of Jem's, entwining my fingers in his. He lets me. "I know."





CHAPTER NINE




Death Echo



I can make it through this day. I can. It is a day like any other. The sun rises, people go to work, they go home and the sun sets. Nothing extraordinary about it. Yeah, well, that's what I thought exactly a year ago today, and by the end of that day I'd been held hostage, shot at, killed a man, and watched as my best friend plummeted to his death to save me from the same fate. One never knows what is just around the corner.

Mayor Miracle arranged the memorial event in Stan Lee Park at three, where he'll unveil the new Fountain of Justice. I approved the design--the scales of justice pouring water with the names of the three heroes who donned the symbol. Justin would have liked it. An estimated thousand people, and who knows how many members of the press will be in attendance despite the rain. I got roped into making a speech, which my speech writer handed to me as I hurried out of the office.

So far the day has been fine. Got enough sleep, went to work early, harangued the Senator about the healthcare bill, had lunch with Lane and a few other executives, and am now sitting in a police escorted town car on my way to the park. Please let the dry fish at lunch be the worst of the day. I'm dropped off at the Southside and led through the barricades toward the stage while a few tourists and paparazzi snap pictures. I ignore them. The nerves I always get before public speaking began in the car but get worse as I wait in the tent with interns and assistant event planners from city hall running around and screaming into their walkie talkies. My only goal is not to have a panic attack on stage. If I can do that, the day is a success.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to find my cousin Veronica standing beside me. We look a lot alike, same height and build, but her curly hair is tawny and her eyes are brown. She sits next to me with a sigh. "You know, my editor was ecstatic when he found out I was the only reporter in town with backstage access to this thing."

"You're welcome," I say.

"But so far the only newsworthy thing is that all the interns Mayor Miracle hired are far too gorgeous to just be fetching him coffee. Does the man get them from a modeling agency?"

"There's your Pulitzer right there: discrimination in city hall, only the pretty may apply. Might actually be worth looking into," I offer.

"I just may." She pulls out her recorder and shoves it in my face. "Quote me, cuz."

"I'm honored to be here celebrating the life and good deeds of my friend, Justin Pendergast IV. He, his father, and grandfather deserve this memorial for all they did for this city. I only hope that when people walk past it, they not only remember the men, but also what they stood for."

"And how are you personally feeling today?"

"Of course this is a difficult day, but it is a day of remembrance. I choose to remember the good, which far outweighs the bad."

She stops the recorder. "You've gotten more eloquent since you hired people to tell you what to say." She stuffs the recorder in her coat. "Off the record, how are you?"

"So far, so good. No crying jags, no flashbacks, no impulses to reach for a bottle. I'm good."

"And where's your boyfriend?" she asks in sing-song.

"Shut up, he's not my boyfriend. He is a boy who is my friend."

"Right. So where is your platonic male friend who you spend hours on the phone with between romantic sunset cruises?"

I just had to tell her about that. "He has a job. And important meetings today."

"Too bad. I really wanted to meet Dr. Love."

"Don't call him that. Jesus, what are you? Twelve?"

She chuckles. "What? I never got to tease you about boys, except Justin but that got old after the first ten years," she says, rolling her eyes. "And I missed my chance when you were with O'Hara because you didn't tell me, which I have not forgiven you for by the way."

"Gee, wonder why I didn't tell you."

She playfully punches my arm. "Oh, come on. I want to meet him. See if he's good enough for my baby cuz. Dad--"

All the chatter stops, and there are a few audible gasps when three familiar masked vigilantes waltz into the tent. We all knew they were coming, but as most people have never been this close to superheroes, I understand their reaction. V practically begins panting at the prospect of getting face time with them. "Good afternoon," Tempest says to everyone.