Galilee Rising(90)

The diva really bared her fangs in the social scene. I attended two charity events, one to restore Pendergast Bridge and the other to support art in schools. Of course everyone wanted to know the story about the bombing and my hospital stay. I neither confirmed nor denied their theories, but I know they suspect the truth. King Tempest hasn't been seen since Brendan's death, and Lady Liberty was spotted in Independence fighting Harridan. She still won't return my calls. But in-between dodging and weaving the gossips, I threw in tirades about how worse our city's grown since the Triumvirate arrived. Most were in agreement with little persuasion necessary. And depending on the person, i.e. - those affiliated with the hospital, how unprofessional Jem's being, including the tidbit he's been inappropriate with male staff. The gossip swirled within hours as it always does.

The biggest blow, the one that I was positive would bring Jordan out from hiding, was when I employed my PR firm to get the conversation about the causality of heroes and villains spinning nationwide. Almost every talking head and newspaper began condemning the property damage, the violence, the deaths associated with their battles, every head drumming home that if there were no heroes there would be fewer possibly no villains. I made sure they mentioned the Triumvirate, especially Lord Nightingale. The smear campaign cost a pretty penny but was damn effective. Today's polls show that 59% of Galilee citizens want the Triumvirate to decamp. And still nothing. Not a peep. I'm running out of ideas short of literally throwing acid in Jem's face or kicking him in the balls. Not that we've seen or spoken since that night. He calls, but like a good scorned woman, I don't return them. I just talk badly about him behind his back like a normal gal.

So the charade continues. I'm short with my staff, I sneak glasses of "whiskey," I stare into space with a scowl. Anger used to fuel me, now it exhausts me. I almost want Cain to kidnap or kill me already, anything but this damn waiting and bile spewing. I don't know how Jem's coping with it all. I miss him so much. Talking to him, working with him, his smell, those penetrating eyes of his, the feel of his lips on mine. I've had more than a few X-Rated dreams the past few nights. When I do sleep. I get maybe four hours on a good night. I can quote all the infomercials.

Oddly, I'm looking forward to my Ryder chat today more than the opening of the Thornton wing. The video chat music chimes just as I send Harry all the info Doris acquired on a rape last night. That's another thing getting me through this, focusing on plain old ordinary crimes. Cain isn't the only asshole in town who needs an ass whooping. I close my e-mail, and accept the call. Like all horrible things in life, seeing him gets easier each time I do it. I don't feel a damn thing when he pops on screen.

"Hello, Joanna," Ryder says. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to call this week."

"I've been busy. I'm here now. Besides, you already had a call this week."

"Yes," he says with little enthusiasm. "Thank you for that."

"I always keep my word, Ryder. Always. So, how is Grace? I haven't spoken to her since she tried to shoot me."

"She is…" He grimaces and shakes his head.

"That good, huh?" I fold my arms across my chest. "Well, what the hell did you expect? A super-max ain't exactly Rio, especially to someone like her. She didn't grow up hard like us. And she did help you murder a prison guard. Hell, I'm surprised she's lasted this long."

"Are you attempting to get a rise out of me?"

"No, just telling the truth. I mean, did the thought you two would get caught ever cross your minds? Do you feel any guilt for dragging her into your ridiculous vendetta?"

"It was not ridiculous," he spews out.

"Ryder, I had a front row seat. It was fucking ridiculous. 'You bested me, you think you're better than me, you think you can't be corrupted, I must destroy you, gurr, argh!' Anyway you dress it up with long winded speeches about superheroes as gods and balancing scales, when it came down to it, you were pissed he arrested you, and you had to punish him. End of story. If you had just broken out, and met Grace in Rio, neither of you would be behind bars now. You demolished the life of the one person you claim to love for next to nothing. For hubris." I lean back in my seat. "So, do you? Feel guilt? Are you even capable of it? Do you even love her?"

"I love Grace with my entire heart and soul," he says in a hard tone.

"Just keep telling yourself that, Jimmy, maybe it'll become true. You're a sociopath. You're incapable of empathy, and it's kind of a big requirement for love. Real love, true blue love, requires sacrifice. You would do anything, give anything for the other person, including your life if needs be. That is love, James."