The Unfortunate Story of Roddy Mayhem - Julie Steimle (best large ebook reader txt) 📗

as all the imps around me were reveling in all the mischief that mindset caused. Selfishness was such an easy thing to manipulate into trouble. Selflessness, not so much. I think that was why Hanz the night before had impressed me so much. I had never seen a more selfless dude.

But anyway, Tom hopped back over, grabbed the remote and shut off the TV. He tugged on one of my horns and pulled me over the couch back to the room to pack up my things. He shoved an empty suitcase at me. He was already packed.

“Stuff ‘em in there,” Tom said, kicking the shopping bags. I noticed my new deodorant, tooth paste and tooth brush had been included, with the comb.

So I dumbed them all in and zipped the thing up. Tom smirked at me, but did not comment at how I had done it until after we had shoved that trundle bed underneath the one Tom had been sleeping on. “Kid, you gotta learn how to fold your clothes.”

That’s when I realized we were leaving California for good. I panicked when I completely understood that that entailed. “Wait! I have stuff I want to get!”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You can get it in New York.”

“No!” I moaned. “My Hellboy comic books! They’re stashed at the beach! I gotta get ‘em.”

His eyes rested cynically on me, but then his expression changed. He peered at me critically and said, “You stole them, right?”

I moaned. That meant I was never going to see them again. I felt like escaping to the beach—forget New York.

“They mean that much to you?” Tom asked, watching me.

I nodded.

Shrugging, Tom opened his mouth as if to call imps to get them—but I knew that meant they would come here in shreds. I slapped my hand over his mouth.

“No! They’re cherry! I don’t want imps to thrash them!”

He laughed, pulling away, hands up. “Ok. I got it.”

But I wasn’t sure if he did.

“I’ll go get them myself,” he said, still laughing at me.

And I knew he would. The imps around us were peevish that the fun they were about to have was cancelled. I was relieved.

Tom handed me off to Dan, saying, “Keep an eye on this one. I’m getting some of his things.”

Dan glanced at me and shrugged as though keeping an eye on me probably was only in Tom’s skill set—though he could most likely handle me like he had Thug and Mutton in the bar. “Sure.”

Tom whipped off on errand, walking through the solid front door.

Emitting a dumbfounded huff, Dan shook his head. “He could have just opened it.”

“I think he does it for shock effect,” James replied, walking past us with his bag and setting it next to the couch.

“Nah, he’s just lazy,” Rick said, coming into the room. He draped his suit coat over the end of the couch. He looked to me. “Did you pack those pajamas in your bag?”

I paled, shaking my head. “No. It was yours.”

He laughed. “Not any more. You got honey on it. Go take it from the bathroom and pack it in your bag—with the honey jar.”

I colored, realizing he knew I had kept honey. I guess I was unable to hide it. But I said, “Sorry…”

Rick smiled at me, looking amazed. “Wow. You really are.”

That confused me.

“Tom is hardly sorry for anything he does,” Rick explained, and he went back into the kitchen.

I rushed to the bathroom, grabbing the discarded pajamas, which apparently no one had touched. I crammed it into my suitcase nest to the stuffed store bags.

Everyone went back for their suitcases and bags. I noticed that the sword James was wearing had started to go invisible—though I could still see it. I saw most invisible things. They could not hide from imp eyes. His concealed sword was clearly for going out in public and sword wielders would be seen as a psychopathic threat to most normal humans. Dan’s sword likewise slipped into visual obscurity, though I noticed these weird red bird feathers hanging from the hilt of it, standing out a little from the outfit he was wearing. The guy had on a brown leather jacket, and with his glasses he looked a bit like Tony Stark trying to go incognito.

Tom popped back in through the door carrying my stack of comic books along with my one change of clothes. He shoved the stack into my hands, grinning. “Got ‘em.”

A wave of gratitude swelled over me. Things were going to be ok.

“You’re a Hellboy fan, huh?” Rick said looking over my shoulder at the stack Tom had brought.

I blushed, ducking down a bit. But I nodded.

He grinned at me. “Electricity is my favorite. Have you ever read those?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s for girls.”

“Is not!” Rick protested, laughing. “Electricity is hot. And—”

“Not a dude,” I retorted, realizing he was serious about being a comic book fan. He wasn’t making fun of me.

“Eh,” Rick tossed up his hands. “Each to his own.” But then he eyed Tom and said, “Just make sure Tom didn’t put mustaches on the characters in your books. He likes to do that.”

I paled, and panicked. I dropped my stack on the couch and opened the cheery first editions and opened the pages, searching for damage.

“I wouldn’t do that!” Tom protested. “Don’t say that. You’re freaking him out.”

There were no mustaches.

But Rick was laughing. And no imps had encouraged him to say what he had said. He shot back at Tom, “You did that to me! Practically half my comic books have mustaches, thanks to you.”

“That was revenge!”

“For what? What Ewan did to Selena?” Rick shook his head. “Not my fault—if you remember.”

“Ok, so I’m sorry for that.”

“But you didn’t replace them.”

“What? You want me to replace them?”

“Yeah! You damaged them!”

“Are you serious? You could buy replacements yourself. You’re richer than I am.”

“It’s about taking responsibility, Tom,” Rick said dryly. “You did the damage. I didn’t deserve it. So you need to fix it.”

Tom stared at him, not quite sure even now that Rick was being serious. And he said, “You’re nearly a CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and you are complaining to me about some old comic books?”

Shaking his head, Rick replied, “No. It’s not about the comic books. It’s about you taking a little bit of responsibility for your own actions.”

“I defended you from Ewan,” Tom said, a little graver. “I thought that mattered more.”

“It does,” Rick replied with a nod. “But…” he shook his head.

Tom stared, no longer smiling. “But what?”

Entirely serious now, Rick replied, “Sometimes it is the little things that matter the most. I mean, I really don’t need the comics anymore. And I didn’t mind sharing them with you, but… sometimes I wish you’d see the impact of your impulsive actions and realize you leave a wake behind you that—I don’t know—somebody else who doesn’t understand might be hurt by. The comics are just symbolic of that.”

“Symbolic,” Tom muttered with a moan.

The conversation was entirely over my head.

Rick shook his head. “Sorry, Tom. I don’t want to argue with you. This is stupid. I shouldn’t have brought up the past, I’m just—”

“Not able to let go of stupid things?” Tom interjected.

Frowning, Rick sighed. He gestured to the door. “We should go.”

Dan and James exchanged looks. Nodding, they led the way.

Rick went to the back room to get his bag. Tom followed him with his eyes then looked to me and my stack. “Pack that.”

I glanced to my suitcase, which was already full. I paled. “But these are cherry.”

Rick came back in with another bag, handing it to me. “They’re cherry, Tom.”

Tom rolled his eyes, clearly not caring if a comic book were cherry or a tattered mess. 

Leaving on a Private Plane

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Six

 

 

I really wish they had found Jester. But he had skipped out of the club better than I had. The rest of us (Piranha, Spastic, and Wispy, with myself) were eventually reunited at a private jet to be personally escorted to New York City by Tom Brown and those weirdoes who had been in the bar with us the previous morning. Rick was also there, talking with the Feds who had brought the other halfers to the airport. The other three halfers were still in their clothes from yesterday, looking uncomfortable as if their backs itched. I realized then that I had gotten the royal treatment. The others had probably spent a night in jail, and for some reason were not able to escape. It made no sense why not. They could walk through the walls like me, right? But as Spastic, Wispy, and Piranha came closer, following Rick with their imps screaming for them to ditch the guy and run, their eyes set on me—and I could see something weird and red was wrapped around each of their wings.

“Roddy!” Piranha set her eyes on me like she wanted to curse. “That’s where you’ve been at? With them?”

I thumbed over to Tom, saying nothing.

Their eyes whipped up to Tom who was standing there in a classy gray suit, wearing his dark sunglasses again, hiding his orange eyes.

Spastic laughed. Wispy and Piranha paled. They all knew it meant there was nowhere I could run as Trouble had caught me.

“Why didn’t they take you to jail?” Spastic asked though, insulted by the fact that he had been captured. His bow tie was askew. He had slept funny in his coat also, and that thing around his wings looked uncomfortable—like a wrapped red ribbon with writing on it. It kept them from moving. “And what’s with the new duds?”

I shrugged, looking at my new clothes while thumbing once again to Tom.

“Stole ‘em eh?” Spastic grinned up at Tom.

“No,” Tom laughed in return. His eyes sparkled as his imps wanted him to say ‘yes’.

Rick rolled his eyes, as technically the money that had paid for it was stolen—though from a friend. Then again, Eve had not objected, and she did not seem likely to steal anything from Rick. She probably had assumed Rick had given Tom the wallet.

They urged us onto the jet.

And the private jet was something else. The space inside was… well, I’d seen things like it in movies I had snuck into. The seats were like huge baby car seats and they looked so comfortable. It was clean and so high tech. I was jealous that anyone lived like this.

“Find a seat,” Rick said, urging us to go further in.

“No way…” Piranha whispered, stepping in toward the back as she looked around herself, just as unable to believe someone had this kind of luxury.

“Seriously…” Wispy echoed her, sticking close to Piranha’s side.

Spastic was hopping around, though, too excited for words.

As for me… well, I couldn’t choose a chair. Tom hopped over the seats and landed into one as if he weren’t messing around with super-expensive stuff. Rick whispered to the stewardesses inside the cabin to not worry about what Tom was doing while Dan and James stepped on like normal people and took seats near the door. They seemed as though they intended to guard it. Once everyone was on, the flight attendants closed the door and urged us all to sit.

“Get comfortable,” Rick said to us all. “This trip is going to be several hours long.

“How can