She took a small sip from her barely touched drink.
"Nah, I'm good, too." At the last second, Marge let that last wing stay where it was.
Number 4: Never, ever let them see you sweat.
It was getting past the witching hour and while some of the bar's population was dwindling, the two women in the corner booth took no notice. Mike had changed shifts with a even larger T shirt clad man named Tony by this time and after being informed of the ongoing interview in progress, he gave them as much privacy as Mike did, perhaps more so by not bothering to speak above a grunt.
The girl and her hostess had settled into a somewhat comfortable rhythm, with one occasionally scribbling away on her little scraps of heart shaped paper while the other slowed down her smoking and some of her drinking as she talked. "Attitude is the most important thing to hold on when you're playing in the big leagues, girlie." She had moved on to mixed drinks at this point and had started pulling out pieces of fruit from her half full glass, nibbling each one before tossing them onto her ashtray plate.
"Attitude in the face of adversity is a bitch to cling to but any port in a storm, right? It's hard, especially when your boss leaves you in the lurch to take the fall or face the cops on your own. You can't get mad at them for that, really. Any super villain worth his salt is a selfish bastard and selfishness is one of those diseases for which there is no cure. They're not holding any telethons for that one" She snorted, nearly gagging on a cherry.
The girl in black offered her watered down drink but it was waved away. "I'm fine, forget about it. What you need to do is learn from my mistake, taking things too personally."
"What do you mean?" She put down her pen, crinkling her nose in confusion. It was an unintentional habit that men tend to find very sexy.
It only caused another eye roll from Marge. "Once upon a time, I was young and stupid, sweetie. It happens to the best of us." A red fingernail tapped the pen. "Pick that up and make sure you get this on paper there, princess. If I had had a few of these cheat sheets back then, things would've been very different in so many ways.
Anyhow, I remember my first big blow out with Master Class-it was right after he had ditched me when that art show robbery that he teamed up with Random Confusion for went south fast. If it wasn't for me putting that dinky little statue that happened to be worth a hundred million in my purse, that job would have been a total waste."
She shot another glance at the clutch bag next to the girl in black's elbow." Not for nothing but you need to get a better bag, honey-spend the extra cash, it'll be worth it not to have to rely on cheap lining to hide the goods if you get searched by the cops and for a few dollars more, you can afford one that blocks X-ray vision or psychic detection." Marge chomped on a pineapple chunk, swallowing instead of discarding it with the rest of booze soaked fruit.
The girl slid her sad purse off the table and into her lap. "Now, where was I ? Oh, yeah and that snooty Bon Bon almost nabbed me to boot. Good thing I decided to wear my running shoes instead of stilettos that night. Too bad I didn't think to wear anything fireproof."
"I thought she shot nonlethal sparks, for the most part". Marge was playing with an orange rind, which she was twisting like a wet rag. "That's what they wanted people to believe but as someone who was on the receiving end of those "sparklers", I can tell you they were more lethal than non."
She lit up a fresh smoke. "How I hated that prissy little firecracker bitch, with her cheerleader antics and that so-called "accidental genetic mutation" of hers. I know artificial implants and enhancements when I see them, all kinds, baby! As I was saying, it was the first time that I had gotten that close to being arrested, not to mention the second degree burns there. Also, I wasn't as professional about my feelings for Dexter as I should have been. After all, the guy did tell me up front what kind of deal this was and sure, we got a little hot and heavy after hours, which was nothing new for either of us but I was getting way too attached to him.
It happens all too often in this business and on the other side of the street, too. All of those super hero sidekicks who spend just as much time out of those cute little matching outfits as they do in them, they do the same thing. Only difference is, when it's them, they call it "true love" and when it's us, we're "delusional enablers."
An angry stream of smoke accented her tone. "Ask that poor slob Claude Novak which one it is, while he's doing a thirty year prison term for War Hawk, who replaced him in a heartbeat." She stubbed out her cigarette and took a long swig from her fruity drink. "You live and you learn."
A small bit of silence opened up between them. The girl in black was about to break it when Marge spoke again. "So, I did leave Dex for awhile there and went back to waitressing, not at the same dump where we first met but it wasn't any much better, that's for sure. I was there for maybe three or four months when he popped up at one of my tables during a lunch rush. We always had more fun on lunch dates than dinner dates, why I don't know.
Well, instead getting ready to order the soup of the day, which was made a week ago, he was sitting there with a shiny silver suitcase propped right on the table. Some guy at the next booth was trying to get my attention but he looked like a lousy tipper so I strolled over to Dex. "What, you got smart and had your mother pack your lunch today?" I love making mother jokes and Dex loved hearing them. Weird what you remember, right?"
The girl in black nodded but her response wasn't necessary. "Dexter just gave me one of those sneaky little smiles of his and said "Take a look, my dear, and tell me if you like my special present that I bought just for you." He pushed it over to me, giving it a little pat on top. That was another weird thing, Dex couldn't help but pat things, people too, at times.
"A gift for me? How thoughtful!" I laid on the sarcasm extra thick as I popped that sucker open. Good thing that I didn't lift the lid too far open or everyone in the joint would've seen the bomb inside. This wasn't any regular suitcase bomb, you understand, this was what they call in the trade the Ultra Wipeout. That sucker came complete with a voiceover timer and a digital 3D death clock, plus a total number of fatalities monitor. A real pricey blackmarket item, even for a well connected man like Master Class to pick up for me.
"Aw, honey, you shouldn't have." I said that and actually meant it. To think, he went to all of that trouble just to get me back into the fold. I was hoping that he'd miss me and bringing that piece of city wide destruction to my work place really showed me just how much. My sarcasm kicked back in soon enough.
"I feel so bad that I didn't get you anything." I matched him smirk for smirk. The jerk at the next table kept snapping his fingers at me, which never works when you want my attention. "Excuse me, Miss?"
He was repeating over and over, worse that a broken record. Normally either I or Dex would have punched this bozo dead center in the face but we were a little too busy making up.
Dex just shrugged at me. "Perhaps a tuna melt on the house would be best, for old time's sake?"
"Hey, I'm not that pissed at you. You want a decent tuna melt, I know a place around here that actually cleans their kitchen at least once a month." That got a laugh out of him and a closed mouth from Mr. Impatient at the next table, who hightailed it out of there before we did. I took a minute to toss my apron and order pad at the cook as my way of giving notice and before long, Master Class and his In Charge Marge were sharing a reasonably tasty lunch a few blocks away, waiting for the bomb to go off." She swirled the glass in her hand, looking to see if any fruit pieces remained in it. "I paid for that lunch, by the by. It was the least I could."
"Um, I'm sorry but I need to ask you a couple of things." The girl in black put down her pen and flipped back a page of her notes. "Who is In Charge Marge, for one?"
Marge did a double take. "Well, you're sitting in front of her here, girlie. Who did you think you were talking to, huh?" She tilted her head slightly, intending to catch Tony's eye in case of trouble.
"Oh, I didn't know that was one of your
nicknam..,er aliases there." The girl blushed, making her rouge look pale in comparison. "And why didn't Master Class turn the bomb off, once you left with him?"
"Good catch on the nickname thing, hon. I hate that word, it's so fricking juvenile." She dropped the tilt and pushed her glass aside. "His crew used to call me Marge In Charge behind my back, so one day Dex started to call me In Charge Marge, his best defense against an offensive world, right in front of them. From him, that was a title worth having and answering to. " A proud smile crossed her face.
"As to the Wipeout bomb, it would've been a shame to waste it and those suckers don't keep well for long. No body got hurt, he set it to the lowest level which only turned my now former manager's car into a crater in the parking lot. That'll teach him not to stiff his staff on pay for three weeks. I had to live on my tips and they were hard to come by in that dive." The girl in black echoed her smile and went back to writing her notes.
After refusing another order of hot wings, Marge leaned back ,resting an arm on the edge of the booth's rounded seat. "You