Even Heroes Fall

Chapter Six - Violet

Mum's usual preference for dining with her family for lunch is a place in Chelsea called Dragonfly with impressive views over London. Impossible to get a reservation at short notice there unless, like Miranda Devereux, you are close friends with the CEO of the company that owns Dragonfly and its sister restaurant, Hummingbird, in Mayfair.

We order food, and champagne is served. I let my parents' conversation drift over me, sipping my champagne and admiring the view across the city.

At some point I realise Miranda is directly addressing me, somehow the conversation has come around to the fact I am still single.

'Sorry can you repeat that please?'

'I said- Angela just got engaged,' Miranda repeats, eyeing me over the top of her fifth or sixth glass of champagne. Angela is the daughter of mum's best friend from her school days and she is forever comparing us. Angela is a model with ivory skin, flowing blonde hair, frequents fashion week in Paris and Milan, and is basically (visually) every man's dream. 'A nice wealthy husband with good connections,' Miranda adds.

'Sorry to disappoint you but I don't have time to go out and meet guys,' I mumble, 'and there are no rich single men at work.' Referring to the fact that, like my housemates, Miranda thinks I work at a hotel in Kensington.

'And that is precisely why you need a job which can offer you better connections.' She turns to address Theodore who has been quiet throughout this whole exchange, presumably thinking about all the "great" connections Justice has. Petty car thief? Check. Drugs lord: check. Chief of Law Enforcement in London: double check.

'You mentioned Marshall was looking for a PA?' Miranda says to Theodore.

'Work with Marshall?' The mental image of organising his schedule and doing administration tasks for Marshall instead of delivering updates on criminals has me laughing.

'That is correct.' Theodore nods in agreement.

'You could put in a word for your daughter, couldn't you?' Miranda smiles sweetly at him. 'At least arrange an interview? He respects your advice, you were his mentor.'

Theodore is silent for a moment, thinking it over. 'Is this something you would be interested in?' he finally asks me. He knows as well as I do that now my crime fighting days are over I might actually want to look for full time employment. But I am unsure if working closely with Marshall as myself is a good idea. What if I slip up and accidentally reveal something I shouldn't?

I shrug in response.

'I will speak with him,' Theodore confirms and Miranda beams with happiness. If I didn't know any better I would suspect she is trying to set me up with Marshall, not get me employed by him.

After another torturous two hours I am finally released from my parents' company, turning down an offer from Theodore to drive me back home, excusing myself to go to work. The hotel story is not a total lie. I work there part time, picking up the occasion shift at the restaurant or reception using the erratic shift patterns, including night shifts, to cover up my absences from home to my housemates when I was working as Justice. Today I cover an evening reception shift from three pm to eleven pm, not helped by the two glasses of champagne I consumed at lunch making me crash around seven pm and the last few hours a struggle. By the time I make it home I am looking forward to tucking myself into bed and falling asleep with Netflix on.

But when I walk through my front door I am greeted by the tell-tale sounds of a party going on in the front room, and the unmistakable smell of alcohol. I consider sneaking up to my room but to reach the stairs I have to pass the lounge door which is wide open, so the moment I come into view I am spotted.

'Violet!' Celia shouts in drunken excitement and I dutifully enter the small gathering.

Inside the lounge Celia is accompanied by our other two housemates, Jo and Laura, as well as Sara (Jo's girlfriend), and Max, of course. There is a general drunk cheer and hugs from the girls when I make an appearance. From the level of noise coming through the speakers and their flushed cheeks I can tell they have been drinking for a few hours.

'Hi, stranger!' Sara says to me enthusiastically, over the noise. 'Haven't seen you in a while!' She lives in St Alban's so she and Jo divide their weekends visiting one another, when they are not off exploring different European cities together.

A glass of something sparkling gets shoved into my hand and Celia explains: 'we are celebrating!'

I discreetly check her finger for an engagement ring, because Celia has been known to do impulsive things (cut her hair and dye it bright pink in our first year of university, get a tattoo in a very discreet place whilst drunk on holiday, etc) and I would not put it past her to get engaged on a whim. About a year after we all graduated and moved in together in London, Celia met a French artist and one evening I came home to find she had packed her bags and was moving to Paris to be with him. They had been dating for one month. I managed to talk her out of it with Jo and Laura, and now it is one of the many hilarious events we joke about on occasion.

'Celebrating what?' I ask.

'I finished my doctorate!' Laura staggers over, the drunkest of everyone.

'To Doctor Laura!' says Celia, raising her glass.

I take a deep gulp of my wine to hide my embarrassment, because I had no idea Laura was even close to completing her doctorate. I have barely spent any time recently with my friends as my crime-fighting duties always seemed to take priority. Now I am realising I have missed out on a lot of what is going on with their lives.

Sitting about drinking and chatting I feel myself relaxing into the buzz of being once more around my friends. Then I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, I immediately jump up and go into the kitchen, mumbling an excuse about getting food. I am expecting a message from Marshall asking for help from Justice, but then I realise this is the wrong phone as he does not have my personal number. The message turns out to be from Theodore telling me he arranged for an interview tomorrow morning at the Mayor's office.

I sigh deeply, disappointment coursing through me. Urgh, I really need to accept that I am no longer a vigilante for the city and this is my life now. The wine has hit me harder than I thought and suddenly the idea of food seems appealing. I grab a new jar of peanut butter to make a sandwich, grappling with the lid in a drunken attempt to open it, but the jar defeats me.

'Damn you,' I slam it down onto the counter in frustration, a bit harder than I intended.

'What did that jar do to you?' An amused voice floats towards me, I glance up to see Max has come into the kitchen. He leans against the counter smirking at me.

'The lid is stuck,' I grumble, I hate admitting to weakness. Years of training to be strong made it the one thing I am proud of. So what if I don't have super-powers? I am not a weakling.

'Can I help?' Max offers, to my annoyance.

I don't want to accept his help but I am starving, my stomach is protesting loudly at the lack of food. I push the jar over to him reluctantly.

'I warn you, I think this one is faulty. It is completely-' I break off as he opens it easily with one twist. He returns it to me with the smuggest smile. 'I loosened it,' I grumble.

I start spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread. I can feel his eyes watching me and I wish he would go away. I take a huge bite and finally look up to meet his stare.

'What?' I mumble, my mouth full, aware of some weird tension in the air between us.

The moment is broken by Jo charging into the kitchen. 'Hey, what are you two up to?'

'Violet needed help opening a jar of peanut butter,' Max chuckles.

Jo catches sight of my pissed-off expression and says, 'my mum once said the only thing men are good for is opening jars!' which makes us both giggle. She flings open a cupboard and pulls out a bottle of tequila, turning back to us both triumphantly. 'Who's up for shots?'