The next morning, Amy flew over her hometown of Boston. This time she wasn't on patrol, but had a specific destination in mind. Amy spotted the rooftop she wanted and landed on it, where Todd, her publicist, waited for her.
"A perfect entrance, as always," he said. They entered the building, into an elevator, and down to Todd's office. He had decorated the place with all black furniture against plain white walls and carpet. Amy always felt it was trying to hard to look wealthy, but Todd had found her work in the past.
"Thrilling stuff, stopping that bank robbery last night," Todd said, taking the seat behind his desk. "It looked action-packed on the news."
"Thanks," Amy said, sitting across from him. "Speaking of which, any news from your friends at Disney? Or Netflix?"
Awkward pause.
"I'm afraid not," he said. "But that doesn't mean a movie's not going to happen."
"Oh." She looked down at her lap.
"Amy, we're on the same page here. You want the freedom to do your rescue-people thing and I want to provide you with the finances so you can do that. That's why I'm here, to turn your image into as much money as possible."
"We keep having this same conversation over and over."
"Let me tell you something about Hollywood. When you look at the record books, even movies that are so-called flops still bring in enormous profits. One or two films are all we'll need to get you set for life."
"You want me to sit around for another 30 days and just wait for offers?"
"I know it seems harsh, but big deals happen in slow motion," Todd said. "In the meantime, maybe I can get you another commercial."
Amy closed her eyes. She hated that commercial she had done. Saying "I'm U.S. Amy and I love El Delicioso's Microwave Burritos" over and over, take after take, had been torture. But it did pay all her bills for the past year.
"Trust me," Todd said. "I have some positive contacts at the studios, and they've shown a sincere interest. Things will work out."
Amy nodded and said she understood.
"Now for the good news," Todd said. "I've got something to show you."
He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small, shiny black box about the size of a shoebox. He set it on the desk.
"Open it," he said.
She looked at the box, looked at him, and then back at the box. She reached forward and picked it up. As she lifted the lid, a plastic smell came from inside.
In the box was a seven-inch-tall version of herself.
"It's your very own action figure," Todd said.
"Oh, my God." Amy took it out of the box. "It looks just like me."
"It's only a prototype, of course, but I agree it looks great."
The toy mimicked Amy's red hair, blue uniform and American flag cape. Amy pointed its arms upward and then held it sideways.
"She's flying," Amy said with a laugh. "I love it."
"I'm glad. With your approval, I'm confident we can get them into production later this year."
Amy fiddled around with the toy, making it strike various poses. "This is great. I can't wait to see kids' faces when I give these to them."
"Not give them," Todd said. "Sell them."
"Sell?"
"At 25 bucks a pop."
"I don't know," Amy said. "I just hoped that kids would like them."
"They will," Todd said. "You know who else will like them? Hollywood executives who carefully follow sales figures on kids' fads. If they see stores selling tons of these things, that'll go a long way to getting you that movie deal."
"Movies and toys and acting, this seems like we're getting pretty far away from the superhero thing, from helping people."
"When we first met, you said you wanted my help in getting your message across. What's your message, again?"
"Nothing fancy," Amy said. "I just want to teach kids to treat each other with respect. If they learn this at an early enough age, maybe a lot of life's problems can be avoided farther down the line."
"What better way to get across a message of peace and respect than with a summer action blockbuster? After that, there'll be more toys, and video games, and your own line of fragrances – all bearing your message."
"I don't know," Amy said.
Todd smiled warmly. "Trust me," he said. "I'm doing all this for you."
Amy looked down at the action figure. A tiny plastic version of her own face looked back at her.
"If you say so."
They shook hands. Amy returned to the roof and took off, soaring over the city again.
* * * *
Amy flew to a nearby parking garage, one of many "safe spots" she had established around Winthrop. There, she changed out of her outfit from "U.S. Amy" to just "Amy."
At a nearby café, Amy met her friend Abby for lunch.
"You were outstanding last night," Abby said in between bites of her salad. "When I saw the news, and all those police cars were chasing those bank robbers, I thought 'I bet she's there,' and that's right when you flew in."
"Thanks," Amy said, setting down her half-eaten bacon cheeseburger, suddenly not so hungry. "How's college life?"
"It's too awesome," Abby said. "A bunch of us got together the other night at the dorm's common room, and someone started playing some music, and this whole party kicked off totally spontaneously. And, God, there were so many cute guys there."
"Sounds like fun."
"Totally. I spent the night with one of the guys."
"You have a boyfriend now?"
"Hardly. He and I agreed beforehand that it was just a one-night thing, just for fun, and that it didn't mean anything."
"Oh," was all Amy could think to say.
"When you are going to start dating again?" Abby said. "It's been ages since you broke up with Jean-Pierre."
"I have an image to maintain," Amy said. "If I'm in a relationship, it has to mean something. It has to be a genuine, loving relationship."
Abby snorted. "You should re-enroll in college. Take some classes and hang out with us in the dorms."
"I don't know."
"You're nice, you're pretty, and you're strong enough to bench press a dump truck. You could have all the boys you want."
"It's not about guys. It's about finding the right guy."
The two of them chatted until lunch was over. They hugged, and partedways. Amy walked to the garage, changed back into her cape and tights, and tookto the skies over the city again, alone.
# # # #
Next: Straight to the heart.