[Aym Geronimo and her Post Modern Pioneers are the creation of John Morgan Neal and Todd Fox. She and her troop of friends first appeared in the Shooting Star Comics Anthology in 2002. John solicited prose stories of the characters from a number of his friends, and this was my contribution. He gave me permission to post this story (since the book has not been published yet). Aym is a fun character to work with, and I hope her creators have more adventures in store for us.]
Aym Geronimo slid out of the taxi and paused on the sidewalk, staring down the canyon of Manhattan’s riefly at the hustle and bustle of the traffic, the visible sign of city’s pulse. She knew her brother Wind didn’t care for the city, although he tolerated it on occasion when necessary. But she hadn’t needed any of the team for this trip. It was a professional seminar, with a little bit of personal amusement on the side. Visits with friends and colleagues awaited her, along with the presentation at the conference, where she and Jason would show off his adaptation of her biomodulator.
The cab driver finished unloading her bags, and she paid him along with his tip, her bright smile flashing and brightening the end of his shift. The hotel’s doorman corralled her bags for her, and followed her into the nicely appointed lobby. She didn’t notice the heads that turned as she passed by, the smiles of pleasure at her exotic looks and her long, glossy black hair. The elevator delivered her to the 22nd floor. When she got into her room, she found it held a corner position in the building, giving her a wonderful view of 7th Avenue down to Times Square.
All alone at last, she smiled again. Three days, mostly all for herself. Even the conference sessions would be more recreation for her than work. Aside from the presentation of Jason’s device (and that was going to be mostly his job, not hers), she would get to sit in the audience for everything else. No preparing many notes for panel discussions, no leading briefing sessions on new technologies. Just introducing her work and Jason himself at the keynote banquet. He would do the rest, showing off his mechanism as part of the keynote speech of the conference. He had worked hard. He deserved the recognition.
She glanced at her watch, and realized she only had 45 minutes before she was supposed to meet Jason at the restaurant. She rushed to change out of her travel clothes, and into a neat black suit, with a turquoise silk blouse. She put on the pendant Wind had made for her, the turquoise stone Pebbles had found, cut and polished to a round disc. She checked herself out in the mirror and was satisfied that everything was in place.
Jason was waiting for her when she arrived outside the restaurant. It specialized in Greek cuisine, something she hadn’t had since her last trip to the Mediterranean. She laughed.
“You’re sure you don’t mind making the presentation tomorrow night?” she asked him.
“Not a bit. And not tomorrow, remember. The day after. I think you managed to get me over that stage fright thing. I figure if I can face down your Postmodern Pioneers, I can face anyone.”
Her laughter rippled out, causing heads to turn again. Not that she noticed. She never really noticed people watching her. It was one of her charms, the way she was always focused on what she was doing at the moment, whether it was engineering some new device or conversing with a friend.
They parted company outside the restaurant. She gave Jason an affectionate hug. After all the work they’d done together, he’d become closer than a mere friend and more like a brother. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and dashed off. Before she’d gotten to New York, he’d asked if she wanted to go to a stage show with him and Michael, but she’d said no. She liked to do a little walking in the city on her first night of any visit. The sounds on the streets, the feel of the air, the flashes of the lights, all so different from the stark beauty of the Canyon from the window of the Wonder Wall. She knew she didn’t really want to live in the city permanently, but she enjoyed it as an occasional treat.
“What unlikely things one can find on the streets of Manhattan,” observed an unexpected and unmistakable voice behind her.
She whirled around. There was no doubt about it. There he stood, Sean Riley, from the tip of his immaculate shoes, glossy dark under the pristine white spats, up to the collar of his well-tailored pseudo-Victorian outfit, with the long jacket highlighted by genuine brass buttons. The one incongruity was his red hair upswept in a spiked style.
He smiled at the way she scrutinized his garments, and struck a pose for her. “Do you like it? I paid quite well for it. I even ordered the fabric specially made from very finely woven wool.”
She worked to resist the old attraction. He was trouble, serious trouble. She had to remember that. “What are you doing here in Manhattan, Sean?”
“One might ask the same of you, Amethyst. “ He stepped closer, chucking her under the chin with a gloved finger. “Your Apache beauty deserves a better setting, my pretty little gemstone, than the streets of New York.”
She hated that nickname, so she jerked her head back. “Well, I hope you enjoy your stay.” She started to turn away.
“But you have not given me your opinion of my tailor’s work, my dear Amethyst.”
That persuasive tone caught her and she looked back. She saw his eyes light up with triumph, and resented his ability to play her so well. She wanted to hit him, hard. So she said, “Steampunk.” When she saw the fury rise in his face, she flashed the grin she had inherited from her warrior ancestors. It wasn’t warm or friendly. It was a declaration of war.
She turned on her heel and strode off, trying to recapture her pleasure in the nightlife of Manhattan’s Midtown. But she had no luck in recapturing her sense of delight. Riley had the ability to create disturbances, not just in her mind and emotions, but in the world around him, wherever he went. She didn’t trust him further than a lizard could throw him. She wondered if she should call Granny and ask her to do a thorough computer search on Riley, to see what news there was of his recent activities. The Pioneers kept tabs on him, as much as they could. He’d created enough problems for them in the past. But if she called Granny, her friend was going to eagerly bombard her with questions about why it was so important right now. Aym hated having to talk about Riley, especially to her team. She suspected they could read her turmoil about Sean very easily, and she hated that weakness in herself.
Aym thought about it all the way back to her hotel. She even sat by the window as the night rolled on. She watched the sudden tide of people and taxi traffic that flowed down 7th Avenue to Times Square as the theatres released their audiences. None of it charmed her now as it had before dinner, all because of that arrogant figure striking poses on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.
Suddenly, she sat up, her attention caught by a thought. What was he doing outside that restaurant, the very restaurant she’d been at, on her first night in Manhattan? It could not be chance, because Riley did not like New York. Its ultra-modern sensibilities offended him. Oh, he might allow that it had pockets of Old World charm — he certainly liked the carriage ride around Central Park. Yes, that particular attraction he approved of, she thought, remembering a certain ride they’d taken years ago. She had snuggled against him in the crisp winter air, his arm around her shoulders.
Exasperated with herself, Aym went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. “Do try to remember that he sent assassins after you, Aym,” she sternly told her reflection. No, Sean Riley had not turned up in New York City purely by chance. And that meant she would have to keep her guard up. Whatever he was up to, she would track it down and deal with it, after the conference.
With that determination, she pulled down the shades, shut off the lights, and crawled into bed. Sleep was necessary for a clear mind, she told herself.
The morning did not offer her any better council. She felt disappointed about that, and wished she could ask Wind for advice. But he was back at the Wonder Wall, and even if she called him now about it, she knew he would not give her a swift answer. No, he would go out into the desert and meditate for a day, then return and give her some cryptic words of advice, words that would take her another day to sort out. She smiled to herself at that. The truth was that dealing with Sean Riley was her responsibility, and no one else’s. On the other hand, asking Granny to update their information on Riley was not a bad idea.
She pulled out her cell phone and called Granny. Danielle’s peppy voice answered, “What are you doing calling me at this hour, Aym?”
The computer wizard’s pragmatism grounded Aym. She chuckled slightly as she answered, “What are you doing up at this hour?” The Wonder Wall was in the Mountain time zone, so it was still two hours earlier there. They played this little game, because Danielle hardly seemed to sleep at all. She would hover over her computers, nursing, nudging and protecting them like precious ducklings.
Aym got back to business. “I want you to do a new search on Sean Riley, Granny. See if you can turn up any rumors of what he’s been up to lately. Anything at all.”
“What’s it about?” asked Granny.
“I don’t know, Danielle,” answered Aym. “But Riley is here in New York, now, and I want to know why.”
“Other than the obvious?”
“Just do it,” said Aym, hating the way the whole team knew about the wretched history of that crummy romance.
With that, she left her hotel room in search of a breakfast. The city food was not as good as what they could get at home, but it was enough to start the day. But she avoided the restaurant’s coffee, for she could see it had been sitting in the carafe for some time. Who knew what the blend was, or how long it had been on the hotplate. Coffee she could get at the conference site.
In short order, she was on her way to the conference. She breezed through the registration line, chatting with the people around her. She got collared by a couple of colleagues heading toward the first session she wanted to attend, and the trio shared the latest tech talk as they threaded their way through the attendees. She listened intently to the discussions in the panel’s room, mentally taking notes. She didn’t expect to hear anything in this particular session that she needed to write down, and she was right.
When the session broke, she made her way to the coffee vendor and got her fix of aromatic caffeine. She checked her watch, and then looked about for Jason. They’d agreed to meet there, since it was one place she knew she would see frequently during the conference.
She nearly spilled her coffee when Jason swept down on her from an unexpected direction. He enveloped her in an enthusiastic hug, and planted kisses on both her cheeks.
“You are certainly in a good mood,” she observed dryly.
He chuckled. “Michael and I had fun at the theatre last night. You should have come with us.”
He leaned in close to speak to her, since the ambient noise was high, making conversations difficult to conduct with any discretion.
She opened her mouth to tell him about Riley, but then changed her mind. There was no reason to disturb his enjoyment of the conference with her ancient history, no matter how dangerous. Fortunately, he didn’t notice.
“By the way, Aym,” he said, a shade more diffidence flowing into his tone, “there’s a party tonight, with dancing. Michael isn’t feeling up to it, but I really, really want to kick up my heels. Will you go with me?”
“You are a pathetic party boy, Jason,” she laughed. She knew the reality was that he was such a complete labrat that he only rarely got to enjoy a night out on the town. “Yes, I’ll go with you. I suppose you’ll want me to wear a dress?”
He laughed at her. “Did you even bring one?” Her cheeks flushed under their sun-bronzed color. He laughed again, delighted. “You did! Cool!”
After that, they compared notes on which sessions they wanted to attend. As it turned out, their choices competed, so they agreed to meet up again after the last of the afternoon sessions. Jason headed off to the panel he wanted to listen to, while Aym tossed her now-empty coffee cup into the trash bin. When she turned away from the bin to head back to the session rooms, she thought she saw Riley standing in the middle of the corridor some distance away. A cluster of tall men cut off her view, and when they’d moved on, there was no one to see in the corridor. Or rather, the striking figure of Sean Riley was not in sight.
She shook her head. Had he been there, or was she being paranoid? She chuckled slightly at her thought. She was indeed being paranoid, because Riley was a dangerous, obsessive specimen. The real question was whether she needed to be concerned in these circumstances or not. Until she heard back from Granny, there wasn’t much she could do, except stay aware.
The day went by quickly, filled with interesting presentations and stimulating conversations. Several of her colleagues expressed deep interest in Jason’s device, intrigued as they were by the brief description that had been circulated to attendees. She only laughed in the face of their questions, not wanting to spoil Jason’s moment in the limelight. The inquisitors took her reticence in good humor, since as most of them were men, they found no waste in spending five or ten minutes chatting with the striking Aym Geronimo. Her female colleagues endured the hormone-stirred company, for the simple reason that Aym herself seemed not to notice. Her easy, unaffected manners meant that no one, male or female, got shorted in courtesy or attention by her. She was difficult to dislike.
Still, it was a long day of sitting in closed rooms, listening to long technical and theoretical discussions. By the time Jason met her in her hotel lobby, Aym was ready for a little bit of fun. Once again, she took no notice of the heads that turned her way. That amused Jason greatly, but he didn’t point out to her that she was stunning. Her dress had a flared and flowing skirt of layered black crepe and gossamer, with silver threads woven into both. Her unbound long hair was an accessory all its own. The discrete jet and silver jewelry she wore merely made the finishing touch.
At the party, she indulged Jason by dancing with him a few times. When it came to dancing, he didn’t care who his partner was, as long as the person could move. But he was more energetic about it than she, so she soon took a break. She stood to the side, watching others enjoy the party, while she cooled off with some iced water.
“You look ravishing, Amethyst,” a soft voice whispered over her shoulder.
An annoyed frown twitched on her brows, but this time she did not gratify him by turning around. “What are you doing here, Sean?” she asked. “What do you want?”
(TO BE CONTINUED at https://www.scribblerworks.us/fiction/love-and-war-part-2/ )
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