Tan Daly

Tan Daly

By Eva Csaki

           Tangerine Daly had very few hobbies in life. Not that she needed many to occupy her. Between school and her job at the Krohn Conservatory, she had very little free time. After years of attempting all manner of activities and learning she had skill in very few of them, Tan decided she was best suited to only a few things. The list was small: listening to music, reading and collecting her tarot cards, and feeding the neighborhood’s stray cat – whom she fondly nicknamed Mr. Bubblebutt on account of his adorably furry rear end. The latter of her favorite activities was by far her most favorite.

           Tan grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio, the youngest of two daughters born to Doctor parents. As a child, she found herself bullied endlessly by numerous peers and class clowns all of whom couldn’t seem to get over the fact that yes, she was indeed named after a citrus. Why they never gave her sister, Apple, any of the same flack, she never wrapped her head around.

           Perhaps Tan attracted the majority of her peer’s negative attention for her choice in attire. After inheriting a hand-me-down MP3 player from her cousin Kaye, Tan’s fashion sense was wholly influenced by the bands found in Kaye’s personal playlist of 80s Goth Rock. Talents like The Danse Society, The March Violets, Xmal Deutschland, and Souixsie and the Banshees dominated. There was the odd David Bowie and Billy Idol in there somewhere too, but even their fashion-sense was a little too outlandish for Tan.

           So, emulating her favorite artists, she learned to dress solely in black, watch cliché B-rated monster movies, and even started saving for a ticket to Berlin to study the punk culture of Germany first hand. God, she loved their hair.

           These days the only hobby she seemed to really nurture was feeding Mr. Bubblebutt. The little bastard ate a lot despite living behind a sushi restaurant.

           Hopping off her bed, Tangerine stuck in her headphones (struggling not to get them caught on her ear-chain) and headed out. She made sure to grab the Kroger bag of paté cat food from the counter before slipping out the front door and onto the street.

           Before she started her music, Tan strolled past her neighbor Mr. Bauman and caught a few soundbites of the police report blaring from his porch radio. Tan always wondered why a 70-year-old retiree listened to the police scanner every morning, but never really cared enough to ask why.

           “On the corner of East 9^th street and Main, we have a bank robbery in process. Suspect last seen headed towards the restaurant district on foot.” The radio blared.

           Tan started playing her music and singing along to The Cure’s Pictures of You as she picked up pace and dance-walked down the street. A few people cringed as she passed, but she was too absorbed in her music to really care if she was shouting off key.

           It was sunny out, she was listening to good music, and damn it, it was free sample day at Saito’s Sushi. A few annoyed passers-by couldn’t ruin her mood if they roundhouse kicked her down the street.

           Ten minutes and two songs later, Tan arrived at Saito’s Sushi and Seafood and, swinging around a lamp-pole, detoured down the back alley to where the dumpsters were.

           “Here, kitty-kitty-kitty! Where are you, you fat bastard? I’ve got yum-yums! Here, boy, here!”

Tan was beginning to feel like a bit of a fool as a woman in black stopped at the alley entry. She was panting and seemed like she was in the middle of practicing for a marathon, but even she stopped long enough to give Tan a weird look.

           But then again, Tan was crouched, screaming “I’ve got yum-yums” under a dumpster, so she couldn’t really blame the woman.

           Once the runner sped off at Mach speed down the street, Tan resumed calling for the cat.

           It was maybe thirty seconds after Tan unpeeled the top of the cat food tin when Mr. Bubblebutt came yowling down the alley, fat, furry ass bouncing behind him.

           “There you are!” Tan grinned. She put the tin down.

           Mr. Bubblebutt gave her leg a rub with his whiskered chin before messily devouring the contents of the tin.

           Tan reached for the Kroger bag she’d brought with her and for the solid block of catnip she liked to shave onto Mr. BB’s food, when a voice sounded behind her with the fury of a thousand suns. “Put the bag down!”

           “Huh?” Tan could barely turn around before she felt a boot hit the side of her face.

           A flash of red leather was all she could catch before she landed in a heap on the ground. Her face throbbed and she temporarily lost the ability to breathe as the wind flew out of her. Distantly, she heard the cat howl as he skittered behind a pile of trash, pulling his food tin with him.

           Two red-gloved fists dragged her by the scruff of her shirt and hauled her to her feet.

           With Tan’s vision still out of order, she did the only logical thing. She swung.

           Her fist connected with air and she screamed as she was kicked full-force in the chest and thrown backwards down the alley. Her heart shattered as she gained vision enough to see her earbuds flying into an open bag of garbage. She felt like puking – and not just because her stomach was kicked into her throat. How would she wear those now?

           “Where’s the rest of the cash you stole, fiend?” A woman dressed in crimson leather loomed over her, fists poised in a fighting stance.

           “The, what?” Tan huffed.

           The woman continued, her voice growing more and more unsure as she spoke, “You know. The cash. That you stole… from… from the bank.” After a pause and a look at Tan’s rapidly bruising face the scarlet-haired woman threw her hands to her mouth, “Oh shit.”

           Just then, three police cars sped down the street at the mouth of the alley.

           The woman whirled to look at them, then back at Tan and her eyes flared wide. “Oh my god, you’re not her.”

           Tan blinked up at her and the hand she extended.

           “I’m really, really, really sorry.” The fury in her voice was gone completely now. All that was left was the shrillness of a scared girl.

           Tan, despite being embedded in a bag of garbage, felt bad for her. She took the woman’s hand. “I’m pissed. But more than that, I’m really confused right now. So, spill.”

           “You want the long or the short.”

           “I reek of garbage so I honestly don’t give a rat’s ass right now.” Tan felt her aching back creak as she straightened up.

           “I thought you were a bank robber. I mean, you had a bag and a block of green stuff,” she pointed to the brick of dried leaves in the bag labeled Cato’s Catnip, “and I mean you’re in all black.”

           “I came here to feed a damn cat!”

           “And I see that now.” She cringed. “Look, I’m really sorry. I… I’m not very good at this.”

           Tan looked the woman up and down. She took in the red get-up. The go-go boots and too-tight leotard. “Hold up, you’re her, aren’t you? You’re the…”

           “The Crimson Boot, yeah.” She sighed. “Well, the new one anyway. I’m her daughter.”

           Tan vaguely remembered catching a news story about the resurgence of the Crimson Boot. Her sudden appearance was a shock to the city. Crime had barely over two decades to recover between the original boot and the copy-cat vigilante calling herself by the same name.

           But the report had been more about the new vigilante’s screwups than the fact she existed at all. Super heroes had become a dime a dozen in the past few decades, it seemed every city had its own protector now.

“No offence, Boot, but you suck at this Super hero stuff.” Tan rolled her neck to get the stiffness out. “Didn’t you accidentally kick a semi-truck into the river?”

The Boot nodded solemnly.

“And sink a barge? And didn’t I hear something about a warehouse on fire?”

Another nod. She crossed her arms. “It’s not like there’s a manual for this stuff. I guess my list of failures is hard to deny when it’s on every major news station. Any other things you wanna add while you recite my embarrassing list of achievements.”

“You also beat me up and gave up a decent amount of your secret ID to a total stranger – who, mind you, doesn’t exactly have a great reason to like you right now.”

           Almost as if in agreement, a meow sounded from behind a dumpster. Mr. Bubblebutt came out and hid behind Tan’s ankles.

           “I know, I’m a total mess.” The Boot collapsed against a wall and dropped her head in her hands. She looked more pitiful than Tan felt.

           Tan was too confused to think normally at the moment. All she knew was that she could either run off and try to explain to her fathers that a superhero damn near broke her cheek bone, or she could try to cheer up the now weeping woman.

With no set guidelines on how to deal with being beaten up by a random super hero, Tan chose the latter and folded onto the ground in front of the Boot.

           “I’m Tangerine Daly. Call me Tan.” Tan extended her hand.

           The Boot grasped it gently. She seemed scared to be too rough. Made sense for a girl with super-strength. She opened her mouth to introduce herself, but Tan shook her head.

           “Rule number two of super-hero-ness. No revealing secret identities. You are henceforth, Boot.”

           She wiped a tear from under her scarlet mask. “What’s rule number one?”

           “Don’t beat up the wrong girl or guy, I guess crime is gender-neutral… or not crime? Doesn’t matter, you know what I mean.” Tan sighed.

 “Look, I’m really sorry, I don’t know what to do to prove how sorry I am.”

            Tan thought for a moment then smiled, “Sushi. You can buy me sushi. And over that sushi, we can talk.”

Tan stood up and grabbed her Kroger bag of cat goodies.

Mr. Bubblebutt returned to his tin of food as the two women walked into Saito’s.

Mr. Saito was kind enough not to mention their bruises and he was already desensitized enough by Tan’s clothing that he ignored The Crimson Boot entirely. Given that Saito didn’t seem to recognize her, Tan assumed that he had no interest in Cincinnati’s resident Supes.

“Usual?” He asked cheerfully.

Tan nodded and smiled innocently up at The Boot. But when the heroine patted her leather suit indicating no pockets, Tan sighed and coughed up the 20 bucks necessary for two shrimp tempura rolls.

When the two sat down, Tan realized that the Boot wasn’t all that much older than she was. Tan guessed 23 at the oldest. She couldn’t see the girl’s face, but there were no lines around her mouth or wrinkles on her exposed neck so she had to still be pretty young.

“So, how come you’re so bad at this? You said your mom was a super hero too.” Tan asked, stuffing a tempura roll into her mouth.

“It’s not like growing up with super powers is something that parents nurture. She was always busy. Now that she’s gone the city felt her loss as bad as I did and… I don’t know, I guess wearing the suit makes me feel close to her.” The Boot struggled to use her chopsticks, whether she simply lacked the skill or was too overwhelmed to think about it, Tan didn’t know. Regardless, she was holding them upside down.

“Look, I’m no expert, but it looks to me like you could use some help. You lack mentorship and no offense, common sense, too.” Tan flipped the Boot’s chopsticks right-side up and the super hero blushed.

There was an awkward pause as the Boot tried to pick up a piece of sushi. Tan lapsed into though as she chewed her food.

A crazy idea struck her then as she saw Mr. Bubblebutt saunter onto the sidewalk outside and lick his tail. Tan was reminded of her lack of hobbies and her plethora of common sense.

“You know what you need?”

“What?” The Boot asked around a mouthful of sushi.

“A sidekick.” Tan waited for the refusal she assumed might happen. She almost hoped for it actually. This plan wasn’t even half-baked and none of this felt real yet, even despite the very real bruises blooming on her body.

There was a pause as the boot pondered Tangerine’s proposal. “It’s not a terrible idea.”

“My neighbor has a police scanner. I could listen for jobs that sound like they’re something you can handle. You do the brawny stuff; I do the research and help you stop profiling people for their appearance –”

“Again, really sorry.” She interrupted.

“It’s fine. But anyway, it could be fun.” Tan frowned, “But I also don’t know you, and you don’t know me, so I get if this is weird. Because, honestly, it is weird. It’s so weird.”

“I can dig weird.” The Boot held out her hand again. “I guess we’re partners in crime now.”

“Technically, we’re partners in not-crime, but yeah.” Tan took her hand and smiled.

“I’m Veronica, by the way.” She whispered. “As my sidekick, you should probably know at least that.”

“Nice to meet you, Veronica.” Tan smiled as the two of them began to scheme over their sushi.

And as they spoke, Tan couldn’t help but feel that this was the weirdest start to what she had a feeling would be one of the best friendships ever.