Super

Kit found parking and entered the restaurant. Standing with the others awaiting a table, he realized all sport jackets and ties were not equal. Dressed well enough, better than the cleaning crew, he looked more like a store manager than a diner at this five-star restaurant.

When the Maître de looked at him, Kit stepped up and gave his name.

He smiled. “My date is running late. Can I get our table now?”

This was out of protocol but the Maître de shook off the rules and signaled to a waiter.

Kit followed the waiter to a table across the dining room. He sat facing the entrance to see Ashley’s arrival,.

He thanked the waiter and said, “Two merlots, please.”

The waiter nodded and withdrew.

Kit smiled to cover his hatred. His smile covered everything. That way, everyone he encountered was safe.

He knew ‘hatred’ was too extreme a word. He perfected his expression of bland acceptance so no one suspected his true feelings. They couldn’t know. He’d never let them.

Keeping his distance kept Kit safe. No one could touch him. He wouldn’t allow it. His guard up, he stayed safe. If he was safe, everyone was safe.

Kit worked alone, driving a taxicab. He transported people from hotels to the airport and back. Wherever they wanted. He met many people but no one knew him.

They paid him for his time, but that was all.

Some fares acted like they wanted to talk, to get to know him.

“You must have a million stories…” they’d say.

He did. Depending on how much time they had, he might share one.

But most were passing the time, together in his car. Their thoughts were on the coming flight. How would the meeting go? What had they forgotten?

They wanted distraction, not connection. It was his time they wanted. Kit knew, and they knew they’d never see him again. An interesting story might be remembered. They’d tell it to others over cocktails. He was a means to an end. He’d never be their friend.

“Where are you going?” Kit would ask.

Wherever the destination, Kit would tell them about his time there. Sometimes it would be true.

He wanted to believe the stories improved the tips. He never reached the destination without finishing the story. The passengers wouldn’t notice. They’d pay and get out. End of story.

~

The waiter brought two glasses. He poured a sip into one and offered it to Kit for approval. He swished it around, inhaled the spirit, and sipped.

He nodded and smiled. “Very good.” He set the glass down.

The waiter poured the wine and placed them with care. They nodded to each other. The waiter left.

~

Once a passenger wanted only to ride. No talk. Not even a destination.

“Drive,” he said.

He would tell Kit to slow down. He had nowhere to go and would take his time getting there.

He directed Kit from the back seat. “Turn here.” Or, “Take this exit.”

Since they had no destination, none of it mattered. They drove for over an hour. The meter tallied the mileage, but the time…

The passenger loved getting chauffeured around like royalty. He didn’t want stories.

Each day, Kit looked forward to his shift ending and getting his life back. Time to himself, to do what he liked. Then he was free, and didn’t need to pretend.

~

Kit had never been in such a restaurant. The high ceiling held bright chandeliers bigger than his taxi. The novelty of it intrigued him. Feeling like he’d crashed a party, he didn’t care. It was an experiment, a chance to learn.

He watched diners toast each other and laugh. The waiters strode back and forth with efficiency and purpose. They never rushed, but everything got done.

The room went silent. Ashley stood, framed by the arched dining room entrance. Did everyone pause for her? Had someone trained a spotlight on her? Dressed perfectly, Ashley was the star. Kit felt like an extra in her movie.

Standing, Kit greeted her. She saw him. They met midway across the room and smiled. Taking her hand, he led her to the table.

The waiter approached with a glass of chardonnay. He took the merlot and set the new glass in its place.

“Good evening, Ashley. The gentleman ordered wine, but I didn’t know it was for you. Is this table suitable?”

She smiled at the waiter. “Thank you, Gregory. It’s fine. He didn’t know.”

They chuckled at a private joke and the waiter withdrew.

Her lilting voice brought wind chimes to mind.

Ashley turned to Kit. “So, we meet at last…”

Kit smiled his smile. “Happy to be here. You’re beautiful.” He knew everything he said sounded clichéd.

Ashley waited for Kit to speak. She’d learned to accept men dominating the conversation. They knew only how to sell themselves to anyone who would listen.

Is this every woman’s curse? Must men turn every social event into one more chance to flaunt their deal making skills?

Ashley didn’t like being sold. When in the market for something, she knew where to find it. And she’d never shopped for empty fantasies spun to disguise an underlying purpose.

She learned long ago the razzle dazzle can curdle in an instant. She looked at Kit.

He smiled and said, “You know Gregory, the waiter… Are you a regular here?”

Does he care? Or is this misdirection?

She said, “I’ve come here for business lunches.”

Kit looked curious.

She said, “Expense accounts are a wonderful perk.”

“Never had one. I’ve only heard of them.”

Ashley had never known anyone without an expense account. How does he live? Who is this?

She regrouped. “Obvious question… What do you do? For work, I mean.”

Kit paused. He smiled his well-rehearsed smile. “I travel… Who gives you an expense account?”

He travels without an expense account…? Something didn’t make sense.

She answered. “I work in IT. I travel a lot too.”

“Bet we’ve crossed paths at the airport.”

Kit didn’t try to sell. He had nothing to sell.

Amazed, she stared. I need to hit Vegas with this guy. No tells at all. Is he so slick I don’t see them?

Gregory, the waiter, approached. “There anything you need? Questions about the menu? More wine?”

Ashley wanted to take Gregory aside. Get his read on this cipher at her table.

There’s no hint of manipulation. And he’s so patient. He acts like he’s actually interested. What am I missing?

“Thanks, Greg… We’re in no hurry.”

Gregory withdrew.

Kit thought he saw a wink between them.

He drew her back with another question.

“What’s it like programming with all those ones and zeros?”

Ashley said, “I’m not a programmer. But, so you know, we don’t work with individual ones and zeros so much. More like modular strings. Any random one or zero, these days, had better watch out. I’ll put it to work.”

She laughed a little too loudly.

Kit nodded. “Will AI ever be able to do comedy?”

Ashley didn’t understand the question.

“You know… I mean like… a one and a zero walk into a bar…”

“I don’t get it. And?”

“Uhm, the bartender says, ‘You have to leave. Read the sign. Gotta be at least 21 to be here.’”

Now she felt something was wrong. “I’m thinking the answer is… I hope not?”

“Well, that was me, not AI.”

“I have to share that at the next meeting. Sure to be a hit.”

“If AI could make us laugh, it would take over the world. We’d have no defense against it.”

Gregory came back. He knew they wanted food. Ashley ordered the filet, medium rare. She didn’t care about an appetizer. Kit ordered the Chilean Sea Bass.

“Excellent choice, sir. My favorite.” Gregory withdrew.

Ashley focused on Kit. “You’re very coy about your career. I can’t believe you have no expense account.”

Kit smiled his smile.

“You spend a lot of time in airports. You’re a pilot…?”

“Not that it’s important, I drive a taxi.”

Ashley thought she misheard. “You what?”

“I’m a cab driver. I pick people up and take them to the airport. Or wherever…”

“You drive a cab? Is that safe? Can you even make a living? Doesn’t everyone Uber now?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes. I also drive Uber.”

Ashley looked around. Did anyone hear what this guy does? What would Gregory think? If he knows, everyone will...

She fussed with her napkin and began rummaging in her purse.

Kit said, “You think because you know my job, you know me?”

She wanted to slap him. “You work in the trenches. It’s a job.”

“We’re not so different.”

“What you say proves the difference.”

Fresh understanding cleared Kit’s vision. “Right… I see it. That bright imaginary line that separates you from the rest of us?”

“Only it’s not imaginary. That’s what I’m talking about. The irony is, AI will write its own code. Its self-driving cars will take your job. You can fret over silly limitations while begging for unemployment. You think AI cares about jokes?”

“No, I don’t. AI doesn’t care about anything. Jokes are a sign of humanity. Why get defensive over a machine?”

Ashley downed her chardonnay. She signaled Gregory for another.

“I travel in circles you can’t imagine. I’m on first name basis with people who change lives with a few clicks on a keyboard. Meanwhile, you waste your life driving a little car around.”

She stood. “Excuse me. Need to freshen up.” She took her purse and headed for the ladies’ room.

Wheeling a little cart, Gregory brought their food. It smelled good. He looked for Ashley. Kit shrugged.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Gregory withdrew.

Ashley came out of the restroom. She hesitated, shook her head, and left the restaurant out the back exit.

His food getting cold and tired of the delay, Kit began to eat. Whatever the delay, he knew Gregory would reheat Ashley’s steak.

By the time he finished his plate, he knew she was gone. He asked Gregory for the bill and a box for the untouched meal.

Same old, same old. No surprises. Move along. Nothing to see here. I’m fine. I’m fine.

Kit felt drained by the experience. He went home and put the uneaten steak and potato in the fridge for tomorrow.

The next day was his day off. When he had no pressing errands, Kit went down to Highland and Hollywood Blvd. There, he joined with others dressed as super heroes and posed with tourists. Photo ops allowed him to make a little extra cash. And it was fun. He could be himself.

He dressed like a cat wearing Samurai armor. Not being a famous super hero, no one knew what to make of him. He wasn’t familiar like other comic book characters. And not having a following, he wasn’t approached as often for photos as were the Riddler, or the Hulk.

His character was unique to those who spent time on Hollywood Boulevard. But the other super heroes knew him.

Kit went to relax. He knew the best spots, places with backgrounds that screamed ‘Hollywood.’ He knew where tourists gathered and were most likely to pay for a pose.

He didn’t work it though. Kit strolled and nodded at those who took notice. He shook hands with children. He let the tourists approach. No hard sell.

He heard a scream and rushed to the sound. In a less populated spot, a mugger had a woman backed against the wall with a knife to her throat. A crowd had gathered. They watched passively. To them, it was a show. No one moved.

Kit assessed. He realized the mugger had Ashley at knife point.

Desperate, shaking her purse, she pleaded. “Take it! What do you want? I don’t care. Take it.”

In an instant, Kit sent the mugger to the ground. He held the knife. His foot pressed on the mugger’s back, keeping him immobile. The mugger flapped his arms and legs like a landed fish.

The crowd gasped. The reversal happened in a flash. Was it a trick? They watched and missed it. Who was this guy in the weird suit? Is he a cat?

Kit called out. “Someone, call 911…!”

The mugger groaned from the hard landing. His face distorted against the pavement.

Kit said, “Shut up, or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

The crowd grew. People took pictures.

Stunned, Ashley couldn’t believe she was safe. One moment her life hung from a thread. Now, all was well.

She ran to embrace Kit. Keeping the mugger subdued, he didn’t respond.

She gushed, “Thank you. Thank you for saving me. How can I thank you…? What can I…?” Looking at him, she stopped. “Wait! You’re Kit! In costume… How…?”

Impatient, Kit scanned the crowd for the police. He increased the pressure on the mugger.

He said, “I’m not in costume. This is me.”

Ashley tried to understand. To apologize. “I’m so sorry about the other night. Something came up. I had to leave… What can I do?”

Two cops ran in and cuffed the mugger. One shook Kit’s hand. “I’ll need a statement.”

Kit said, “I know the drill. I’ll come in later.”

Holding the mugger, the cops stood with Kit for a picture. They waved as they hauled him off.

Kit turned to Ashley. “I saved your life. Make it worth something.”

He turned away. Mouth agape, she watched him walk off.

A young woman dressed as Cat Girl matched his stride.

She gazed up, admiring. “Wow! You’re fast. Where’d you get powers like that?”

Still walking, Kit said, “I’m Siamese.”

“Like the twins?”

“No. Like the cat.”

She said, “In real life, I’m a bit of a mouse. Want to play?”

“Are you toying with me?”

“No… Scratch that. Let me buy you a coffee.”

They bumped elbows and walked up the street.