Maya
“What the fuck does he want? Why the birds?” My new musclebound bodyguard, Hawkman—had to be one of those military nicknames—was speaking out loud, sitting in my dining room and writing notes down on a yellow legal pad. He had a whole page filled with circles and lines connecting several of his scribblings.
Logan and Hawkman were going over bits of information that had been compiled by the Palm Springs team that had stepped in to help me.
“It has to be your character. I am surprised that the comic book was damaged.”
I hated to say it, but I wasn’t familiar with every story that my super hero character was in and, apparently, she was in several—some big parts and some tiny ones. I read the scripts that had been sent to me but I never researched her in great depth. Since she was a fictional character I didn’t think about reading more into her or her background. The basics were outlined. If she had been a real person and it was more like a docudrama or involved a profession I wasn’t familiar with, I would’ve done research.
“I guess some people would say that was a big mistake on my part to not take more interest in a flying super hero—”
“That’s just it and probably what upsets your tormentor. Your character has never flown in any comic book editions. She jumps from building to building or up to where she needs to be.” I was listening to Hawkman speak and picturing my character in my head.
“The photos I have seen of her have depicted her reaching forward in the air in a flight-like action or crouched down like she was about to take off or was landing.” It was true. Even on a few covers she looked like she was taking flight. “What about her ability to read minds of certain people?” Not that anyone had mentioned that to me, but I thought maybe I should know if that was right or wrong.
“Yes, that is correct. I’m not blaming you for the wrong depiction. Even if you did know that she didn’t fly, you didn’t write the script to my knowledge and you are not the producer.” I shook my head. “Exactly. So you have no control. But…”
He paused as if he was changing gears and going a completely different direction. His voice was so amazing he should’ve done movie trailer voiceovers.
“The person we’re dealing with is most likely a comic book fanatic.” I swear there was a cymbal crashing, a drum thumping or a dramatic overture ending that said “ta-dah” before he moved on. “Have you ever attended a comic book event?”
“Yes,” I nodded my head. “Before filming had begun on my movie and after the studio announced that production was in the works.”
I had never heard of my character or others that weren’t commonly known by the general public. It shocked me to see warehouses filled with vendors with various collections. And going to an event with fans was an eyeopener. Several people roamed the venue sporting action hero t-shirts and hats. Some people, actually wore costumes and full makeup of their favorite characters.
I saw my character on several t-shirts, a few women were in full costume and even one man. I posed for selfies and signed pre-made books with comic book covers—they were pretty cool. Apparently, that avoided marking up comic books that could one day—if not already—be valuable.
“Comic fanatic or not, this is a sick individual who has no problem killing. The birds tell us that.” I felt a chill run down my spine listening to Hawkman’s words.
“We need to have someone checking around pet stores. We have a list of the mutilated birds. Whoever is behind this bought several brown finches for your welcome home greeting.”
Logan chimed in, digging through reports and producing one. “Pet stores were checked in Palm Springs, but were a dead end.”
“Right. Not in LA…yet.”
That was about the time I decided to leave the table.
“Are you okay, Maya?” Logan reached out to stop me with his strong hand that had me longing for some time alone.
“I will be. I need to read my script. Filming starts soon.” I wanted to add that he could make me forget everything if he would follow me into my bedroom or we could send Hawkman out to the guesthouse for a bit. Keeping those thoughts to myself, I leaned down with my free hand and brushed Logan’s hair off his forehead, smiling. Then I broke free of his gentle grip and padded down the terra cotta paved hallway to my room.
Apparently my acting hadn’t been as good as I thought since Logan appeared in my bedroom where I had situated myself on a chaise near glass doors that looked out to a pool area. He didn’t say a word. He just stood looking at me. I didn’t ask what he was doing, I just enjoyed the view. I felt like a silent conversation was going on between us. My heart was racing and my body was warming which was amazing since I was slowly undressing. I grinned as he followed suit, kicking off his slip-on tennis shoes, t-shirt over his head, messing up his dark blond hair. Once his jeans and briefs hit the floor, he was on the move, nearing me and I was squirming, knowing what was to happen.
How did I get so lucky to find a man so in tuned to my emotions and needs? Well. I knew why he had come into my life. That wasn’t a great reason, but without the crap going on I wouldn’t have met him.
I loved having him lift me up and carry me to the bed we had been sharing.
I loved how he covered me with his big, strong, naked body.
I loved the way his mouth captured mine and made me forget everything but us.
I loved how well we fit together.
I loved Logan.