Mom, I'm Bulletproof

Chapter 7.1: Making Ends Meet

"I was thinking," Amy said, a few days before her flight to London, "there was this science article online, about a theoretical new way to travel. It said if a vehicle were to fly up high enough and then straight down, it could reach the other side of the planet in a fraction of the time it takes an airplane."

"And why are you telling me this?" her publicist Todd said. This was another meeting in which he continued to tell Amy that a blockbuster movie deal is imminent, but not yet. This time, Amy decided to bring something new to the table.

"I bet I could try that," she said. "I know I can get way up into the atmosphere. A little higher and I bet I could circle the whole globe faster than anyone has ever done."

"That's nice, but..."

"It could be a TV special. I could wear a helmet cam for the audience at home to see the entire flight from my point of view. And it'd be only one night, so it wouldn't take time away from crimefighting and helping people."

"Amy..."

"I'd need a special GPS doohicky to come down at just the right spot, but I'm sure that tech already exists."

"Amy, we have to talk."

Amy stopped. She had heard these five words from boys she had dated in the past, but never from her publicist.

"What?"

He leaned forward. "Have you given any more thought about what we talked about? About rethinking this whole crimefighting thing and instead focusing on a career?"

"I don't want to have this conversation again," Amy said. "That's what I do. That's what's important to me."

"How do you think you'll ever land a movie deal flying around and getting in fights?"

"It's not about fighting," Amy said. "I help people."

"And I'm trying to help you," Todd said. "Help you earn a living, that is."

Amy leaned in her chair. Todd tapped his fingers on his desk for a few seconds.

"How are your finances these days?" he asked. "Making ends meet?"

"I'm getting by."

"I imagine the money from the commercials has almost dried up by now."

"No, really, I'm all right," Amy said. "It's not like I need to pay for health insurance."

"A tentpole summer film could make you a multi-millionaire."

"I know, but..."

"What would you do otherwise? More product endorsements? Ribbon cuttings? Signing autographs at comic book conventions? Children's birthday parties? Is that the type of independence you want?"

"Well, no..."

"Then you've got to trust me."

"When? You keep saying this movie is going to happen, but when?"

"These things take time."

"That's the other thing you always say."

Todd held up his hands. "I see you're upset. Tell you what. I've got some meetings coming up in L.A. in the next few days. Let's meet again in a week and a half and I'll have some real information for you, good or bad."

"Yeah, OK," Amy said.

"Great." Todd smiled, stood up and leaned forward over his desk, suggesting that the meeting was over.

"One more thing," she said. "I don't suppose you've ever heard of something called the Temple?"

He shrugged. "Lots of churches have temples."

"I know," Amy said. "That's all I get when I Google it. But the Hater mumbled about a Temple when I fought him. I think maybe someone was manipulating him. The cops said they don't know how he got out of jail or how he got his weapons and outfit."

"Let the police worry about that," Todd said. "It's their jobs."

"I know a bunch of cops," she said. "I already asked, and they were no help."

She stood up. He walked her over to her office door and held it open for her.

"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you," he said.

"I just can't get their next meeting with his secretary, walked up to the roof – she knew the way by now – and took off flying over the city.

She didn't see any signs of disaster. She didn't hear any cries for help.

* * * *

It was life as usual for U.S. Amy. Annoying phone calls from her mother, stopping convenience store robberies, her friend Abby pestering her about not having a boyfriend, stopping some cars skidding out of control in the rain, and wondering about the Temple.

One night, while flying over the city, hoping for any opportunities to help, Amy adjusted her position to face upward. To an observer, it would have looked like she was lying on her back, in midair.

She again considered her plan to fly across the ocean, and whether it could be done.

Amy flew home. A stack of unpaid bills sat at the edge of her kitchencounter. 

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Next: Reading the fine print.