Page 6 of The Chosen Son

Chapter 3

Cameron

“Hold the camera steady.You’re moving it around too much,” Phobos griped. We were standing on the roof of one of the tallest buildings downtown, the sun just beginning to set so it cast a warm glow across him.

“My camerawork isn’t the problem,” I muttered under my breath, but of course he heard me. You know, ’cause of the whole super-hearing thing. He narrowed his gaze at me but let it go.

If I’d thought moving into Phobos’s mansion was going to make us roommates and bestest buddies, like a scene out of some friends-to-lovers college rom-com, then I was sorely mistaken. Not only were our rooms in completely different wings of an obscenely large house, but the man was a total slob! Stacks of dirty dishes with molding half-eaten food, leftbesidethe dishwasher, wet towels left in sloppy piles on the pool deck, and he seemed to have a complete inability to close a single cupboard in any room of the house. Worst of all, there was some mysterious odor emanating from his wing of thehouse, so I was incredibly grateful I wasn’t living over there with him. He was nothing more than a gigantic manbaby.

At least he showered, and there wasn’t a single stain on his bright blue tights and orange leotard.

“Crouch down and angle the camera upward, so I look taller,” he instructed, striking a pose. “And I’ll whip up a little wind so my cape ripples.” Sure enough, the wind picked up, and Phobos gazed into the far distance and pulled a face that looked much like one of those wet wadded-up towels by the pool.

I lowered the camera and looked at him. “What is that? Are you okay?”

He dropped the pose, the wind dying down, and frowned in confusion. “Huh? Of course I’m okay. What are you talking about?”

“You know, the face you’re making. You look constipated. Do you want me to buy you some bran muffins or something?”

“No! I’m not—” He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was trying to look serious. It’s fine, never mind, I’ll lose the face.” He spun his finger in the air. “C’mon, let’s go again.”

The wind rose once more, and this time, instead of being “serious,” Phobos went for a gentle smile that seemed to say “magnanimous.” I nodded. “Much better,” I said. I started in a crouch, making sure to get his whole body in the frame, then moved around him and up until I could see the city skyline in the background.

We’d started to lose the light, but I figured I had some usable footage. “Perfect. Let’s call it.”

“And you’re sure you’ll be able to put the clips together to make it look like a high-budget commercial?” He sounded skeptical, but he didn’t seem to be a fan of technology as a whole concept. I mean, the dude was ancient, so I couldn’t really blame him. Some seniors couldn’t even work their TV remote.

“Yeah, it’s child’s play,” I assured him, waving him off. “What you really need now is a catch phrase, some sort of memorable slogan, and I’ll slap it across the screen at the end. Something that says approachable but also better than everyone.”

Phobos frowned sharply. “I don’t think I’m better than everyone.”

“No, of course not, but you want the public to think that you are, or else why would they call you when they need help, instead of the next guy?”

“Th-The next guy?” he gasped. “Is there another superhero in Valleywood? I didn’t think I would have so much competition.”

“No competition—yet,” I said, punctuating it with a stab of my finger. “But it’s only a matter of time. You’re going to make it look so cool to be the good guy that everyone else will want to follow in your footsteps. Wannabes will be coming out of the woodwork, left, right, and center. But you, my friend, are the real deal. And a slogan will clinch it.”

He’d started to pout, and when he stuck his lip out like that, it made him look more like a toddler who didn’t get his way than an all-powerful god who’d faced down hordes on a battlefield.

“Ooh! And a jingle,” I said as the idea popped into my head.

“Like… a theme song?” Phobos was beyond skeptical, an eyebrow arched.

“No, more like—” I cut off and whistled a short trill of just eight notes.

Phobos’s eyes lit up. “Hey! I’ve heard that on a commercial for that deodorant, the one with the red label!”

“Exactly! And when you go to the grocery store, what brand of deodorant do you buy?” I asked, leading him.

I saw the realization cross his face. “Ohhh. I get it.” I knew for a fact that he never remembered the name of the brand, but when we’dbeen at the grocery store last week, I’d heard him whistle the jingle as he’d picked up the stick. “So that’s me, I’m the deodorant with the red label.”

By now, I had the camera and my props packed up in my backpack, and I headed for the service stairs. Phobos had offered to fly me up here, but I had politely declined. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him not to drop me; I just really didn’t want to be that close to him if I could avoid it. Not after what had happened when we shook hands that first day. We’d come into contact since then, and no more premonitions, so maybe it was just a fluke one-off, but I didn’t care to tempt fate.

Phobos followed along behind me down the stairs like an eager puppy. “So, do you think if we get this commercial on the air, I might finally get to do something really cool?” I glanced at him sidelong, and he quickly added, “Not that I don’t love saving old ladies from muggers or retrieving cats from trees. I would just really love to do something that requires a little more… finesse. You know? Like, stop a bank robbery and rescue all the hostages. Or catch a plane as it’s about to crash!”

I shook my head, chuckling. “If you happen to see any planes falling from the sky, please feel free to catch them.” Phobos grumbled behind me about what a smartass I was, but his voice seemed to get muffled for a second, like my ears were filled with static.

That’s weird. I wonder if I’m getting an ear infection.

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