Page 36 of Infamous Heart

“I don’t think it’s—“

“Are we about to have a fight? I feel like we’re going to fight.”

“We’re going to fight if you don’t let me speak.” She straightened her back, tracing a line down the center of her body as she attempted to find her Zen. Lydia might look calm on the outside, but it was obvious there was a turbulent storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“Speak.”

“He was put into a situation without a win. No matter what he did, it was going to damage the reader’s pristine image of the hero. I think the artist was saying being a hero isn’t that easy. Nothing is black and white, it’s a muddy grey.”

Lydia massaged the bridge of her nose. When I tried to talk, she let out a long shush while holding up a finger. Considering the tongue lashing I received during brunch, I grew suspicious that everybody in my life believed theywerethe queen of drama.

“Sorry, I needed to collect myself before I hurled Centurion action figures at your head.” Had it been Xander, I’d have called his bluff. Lydia didn’t play at threats. Last thing I needed was an action figure of Bernard pelting me in the forehead.

“Hero is given two options,” she started. “Kill his girlfriend, or let hostages be murdered. There’s no win to be had, right?”

“Agreed.” I picked up a little plastic Bernard dressed as Sentinel. “So the logical—“

“No,” Lydia barked. “You and I, normal people, we pick the smallest body count. You and I arenotheroes. We’re people. So, let’s try this again. You have two options. What do you do?”

We often fought about comics, and once she got an idea in her head, she wouldn’t relent. She struck the hero of the comic down because he didn’t make the correct decision. But sometimes there simply aren’t choices that result in good or bad. Life wasn’t a comic book; it was infinitely more complicated. This wasn’t a black or white, yes or no question.

“He did the right thing.” I stood firm.

Having a tiny Bernard chucked against my forehead hurt as much as I anticipated. Before I found the dent, Lydia launched into her tirade.

“Superheroes don’t get to pick the lesser of two evils. Evil is evil. He should have gone with option C.”

“But you said—“

“They’re superheroes, they don’t care what I said. He could have gone back in time. He could have frozen the room. Heroes don’t get the luxury of living in a muddy gray.”

I knew we were discussing a comic book, a great one at that, but her words stung. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was talking about Sebastian. Was I justifying bad behavior because I liked the man? He attempted to bypass the questions by hiding his abilities, but did that mean he was picking an evil, even if only a tiny one? The question would nag at me all day.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re a million miles away.”

She snapped her fingers, knocking me out of my thoughts. “Sorry about that. It’s a work thing eating at me. I came in here to get your opinion on a spread I’m presenting. Hoping it’s enough to land me the job.”

“We’ll put a pin in this conversation,” her eyes narrowed, “but don’t think we’re done.”

I reached into my messenger bag. Once I had the portfolio in hand, I hesitated, worried Lydia was about to tear apart my design. Normally I wouldn’t care. I had grown used to brutal critiques, but none with stakes this high.

“Hand it over!” she yelled.

I thrust it into her waiting hands. She started flipping until she reached the last page. While she inspected my work, I wandered away from the counter, thumbing through the comics on the shelves. An entire wall of her shop held new release comics, hundreds by my estimate. Perhaps once I landed this job, I could afford to start reading them again. Loving comics generally meant being poor.

“Want my honest opinion? Or do you want me to sugar coat it, so you feel good going into your meeting?”

My heart sank.

“Griff, I’m messing with you.” She spun the portfolio around, showing off my work. “You have a visual punch to make the page flippers stop. You’ve butchered the article in places and pushed the design elements to the forefront. There’s no way somebody is going to see this and not think that a designer stood at the helm.”

“But is it good?”

She closed it, sliding it across the counter. “You don’t have a thing to worry about. It’s good, bordering on great. You just need to be ready to stand behind your decisions and throw down with anybody who says otherwise.”

Leave it to Lydia to say the exact thing I needed to hear.

15

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