Stella stared ruefully at her reflection in the hall mirror.  The side of her face was still bruised and she had quite a shiner around her left eye.  She thought briefly about applying make-up over it, but decided against it.  She would probably end up making it look worse.  After all, she had never used make-up before.  Of course, she had never been this bruised up before.  Stepping into the living room, she plopped down on the sofa, and grabbing the remote from the cushion beside her, turned on the television.

“Can I bring you anything,” said Linda, suddenly beside her.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quit hovering over me.  I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” said Linda, sitting down primly in the overstuffed chair.  “You don’t look fine.”

“It’s just a bruise.”

“You saved my life, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”  Stella grabbed the remote again and turned up the volume. 

“… Find out if Airstream keeps his lead or falls to Madame Luna tonight on Dancing with the Supers, right after The Naked Truth and your local news.”

“Can I ask you a question?” asked Stella.

“Yes.”

“You know your dad?”

“Yes…”

“And um… your mom, I mean Doris Drake.”

“Doris Drake-Ford,” corrected Linda.

“Right.”

“What about them?”

“Did you ever see or… hear them?”

“What are you talking about?” wondered Linda.

“You know… did you ever see them or hear them having sex?”

“Eww!  That is so gross!  Those are my parents!”

“Well, sure,” said Stella.  “Only she’s a normal and he was…you know.”

“Oh,” said Linda with a look of recognition.  “You like a regular guy.”

“I just met… no!”

“Stella likes a normal,” sang Linda.  “Stella likes a normal.”

“Shut up.  Just never mind.  I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“We need to talk,” said Linda, and when Stella didn’t say anything, she continued.  “Don’t you think we should make some plans?  After all, the Atomic Jack-O-Lantern got away.”

“Are you saying that’s my fault?”

“No, of course not.”

“Just leave me alone and let me watch the news.”

Stella relaxed at the sidewalk café just across the street from Turvy.  She was wearing jeans, a white top, and a Cubs cap and could have been any attractive young woman.  Her cell phone rang just as the waiter staggered out with a tray containing two chicken Caesar wraps, a steak quesadilla, two bacon double cheeseburgers, an Italian beef sandwich, a walnut-tuna salad sandwich, a cob salad, and a French dip.  As he began arraying the food around her, she pulled the phone from her pocket and slid it open.

“Hello Irving.”

“Stella baby!  Irving is so flattered that you’ve given him his own ring tone.”

“I didn’t give you your own ring-tone, Irving.  I just knew you were going to call me.  The Turvy people are pissed that I didn’t wear that suit, aren’t they?”

“Irving is not their people, baby.  Irving is your people.  Irving cares about what Stella cares about, and what Stella cares about is being on the New York Times list, and guess what?”

Stella waited a beat before asking “What?”

“All American Girl is on the list!”

“No fricking way!”

“Yes baby!  You are on the list my sassy mega-girl, and not at one hundred either.  No, you debuted at number ninety eight!”

“You’re fricking kidding me!  Wait, did somebody die?”

“Nobody died.  Well yes, some people did die, but that’s not why you made the list.  You made the list because you kicked the crap out of some power-suited baddies and saved America!”

“Did Skygirl make the list too?”

“Yes, Skygirl did make the list and that is what Irving really called about.”

“Where did she debut?”

“Skygirl is not important.  At least she should not be important, but you are making her important by letting her in on your turf.  Chicago is All American Girl’s territory.  Why are you letting her steal your thunder, my girl?”

Stella was silent for a moment.

“Did you hear me, Baby?  Are you still there?  Is Irving talking to a dead line?”

“Yes, I’m still here.  Where is she?”

“She’s number ninety seven.”

“Damn it!”

“Irving feels your pain, baby.  So why are you letting this chick hang out with you?”

“It’s just… well, it just kind of happened, Irving.  She sort of saved my life and then she was all nice and stuff, and the next thing I know I’m living with her.”

“Irving understands baby.  That’s how it was with his second wife.  But you cannot let her steal your thunder.  The thunder is yours.  It’s All American Girl brand thunder, with all the legal rights and privileges there-of.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“You’ve got to get rid of…”

Stella closed her phone and then accidently crushed it in her hand.  Tossing the pieces down on the table, she looked at the vast array of food.  She really didn’t feel all that hungry now—maybe just the two cheeseburgers.

“No fricking way,” said Stella, looking around.

“This is perfect,” said Linda in a breathless whisper.

Linda was dressed in her secret identity—sensible shoes, socks, pleated skirt, sweater, and brown wig.  Stella had on a blue sundress, but she was hardly unrecognizable to anyone from Chicago.  The apartment agent, a middle-aged man in a very sharp grey suit ushered them past the entryway.

“As you can see, the entry opens into the dining room.  We have double doors here into the kitchen, which has an island bar and three stools.  This is all furnished of course, just like you see it.”  They moved through the kitchen and into the living room with a very high ceiling.  “Just the right size.  Plenty of room and yet still cozy.  The couch and a couple of armchairs, entertainment system, and a beautiful gas fireplace, and right through those doors is one of the two balconies.”

“This is perfect,” said Linda again.

“It is perfect for two young and important ladies, such as yourselves.”  He gave Stella a wink.  “If you go right from the entrance, past the linen closet and the powder room, you find a guestroom, which of course could be made into an office or a study or an armory, and the smaller of the two master bedrooms.  It has its own bath with a combo shower-tub, a walk-in closet, and its own balcony.  The larger master bedroom is through here.”  He pointed at double doors leading out of the living room.  “It has a larger bath, with both a shower and a tub, as well as a walk-in closet, but alas, no balcony.”

Linda danced from one foot to the other as though she had to pee.

“Can you give us a minute?” asked Stella.

“Of course.  But one thing before I go.  People in, how shall I say it, a certain line of work, might well expect to provide a considerable security deposit, especially if their previous residence was completely destroyed.”