Bridge Club
Erin M. Kinch

 

June surveyed the refreshment table with satisfaction. Her bundt cake towered over the display on its crystal stand, powdered sugar dusting the chocolate peaks like snow. Pitchers of iced tea and water waited next to sparkling glasses and a silver ice bucket. The Royale had outdone itself. She missed the homey atmosphere at the Xavier, but sacrifices had to be made. A symmetry problem with the finger sandwiches caught her eye, and she rotated the platter fifteen degrees clockwise.

“It looks lovely, darling. Relax.”

June smiled at the woman in the sleek black pants suit. “You know me, dear – always a perfectionist.”

Maven’s crow’s feet crinkled slightly when she smiled, her only concession to advancing middle age. Regular salon visits kept the gray out of her dramatically dark hair. June had opted to let her light brown bob go gray with dignity.

“How many RSVPs this month?” Maven set a tray of petit fours on the table as June checked her date book.

“Twelve.”

“Good turn-out,” Maven approved.

“Everyone wants to meet our new member.”

The two older women stood to the side as more ladies arrived. June welcomed all the guests and added their contributions to the table arrangement, while Maven directed them to the beverages.

When the gentle rise and fall of conversation stilled, June glanced at the door. On the threshold stood a young woman with a face that would have been lovely if not for the heavy makeup. Her platinum blonde hair was teased into a mass of curls, and a tight red sweater hugged her ample cleavage.  When she hung up her jacket, her black denim low riders gave everyone a clear view of the butterfly tattoo on the small of her back.

Maven smirked. “She’s a far cry from the last one.”

“Be nice,” June admonished. “After what Supe went through with that first wife, he deserves some fun.”

“The fun ones aren’t generally the marrying type.”

“You weren’t at the wedding. She’s simply mad about him. It’s adorable.”

“Thank goodness I wasn’t invited. Sounds sickening.” Maven threaded her arm through June’s. “Time to play hostess.” They made their way over to the new girl with welcoming smiles.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” June said. “Let me introduce you to my co-chairwoman, Maven.”

“Hi there,” the girl gushed in a twangy drawl. “I’m Ch…”

“Oh my,” June interrupted. “I forgot to mention that we use pseudonyms. For safety, you understand. Mine is June.”

The girl’s kohl-rimmed eyes widened. “What’s mine?”

“You can choose anything you like.” June smiled encouragingly.

The girl chewed her lip. Miraculously, none of her scarlet lipstick rubbed off on her teeth. Then an expression of pure delight crossed her face. “I’ll be Ambrosia!”

Next to June, Maven trembled with suppressed laughter. June found the choice of pseudonym rather silly herself, but she didn’t want the girl to feel embarrassed.

“That’s lovely, dear.” June moved forward, blocking Ambrosia’s view of Maven, and motioned for the younger girl to follow her to the front of the room.

“I need to have a few words with Delilah,” Maven said. “If you two will excuse me?” June nodded, and Maven bustled away.

At the refreshment table, June relieved Ambrosia of her white plastic container. “What did you bring?”

“Green bean casserole.” Ambrosia eyed the elegant spread. “It’s the only thing I know how to make.”

“It smells delicious.” June gestured to the beverages. “Tea or water? If you prefer coffee, there’s a carafe in the corner.” Ambrosia eyed the cadre of women around the carafe, then poured herself a glass of iced tea.

“There are a few other things you should know before we begin,” June said. “We always use our husbands’ public names. Protecting secret identities is paramount. I prefer to call Mike, Fab. Mr. Fabulous is such a mouthful in polite conversation.”

“Why are y’all so careful?”

“Do you recognize Maven?”

Ambrosia shook her head, setting her chin-length earrings to swaying.

“She’s married to Blackthorne.”

Blood drained from the younger girl’s face, leaving it white under the circles of rouge. “The Blackthorne? We’ve gotta call someone!”

June shook her head firmly. “We most definitely do not.”

“But…”

“Maven is one of my dearest friends. Just because Fab would toss Thorn in jail at the first opportunity, that doesn’t mean she, or her children, are evil. The world isn’t black and white, no matter what Fab said in his ‘Man of the Year’ interview.” Ambrosia contemplated that while June poured herself a glass of tea.

“I don’t get it,” Ambrosia said finally. “If everybody uses a secret identity, how do y’all send the invitations?”

“As chairwomen, Maven and I each hold a copy of the roster. It includes everyone’s real name and contact information, though it’s in code,” June explained. “Even if someone wanted to steal the information and use it against her husband’s enemies, she wouldn’t because it would put the families of her husband’s allies in jeopardy, as well. It was the fairest system we could come up with.”

“And y’all’s husbands are fine with all this?”

June chuckled with genuine amusement. “Fab has much more important things to worry about than a simple bridge club. I don’t know what I would have done without the club when he was in space dealing with that asteroid, but you probably don’t remember that. It was nearly twenty years ago. Why don’t you fix yourself a plate? It’s almost time to start.”

Suiting action to words, June placed two cucumber sandwiches, vegetable sticks, and a few other nibbles on her plate. So Ambrosia wouldn’t feel bad, June also took a generous helping of green bean casserole and tried not to think about all the sodium and preservatives in the obviously canned ingredients.

They were halfway between the refreshments and the large table where the other ladies had congregated with their plates when Ambrosia asked, “What about guys? Like, the ones married to crime-fighting chicks?”

“Fantastigal’s husband was our charter male member, but that didn’t work out as well as we’d hoped.” June pressed her lips together, remembering Craig’s belligerent accusations. “He was blackballed. We had to find a new meeting location and everything.”

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Maven slipped into her usual seat next to June. “I call to order this month’s meeting of the bridge club.”

“Let’s take a moment,” June continued, “to welcome our newest member, Ambrosia, Supersonic’s lovely new bride.” There was a smattering of applause.

“Ambrosia!” exclaimed Delilah. The fiery redhead was married to Diamond Jim, Blackthorne’s main enforcer. “I saw your wedding portrait. That dress was so unique. Where did you get it?”

“I made it myself,” Ambrosia admitted. “I love designing stuff.”

“It was amazing,” Jody, wife of the Azure Crusader, proclaimed. “You should market your own line.”

“Is it true what they say about Supe?” Sandy asked. “That he’s supersonic everywhere?” Sandy was married to the Seahorse. She winked, and Ambrosia blushed all the way to her dyed roots.

Maven tapped her glass with her fork until the gossip quieted. “All right, ladies, we do have a few items of business to discuss.”

June flipped open her leather date book, and other women around the table did the same. Ambrosia had a hot pink notebook covered with purple hearts. June opened her calendar to the next weekend.

“I’ll start us off.” At Maven’s nod, June continued. “Next Friday night is my daughter’s senior class play. She’s the lead, and she’s dying for her father to be there. Can we make that happen?”

“Azure can take the skywatch,” Jody offered. “He’s got new flight patterns to try out anyway.”

“And Granite can cover groundwatch,” his wife, Leslie, added. “That should take care of natural disasters, plane crashes, and the like.”

“Maven!” Delilah exclaimed. “Don’t Thorn and Jim have something next Friday?”

“Yes.” Maven consulted her own book. “The jewelry heist.” She toyed with the five karat ring on her finger. “Thorn was going to pick me up a little birthday gift. Something in platinum and sapphires.” She sighed. “I can talk him out of the jewels, but I’ll need something to distract him.”

“Like what?” June prepared herself for the negotiations. Maven was a master.

“Thorne is desperate to get his hands on the new stealth technology prototype at Blake Enterprises, but he hasn’t been able to breach the perimeter. He needs access codes or a blind spot in the guard rotation. Something promising.”

June flipped through her day planner, sure she’d seen something about Blake Enterprises in there. When she found the entry, she glanced at Natalie, whose billionaire husband ran the corporation by day and took out war profiteers on the weekends. Natalie nodded, indicating that June could take the lead however she saw fit.

“I can do better than access codes,” June said. “The corporation has a field test planned in two weeks. The prototype will be offsite. I can give you the coordinates.”

Ambrosia gasped. “Y’all are gonna give stealth technology to a bonafide crime lord so Mr. Fabulous can go to the theater? That just ain’t right!” The rest of the women burst into good-natured laughter. Ambrosia stared at the other women in a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

“Remember,” June said quietly, “don’t think about it in black and white.”

“Just because we give them the coordinates, it doesn’t mean Thorn can pull off the theft,” Natalie explained. “The Allies of Justice have the coordinates, too.”

“It’s better all around if the confrontation happens away from the Blake Campus,” Delilah added. “Fewer innocent bystanders.”

“And less property damage,” said Natalie. “Also, we won’t have to change the access codes again afterwards.”

“Oh.” Ambrosia toyed with the stem of her glass. “I feel kinda silly now.”

“Don’t,” June admonished. “It takes everyone a bit to catch on.”

“Are we agreed?” Maven asked, bringing the focus back to the business at hand. “I’ll stop the jewelry heist, and you’ll give me the coordinates and time of the stealth prototype field test?”

June nodded. “Agreed.”

“Ladies?” Maven asked.

“Agreed,” they all chorused.

“Are there any other issues for discussion?” Maven asked.

“I have one!” Leslie chirped and took a sketch from her notebook. “Granite had a new costume designed. What do you think?” She passed the sketch around, and the other women oohed and aahed over it, until Jody had her turn.

“This won’t do at all!” she exclaimed. “Look at the lightning slashes here and here, and the cerulean on his cape. This is way too close to Azure’s costume. No one will be able to tell them apart from a distance!”

“That’s absurd,” Leslie replied. “Just because your husband goes by the Azure Crusader, that doesn’t mean he’s the only hero who can wear blue. This color looks great with Granite’s eyes! Besides, Granite doesn’t flit about in the sky like Azure, so I doubt anyone would confuse them.”

Before anyone could intervene, the door to the private room burst open, ricocheting off the wall with a loud bang. Everyone whirled in their chairs.

“Craig, what are you doing here?” June was on her feet instantly, intercepting the intruder before he made it halfway across the room.

“It took me a while to find you.” Craig eyed the women with suspicion. “You cover your tracks well.”

“Apparently not well enough.” June sighed. She’d just gotten used to the Royale.

Craig pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and pointed it at June’s head. “Give me the roster books.”

“Why don’t you sit down and have a slice of bundt cake?” June offered. “We can discuss this like civilized adults.”

“I don’t want any damn cake!” Craig yelled. The hand holding the gun trembled. “I want those rosters.”

“Come on, Craig,” Jody urged. “Fantastigal would never support this. You can’t shoot June.”

“If Fantastigal knew what was really going on here, she would do whatever it took to stop it.” Craig grimaced. “Once the Allies of Justice know where their enemies live, they’ll be able to stop the evil at its source. This is for the good of the city.”

“The Allies wouldn’t stoop to such despicable measures.” June frowned at Craig. “You know it, and Fantastigal knows it. I find it hard to believe she even knows you’re here.”

“She doesn’t!” Craig bit back a harsh laugh. “I tried to tell her about your diabolical bridge club, and she laughed at me! When I show her the rosters, she’ll finally take me seriously. She’ll know I can be more than just her husband – I can help her fight crime!”

“Sorry, buddy. That just isn’t going to happen.” As she spoke, Maven touched Craig on the back of the neck with her Stun-o-Matic. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed onto the hotel’s tasteful beige carpeting.

“Thank you.” June smiled at her friend. “I thought for sure he was going to see you sneaking around the room.”

“The boy suffers from tunnel vision,” Maven replied, a trifle smugly.

“What are we going to do with him?” Sandy asked. “Obviously blackballing him wasn’t enough.”

“Blake Enterprises is sending a shuttle to Venus next week to take atmosphere samples. We could toss Craig into the cargo hold,” Natalie suggested.

“He deserves worse than that!” Delilah declared. “How about poisoning by tiger whiskers. I’ve always wanted to see that done. I hear it really tears up the insides.”

“Send him to one of Thorn’s brothels,” Jody said. “Once we have photographic evidence of him there, we can see how the blackmailer likes being the blackmailee.”

Maven took a silver rod from her handbag. With the push of a button, two electrodes appeared on each side. “This is a Memory Eater. Thorn uses it when the police target one of his guys. It will erase as much as we need, and the side effects aren’t that much worse than the stomach flu. I thought about suggesting we use this on Craig the last time, but he seemed to respect the blackballing.”

“That’s perfect!” June exclaimed. “If Craig doesn’t remember the bridge club, we won’t have any more trouble out of him.”

They took a quick vote and, except for Delilah, who was stuck on the tiger whiskers idea, everyone was in favor of the Memory Eater. The actual memory erasing only took five minutes, then Maven had her chauffeur take Craig home so the meeting could resume.

“Well,” June said, as the ladies took their places at the table, “that was a little too exciting. I’m ready to adjourn.”

“Wait!” Jody exclaimed. “What are we going to do about the costume debacle?”

“I can help.”

Everyone stared at Ambrosia.

“Go on, dear,” June encouraged.

“I just meant,” Ambrosia stammered, “that maybe I could tweak the design a little. Something similar, but with its own unique flair.”

“That’s a great idea!” Leslie thrust the sketch into Ambrosia’s hands. “Madam Z’s designs are getting so outmoded. New blood is just what this city needs.”

“Maybe you can work on some ideas for Jim, too,” Delilah suggested. “He’s been wearing the same costume for nearly five years.”

“Sure,” Ambrosia agreed, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I’d love to.”

June patted Ambrosia’s hand. “I knew you would fit in nicely here.”

“Thanks,” Ambrosia whispered back.

“Well, now that the costume issue is settled,” Maven said, “who’s ready for a hand of bridge?”