House of Dolls Read online

  HOUSE OF DOLLS

  Book One

  By Harmon Cooper

  Copyright © 2018 by Harmon Cooper

  Copyright © 2018 Boycott Books

  Edited by Allison Wright

  Audiobook by Tantor Media, Narrated by Neil Hellegers

  www.harmoncooper.com

  [email protected]

  Twitter: @_HarmonCooper

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Centralian Power Classifications

  Chapter One: I’m Going to Jump

  “I’m going to jump!” Kevin shouted over his shoulder. The overweight man stood on the ledge of the Centralian Immigration Office’s rooftop, a magnificent building at least thirty stories high.

  No one moved a muscle aside from Roman, who took one step closer to Kevin.

  “Easy, buddy,” he called to the middle-aged immigration advisor. Roman didn’t particularly like Kevin, but seeing someone melt down and/or commit suicide was a terrible way to start a Monday.

  “It’s his first attempt, right?” Nadine, the woman standing next to Roman, asked.

  “Yeah, he’s been struggling lately,” Roman told her under his breath, the tone of his voice indicating that he was looking for sympathy. He hadn’t spoken to Nadine often, but he’d definitely noticed her—the new employee in the Immigration Inspection for Fast Travel Powers Department.

  “Really?”

  “I should know. He sits in the cubicle next to me. Come down, Kevin!” Roman shouted, without taking his eyes off Nadine.

  It was a long way down, and it was technically illegal to commit suicide. The paperwork Kevin would leave his family to fill out alone would put fear in the eyes of any middle-of-the-road administrator.

  But Roman wasn’t focused on the details now. If his shorter, more robust counterpart wanted to end it all, that was his problem.

  Truth was, Roman had been trying to figure out a way to introduce himself to Nadine for months now, ever since she’d started at the Centralian Immigration Offices.

  And Roman was the type of guy ready to seize any opportunity presented to him.

  “I try to talk to Kevin—you know, be friendly,” he said coolly. “I invited him out once. It was just for lunch, but I definitely would’ve split the bill with him. Definitely.”

  For a non-exemplar, Nadine was as fit as a super.

  Lean, thin, with green eyes and blondish-brown hair she usually wore in a bun, there was an exotic beauty about her, something Roman couldn’t quite place. Another thing he liked about her was the fact that she always wore tight dresses, even on casual Fridays. He appreciated Nadine’s attention to detail, and was just about to compliment her on her earrings when Kevin shouted.

  “I’m going to jump!” A breeze whipped up, and Kevin nearly lost his balance. The top-heavy man regained his composure, snorting as he yelled, “I’ll do it! I’ll fucking do it!”

  There were about twenty people on the rooftop now, all murmuring as they waited to see if Kevin would do it or not.

  “Anyway, like I was saying, I tried to be friends with the guy. Hell, I even gave him a donut a few weeks back. Well, I brought the whole office donuts.” Roman raised an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t happen to get one, did you?”

  Nadine thought about it for a moment. “Are you sure it was you that brought them? I thought they were a gift from management for making us work through the last holiday.”

  Roman maintained his grin. “On the surface, yes, but who do you think wrote to HR and suggested it?”

  “I’m going to jump!”

  Roman considered his next options carefully. He could try to talk his officemate down from the ledge, which would be the right thing to do; or he could continue to talk to Nadine, which would be the smart thing to do.

  He chose the latter.

  “You’re new here, right?” Roman asked her as more people gathered behind them.

  What Nadine didn’t know was that Roman had been quietly collecting as much info on her as he could. Nothing stalker-like, just asking if anyone knew her and, more importantly, if she was single. All he’d needed was an in, and it had come to him as a surprise that this happened to be Kevin’s attempted suicide.

  “That’s right, I’m new around here. Or newish. Nadine,” she said, shaking his hand. He held her hand for just a second longer than he should have, judging its weight.

  “Roman Martin, Immigration Advisor.”

  “I think I’ve seen your signature on a few of the documents I’ve processed. A big signature, right? A little messy.”

  He shrugged. “I was going for avant-garde, but messy will do.”

  “Nice to meet you, Roman.”

  “Same, Nadine.”

  “Do you think he’ll do it?” the green-eyed woman asked, returning her focus to Kevin, who was all but flapping his arms like wings at this point. There was a glint on her right hand, a peculiar silver ring that Roman hadn’t noticed before.

  “Kevin has threatened to do it before, which reminds me…”

  Everyone loved a hero, and even though Roman wasn’t a super, that didn’t mean he couldn’t save someone. So, after giving Nadine the dashing smile he’d perfected over the years, Roman strolled over to Kevin and started speaking to him as casually as possible.

  “Hey, pal, any chance you’ll come down from there?” he asked, “I could really, and I mean really, use a little love in that regard.”

  “Love?” Kevin sobbed, snot dripping from the tip of his nose. The wind pressed through his thinning hair, tossing his cowlick around. “What do you know about love?”

  “Relax, Kevin. What’s got you so angry and upset, anyway?”

  “My wife left me for a super, an old college fling of hers. A fucking Type III Class D. A flyer. I caught them fucking in my living room. Fly-fucking.”

  “Fly-fucking?”

  “Suspended upside down, midair. Fuck! I’m jumping, dammit—everyone stay back!” Kevin called over his shoulder. “Screw this world! To hell with Centralia!”

  “Cool it,” Roman said, inching just a little closer. “Hey, remember Nadine? The one I told you about? You know, the inspector for Fast Travels?”

  “She’s here too?”

  Roman threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Everyone’s here. Well, everyone aside from Selena, but that’s fine. No one likes her anyway. Look, Kevin, point is, we’re with you. We’re here to support you.”

  “Fucking jump already!” someone from the back of the crowd called out.

  “Hey!” Roman barked to the man. “Don’t listen to him, Kevin. I think that was a warehouse guy, anyway. Those guys suck. I don’t even know why Centralian Immigration has a warehouse.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes. “To house older documents. All paper files must be kept!” he said, pointing a finger over his head. “Now step back, Roman, I’m saying goodbye to this shitty life.”

  “Kevin.” Roman laughed in a fake way. “Come on, pal, you don’t want to jump. Talk about a way to go. Do me a solid here—Nadine is watching. Besides, you don’t want to leave your family with the paperwork. You know what I mean. Lots of paperwork…”

  “My family? All I have is my wife, and look what she’s done to me! She cheated with a super! They were going at it floating horizontally in my living room. I saw it!”

  “You already told me that.”

  “She was orgasming when I walked in. Ever see someone orgasm upside down? Fuck him! Fuck her! And fuck Centralia!” Kevin threw his arms wide, preparing to jump.

  “Do it!” one of the warehouse guys called out.

  Roman turned and pointed at the man. �
�Keep your mouth shut.”

  The warehouse worker bit his lip and slipped back into the crowd, not able to match his bark with his bite.

  “Wasn’t it an arranged marriage anyway?” Roman asked, looking back to Kevin.

  “What? Don’t be ridiculous. How long have I known you?”

  “Two years? Has it really been two years? Damn, it sure has. That’s depressing. Got room for me up there? Ha! I’m kidding; please come down.”

  “Two years? I bet you don’t even know my wife’s name.”

  Roman considered this for a moment. “Jane? Was it Jane? Or no—it was something with a K. Kathy? Kathy and Kevin? At least that sounds good together.”

  “Screw you, Roman.” Kevin lifted his chin high and looked at his coworker over the bridge of his nose.

  “Ah, don’t be like tha—”

  With a deep breath in, Kevin bent his knees and jumped backward.

  Chapter Two: Heroes Anonymous

  “I am not a superpowered individual. I am not an exemplar. I have never had a superpower. I am not a hero, nor will I ever be a hero,” everyone said simultaneously. “I am not a superhero. I am half-powered. I will always be half-powered. I am a non-exemplar.”

  Roman frowned as they recited the next part.

  “There is nothing about me that is extraordinary. I am not a hero. I am not a superhero. I am half-powered. I will always be half-powered. I am a non-exemplar.”

  He sat at the front of the room, next to the beautiful non-exemplar he’d been eying for weeks. The woman’s name was Paris, and she was just about the hottest female he’d ever encountered at one of these meetings—dark hair, busty, pencil skirt, dimples too. They’d made eye contact last week, but that was about it.

  “Roman, would you like to begin?” the Heroes Anonymous session leader, Bill, asked.

  Bill was a monster of a man, practically a Type II, with a shaved head and an earnest look in his eyes.

  Roman cleared his throat as he made his way to the podium. “Hi, everyone, my name is Roman and I’m a non-exemplar. Um, it’s been tough, I’ll say that. The last few weeks, whew.” Roman glanced at Paris, the brunette in the second row.

  Better turn it up a notch, he thought as he continued. “So, just last week—and I swear I haven’t even suggested to anyone I’m a hero for six months…”

  “No need to justify anything. Just tell us what happened,” Bill the sponsor said.

  “Last week I broke the code. I lied about who I was.” Roman gulped. “I masqueraded as a super and I knew it was wrong. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Now, Roman…”

  “It was small, Bill, that’s all I’m trying to say here. I was at the grocery store, and what can I say? I’m a sucker for people in trouble.” Roman winked at Paris, who crossed one leg over the other, showing a bit of flesh in the process. “Anyway, there were some exemplar kids outside, you know, just raising money for their super trials. Lucky kids, and you all know as well as I do that they aren’t allowed to use their powers. And some of those kids, damn, they take that seriously.”

  Someone in the back of the room coughed.

  “Anyway, a guy tried to hassle them for the candy they were selling. What kind of guy does that, right? Who steals candy from a bunch of kids? This asshole—sorry, Bill—this guy grabs a bag, and I’m talking a big bag of candy here, and takes off. So I took off after him.”

  “And?”

  “And I start making noises with my mouth, pretending I’m a super. What do you expect, Bill? I’m not proud of it.”

  “Hey, no judgement here, brother,” a guy in the third row said. Roman recognized him; he was always here, sometimes in a cast due to a misguided attempt at heroism.

  “Hey, I may be a non-exemplar, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have stamina,” Roman said, locking eyes with Paris. “I can go all night, if you all know what I mean. I used to be a fighter; some of you know that as well. So I’m running after him, and he’s a fast one too, also a non-exemplar but maybe he’s got more speed than me. Not strength though, and eventually, he trips and…”

  “You didn’t.” The guy in the third row gasped, looking for confirmation from a chubby woman next to him who was always knitting a sweater.

  “I did. I hopped right on top of him and we start rolling around, candy flying everywhere, and I felt like I had a superpower moving through me, activating, slowing down time—”

  “Roman, you know that type of fantasizing isn’t tolerated here. We are half-powered, non-exemplars. There is nothing unique about us,” Bill reminded him.

  “Yeah, I know, but okay, you asked and I’m telling you what happened. It wasn’t my idea to come up here and say what’s on my mind. I’m just a man, Bill—a man who wants to help people,” Roman said, again locking his orange eyes on Paris, who now had a thin smile on her face. “So I overpowered him. I took the bastard down, and I would have—I would have taken him to central booking too if…”

  Bill waved his hand in the air to signal that Roman should wrap it up. “If what, Roman?”

  “One of them showed up and took it from there. A Type II Class A—sorry, I work in superpowered immigration, so I usually refer to them this way. ‘Type Two’ means the woman that showed up had a second-tier power, while Class A signifies she was of the psychic variety. Anyway, you guys know the rest from there. I had to pay a fine for impersonating a hero, and they added three more months of mandatory Heroes Anonymous to my tab.”

  “I don’t remember seeing that,” Bill said, suspicion painting across his face.

  “Yeah, it takes a little time for the paperwork to process.” Roman smirked at Paris. “Government, am I right? Anyway, that’s my story, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I broke my promise to all of you and that I went against our creed. It would be nice, though…”

  “I think that’s enough, Roman,” Bill said, ushering him off the stage. Roman had lied at the podium multiple times, and tonight was no different. Bill had heard Roman’s real story once or twice, but no one was going to hear it today, or even this week.

  The real reason he was at H-Anon was something that haunted Roman every day.

  “Thanks, everyone.” He took his seat in front of Paris, and as the next speaker made her way to the podium, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Paris holding out a slip of paper.

  Bingo, Roman thought, and he relaxed into his chair.

  “I hope this isn’t too sudden,” Roman said after he’d met Paris at the corner of 11th and 19th. He wouldn’t normally contact someone so quickly after getting their information, but something told him this was what Paris was expecting and, sure enough, here they were.

  “It’s fine,” Paris said, her voice sweet music to his ears.

  Roman had to work in the morning, which he wasn’t looking forward to because of Kevin’s messy departure. It was too bad that Kevin had decided to jump, and what had happened after the heavy man had gone over the side of the building was one of the more ironic things Roman had seen in a while.

  But he would think about that later—probably tomorrow, when he took on Kevin’s workload.

  For now, he was all eyes on Paris, who wore a different pencil skirt and a matching blouse.

  “So tell me about yourself.” He stuffed his hands into his jacket and turned toward 12th Street. They’d already agreed on a bar called Peace of Mind, which was known for its mixed drinks. It was a good spot to pick up non-exemplars, too, something Roman did occasionally if he was going through a dry spell.

  “Paris Renara, and I know I should speak at H-Anon sometime, but I will later. Bill keeps pushing me, but I’m a little shy in front of people.”

  “It’s fine,” Roman told her, running his hand through his white hair. Even though Roman was two years shy of thirty, he’d had white hair his entire life. It contrasted with his orange eyes, something that always caught the attention of the opposite sex.

  “So, more about me: I work as a real estate agent. Have you hear
d of the new development in Northern Centralia, the one called Waterfall Heights?”

  “I read about it in the paper.”

  “Those are the ones I’m currently working with. I have other agents I work with, but the commission is great.” Paris continued speaking about the realty business, eventually steering the conversation back to Roman. “I really liked your story today. That must have been embarrassing with the Type… what was it?”

  “Type II, Class A and D. She was a female telepath who used kinetic energy. I didn’t mention that last part.”

  “Ah, that’s right. But you got the kill,” she said, turning to Roman and smiling. “And by that I mean you were the first to take down the candy thief. You shouldn’t forget that.”

  “I’ll try to remember it.”

  Paris looped her hand around his arm, pulling her body closer to his. They continued down the street until they reached Peace of Mind. Roman wasn’t nervous per se, but his ears did perk up when they entered. He was hoping to avoid contact with any past flames.

  Luckily, it was a weekday, and the bar known as Peace of Mind was pretty much empty.

  Once they were seated, the conversation kicked into high gear, the alcohol loosening Paris’s tongue a bit and making Roman feel the familiar comfort that came when things were going his way.

  He told Paris his partially fabricated backstory, his struggles with heroism, his practiced stories from start to finish, and after the third round of drinks, he knew he had this one under wraps.

  And it wasn’t that Roman was cocky. Rather, like anyone who’d done the same thing multiple times, he knew the dance—knew how to lead, knew when to retreat and most importantly, knew how to steer.

  Two hours later and the two were on the couch in his living room, Paris with her top off, her hands pressed into his shoulders as she gyrated her hips against him. She still had her skirt on, but it was hiked up over her ass, revealing her thighs and panties.

  Roman was in heaven, and it was only when anger flashed behind her eyes that he knew something was wrong.