Page 52 of Signed, I'm Yours!
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Paper Trail looks at me and narrows his eyes as if he’s trying to make me out, even though he’s wearing glasses.
“Well, I can make paperwork. That’s pretty much what it sounds like.”
“How is that helpful?” I ask him before I ask Jack the same question.
Jack, naturally, ignores me, so I snatch the cola back from him.
“Tell us about yourself, Paper Trail. Have you sidekicked for a villain before?”
The cola goes down the wrong hole, and I try to cough myself back to form.
“Are you okay?” Jack slaps my back, and when I find my breath, I look up at him.
“You called me a villain,” I swoon.
He rolls his eyes, smirks, and turns his attention back to the old man.
“Continue,” he says.
“Well, I’ve only ever worked for one person my whole life. Since I was a teenager.”
I choke again.
“How long ago was that exactly?”
Paper Trail opens and closes his mouth.
“Fifteen years, actually. I know I look much older, but…it’s a side effect of my power.”
Oh. Crap. Now I feel bad for being mean.
“Who did you work for?” I ask, then I remember I’m a supervillain, and being mean is my job, so I brush the guilt off.
“The Phantom. I helped put so much red tape around his illegal activities that the feds will never be able to pin him for them. Not even for tax evasion, which they’ve been trying to do for a while.”
“The Phantom?” Jack asks him.
“Yes. He’s notorious across the East Coast. One of the best supervillains. He communicates with people’s deceased relatives and friends and scams them out of their money, possessions, and pets.”
I can barely hold back from shrieking. The Phantom is, like, an idol.
“That sounds horrible,” Jack answers.
I shrug.
“He’d be even more perfect if he targeted the filthy-rich dicks that run this town, but he’s pretty much perfect.”
Jack gives me the once-over.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?” I insist.
“Do you only steal from rich dicks?”
