Chapter Fifty-Seven

“You want to what?” Taylor asked.

Mister Anderson grinned from ear to ear. “Oh yes. It’s nearly all set already. Initially I thought the best would be to merely have your sisters and yourself patrol around and hand out signatures, but you mentioned wanting to make a little more. Now, NEPEA-5 complicates rogue-like activities, but there are ways around it.”

His grin grew even wider.

“So I was talking to a colleague yesterday evening, someone from work, and we were discussing the wealth of possibilities you could bring. That’s when I had an idea. A... flash of lightning out of a clear sky, as it were. Some of your sisters have skills that are parahuman, but mostly inoffensive. Why not market these?”

He gestured to the back of the little warehouse where a group of workers were... well, working on a set of little booths. One was facing them, its simple front and low counter all painted in cheery pastels. A plaque hung off the front. ‘Tattletail’s Secret Fortunes.’

“Oh, I like that,” Tattletail said. She turned to Mister Anderson with a grin that was downright scary. “You want to have us show off what we can do so that people come?”

“Exactly,” he said. “I don’t have booths for all of you, I’m afraid. This is all terribly last minute. But the booths will be placed in a semi-permanent fashion at a few stores that are near to each other. We won’t be announcing when you come, for security reasons, of course. And to attract more people to the boardwalk in case you show up out of the blue.”

“And this will help advertise... what?” Taylor asked.

“Do you know how many people show up to any event with a cape just to gawk?” Taylor shook her head. “Hundreds. More if the event is peaceful. Even more if the capes are popular. Alexandria dipping into a corner store for a can of cola will make that store the most popular one in the city for a month, and that brand’s shares will skyrocket. The enforcers will boot anyone not buying things off the Boardwalk.”

“So people that want to see us need to be clients,” Tattletail said.

“Exactly!”

“I don’t know,” Taylor began.

“A thousand dollars a day for every day you show up for at least an hour. Preferably with at least half your sisters.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Taylor asked.

***

Taylor stared at the crowds and more than one eye caught hers. There was an eager, almost feverish feeling in the air, like walking into a room after hearing giggles only to find a gaggle of little sisters shivering in repressed excitement while pretending that they weren’t up to something. It kind of terrified her.

Then she looked the other way and all of her fears were confirmed. Anderson had set up four stalls. The fact that they were hastily put together showed, but somehow that only added to their charm, as if they were lemonade stands made by a loving father that spent too much time on DiY sites and not enough time actually making anything.

Tattletail had her secret telling booth, where for a small donation people could have her talk to them. It was going to go horribly wrong, Taylor just knew.

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Next to her was a small petting zoo built right in front of an expensive flower shop. The owner was outside, talking to Remedy and guiding her, somehow, into making cuter and fluffier flowers for people to pet and interact with. That was also going to go horribly wrong.

Then there was Crochet’s Fashion Advice Booth. Set right between two stores that sold the kind of clothes that Taylor couldn’t afford in a million years.

“This is going to be wonderful,” Mister Anderson said.

“Yeah,” Taylor agreed faintly.

The crowd cheered as Cheshire waved at them.

Taylor wondered if a thousand dollars was really worth it.

“Are you the one in charge of this little group?” A woman asked. Taylor turned to face her fully only to find that she was standing before an older woman in an outfit that was at once fancy and yet, strangely, not. A loose blouse, jeans, a scarf around her waist and heels so high Taylor was afraid of breaking her own ankles just looking at them. And yet the woman pulled off the look. “Well?”

“Oh, ah, yes, I suppose I am,” she said.

“Good. You see those two stores?” The woman pointed past Crochet’s booth. There were two stores behind her, one an older building with a stone front, the windows displaying pretty dresses. The store next to that was a whole lot more modern, with mannequins wearing the sort of thing that Emma would parade herself around in. “Those are mine. Convince that darling little fashionista of yours to send people my way and I’ll give you a cut. Call it... one percent off the top of all sales.”

“That sounds rather dishonest,” Taylor said.

“Three percent.”

Taylor bit her lip. “B-but honesty is cheap.”

“It truly is,” the woman said. She eyed Taylor up and down. “I like your costume. Purposefully ill-fitting is in right now.” And with that final verdict delivered, she walked away to the beat of her own heels clacking on the pavement.

“What the heck?” Taylor muttered.

“Big Sis!” Cheshire said as she ran over and pounced at her with a quick hug. “Tell the others that I can get my own booth too!” she demanded.

Behind her came Alice and Pop, both at a more sedate pace, though Pop seemed nervous with all the crowds around.

“And what kind of booth would you want?” Taylor asked.

“I could tell people how best to kill a motherfu--fricker.”

“No,” Taylor said before brushing some hair out of Cheshire’s face. “In fact... Cheshire, Pop, I have a mission for you.” Both girls stood a little taller at that. “Your other sisters will be very busy, and while there are plenty of enforcers around, they’re just normal people. I need you to keep your other sisters safe. This is the most important thing I can possibly ask of you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Cheshire said, but she was unable to hide her pride at being given an important task.

“Yes, onee-sama.”

“What about me?” Alice asked.

“I... have an idea for you,” Taylor said.

Then the cordon around the crowd broke and she was too busy dealing with a surge of tourists to explain anything.