The teenagers had to park about four blocks from the building, as it was in the middle of Defender Park. Five buildings were in this park, all five containing members of different superhero teams.
At the entrance to the park, security gave them a look over before turning their attention back to the street. Rosemarie led the pack, walking briskly to the address she wrote down.
“Rose, what if he’s not here?” Ashley asked.
“He must have a forwarding address and then we go there.”
Po sighed. Shelly gave him a look: “We knew what we were getting into when we said we’d help her, so stop it.”
They walked into the building given on the address, and stopped at the lobby desk. Rose took a deep breath and went forward to the desk. She used her most alluring smile. “Hello,” she said, and the security guard, an older gentleman with thick bottle-bottom glasses, looked up from the magazine he was reading.
“Yes, young lady?”
“I was wondering, is there a Malcolm King in this building?”
The man didn’t even look at the list of people in the building. “Yes, there is.”
Her eyes brightened; her heart jumped. “Can I…can I see him?”
“Who’s calling?”
She said proudly, “His daughter.”
“He doesn’t have a daughter,” said the man. “He does have a son.”
“I’m his daughter,” she said, and showed him a copy of the check he had paid. “He sent this to the PI to tail me most of my life.”
The man blinked, then gave her a gentle smile, “Miss,” he said, “That’s quite a story, but I’m not sure if–”
“Please! Please just let me see him.”
The man sighed, picked up the phone. He rang a number, waited. “Yes, good afternoon, is Mr. King available?” Pause. “There is a young lady down here saying that she’s his daughter, and would like to–” He held the phone away from his ear and stared at it, then placed it on the cradle. “He said he would be right down.”
“Mr. King?”
“His partner, Knight.”
She wondered if there was a queen involved somewhere, but she said nothing, going back to her friends who had stayed a respectable distance away in the lobby.
The elevator doors opened, and a man in a pair of work boots and jeans stepped out. He wore no shirt, but he was rugged, a large chest and a small waist; six-pack abs and a thick chest. He had long blond hair tied up in a pony tail.
“Rosie?” he called, looking – and sniffing – around the lobby. Rose stared at the handsome man. So did all the other girls – and Po. He approached the group. He stood in front of her, staring at her, looking her up and down. “Rosie,” he said quietly.
“Mr. King?”
He shook his head. He reached out and touched her face, a tender touch, and stared deep into her eyes. “Y’ve grown up since I last seen pictures o’ you.”
“Oh, my God,” whispered Shelly, and hit Rosie on the arm. “Rose, that’s your father.”
He let go of her, and stood awkwardly. She looked at Shelly, then back at the man.
“Look, he’s got your hair, and your eyes.”
The man nodded. “I’m Knight,” he said, “An’ I’m y’r biological father.”
Rose touched his arm. “You’re…It’s really you?”
“Yeah.” He took her hand in his. “Yeah, it’s really me.”
She burst into tears, and threw herself into his arms. He awkwardly put his arms around her, not sure what else to do. He hugged her tight. She kept saying, “Daddy!”
Knight buried his face in her hair and cried quietly.