The man walked along the sidewalk, and stopped outside of Henry’s Bar and Grille. It was early autumn, and just before sunset. The air was cool and damp. The man looked inside of Henry’s and could see the faces of people smiling and laughing - it looked pleasant. The man took his phone from his jacket pocket and looked through the messages.

“I will be in a booth, alone. I will be wearing a blue jacket with a white carnation. Introduce yourself as Mr. White, and I will introduce myself as Mr. Black. Henry’s @ 5”

The man put his phone back in his jacket pocket, and glanced into Henry’s. A waitress was bringing a pitcher of margaritas over to a group at a table - everyone was enjoying themselves.

He pushed the door to Henry’s open, and the warm sound of people chatting and laughing filled his ears.

‘Good evening sir, welcome to Henry’s’ - said a smiling hostess by the door.

‘Oh, hey’ - he said, looking past her and towards the inside of the restaurant, looking for Mr. Black.

‘A table or the bar?’ - said the hostess.

He looked, and he saw a man - a man alone sitting in a booth. The man had his back to him, but he could tell if his jacket was blue or black - it was dimly lit.

‘A table or the bar, sir?’ - said the hostess again, pleasantly and still smiling.

He snapped his attention back to her - ‘I’m sorry - what did you say?’

The hostesses' pleasant and smiling expression did not change - ‘Do you want to sit at a table, or at the bar - sir?’

He glanced again at the man sitting in the booth alone - ‘Oh, I am meeting someone. I think I see them’

The hostess smiled. He walked slowly into Henry’s interior - feeling like a spy or something. All of this cloak and dagger stuff - Mr. White and Mr. Black. It was entertaining - and he was excited.

He had found Mr. Black’s information on a black market marketplace - and he had arranged to meet him. He had to send $500,000 for the consultation fee, and to also send copies of his drivers license, passport, social security number, and bank statements. That was four months ago. They said he wouldn’t hear anything for a while - but if everything checked out, they would be in contact. They said if everything didn’t check out, he wouldn’t hear from them again. They told him to sit tight, and just wait.

And then he received the message - from Mr. Black. And he was now Mr. White - and he was at Henry’s. He walked towards the man, and he could see his salt and pepper hair and - and a blue jacket. A smart navy blue jacket. He moved closer, and stood opposite the booth. The man was eating clams, and had a large Bloody Mary - and a white carnation. He stared at the man for a while, watching him douse the clams in lemon juice and cocktail sauce - and then sucking them back. Every once in a while the man would stop, and take a sip of the Bloody Mary, and then return to the clams.

He was nervous - should he just walk and say “Hello Mr. Black, I am Mr. White!” No, that wasn’t right - he was supposed to introduce himself as Mr. White, and then the man would introduce himself as Mr. Black. So he would just walk up to the table - and smile, and say “Hello, I am Mr. White” - and then stand there and wait. He tried to move towards the booth - but his feet didn’t seem to move. He was nervous now. What if Mr. Black were the cops - and the whole thing was a set-up. What would he be in trouble for? Conspiracy to - conspiracy to what? He knew what he was doing was illegal, but he wasn’t quite sure what crimes he was going to break. But if Mr. Black was the cops, they already had all his information - they had enough, surely, to make a conspiracy charge. Why would they want to drag him down to Henry’s to make a big fuss out of it. They would have come to his office, or his apartment and arrested him - why would they want to do it here, in Henry’s Bar and Grille?

He glanced around the inside of the bar. People were having a good time - laughing and drinking and eating peeled shrimps and fajitas. He saw a man looking at him, smoking a cigarette and looking at him. And then the man looked away and was talking to a blond woman and sipping a cocktail. Were they undercover cops - watching him and waiting for him to approach Mr. Black. Waiting for him to complete his conspiracy?

‘Mr. White?’

He turned back to the booth, and Mr. Black was waving at him and shouting and taking a sip of his Bloody Mary. Mr. Black was smiling, and waving him over. He smiled back - and then tried to move his feet again.

If Mr. Black was a cop, and if he was arrested for conspiracy it would all be over. His job - finished. He would bring shame on Pierce and Pierce and they would fire him. His fiancee, Cheryl, would be shocked and so embarrassed. She would leave him - finished. He wouldn’t be able to show his face at the club - all of his friends would turn their back on him. The shame he would bring on everyone and himself. He would get 10 or 15 or 20 years in jail for this conspiracy. Everything would be finished if Mr. Black was a cop.

‘Mr. White!’ - he heard again, and he smiled again and his feet started moving.

He stood beside the booth, and coughed a little to clear his throat and then weakly smiled and said in a croaky voice - ‘Good evening, I am Mr. White’

Mr. Black smiled - ‘Sit down Mr. White, I am Mr. Black’

He somewhat clumsily slipped into the booth, still with the weak smile on his face and perspiration on his forehead.

Mr. Black was waving at a waitress.

‘Whadya want?’ - said Mr. Black

‘Whisky, rocks’ - said Mr. White.

‘Whisky rocks for my friend please sweetheart, and another plate of clams and a Bloody Mary’

‘You wanna eat?’ - said Mr. Black, looking back at Mr. White.

‘No’ - he said, quickly.

‘Shrimp cocktail? Or some clams?’

‘No’

Mr. Black smiled at the waitress - ‘Thadda be all, sweetheart’

Mr. Black finished his Bloody Mary, and then pulled out a silver cigarette case and lit a cigarette. He smiled at Mr. White, who tried to smile back but he just looked strange.

‘Youse are nervous - its natural’ - said Mr. Black - ‘Don’t be. Just relax!’

Mr. White smiled even more strangely, and the waitress brought their drinks - ‘Clams are coming straight up hun’

Mr. Black smiled at the waitress, and thanked her, and then puffed his cigarette and held his Bloody Mary in a cheer. Mr. White picked up his drink and they cheered, and then they both took sips.

‘Youse was probably thinking that this was some kinda set-up - and that I was the cops. Amirite?’ - said Mr. Black.

Mr. White’s strange smile became stranger - ‘No, I didn’t think that at all’

‘Sure you did - I could tell. Youse was standing there thinking is this a set-up’

Mr. White took another sip of his drink.

‘But, if I was the cops - then we would have everything we need already, and we wuddn’t have dragged you all the way down here to make a big scene. We wudda cuffed you at work, at Pierce and Pierce, up on the 54th floor’

Mr. White smiled nervously. This talk of cops and being cuffed made him feel even more uneasy.

‘We spent a whole lotta time checking you out, Mr. White - making sure youse ain't a cop, and to make sure youse ain't working with the cops. When everything checked out - we decided to arrange this consultation’

‘Cool’ - said Mr. White.

‘So, now we knows we both aint cops - and you can relax’

Mr. White grinned, and the waitress brought over Mr. Black’s plate of clams.

‘Thank you sweetheart’ - said Mr. Black, as he squeezed lemon juice over the clams set on a bed of crushed ice.

‘Now Mr. White - youse should know. I don’t work for the people you wanna work with. I am a middle man - I take care of the consultation and answer all of your questions. If it looks like youse gonna be a good fit, then I will help make the arrangements for the next step - but if it looks like this aint gonna be a good fit, then I will let you know and then that is the end of it all. Understand?’

Mr. White nodded.

‘I am not involved in everything else - I just meet the prospects and conduct this consultation, you understand?’

Mr. White took a sip of his drink, and nodded.

Mr. Black heaped cocktail sauce onto a clam, and then slurped it back. He chewed for a moment, and then took a sip of his Bloody Mary and then smiled.

‘So, Mr. White, what are you in the market for?’

This was it. Mr. White tried to feel confident and ready and prepared. He adjusted his position and tried to look business-like, like he was ready to talk business. He weakly smiled his strange smile at Mr. Black, and then said - ‘P…power’

Mr. Black slurped down another clam, and chewed for a moment.

‘You want power? You want to be powerful?’

‘That’s right’ - nodded Mr. White, trying to be nonchalant.

Mr. Black slurped back another clam, and chewed and nodded and then took a sip of his Bloody Mary. He then lit another cigarette, and thought for a moment.

‘How powerful?’ - said Mr. Black after a while.

‘Well, nothing crazy - not like Mr. Amazing, but - you know - powerful’

Mr. Black drew on his cigarette, and held the smoke in his lungs. After a while he blew the smoke out of his lungs in a cloud above the booth.

‘Yeah, that’s one option….’ - said Mr. Black, flicking the ash from his cigarette in the ashtray and sipping his Bloody Mary.

‘What…’ - said Mr. White - ‘What are the other options?’

Mr. Black smiled, and puffed his cigarette.

‘The people you want to work with, they have a package called P-S-I…’

Mr. White leaned in - ‘And what is P-S-I?’

‘Power, speed, and intelligence’ - said Mr. Black.

‘Power, speed, and intelligence’ - said Mr. White, his smile now no longer strange.

‘Yep - you get a whole lot more powerful, a whole lot more faster, and a whole lot more smarter. It’s your basic superhero foundation pack’

‘Superhero….’ - said Mr. White.

‘Yep, superhero Mr. White’

They sat in silence for a while, and Mr. Black smoked his cigarette and sipped his drink. Mr. White seemed to be lost in his thoughts, staring into space.

He had dreamed of this - for his entire life. He had grown up seeing Mr. Amazing in the newspapers and on TV, and dreamed of being just like him. He had a collection of Mr. Amazing memorabilia - posters and trading cards and magazines and figurines. They were kept in a room at his apartment on Park Avenue, the room was like a museum with display cabinets and white walls and a security system. He had paid $90,000 for an unopened cereal box recently - a box of Wheaties - with Mr. Amazing’s smiling face on the box. The box of Wheaties had pride of place at the center of his mini Mr. Amazing museum in a room in his apartment on Park Avenue.

‘And…and how much would that be?’ - said Mr. White quietly, still staring into space.

Mr. Black smiled, and stubbed out his cigarette - ‘Ten’

‘Ten?’

‘Plus expenses’ - said Mr. Black, sipping his Bloody Mary and lighting another cigarette.

‘Ten plus expenses’ - said Mr. White, quietly - ‘And how much would the expenses be?’

‘Four of five - depending’

‘So 15’

‘Yeah, give or take’

Mr. White imagined being a superhero - imagined being like him - like Mr. Amazing. He remembered the news story - on the TV. He was twelve, and was at his parents' place on Long Island. He was watching the news and they were talking about how Mr. Amazing had saved a group of hostages from an airplane. Mr. Amazing had killed the terrorists and saved the hostages. There was a shot of Mr. Amazing carrying two children across the runway - his tight blue uniform stretched over his bulging muscles. His face - so rugged and handsome. He was carrying these two children to safety after saving them and the news reporter was saying that Mr. Amazing had saved the hostages - and that Mr. Amazing was a true American hero. And as he watched Mr. Amazing walking across the tarmac carrying those two children he cried tears of joy and tears of emotion. He loved Mr. Amazing - and wanted to be just like Mr. Amazing. He wanted to be an American hero.

‘So….’ - said Mr. Black.

‘Yes’ - said Mr. White, now back in the present and focussed.

‘Yes what?” - said Mr. Black.

‘Yes - I want the package. The P-S-I’

Mr. Black smiled.

‘You made $3.6 million last year, and it looks like youse gonna make another $3.5 million this year. Youse got $800,000 cash in the bank - and about $2 million in stocks and bonds sitting around. Youse got a Porsche that is worth about $150,000 and a Merc that is worth about $85,000. The apartment is worth about $5 million, and the beach house is maybe - what? - another $3 million?’

Mr. White nodded.

‘It seems, Mr. White, that all in youse got maybe $10 million - tops, and that’s if you liquidate pretty much everything youse got’

‘There is a trust fund’ - said Mr. White, calmly.

‘There is?’ - said Mr. Black, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

‘Yes, my father’s trust fund’ - said Mr. White.

Mr. Black took a cigarette from his case and lit it, and smiled at Mr. White - ‘And there is enough in this trust fund to make up the difference?’

‘Yes’ - said Mr. White, finishing his whisky rocks.

‘Alright’ - said Mr. Black - ‘So, here is how things move ahead now. You get the money together, and when youse is ready youse put an ad in The Post’s lonely hearts section. The ad must read “Mr. White is looking for his Miss Purple”. You got that?’

‘Mr. White looking for his Miss Purple’ - repeated Mr. White.

‘And then they will be in contact’ - said Mr. Black, smiling and puffing his cigarette.

‘So, I am a good fit?’

Mr. Black smiled - ‘Yes Mr. White, youse a good fit’

Mr. White beamed.

‘Just remember, Mr. White - once this is done, this is done. There ain't no turning back, and there are risks’

‘Risks?’

‘Yeah, like medical risks. They will explain everything before it happens, but once it is done, then it is done. You understand?’

Mr. White nodded. Mr. Black smiled, and stubbed out his cigarette.

‘Alright Mr. White - remember The Post’s lonely hearts….’

‘Mr. White looking for his Miss Purple’ - said Mr. White.

‘....and $15 million - don’t post anything until you have the cash, youse understand?’

‘I understand’

Mr. Black picked up his cigarette case and lighter, and then stood.

‘I will leave first, and then youse leave in a little while. Youse take care of the check, understand?’

‘Yes’

At that, Mr. Black turned and walked away through the busy heart of Henry’s and to the door. Mr. White watched as Mr. Black opened the door, and then headed out into the now dark night.

‘You need anything else, hun?’ - said the waitress, who was putting the empty glasses and the plate on a tray.

‘Whisky rocks’ - said Mr. White, absently - ‘Make it a double’

‘Sure, hun’ - said the waitress, and she left the table.

Mr. White stared into space, and the people inside Henry’s continued to laugh and drink and smoke and eat.