CHAPTER 7
HIS GUY IN THE CHAIR

ALRIGHT, SO MAYBE FINDING Spider-Man was a lot harder than she'd given it credit for. Sloane assumed that after the hours of research she did on him, finding his hiding spots would be a piece of cake, but she quickly learned that to be false. He'd gotten crafty over time, and again, he hadn't been seen out publicly for two years. He may as well have been an elderly man in a retirement home, but that seemed too easy. The guy had been swinging around New York City for years, since she was a teenager. There was no way he still didn't put his skills to good use, even if he wasn't saving anyone.

Sloane made an effort to ask the locals where they thought she could find him. She asked business owners, random people walking the street, even the homeless. They either pretended they didn't hear her – typical New Yorkers – or gave her a wild story about where they'd last spotted him, which was obviously a lie. Sloane was good at reading people. She could spot a lie from a mile away. The way these strangers would look at anything but her, the mockery in their tone ... she was getting tired of it all. Her search had gone like this for a few days and she was willing to give up.

However, she managed to finally get a good, trustworthy lead from, out of all people, the hot dog guy in front of the Sculpture Center. He parked his cart there every morning, from nine AM to eight PM, and he needed to cross the street from Black Star Bakery in order to get there. He swore he'd seen this so-called Spider-Man lounging on the roof of the building, out of direct eye view, and eating a donut. It had happened a few times, but Hot Dog Man hadn't said a word to anyone, besides his wife.

"I can't blame the guy for hanging out there," he said in his thick New York accent, placing a grilled dog in a bun for Sloane. "Black Star's got the best donuts around."

Sloane couldn't help but notice that the man's stand had been vandalized too. BEWARE THE JAWBREAKER was spray-painted on the side of the metal cart, so bright for all to see. He had noticed her staring at it and said, "Tried to get it off for days. Stupid punks." She'd laughed, but her insides still felt queasy. She couldn't stop thinking about Everett's glare when they had watched the news report on the vandalism. He almost looked ... guilty, and his track record of sneaking out late didn't help his case. She didn't want to think her new step-brother was capable of it, but she had her suspicions.

For three days, Sloane staked out the bakery. And by that I mean that she sat at a table in the back, eating her fill of buttered croissants and slipping drips of vodka into a mug of hot coffee. She tapped her foot along to the early 2000s soft rock playing through the speakers. She looked around at every second and beat her fingers against the table, waiting for a certain masked vigilante to show up. But he never did. Each day, she went home at closing, feeling even more defeated than the last. Sloane Bernstein was an incredibly impatient person, and she was losing hope.

On the fourth day, she debated on calling Bobby and asking for advice, but then heard a familiar voice call out to her.

"Got any to spare?"

Sloane glanced up. She had been pouring the last of her nip into her mug of morning coffee, not expecting to see Peter Parker at her side. He grinned at her suspiciously, as if to say, I know exactly what you're doing. He wore a cargo jacket, a blue hoodie, and some old jeans. His beard was coming in a little and he wore a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that hid his dark circles. Sloane thought he looked cute – in like a computer engineer type of way. He looked like he'd either just come from the back room of a comic book store or a one-night stand. She couldn't decide which.

"You're lucky I'm feeling generous today." She reached out and handed him the nip. "It's the cheap stuff, you know."

Peter snickered under his breath. "I had a feeling."

As Sloane watched him finish off the rest of her nip in his to-go coffee cup, she narrowed her eyes and shut the laptop in front of her. After Peter came back from throwing the empty bottle away, she asked, "What are you doing here, Peter?"

"I normally come here for coffee," he said calmly, taking a sip of the spiked drink. His face cringed slightly at the taste.

"I've been sitting at this bakery for four days now and haven't seen you here once."

Peter's head snapped down and he rubbed the back of his neck. When he met her eyes again, he'd never looked more guilty. "Alright, so maybe I came in because I saw you in the window." He shrugged. "You couldn't have let me act cool?"

"I don't think you were born with a cool bone in your body." She grinned and gestured to the open seat beside her. "You wanna sit?"

He practically jumped at the chance. Sloane laughed and rested her chin in her hands, rubbing at her smile lines with her forefinger. She noticed his chin was bandaged free and a small scar was in its place.

"Your chin is all healed," she said, pointing to the spot.

Peter touched the scar with concern. "What?"

"At the skate park. You put a bandaid on your chin." She leaned back in her chair. "I might be a drunk, but I still notice things, Peter."

He turned his face away, but she could still see the blush beginning to paint his cheeks. How easily could she have him wrapped around her finger, dark circles and all? Sloane looked off with a smile and gradually sipped her coffee.

"So," he began, sticking out his long arms and resting them on the table, "why have you been here for four days? That's a little weird, Sloane."

She winced. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Sure," he smiled, and it was the kind she felt like she could spill her guts too.

"Well, unlike most people visiting the city right now, I'm here on business rather than for the holidays." She tapped her pen against her laptop. "I'm the head crime reporter at my job. My boss sent me here to write a story, and now he's telling me I gotta find Spider-Man for help."

Peter choked a bit on his coffee, and Sloane groaned, "You said you wouldn't laugh!"

But he wasn't laughing. In fact, he seemed shocked that she was crazy enough to look for the local hero. Peter's eyes went wide and blinked a few times. Sloane stared at him suspiciously. "This is a stupid question, but you wouldn't happen to know where I could find him, would you?"

He scratched the back of his head nervously, like how boys used to in high school when they liked her. "I don't know about that ..."

She batted her mascara-clumped lashes and pointed the end of her pen at him. "That look on your face says differently."

"Sloane –"

"Listen, Peter, as you can see, I'm a little stressed and impatient." She folded her hands on the table. "I'm struggling with this investigative article and I've staked out at this bakery for days because some guy running a hot dog stand said Spider-Man likes to go here. I'm running on a dead end." She leaned the side of her head on her fist. "I just need his help with this story. I need to know what he knows. So then I can finish my article and get the hell out of Queens."

Peter's nose wrinkled. "What's the article about?"

Okay, she had to be getting somewhere. Sloane watched his chocolate-colored eyes crinkle with interest. "It's about the murder investigations revolving around those two teenage girls with broken jaws." Sloane traced a badly-painted red fingernail over the edge of her mug. "If this article goes well, I could win an award. I grew up in Queens, so my connection to this place will make the article even better. My boss suggested that maybe this Spider-Man guy might have information regarding the case, but he hasn't been seen out in years. The lead detective on the case won't talk to me because I'm considered press. I have no one else to go to."

She placed her head in her hands and sighed, "I'm so beyond fucked, Peter."

He reached out and patted her shoulder. "It'll be okay."

"No, it won't!" Sloane lifted her head, looking at him with wide eyes. "Unless you know how I can get Spider-Man's help, I'm fucked. I'm at a complete loss."

Peter paused and bit the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he replied, "I ... might know something."

Sloane raised a brow, trying not to look too eager. "And that is?"

"Well ... I'm kinda Spider-Man's friend. You know, his guy in the chair." He said it so confidently, but as soon as the words left his mouth, dread covered his entire face.

Sloane wasn't about to let this go though. Out of all people, the last person she expected to know Spider-Man was scruffy and lanky Peter Parker from high school. "Really? How'd that happen?"

He exhaled slowly. "Long story."

"Can't imagine a guy like that trusts many people."

"He doesn't."

"What makes you so different then?"

Peter just stared at her, mouth opened slightly.

Sloane raised a finger. "You know what, don't answer that. So can you get me a meeting with the guy?" She grabbed his sweaty hand and gave it a squeeze. "I would be so appreciative of it."

"I mean, I –" He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I could see if he could meet you tomorrow night. I know he sometimes hangs on the roof of the Brewster Building at night."

"Great," she said, stuffing her laptop into her bag. "I can meet him at nine PM tomorrow. That work?" That way she could sneak out easily after everyone went to bed at eight. Or, at least, when her mother and Frank went to bed, and Everett ran off to who knows where.

Peter gave her a thumbs up and an awkward smile as she stood from her seat. He looked like he regretted his confession, but she had never been more grateful. Sloane waved goodbye to him and for the first time in four days, exited the Black Star Bakery before closing time.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: god, I'm SO SORRY that this chapter is so short 😭😭 of course, after I take a break from posting, the next chapter is short!! I didn't want this chapter to be this short, but it I hadn't cut it off here, it would've been too long. I still hope you guys liked the chapter tho! ❤️