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It was an established fact that finding a place to park was the most persistent challenge of daily life in the City, so April considered herself beyond lucky when she pulled up to the City Renaissance Hotel and found an empty spot on the street right out front. She’d been bit surprised when Burne Thompson suggested she rent a cargo van to transport everything for tonight’s fundraiser over from Chanel 6 instead of using one of the news vans, but she suspected the high-profile nature of the event was enough for him to justify the expense. Though more practically, it was probably so that in the event of any breaking news there’d be a station vehicle available for whoever was sent to cover it while she and Vernon were both unavailable. She went inside to let the hotel’s Events Director know she’d arrived and enlist a couple members of his staff to help unload the van. Within a couple minutes, they had it emptied of everything except one cardboard box of awards which she said she could handle herself. Right as she was about to lift the box out, she heard a voice calling to her softly.
“Psst. Psst! Hey, April!”
April peered around the edge of the van to find a pair of eyes blinking at her from beneath the partially lifted manhole cover in the street. “Hey, what are you guys doing here?”
“Irma said you were co-hosting some big event with Vernon.” Donatello lifted the cover up higher and poked his head out of the manhole. “And that you could probably use some moral support.”
“I certainty could!” April laughed. “Thanks guys, I really appreciate it.” She picked up her box and used her elbow to swing the rear door shut while the turtles climbed up to the surface and slid the manhole cover back into place. “Why don’t you guys come on in with me I’ll show you around.”
“Uh,” Leonardo hesitated, shooting a nervous look over her head at the hotel’s façade. “Is that really a good idea? We aren’t, um. . .”
“It’s fine,” April assured him. “Just me and the hotel staff setting up right now. The guests won’t start arriving for a couple more hours. Vernon isn’t even here yet. He’s anchoring tonight’s Dinnertime Newscast and’ll be rushing over here from Channel 6 as soon as it’s over. If anyone asks, we’ll say you’re . . . mascots. For one of the donor organizations.” A thought occurred to her right as she stepped up onto the curb that stopped her short. “Ah, though when Vernon does arrive,” she said, casting them a sheepish look over her shoulder. “You guys should probably make yourselves scarce.”
The other turtles looked a question at Leonardo. He shook his head once in response and motioned that they should follow April. “What did you mean by Donor organization?” he asked when they caught up with her at the hotel entrance. The doors slid open automatically to admit them into the building’s spacious main lobby.
“Channel 6 has been a longtime partner for the Cycle for Kids charity bike race which raises money for City Children’s Hospital,” she said. “Tonight’s a special donor recognition reception and official kickoff for the new fundraising season.”
“Where do you and Vernon figure in?” Raphael asked.
“He and I are going to be providing the media coverage for their events this year. Well, that and this kickoff was co-organized by Channel 6.” The turtles followed April through the lobby to the atrium. Freestanding signs placed in regular intervals informed the hotel’s guests that the area had been closed for a private event. Catering staff were bustling about setting out the refreshment tables and two A/V engineers were putting up a pair of projection screens on a portable stage. “We’ll have a DJ playing music as people are arriving,” April said as she set her box down on a table in the back corner of the stage. “And over there.” She waved at a backdrop printed with the Cycle for Kids logo at the other end of the atrium. “Is a photo booth. There’s a gallery for all this year’s fundraising events on the website, people can take pictures and upload them to it. They’ll all be part of a slideshow that’ll be played during the big dinner celebration after the race this summer.”
Leonardo jerked his chin at the odd assortment of items laid out on the row of tables in front of the windows. “What’s all that stuff?”
“We’re calling it a silent auction but really, it’s a raffle.” April gestured for the turtles to follow her over to the display. “Flat fee gets you however many entries, proceeds also go to the charity. We’ll do the drawing at the end of the night.”
“What happened here?” Raphael snickered, twirling around the silk rose he’d picked up from the end of the table. “You guys blow your entire budget on all the other prizes you couldn’t afford the whole floral arrangement?”
“Ah that.” April plucked the rose out of his hand. “Was Burne’s idea. A Valentine’s Day dinner date.” She placed the flower on top of a leather-bound booklet with the word CityView printed on the front in white ink. “With me.”
“Wait, what?” Leonardo said.
“Channel 3 did a charity date event with their new anchor last year,” she explained. “It was very well publicized, and they had a spike in viewership for a time afterwards. Chief’s hoping we’ll see the same.”
“But why you?”
“Cashing in on all the publicity I’ve acquired recently,” April said ruefully. “As Irma likes to remind me, I’m a minor celebrity now. It’s fine.” She waved away their concerned looks. “For a good cause and . . . Pretty sure people who support a children’s charity have a . . . low probability of being serial killers.” The turtles could tell by her forced smile she wasn’t fully convinced by her own reassurances.
“So how do you enter?” Donatello asked.
“Everything’s done on an app,” April said, grateful for the change in subject. “See?” She pointed to the little cards pinned to the tablecloth in front of the prizes. Each one had a combination of letters and numbers printed in block text in the center and the logo for the app – a ladybug flying above a vibrant red flower – in the upper left corner. “You plug in the item ID, then select the number of times you want to enter for that prize. The app’ll randomly choose the winner.”
“Hey April,” Michelangelo said absently, eyeing the mini pizza oven in the middle of the row. “Can I borrow your phone for a sec?”
“Mmm sorry, I’m not allowed to enter for any of the prizes. To maintain the integrity of the raffle.”
“Also, we already have a mini pizza oven,” Donatello said. “The one I made last week. We don’t need another one.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to have a spare,” Michelangelo muttered. “‘Sides, just because I enter, doesn’t mean I’m gonna win.”
"Excuse me, I’m looking for an . . . April O’Neil?”
April’s head snapped around at hearing her name. A man in a nice suit that seemed at odds with his suntanned skin and unruly waves of greying blonde hair had stopped one of the catering staff bringing a silver chafing dish over to one of the refreshment tables. The poor staffer’s eyes darted about frantically as she struggled to stammer out a reply.
“Oh shoot,” April said. “That’s Mr. Martin, the Cycle for Kids Chairman. Ugh, he’s early. Ah, sorry guys.” She cast a pained look at the turtles. “I should go meet him. And also get changed.”
Leonardo started to tell her to go do whatever she needed, but she was already hurrying over to introduce herself to the Chairman. The staffer, relieved that his attention was now directed elsewhere, slid around them and resumed setting out the chafing dish. April and the Chairman chatted for a bit, then she excused herself to disappear down a hallway behind the hotel’s front desk. Now on his own, the Chairman drifted about the atrium, doing his best to stay out of the way of the staff going about their work. Although April had suggested they hang around until Vernon arrived, the turtles decided to find someplace on the upper floors where they could watch the evening’s event unseen.
April returned to the atrium a short time later, now wearing a simple black cocktail dress and heels instead of her yellow jumpsuit. She stood surveying the space with hands on hips, taking stock of what still needed to be done to finish setting up. The A/V Techs were done with the projection screens – both of them now displayed a message welcoming guests to the kickoff event – and catering were wrapping up putting out the food and drink. It seemed the only thing left to do right now was unpack the box of awards she’d brought in earlier. She walked over to the stage and pulled open the box flaps. When she’d finished arranging the glass statuettes inside in orderly rows, she stored the now empty box on the floor under the table where it would be hidden from view by the tablecloth.
The late afternoon light spilling through the windows and skylight was just starting to fade into dusk when the first guests began arriving. People clustered together in small groups after getting a drink from the bar, voices pitched to be heard over the upbeat music coming from the DJ stand. Others grazed from the refreshment tables, while still others browsed the raffle prizes or took group pictures at the photo booth. Catering staff wove through the growing crowd, inviting guests to sample the spring rolls, crab cakes, and other hors d’oeuvres on their trays. April wandered about acting as a dutiful co-host, welcoming new arrivals and exchanging pleasantries with notable donors, while they waited for Vernon to arrive. She grew increasingly anxious as the program start time drew closer and there was no sign of him. The hour came and went, and still he hadn’t shown. April started noticing more and more people checking the time on their phones, clearly inpatient for the event to begin. She sought out the Chairman and was pulling him aside to discuss what they should do when a very flustered Vernon rushed in, trying to both tie his pink bowtie and button his suit jacket at the same time but having success at neither.
“Traffic was so unbelievably . . . unreasonable,” he grumbled while April helped him fix his tie. “For this time of day. This early in the week.”
“MmmHmm. Well, you’re here now,” she said. “So why don’t we get this thing going, all right?” Without giving him a chance to respond, she went over to confer with the A/V Techs and collect the handmics. She gave one to the Chairman, then stepped up onto the stage beside Vernon and handed one to him, keeping the last one for herself.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Vernon’s voice boomed from the speakers. He waited a moment after the DJ turned the music down and the buzz of conversation had subsided before continuing. “Sincerest apologies for the slight delay in getting started. Though it did provide more time to enjoy the fantastic food prepared by our wonderful catering partners.” A few mumbles of agreement and weak applause bubbled up from the audience.
“Get on with it, Vernon,” April hissed.
“Cycle for Kids is such a special part of the fabric of the City,” Vernon continued, pretending he hadn’t heard her. “It is truly an honor to have been invited to be a part of such remarkable cause. And I am so glad to see that —“ April coughed pointedly. “We, we are so glad,” he amended. “That all of you could be here tonight to kick off the new fundraising season!” The crowd responded with a more spirited round of applause. “On behalf of Channel 6 News, it is my — our — distinct pleasure to welcome the Chairman of Cycle for Kids, Mr. Bill Martin!”
The crowd cheered loudly as Chairman walked out to the center of the stage. He acknowledged their welcome with a bright smile and a friendly wave. April and Vernon shook his hand, then slipped off to the side while he gave his own welcoming remarks. When he was finished, April stepped forward and invited their first guest speaker to come up and share their story about what inspired them to ride the Cycle for Kids race. The evening continued smoothly from there. More ride participants spoke about why they’d become involved with the charity and families whose children had benefitted from the money raised for the hospital expressed their gratitude for their efforts. The projection screens displayed photos of people riding bikes on city streets and tree-lined lanes; of small groups gathered at the finish line, their faces shining with excitement and exhaustion; of young kids in hospital rooms surrounded by their parents and siblings; and of many of those same kids, now older, climbing on playground equipment or running through a grassy park. Mr. Martin returned to the stage at the conclusion of the last speech to hand out awards recognizing riders who had greatly exceeded their fundraising goals the previous year, and lifetime achievement awards commemorating longtime ride participants for their years of dedication and the impressive sums of money they’d raised for the charity.
“And that about wraps things up,” Vernon said as the last award recipient was departing the stage with their statuette. “We’ll close out our night with the raffle drawings. Hopefully by now you’ve had a chance to enter for your chosen prizes.” He gestured to the row of tables in front of the windows that he and April had been busy clearing while the awards were being handed out. Holding up his phone, he went on, “The app will randomly choose a winner for each one.” An image of the ladybug from app’s logo appeared on the projection screens on either side of him. “We’ll start with the season passes to the City Art Museum. As a reminder you must be present to win,” he added almost as an afterthought and tapped his thumb on his phone. The ladybugs extended their wings and buzzed about before landing on the name Anita Fletcher that popped up on the screens a beat before Vernon read her name off his phone. There was a whoop from somewhere in middle of the crowd and Anita worked her way toward the stage to accept the envelope containing the passes that April handed her.
The next prize they gave away was a set of tennis rackets. After that, a pair of tickets to a home game for one of the local sports teams, then a gift certificate for a weekend spa getaway. Michelangelo perked up when it came time to draw the winner for the pizza oven. He’d tried unsuccessfully to convince Donatello to use his Turtlecom to hack the raffle app so he could enter the drawing, and was now holding out hope that whoever was chosen as the winner wasn’t in the room to claim their prize. Things seemed to be going his way when Vernon called out the winner’s name several times and nobody came forward, but his hopes that the oven would be up for grabs were dashed when Vernon had the app select a new winner and someone at the edge of the audience immediately let out a cry of surprised delight.
“And now for the final prize of the night,” Vernon announced. “A Valentine’s Day date with Channel 6’s own April O’Neil.” April stepped onto the stage, smiling warmly at the crowd and twirling the silk rose in her hand. “Still can’t believe the Chief thought this was a good idea,” Vernon said to her in an undertone. “If it were me, I’d have been beyond insulted at the very suggestion."
“Just push the button, Vernon,” April ground out, the smile still plastered on her face.
Vernon tapped on his phone’s screen and read off a name. There were no excited shouts or hollers this time. April might have thought it another case of the winner not being present to accept their prize if not for the movement at the very back of the atrium. People were shifting out of the way to let someone pass. She rolled the flower’s stem between her fingers as she followed their progress, heart racing in anticipation of learning who she’d be going on her date with. The last few rows of people in the front of the crowd parted. April’s breath caught when she saw that the man in the dark sport coat and slacks approaching the stage was Shredder.
***
“Hey, Shredder! What the heck do you think you’re doing, man?”
Shredder stopped and turned around to face the turtles stalking down the sidewalk toward him. April scurried along a few paces behind, arms wrapped tightly around herself and shoulders hunched against the cold. Farther back, guests were trickling out of the Renaissance Hotel either to return to their cars in the municipal garage or to find a taxi to take them home. “Right now?” he drawled. “Being accosted on a public street by a group of insufferable mutants.”
“Stop it,” Raphael snarled. “You know what I meant.”
“Ah, you’re referring to the event in the hotel just now.” The turtles glared at him but didn’t bother replying. “I entered a contest, one that was open to anyone in attendance, and won a prize. Simple as that. By the way.” He frowned in mock sympathy. “My condolences about that mini pizza oven. I’m sure you four are all very disappointed it was awarded to someone else.”
“Why d’you want to go on a date with April, anyway?” Michelangelo asked. “And yeah, I am bummed about that pizza oven,” he added under his breath.
“She’s an attractive woman. Why shouldn’t I throw my hand in for a chance at spending a romantic evening with her?” April stiffened at the meaningful look he gave her, but fortunately the turtles all had their backs to her so none of them saw.
“Yeah, right,” Raphael scoffed. “Not that it really matters anyway because she is not going through with it. Right, April?”
“Um, actually,” she said. “I uh . . .” The turtles shuffled around to face her, confusion at her hesitation showing clearly on all their faces. April grimaced and dropped her gaze to the ground. “I . . . have to.”
“WHAT??” All four blurted at once.
April lifted her head and looked them squarely in the eye. “Burne Thompson is friends with the owner of CityView. It’s why they agreed to offer a raffle prize for tonight. The reservation is in my name, and they’ll be expecting me to keep it. If I don’t go, it’ll get back to Burne and it . . . could affect my job.”
The turtles stared at her in horror, appalled by both the idea that her boss could be so petty, and that she was trapped into going on a date with their sworn enemy because of it.
“Well, now that we have that settled,” Shredder said amiably. “Believe the reservation is for seven, so shall I pick you up around say. . . six? Don’t know what traffic’s going to be like on a Saturday night. On Valentine’s Day.”
“Why don’t you meet at a neutral location?” Raphael snapped. “Like the restaurant itself?”
“It’s customary for the gentleman to pick his date up at her place of residence.”
“You’re not a gentleman,” Donatello said flatly.
“And you’re not human,” Shredder shot back. “Doubt any of you’ve ever been on a real date in your lives.”
“And you have?” Raphael snarled.
“Guys!” April cut in before the argument could get any more heated. “It’s fine. Not like he doesn’t know where I live already.” Ignoring the turtles’ disapproving glowers, she said to Shredder, “Six should be fine. Like you said, traffic in the City on a Saturday.”
“Wonderful.” Shredder’s face lit with a triumphant grin. “I look forward to seeing you then, Miss O’Neil.”
“This is a trap, right?” Raphael said as the turtles and April watched Shredder walk away down the sidewalk. “Got to be. Some kind of really bizarre, convoluted . . . trap.”
“He seems . . . genuine,” Donatello said tentatively.
“Yeah, that’s the Trap part.”
“Way suspicious,” Michelangelo nodded.
“Are you sure about this, April?” Leonardo asked, peering up at her.
“I . . . Think so,” she said. Even April could tell she didn’t sound at all confident.
***
A knock sounded on April’s door at exactly 6 o’clock on Saturday night. Shredder barely had a chance to lower his hand before it swung open. His face darkened when he saw who was waiting for him on the other side. “I wasn’t aware Miss O’Neil had acquired roommates.”
“Yup. Rent in this city’s out of control,” Raphael said. “Unfortunately, apartment’s now at maximum capacity per the fire code so you can stay out there in the hallway.”
“Raphael!” April yelled sharply from her bedroom down the hall where Irma was helping her finish getting ready. Gritting his teeth, Raphael let go of the doorknob and stepped to the side to give Shredder enough room to enter the apartment.
“Really starting to think letting them come over to see me off was a bad idea,” April grumbled.
“Aww, they’re just worried about you,” Irma said. “Though . . . Are you sure about going through with this, April?”
“I am getting very tired of people asking me that.” April sighed wearily and dropped back onto the stool in front of her vanity. “Don’t have a choice, thank you Burne.” She pulled her jewelry box closer and picked through the necklaces inside, finally choosing one with a tiny white stone on a silver chain which she clasped around her neck.
“Hey, just wanted to give you one more opportunity to back out.” Irma rummaged through April’s makeup bag and pulled out a tube of mascara. “All right,” she said, twisting open the cap. “Look down.” April swiveled around to face Irma and held her head still while she applied the mascara to her lashes. “Done!” Irma said proudly. “How’s it look?”
April studied her reflection in the mirror, tipping her head to the side and down as she admired her hair and makeup. “It’s lovely Irma,” she said gratefully. “Thank you.”
“No problem!” Irma jammed the mascara wand back into its tube. “I do really good work, don’t I?”
April flashed her a smile as she reached for the jewelry box again to search for a pair of earrings to go with her necklace. After a moment’s thought, she dug out a bracelet and slid it onto her wrist.
“Okay.” April stood and ran her palms down the front of her dress, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of the silver fabric. She’d bought the dress specifically for this evening, long before she learned who her date would be. It was a bit more daring than what she would normally choose – clinging tight to her hips with a slit in the long skirt to just above her knee and an asymmetrical neckline – but there was something about, maybe the sense of drama it evoked, it that seemed a perfect fit for the occasion. “Since I haven’t heard any sounds of splintering furniture, I’m hoping that means my living room is still in one piece.” She swept out of the bedroom, not bothering to push the stool back under the vanity. Irma tossed the mascara into the makeup bag and hurried after her.
The living room furniture was indeed still intact, but the atmosphere in the front of the apartment was best described at Tense. Shredder, wearing an expensive looking dak gray overcoat on top of a finely tailored suit, stood just inside the open doorway, glaring at Raphael and Leonardo who had positioned themselves to block him from coming in any farther. The other two turtles were seated on the couch. Donatello perched on the edge of the cushion, angled to observe the standoff at the door. Michelangelo was slouched beside him with his arms crossed over his chest and his head down, deliberately ignoring it. None of them noticed April and Irma hovering at the end of the hallway surveying the scene.
“Wow,” Irma breathed, eyeing Shredder appreciatively. “That’s what he looks like without the . . . Okay last chance. You wanna back out, I’ll gladly go in your place.”
“Somehow don’t think Burne Thompson would go for that,” April said wryly. Nor would Shredder, she thought, but she kept that to herself. She took a deep breath to calm the nervous flutter in her stomach, let it out slowly, and stepped forward into the living room.
April was only vaguely aware of Michelangelo looking up when she entered, eyes widening in wonder when he took her in fully. Or of him jabbing Donatello in the side with his elbow, or of Donatello mouthing the word Wow when he reluctantly tore his attention from the front door and saw her standing there. Or even that the other two turtles were now staring at her in awe as well. Her gaze had skimmed over all of them and fixed firmly on Shredder. She’d seen him without his armor and mask a few times now, yet even without his face covering he’d always been guarded and closed off. Standing there in her apartment now, eyes locked with hers, that guardedness fell away, and she saw clearly the human side of him that he was so careful to never let anyone see.
“You look stunning, Miss O’Neil,” Shredder murmured. April’s cheeks burned. She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again almost immediately and smiled shyly. He blinked and the moment was over. His walls were back up, that vulnerability safely hidden away once again. “For you,” he said, holding a bouquet of red roses out to her.
“Ah, yeah.” Raphael stepped forward and snatched the flowers out of his hand. “Just gonna go ahead and confiscate these. Not going to let you try and poison April with a plant again.”
“I highly doubt the owner of the newsstand across the street is in the habit of poisoning his customers,” Shredder said mildly.
“Him? No. You, however? History speaks for itself.”
“Have to admit, he does have a point,” April said, nodding to Raphael who was deliberately holding the roses tilted away from his face. Shredder waved a hand in a gesture of acknowledgement. Raphael grinned and marched into the kitchen to drop the bouquet in the trash.
“You feel better now?” Shredder asked.
“Very,” Raphael spat.
“Good, I’m glad.” Shredder dismissed him and turned to April. “Shall we?”
April scooped her clutch off the coffee table as she crossed through the room to grab her coat from the front closet. Shredder offered her his arm when she joined him and Leonardo at the apartment door. She rolled her eyes and squeezed past him into the hall. He moved to follow but was stopped by Leonardo grabbing his elbow.
“Have her back before midnight,” he said sternly.
Shredder snorted. “Or what?” he said, shrugging off his hand. “She’ll turn into a pumpkin?”
“Your concern is appreciated,” April said. “The overprotectiveness, not so much.”
Leonardo had the sense to look chagrined but continued to eye Shredder with distrust.
Shredder met his glower with a smug smile and a wave. “See you later, turtles.”
April felt a prickling on the back of her neck the whole walk down the hall to the elevator and knew without having to look that the turtles were watching them. “They’re going to follow us, you know.”
“Expected as much,” Shredder said. “I’m sure they believe I plan on kidnapping you.”
“You aren’t, though.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Right?”
“Are you asking because you want to know if you should go back and change your shoes?” he teased, gesturing at the burgundy pumps she’d bought to go with the dress. April fixed him with a look that said she was not amused. “No, I don’t plan on kidnapping you,” he reassured her. “This is exactly what it looks like. A date.”
“Hm.” A bell chimed announcing the elevator’s arrival. April noted the flash of green disappearing into her apartment in that brief period between when she and Shredder stepped into the empty cab and the doors closed again. “What happened to waiting until you’d conquered the world?” she said softly after they’d begun their descent.
“Patience has never been one of my strengths,” Shredder replied just as quietly. “I saw an opportunity.” He brushed the back of her hand lightly with his knuckle. “And I took it.” April closed her eyes and bowed her head, but she didn’t pull away.
A taxi was idling against the curb in front of April’s building when they walked outside. Shredder went right over and opened the rear passenger door with a flourish.
“Playing the gentleman tonight, I take it?” April said coyly.
“I can be gallant, when the moment serves.”
“Huh. Well, maybe the Moment should Serve more often.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Will take that under advisement.”
April laughed and accepted the hand he offered to help her step over a patch of ice and snow at the edge of the sidewalk. He waited until she was settled to shut the door, then circled around to the other side of the cab and slid in beside her. The driver shifted the cab into gear and pulled away from the curb without comment, leading April to guess Shredder had already given him the address.
River District was one of the City’s swankier neighborhoods, known for its art galleries, boutique shopping, and antique brownstone townhouses. Nestled in the center of the neighborhood was Beacon Tower. A combination shopping center and office building, the Tower’s first two floors were home to a collection of well-known of specialty retailers. The floors above the mall were leased to several prominent businesses that took pride in having their corporate offices located in such an iconic landmark. CityView occupied the Tower’s topmost floors, more than 50 stories above the ground. Its name came from the walls of floor to ceiling windows that offered diners spectacular panoramic views of the City. Because of its unique location, CityView was strictly by reservation only.
The taxi dropped April and Shredder at a door on the side of Beacon Tower leading directly into CityView’s first floor lobby. They handed their coats to the attendant at the Coat Check, April suppressing a shiver in the eddies of cold air still swirling around in the doorway, then went over to check in with the hostess. A large mosaic depicting a silhouette of the City skyline in shades of silver and deep blue hung on the wall behind the hostess stand. Padded benches against the opposite wall, though empty at the moment, gave guests a place to sit while they waited for their table to be ready up in the dining room. Down at the other end of the short hallway beside the stand was the restaurant’s second entrance inside Beacon Tower.
“Your table is all set for you,” the young woman manning the desk looked up from the computer screen she’d been consulting April gave her name with a cheery smile. “You can go ahead on up.” She gestured to the elevator behind them. “Press the green button.”
There were three rows of buttons on the control panel inside the elevator cab. The bottom row was for the door controls and the emergency stop button. In the middle were two buttons labeled L and G, for the lobby and the garage under the building respectively. The three buttons on the top row were labeled with solid-colored squares – white, purple, and green. April pondered what the other two floors could be while she and Shredder were being whisked up to the top of the Tower. One of them was probably where vendors made their deliveries, she reasoned. Or used for storage. Maybe both. The other one could be the back offices, though it seemed odd to dedicate an entire floor to administration. Of course, CityView was a very popular restaurant so maybe management did need all that space.
April felt the elevator gradually slow as it neared its destination. When the doors slid open again, instead of the bustling dining room she’d been expecting, there was just the one circular table set for two and a waiter wearing a crisp white shirt and black pants standing beside it with his hands clasped in front of him.
“Good evening,” he greeted them warmly as they stepped off the elevator.
“Wait.” April stopped short. What —“
“I may have pulled a couple strings,” Shredder answered before she could finish asking the question. “Upgraded our reservation to the private dining room.”
April narrowed her eyes at him. “You did?”
“Affords your turtle friends better opportunity to observe us,” he said reasonably. “And we get to enjoy a . . . more intimate setting.”
“Mmhmm.” April had no doubt that last part had been his real motivation, but the thought slipped from her mind in the next moment when she caught a glimpse of the view beyond the windows. “Oh wow.” She stepped around Shredder and drifted over to get a better look. “You know, I’ve never actually been up here before?” April said. “That view is . . .” She trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the view of the City spread out below her.
“Beautiful?”
“Hm?” April blinked, jolted from her reverie by Shredder’s soft voice at her ear. She saw his reflection in the glass – he’d come to admire the view as well and was standing close behind her shoulder. Only, he wasn’t looking out the window. He was looking at her. The reflection lifted its hand to trace its fingertips down her arm. He pulled back right before they brushed her skin, uncertainty flickering across his features, then curled his hand into a fist and dropped it back to his side.
“Um.” Shredder cleared his throat. “We should probably . . .” He tipped his head toward the table. April cast one last look out the window, wondering idly where the turtles could be, before following him.
When April and Shredder were both seated, the waiter explained, while he filled their water glasses from a metal pitcher, that the restaurant was serving a special Valentine’s prix fixe menu that evening. The choices for appetizers, mains, and dessert were printed in elegant script on the pink cards sitting on their place settings. On the back was a list of drinks and Valentine’s Day themed cocktails.
“I’ll give you a minute to look things over,” the waiter said, then stepped to the side to wait patiently for them to indicate they were ready to order. “Excellent choices.” He nodded in approval as he finished scribbling their selections on his notepad. “I will be right back.” Shredder stopped him with a hand on his forearm right as he was turning to go and motioned for him to lean in so he could murmur something in his ear. “Oh yes!” The waiter’s face brightened with an eager smile. “Of course!” He bobbed his head and hurried away through the doorway on the other side of the room that must lead down to the kitchen.
“What was that about?” April asked.
“You’ll see,” Shredder said with an enigmatic smile.
She scowled at him, but didn’t have to wait long to find out his secret. The waiter returned with a pair of slender glasses balanced on a small tray which he set down carefully in front of each of them. He then brought over a brightly polished sliver bucket, the neck of a champagne bottle poking up over the rim.
“I didn’t think you drank alcohol,” April said to Shredder after the waiter finished his ritual of opening the bottle and pouring the wine. “Remember you only had water during our Not-A-Date, back when you were working in the mayor’s office.”
“I do, on special occasions.” He raised his flute in toast. “I would say this counts, wouldn’t you?” April picked up her own glass, and he tapped his lightly against it. She raised the champagne to her lips, but even though she’d just watched the foil being cut open and the cork removed, she still waited until she’d seen Shredder swallow his mouthful before taking a sip.
“This isn’t included in the raffle prize, you know,” April said as she set her glass down. “They’re going to charge for it.”
“I know.” Shredder leaned back in his chair. “I’ll take care of it.”
“But how are you going — no wait.” She waved a hand. “Never mind, don’t tell me. Better if I don’t know, maintain plausible deniability. Same with how you managed to win that raffle. Have to have cheated somehow, but. . . ”
“Maybe I did,” he said smoothly. “Or maybe I was just very, very lucky.”
“Mmm, I’m gonna still go with Cheated.”
Shredder chuckled but April noted he didn’t deny it.
“Okay, here are our appetizers,” the waiter announced when he returned a moment later with a tray bearing two small white bowls. “Mushroom bisque for the lady. . .” April’s mouth watered when she inhaled the rich aromas wafting from the surface of the bowl he set down in front of her. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized just how hungry she was. “. . . And the seafood stew for the gentleman.” He placed the other bowl in front of Shredder and tucked the tray under his arm. “Enjoy!”
“Did you hear that?” Shredder said, nodding to the waiter who had gone to stand beside the door to the kitchen. “He called me a Gentleman.”
“He doesn’t know you.” April smiled sweetly. “Plus, I’m sure it’s just a standard way he addresses all his patrons.”
“Hm. You may have a point, there,” he conceded. “Ja, tabemashō ka?”
April wasn’t sure what he’d just said but guessed by the way he’d gestured at her bowl that it was an invitation to start eating. She scooped up a spoonful of her bisque and blew gently over the top, not wanting to burn her mouth on the hot soup. The flavors that washed over her tongue on that first bite were wonderfully complex – deep and earthy with a hint of sweetness. Her eyes closed partway, and a little groan of pleasure escaped her.
Shredder raised a curious eyebrow. “Good?”
“Very good,” she said.
His mouth curved up in a pleased smile. “Good.” He picked up his spoon and dipped it into his stew.
As soon as they were finished, the waiter swooped in to clear away their dishes and bring out the next course. April and Shredder kept their dinner conversation light, mindful of the waiter that had stationed himself on the other side of the room, ready to respond to any needs that may arise while they ate. Both of them thought it best to avoid discussing world domination plots or alien invasions in his presence. Shredder topped off their champagne throughout the meal from the bottle left in the bucket on the table. By the time their dessert was served, the bottle was empty.
April licked the last of her chocolate mousse off her spoon and dropped it into the glass dish with a contented sigh. “That was wonderful.” Shredder grunted in agreement, wiping a bit of cheesecake off his mouth with his napkin.
“Can I get you anything else?” the waiter asked when he reappeared beside the table to clear away their dishes. “Coffee?”
“Thank you, but no.” April laid a hand on her stomach. “Don’t think I can fit anything else in.”
He nodded and turned to Shredder. “You, sir?”
“Nothing for me, either,” he said. “But.” Tossing his napkin onto his plate, Shredder stood and drew the waiter over to the windows to exchange a few quiet words with him. April strained to listen in but couldn’t make out anything of he said or the waiter’s replies. The two of them spoke a moment longer and then parted, the waiter returning to his spot beside the kitchen door and Shredder resuming his seat at the table. “Settling our bill for the champagne,” he said in answer to April’s silent question.
“You di—“ She looked sharply at the waiter standing with his hands clasped behind him, gazing out at the dining room as he had throughout their dinner. “What did you. . . “
“Thought you said you didn’t want to know,” Shredder interrupted. “Something about maintaining Plausible deniability.”
“I – ugghhh.“ April grit her teeth in annoyance at having her words thrown back at her.
“Relax, Miss O’Neil. Nothing will make its way back to you,” he assured her. “Or harm your reputation in any way.”
“Hm.” April clenched her jaw again. It wasn’t her or her reputation she was worried about – not entirely, anyway. She studied the waiter, searching for anything in his face or his posture that might hint at what had passed between him and Shredder. There were no traces of fear or concern in his expression that she could see, nor any tenseness to his shoulders. He seemed completely at ease, projecting the same cool, professional air he had all evening. April took some comfort in that, choosing to see it a sign that Shredder hadn’t threatened the man at all. Her innate curiosity urged her to keep prodding, to find out the answer to this mystery. Her more practical side said keeping herself out of it was the wiser course of action. Much as it grated, she forced herself to let it go. “Right,” she said. “Well. If we’re all set, then . . .”
Shredder pressed his lips together, dipped his chin in what might have been a nod, and got to his feet again. April couldn’t help casting another discreet glance over her shoulder while they waited for the elevator. The waiter had left the kitchen door and was now carefully stacking the dishes they’d left on the table. At the sound of the elevator bell, he looked up and wished them a pleasant rest of their evening. The hostess bid them a good night as well when they arrived back in the lobby.
“Okay, well,” April said after they’d retrieved their coats from Coat Check. “I can catch a cab home from here.” She fished a couple bills out of her clutch and stuffed them into the tip jar on the counter. “So uhm, good night. I guess.”
“Or.” Shredder caught her wrist as she started to walk away and gently tugged her back to him. “You apparently have a midnight curfew. Still a little while yet until then.”
“What are you suggesting?” She said guardedly.
“Only that it’s early in the night. And it seems a pity for it to end right as it’s beginning.”
“Uh huh. You know the turtles are watching us and you want to mess with them some more.”
“Well.” He grinned wickedly. “That’s a bonus.”
April snorted. The little voice of reason in the back of her mind said she should just go. She’d fulfilled her responsibility to her boss and there wasn’t anything else expected of her for tonight. April knew she should listen to that voice, but there was something that was keeping her from leaving. Something that was more than Shredder’s hand still lightly circling her wrist. It must have been all the champagne making her head fuzzy, she decided. Or maybe it was just her curious nature that led her to her flirt with danger so often, or it could be something else entirely that she couldn’t name. The reasons and justifications didn’t really matter; in the end, they all pointed to the same thing. She wasn’t ready to go home just yet.
Shredder’s face remained carefully neutral while he waited for her to reply, though there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes – an echo of the vulnerability April had seen back in her apartment. Her Turtlecom was her clutch, though there was very little chance she’d need it. As she’d said just a moment ago, the turtles were watching. Had been watching all night. If they were nearby keeping an eye out, ready to intervene if she needed help, then what would be the harm?
“All right,” she said slowly. “But only for one more hour, that’s it. And somewhere public.”
“Of course.” Shredder’s expression softened, a genuine smile crossing his face. “I have just the place in mind.”
***
It may have been the middle of winter, and thus most of the plants in its collections now dormant, but the City Botanic Garden still enjoyed a steady stream of visitors thanks in part to its annual Winter Lights show. For several weeks starting at the end of January, the Garden was transformed into an enchanting fairy land every evening by the thousands of colored lights illuminating the pathways winding through the sprawling property. Shredder had hailed another taxi to take them from Beacon Tower to the Garden – again opening the cab door for April – and now the two of them were walking slowly through the sleeping rose garden. It was a clear night, and this far from downtown the stars shone brightly against the velvet black sky overhead. Seeing the tiny pink, red, and white lights twinkling from the rosebushes on either side of them, April understood why Winter Lights was so often named one of the most romantic spots in the City for a Valentine’s Day date.
“I’ll admit, a stroll through a garden is not somewhere I’d ever expect you to take me,” she said. “Though it sure does beat a drafty, empty warehouse.”
“I wanted you to have flowers this evening, Miss O’Neil,” Shredder said. “And seeing as the ones I brought ended up in the trash, this,” he swept his arm out toward the rosebushes. “Seemed a fitting compromise.”
“Again, that caution was warranted.”
Shredder groaned. “Are you ever going to stop holding that matter of the doku plant against me?”
April looked at him while pretending to think it over. “Mmm, probably not.”
“Appreciate your honesty,” he said dryly.
She quickly looked away to hide her grin. “I am starting to think I should have taken you up on that suggestion of a change of shoes, though.”
“There’s a bench over there.” Shredder stopped and waved vaguely at something up ahead of them. “If you want to sit for a minute.”
April became even more acutely aware of the dull ache in her feet seeing the stone seat he’d indicated, at the point where the path curved gently to the left toward the cherry tree grove. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking but had a sense it had been a while – long enough for her feet to start protesting, anyway – or how much farther they had to go before they circled back around to Garden’s entrance. A chance to rest a bit before they began hurting in earnest would be welcome. Except, she knew that the ride over from Beacon Tower had not been short. And that the faint rustling she’d heard in the underbrush had nothing to do with the gentle breeze stirring the bare branches of the rosebushes.
“I would,” April said quietly. “But.” She slid her gaze back to Shredder. “I think we’ve gone way past our hour.”
“Right.” Even in the darkness, April saw the flash of disappointment on Shredder’s face. “Well, then. We’d best continue on.”
They resumed walking and in time arrived back at the Visitor’s Center at the entrance gate. As April had predicted, her feet had begun throbbing long before it ever came into view. It was with immense relief that she slid into the back of the taxi for the trip back to her apartment. In one final act of chivalry for the evening, Shredder got out of the cab and went around to open April’s door and help her over that same bit of ice on the curb. The cabbie then drove off, leaving them standing alone on the sidewalk in front of the building.
“And here you are, back home.” Shredder said. “Before midnight, as promised.”
“Thank you,” April said. “Though, y’know? I . . . don’t think you ever actually promised that.”
“Hm? Well, that’s even better, then. Would hate to start developing a reputation for being trustworthy.”
“Nope.” She nodded agreement. “Can’t be having that, now.”
Shredder inclined his head. “Indeed.” April swallowed a laugh at the seriousness of his expression.
An awkward moment passed between them, neither quite certain about what came next. “I uh . . . uhm,” April said finally. “Don’t really know what to . . . Except, maybe saying Good night again.”
“I believe it’s customary to end a Valentine’s date with a kiss,” Shredder suggested.
“There are four adolescent reptiles armed with deadly weapons monitoring our every move,” April said evenly. “Just looking for any excuse to use said deadly weapons on you.”
“Who said I wasn’t armed as well?” he deflected.
April knew Leonardo typically kept several small blades hidden on his person, so that even when he didn’t have his swords with him, he wouldn’t be without a weapon. She had no doubt Shredder did the same. “I am sure you are,” she said. “But I think you’ve provoked them enough for tonight.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Shredder sighed. “It would be a shame to mar our evening with such . . . unpleasantness.” April snorted a laugh at his choice of wording. “Though then again,” he continued, mischief glinting in his eyes. “It seems wrong not mark the close our night in some way.” Before April could even think to ask what he meant, Shredder took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. April’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She felt her face grow hot, her heart flutter in her chest. Her mind went blank. Even if she had been capable of speaking in that moment, she had no idea what she would have said. Shredder smiled at her. “Good night, Miss O’Neil. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
He let her go and turned to walk away down the block, hands in his coat pockets and his head held high. April stared after him until she’d recovered enough from her shock to enter her building. She moved through her apartment in a daze, hanging up her coat in the front closet, pouring herself a glass of Cabernet from the open bottle on the kitchen counter, and flopping down onto the couch. There was a soft scraping sound from somewhere deeper in her apartment, and then the turtles appeared at the end of the hall, having let themselves in through the window she’d left unlocked for them in her bedroom.
“Well, you survived,” Raphael said.
“MmmHmm.” She nodded. “I did.”
“Please tell me you washed your hands after . . . that.”
April took a sip of her wine to avoid answering. Leonardo came over to perch on the arm of the couch beside her. The other turtles took that as their cue to spread out and find their own places to sit.
“I still wanna know why,” Michelangelo said from the spot he’d chosen on the floor beside the coffee table.
“Why she needed to thoroughly scrub her hands?” Raphael said. “You did see what happened, right?”
“No. Well, I mean yeah, I did see it. But I meant why was Shredder so eager to go on that date. Dude’s not exactly the romantic type.”
“I’ve been wondering a lot about that, too,” Leonardo said. “Did he ever say, April? While you were at dinner?”
“Nope,” April said into wine glass. “He didn’t.” It wasn’t a lie, she told herself. Leonardo had asked about dinner, and that wasn’t where they’d talked about his reason for entering the raffle. “I did ask, though,” she felt the need to add. Also not technically a lie.
“Huh, that’s odd.” Raphael said. “Shredder not taking advantage of a prime opportunity to gloat at length about his evil scheme? Usually the guy can’t stop talking about whatever plan he’s cooked up.”
“Guess he just wasn’t feeling very forthcoming tonight.”
Raphael grunted. “Suppose there really is a first time for everything. So what’d you guys end up talking about, then, in that case?”
April gave him a look that said she didn’t appreciate the question and took another sip of her wine.
“I just hope we didn’t miss something,” Leonardo said. “And that this doesn’t come back to haunt us in the future.”
“Like what?” Michelangelo asked.
“Also, how?” Donatello added.
“That’s the part I’m worried about,” Leonardo said gravely. “I’m not sure.”
***
The little building with the pink awning on the corner by the park had been a bakery at one time, but judging by the weathered state of the paint on the sign over the entrance – not to mention the faded lettering on the Space for Lease signs in the front windows – it had had been sitting empty and forgotten for some time. Shredder yanked open the rear door and stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, rubbing his hands together briskly to warm them. Bebop and Rocksteady scrambled to their feet when the cold gust of wind that preceded him scattered the pile of playing cards off their makeshift table onto the floor.
“Good. You’re here,” Shredder said, letting the door slam shut behind him as he approached the two mutants. “I trust that with the turtles occupied elsewhere all night you were able to complete your assignment without issue?”
“Yup.” Bebop picked up the canister sitting on the table beside the camp lantern they’d been using to light the room. The name of an experimental compound was printed in large letters along the side of the cylinder. “Got the stuff, no problem.”
A cold smile spread slowly across Shredder’s face. He reached out to take the container from Bebop, congratulating himself once again on his genius idea of sending the henchmutants out on their mission while he was on his date. Trusting them to accomplish anything on their own was always a gamble, but even if they’d failed, he’d still have his evening with the reporter. Contentment spread through him thinking about that date, chasing away the chill from his long walk to the bakery. From the dinner to the stroll through the Botanic Garden afterward, it had had been everything he’d hoped and imagined. Well. Nearly everything. If not for the turtles’ presence outside her apartment building at the end . . . But they had been a necessary nuisance, he reminded himself. And sacrificing a kiss was a small price to pay in the grander scheme. There would be another opportunity, another date to look forward to. Soon.
“This has been a perfect night,” Shredder said to the canister in his hand.
“Uh, hey,” Rocksteady frowned. “You okay, Boss?” When Shredder didn’t respond, he said more forcefully, “Boss?!”
“Huh?” Shredder blinked and the bakery dissolved, reforming into a narrow alleyway in a busy part of the City. The weak sunlight filtering down from up above barely penetrated the gloom. Rivulets of melting snow from the dirty piles at the alley’s mouth collected in large puddles in front of the dumpsters parked against the side wall. His cape fluttered in the cold wind flowing between the buildings. Both henchmutants were staring at him, brows furrowed in concern.
"I said: you okay, Boss?” Rocksteady repeated. “You was talkin’ to your hand, there.”
Shredder hastily dropped his arm and drew himself up. “Of course I’m all right,” he snapped. “Did you get the uh. . . the . . .uhm.” He floundered, trying to recall what it was Krang had sent them to retrieve.
“Yup.” Bebop held up a scuffed metal box held shut with a small bronze padlock. “Right here.”
“Good. Then let’s get back to the Technodrome before Krang gets on my case about taking too long.”
“Right, Boss.”
The two minions fumbled with their comlinks a bit before finally getting the dimensional portal open. Shredder paused before following them through to cast one last look at the fancy hotel across the street, and the poster in the display case out front advertising the special menu their restaurant would be serving that weekend for Valentine’s Day.