Warnings: none
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
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Feedback: Hell, yes.
Reunion
Part One
It sat ignored for several weeks, along with the rest of the foot or so high pile of first class mail spilling off his kitchen counter. Finally, tired of looking at the stuff, Dick picked up a handful, consciously stopped himself from simply tossing them into the recycling and sat down to at least leaf through them.
Thank god that his bills automatically went to Bruce's accountant for payment.
That meant that most of the stuff here were invitations, personal letters from whomever and the usual thank you's for birthday presents, favors he'd done for people or hostess gifts from parties and dinners he'd gone to. Alfred's standards were built into him now and second nature. In short, all stuff he should at least open. Well, most of it, anyway.
Settling in with the TV playing in the background, he made his way through the pile then stopped when he saw the thick envelope. 'Looks like another wedding invitation'.
But;
"It's hard to believe that it's been five years since graduation already!
Please say you'll join us for our first official reunion
Brixton Country Club
Saturday, July 7th
7 PM
Cocktail Wear
RSVP by June 28th
It Won't Be The Same Without You!"
The last line had been underlined in ballpoint and "Please say you'll be there!" was scrawled on the bottom of the page. Dick looked through the rest of the packet; there was a schedule for the weekend which included an informal get together on Friday evening at a local pizza place, a Saturday brunch/cookout and a Sunday softball game in addition to the big dinner.
He glanced at the newspaper beside him, today as the 27th. Well, what the hell, it wasn't like he was far from Brixton and he wasn't working this weekend (at least not for BPD, anyway), he picked up the phone.
"Dick, Dick Grayson? Oh my lord, I was hoping you'd call—I was talking with Marsha just this morning and we were wondering how you were doing. In fact, I saw Bruce at the club just a couple of weeks ago but you know how he is, 'didn't say a word about you. You're in Bludhaven? Why on earth...? Well, we'll sit down next week and you'll tell me everything. And are you married yet? Jeanie was wondering that a couple of months ago but—oh, never mind, we'll all catch up."
He smiled to himself, trying not to laugh at Patty; she never was what anyone could call stoic—annoying, hyper, way the hell too wired, yes, self-contained, no. "How're the responses, a lot of people coming?"
"Everyone, well, almost, anyway. It's going to be a good turn out and a lot of the teachers said they'd be there, too."
"Great, sounds like it'll be fun."
"Oh, it will, it will..." An awkward pause came through the line. "Um, Dick, I hate to bring this up, I know it sounds incredibly tacky, but since you're coming—which is great—I was wondering if, I mean there's a sort of a problem and I hate to ask but..."
"What?"
"I know it's really last minute but I know you guys do all kinds of parties all the time over at Bruce's place and I know how obnoxious this is, but..."
"Patty, what?"
"Oh, god, this is terrible to ask like this but the club cancelled on us last minute because they have some wedding or scheduling mix-up or something. "
"And...?"
"Could we have the dinner up at Bruce's? We have the caterer all set and we can get tents and things, I swear it won't be a problem and we'll do everything..."
"I'll give Bruce a call."
She was on a roll..."Because if we can't use it we'll have to use like my parent's place and you know that's like a postage stamp and Marsha's parents said no and Lindsay's parents refused and then Tim's folks said we'd have to take out some huge insurance policy and..."
"I'll call him now and call you right back."
"Because if we can't I guess we'll have to go someplace stupid like the beach and then we have to get all kinds of permits and we probably don't have time and..."
"Patty..."
"So, y'know, I hate asking, but..."
"Patty, stop talking. I'm sure Bruce won't care but I'll call him now and then call you back in a few minutes, all right?"
"...Seriously? That would be fabulous!"
Ten minutes later the permission was given. "Patty, it's okay with him, so long as the class committee handles everything and makes sure that everything's cleaned up and removed when it's over. He also said that if you want he'd let the class use the outdoor pool and pool house and would let you set up the tables and tents around the main garden next to the water."
"Oh my lord—tell him he's wonderful and he has to come to the party, okay?"
"I'm sure he's booked but I'll let him know. Just let me have the names of the set up committee members and a list of the people who said they're coming so security will let them through the gates; you can fax it to me."
"But I don't have a..."
"E-mail will be fine."
"Oh, Dick, thank you—you're a life saver!"
Call ended, Dick laughed as he headed for the shower. This would be fun.
A week later the reunion set up prep was in full swing, party rental trucks bringing in tents, tables, chairs, a portable dance floor, lighting and sound equipment, portable heaters and god knew what else.
"Master Richard, might I inquire what the committee is charging the attendees for this soiree?"
"Two hundred and fifty each but I'm pretty sure most of the cost is being picked up by some of the richer members of the class."
"I would suspect an arrangement like that might have been needed, judging from the extent of the preparations."
Dick nodded with some bemusement, "No kidding." Patty never had been known for her sense of proportion and evidently she hadn't changed in the last five years. 'Good thing her family was second only to Bruce in the annual local wealth ratings.
"Have you considered that should a class member need to avail their selves of charity, they may simply choose not to attend to avoid and possible embarrassment?"
"I mentioned that but it's pretty much too late now to make any significant changes and I guess there'd be no real way to know who isn't coming because of cost."
"I suppose, yes, but it's unfortunate."
Dick nodded, Alfred was right and next time he'd see what he could do to get the price down, it wasn't like they'd have a hard time getting sponsorship with the average income of the classmates.
"Alfred, what the hell is that damn banging and would you please make it stop?" The voice coming through the intercom was angry, half asleep and brooking no argument.
"Immediately, Master Bruce." A moment. "I though you said that you were going to tell him about this. In fact, I thought you said that you'd cleared it through him a week ago."
"I did. I guess he forgot."
"I would think that the chance of that is slight, at best."
"He hasn't had coffee." Dick shrugged, but a pissed Bruce was a bad thing. "I'll go talk to the workmen."
"I would hope so."
The next day, Friday, marked the official start of the reunion activities with anyone who wanted showing up at Roma's Pizza down on the Brixton main drag, nestled in between the Gucci shop, the Hermes store, Tiffany's and the Ralph Lauren Black Label flagship store. It had been there forever, started by Carlo Roma back in the thirties and keep going by succeeding generations of his progeny. It was small, cheap and served the best Italian food for fifty miles.
The place was packed, noisy, the beer was flowing like Niagara and smelled like Italian heaven.
Dick walked in late, around nine-thirty, alone and looked around for anyone he'd like to sit with. Patty and her husband, Chad were in a booth over by the window and gestured for him to join then. Sliding in on the far side of the table he took Chad's outstretched hand and leaned over to kiss Pat on the cheek.
"So, Grayson, I hear you're working for Wayne Enterprises—how's that going for you?"
Say wha? "No, not working there. I was given my precinct assignment down in Bludhaven, I'm a cop."
"Yeah, right. So, you're working your way through the company to get a feel for the place, that's what I hear from my dad. Bruce wants you to take the reins eventually, right? 'Starting in security or something like that?"
"No, not really. 'Starting as a cop on the beat—well, in a squad car and seeing what I can do with it."
Chad stared for slightly too long then bust out laughing, "Man, Grayson, you had me going there for a minute; you, a cop—like that would ever happen." He walked, non too steadily away, still laughing and stopping at one of the booths to spread the word, causing more laughter.
"So, Dick, what are you really doing?" Patty was smiling at the ridiculous idea, too.
"I'm a cop in Bludhaven, for real."
"No, really."
He pulled out his wallet, opening it to the flap which held his gold badge. "Really."
Chad looked confused, Patty bemused, at best. "Well—damn." An awkward pause. "So—are you married? Seeing someone?"
"Single, so far, anyway."
"Y'know, my sister will be at the dinner tomorrow and she's always had a thing for you, if you're interested..."
Whatever. "Thanks, Chad, sounds great. What was her name again?"
"Emily."
Whatever. Their meals arrived, hot, swimming in melted cheese with probably enough cholesterol to kill a horse. The small talk continued, competing with the juke box and loud reminisces going on around them.
"Hey, remember that last quarter against Gotham High?"
"I can't believe that she has four kids already!"
"Well, I think she looks like hell, if you ask me."
"Well, I heard he married his boyfriend last year and, well, I think it's good. Don't you think it's good?"
"C'mon, you never say Sawyer when he wasn't drunk or high, right?"
"Tell him to watch it, there's a cop in our midst."
"'Bet Wayne shit a brick when that bomb was dropped."
"Hi, Dick, you've aged well..." And that was the comment which led to the trouble.
Mick, Patty and Chad were quietly catching up, as much as Dick could talk. He limited himself to the agreed upon version of his life the last five years; his short stint at college, his wandering around the world in search of himself (okay, he was with the Titans, but that wouldn't fly I this place) and his decision to go to the Bludhaven Police Academy. Chad and Patty married last year, just as Chad finished law school and just after she finished her teaching certificate in ASL.
"So, Dick, I was hoping you'd be here tonight—promise that you'll dance with me tomorrow at your place?"
He looked up to see Jackie Turner beside him, still looking like a high school cheerleader, missing only the Brixton Prep uniform to go back five years. "Me? How do you know if I can dance?"
"Oh, stop—you were raised by Bruce, of course you know how to dance. Promise?"
Promise and then you can explain to me why you broke my heart back in school."
"I did? How?" She was smiling, hoping it was true and that he'd maybe liked her back then (and maybe now).
"You went to the Christmas Ball junior year with Jeff, you even accepted in front of my during lunch in the cafeteria. Then you went steady with him until graduation." It was even true, he'd carried a torch for her all through high school.
"Tomorrow we'll make up for lost time, then." He pulled a few bills from his wallet, tossed them on the table and stood to leave. "I told Bruce I'd help him with some things tonight, but if you're not already booked for the cookout...?"
"I'll meet you there at eleven, okay?"
"Island Beach, right?"
She nodded, smiling that smile he used to dream about. "Eleven."
It took him a little while to get out of Roma's door, stopping at almost every step to chat for a moment or two with someone but, finally, he was in the parking lot. Pausing to put on his helmet, he saw the scratches, deep and angry looking along the side and gas tank of the new, custom Ninja.
They were intentional. A quick look didn't reveal anyone else out in the lot nor any other vehicles damaged.
Goddamn it.
It could be random, sure. It could be some stupid vandal, some kid or someone making a statement against the rich Brixton bastards; that wasn't all that uncommon. He'd dust for prints when he got back to the manor but—dammit. This sucked.
TBC