Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
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Part One
Enter Search.
Richard Grayson.
The list of responses extended to over seven thousand entries. She clicked on the third one; "Richard John Grayson, ward and presumptive heir of Bruce Wayne, eighth richest man in the world, according to Forbes magazine…" There he was, pages and pages about him and who would have ever thought that he'd have that much stuff about him available to the entire world when he was still like seventeen years old. Go figure.
Well, he had serious potential.
She kept the same name in the search box and clicked on 'images'. This time almost two hundred pictures came up on several pages. Everything from posed formal portraits with Bruce Wayne at some high brow society functions to candids of him eating at some sidewalk café, alone with a newspaper and a glass of soda to one shot of him as part of his school's gymnastics team during some meet.
He was beautiful.
He was perfect.
She loved him.
There had been a time when she'd really thought that the middle Hanson brother, Taylor, would be the guy for her, but then he gotten married when he was like eighteen or something so, well, screw that. After that she'd really, really liked Johnny Depp, even if he was old but he was practically married and had some kids so screw him, too. From there she'd moved on to Christian Bale after she'd seen him in Little Women and, while he was still pretty cute and had even looked hunky in those stupid Batman movies. Then she found out that he was married and had this really, really bad temper so she just wrote him off. Of course he was still pretty handsome but so were a lot of guys, so while she still liked him, she didn't like him.
Besides, those guys weren't real. Nobody really knew Johnny Depp or the Hanson's; they only existed on movie screens and in magazines.
But then one day she was thumbing through People at the hairdresser's while she was waiting for Annaclaire to get a trim and there he was—really cute, and really rich. He was even the right age and he was single—they said that he didn't even have a girlfriend so that meant that she had a real chance with him. And Bruce Wayne (and Dick Grayson) lived like less than ten miles from her house. Absolutely perfect! He was like a real person, the kind you could maybe run into at McDonald's (like Richard Grayson would stoop so low—not) or at Brixton Country Club, if they were members.
And she knew her parents went to Wayne Manor once in a while for charity dinners and stuff—this was beyond perfect! She'd talk to her parents about that as soon as she got home; they were bound to have some real inside stuff.
"Marilee, c'mon, my mom will kill me if we're late again."
"You always say that."
"And I always mean it; move it, will you?"
Heaving a sigh Marilee picked up her back pack, cleared the screen on the computer monitor in the library study section and got up to go. Annaclaire was her best friend since fifth grade and they did everything together. "What time are we meeting the guys?"
"Right after practice; you want to get something to eat first? I had to make up that math quiz and didn't get lunch—I'm starving."
Marilee rolled her eyes, "Like I'm going to eat before practice so I can barf for two hours, no thanks." The two girls were both on the varsity cheerleading squad and had been since sophomore year, they were co-captains and trying to really build up the level of the stuff they were doing this year. There was lots more tumbling, harder pyramids and new uniforms that didn't look nearly so lame as the old ones.
"So what were you looking up in the library a few minutes ago?"
"History."
"History, my ass. You checking out 'Brix's front line?" ''Brix, formally known as Brixton, was the school they were playing Saturday for Homecoming and were expected to lose to. They always lost to Brixton.
Marilee nodding, lying. It was a thing they did before every game; looking up pictures of the opposing team, picking out the cute ones and the real losers then seeing if they looked as good/bad when they got to check them out in person on the field. She wondered if Richard Grayson was on the football team, though there'd been no mention of it in any of the articles she'd read about him.
"And…?" Annaclaire prodded her. "Any of them decent?"
"Maybe, mostly they just look like the usual bunch of rich WASPS who spend all their time spending their parents' money and getting drunk every weekend; you know the kind."
"All white, all rich, all snobs; gag me. Whatever…c'mon, let's get practice started, I want to work on the basket tosses."
***
After practice they'd met up with their respective boyfriends, a couple of varsity first stringers named Adam and Brian the two girls had been dating since about eighth grade. If things worked out the way they used to fantasize about back in Junior High, they'd get married as soon as they either finished college or got reasonably paying jobs, buy houses on the same street and raise their kids in the same town they'd all grown up in. Marilee didn't tell any of the others that the longer they all talked about it, the more she knew that was what she didn't want, at least not any more. Adam was a really good guy but he was boring, and had less ambition that an old housecat. She'd probably dump him as soon as the prom was over.
Marilee wanted more than that; she wanted to travel, meet some of the famous, fancy, accomplished people she read about in the magazines and she wanted to live in a house with a big in-ground pool and a cleaning lady twice a week. And she wanted someone better than Adam to share it with.
"So we'll meet up after the game, okay? 'Everyone's going over to Stewart's for burgers like always. Marilee? 'You listening?"
"Of course—we'll pick you guys up outside the locker room, okay?" She took exactly three fries off Adam's plate and no more; cheerleaders didn't eat stuff like that, not if they wanted to be a flyer in the pyramids, they didn't. She sipped her diet coke. The four of them always sat in the same booth, always ordered the same things and in the off season always double-dated to a movie after a pizza—pepperoni with extra cheese. Every week. Marilee was starting to think she was the only one who was starting to have a problem with being in a rut at the age of seventeen.
Finally, a couple hours later, home and after dinner, she was up in her room finishing work on the French verbs she had a test on in the morning. After half an hour, bored and knowing them all by heart, she googled Richard Grayson again, finding out more about him than she had that afternoon in the library.
He was an orphan, used to be a really top grade circus performer until his parents were murdered in front of him when he was just short of his ninth birthday—God, how horrible! Bruce Wayne was in the stands, saw it happen, took him in, was now his legal guardian and he'd been living the high life in Brixton ever since.
From all the accounts she read (and she read a lot today), he was smart, a good student and there was no record of him ever being in any kind of trouble. There weren't any mentions of any girlfriends or any friends at all, for that matter. It was pretty much assumed that he'd end up either working for Wayne Enterprises or having so much money he could spend all his time painting his toenails different colors every hour.
God, he was handsome.
And all the articles ended by saying that there was an official news blackout on him from Wayne Enterprises to maintain the privacy of a minor. Well, okay, that seemed reasonable. Like who, other than maybe Lindsay Lohan or Zac Efron or some jerks like that would want to become public property? Jesus, that would totally suck. And that meant that everything she'd just read was probably, maybe not true, exaggerated or flat out lies. Great.
But he was still a beauty, no matter what else was real about him.
Next she googled Brixton Academy's sports teams. No mention of Richard Grayson in any football, baseball, basketball, soccer or lacrosse articles she could find but there was that one mention of him competing for their gymnastics team a year or so ago. It said that he was an alternate filling in for some injured team member in a dual meet and won two of the six events, floor and high bar but fell in the parallels and the pommel horse so finished way down in the individual standings, despite two first places.
Okay, so he might, maybe be at the game tomorrow but he wouldn't be suited up or on the field; she'd just have to look in the stands and hope she got lucky.
***
The next afternoon Marilee and Annaclaire were on the visitor sidelines at Brixton's football field watching Ridge's team go down to a twenty-seven to fourteen defeat. Damn. So they had a crummy team and usually lost, it still sucked and that meant that Adam would be in a crappy mood the entire rest of the weekend. Again. Seriously, he was getting on her last nerve lately.
Walking to the team bus and surrounded by the other cheerleaders, her shoulder was bumped by someone going faster than she was. "Sorry."
"That's okay." She gave the guy a half-second glance then stopped dead, "Ohmigod, it's you!"
Dark, built and gorgeous and glancing at her with surprise and confusion. "Excuse me?"
"I mean—it's—I mean, um—are you—I mean—I guess that—um, you're Richard Grayson, right?" She felt like an idiot and could feel herself blush. Annaclaire was staring at her like she'd lost her mind, the three of them making a knot of clog in the stream of people leaving the game.
"Do I know you?"
Oh God, this was a nightmare. Maybe she could fall through the sidewalk or he could develop amnesia and forget this happened. "Um, no—I mean we've never really met or anything but I've seen your picture…in the papers and stuff—you know…" He was just looking at her. "I'm Marilee."
His expression became a little wary as if he'd been around this block before but he looked at her kindly, holding out his hand to shake. "And I'm Dick; now we've met."
They were being carried by the crowd; Annaclaire lost in the sea of people. "I'm usually not like this; I mean I never do this, but would you like to get a soda or something?" He didn't answer immediately, just looked like he was sizing her up. He also looked a little surprised, but what the hell. "I mean if you're busy I understand or think I'm weird or something…"
They were by the team buses, the Ridge players, band and cheerleaders loading on and talking about the loss or later plans. "Don't you have to get back on the bus with your team?"
Right, of course, she was in her cheerleader uniform—obvious much? "It's okay. I mean, yeah I'm supposed to go back with them but I can call someone to pick me up if that's okay." Please say yes, please say yes.
Adam would kill her. The rest of the cheer squad was staring at her through the windows, not believing what they were seeing. Marilee and Adam were like carved in stone since like sixth grade and now she was picking up some richie pretty-boy from Brixton?
Dick gave her a small smile, like he'd decided to take a shot with her. "Or I could maybe give you a ride if you're okay driving with someone you've just met. I mean, if that won't get you into any trouble or anything like that. Don't they do a head count?"
"My friends will cover for me."
He laughed then nodded, gesturing towards another section of the parking lot. "Okay, then…"
She nodded, grinning and happy; he was gorgeous and he was nice and he was willing to get to know her a little over a coke or something.
"Marilee, you coming?" A cheerleader leaned out of a bus window, annoyed.
"I've got another ride, Anna—I'll call you later, okay?"
Marilee saw Annaclaire frowning and clearly not approving her doublecrossing Adam with this rich stranger kid, "I'm calling you later, count on it." Her look made her feelings plain and Marilee knew she'd be grilled when she got home and would have some major explaining to do if she wanted to still have a boyfriend by Monday…okay, or at least still have Adam as a boyfriend, anyway.
"'You sure this all right? 'No one will be upset?" Marilee shook her head as she and the Grayson guy turned towards another part of the parking lot, walking till they got to a new racing green Porsche Boxter, mint and fabulous. "Do you mind if I leave the top down or would you rather it was up?"
Oh jeez… he was even considerate. "You decide, Richard; it's such a nice day, though…"
"Okay, c'mon." They pulled out and went a few slow blocks towards town in the game traffic. He turned down a quiet side street and drove a mile or so before stopping at a small mom and pop coffee place that was a little out of the way and not too busy. Finally seated and with iced tea for him and the diet coke for her in front of them they slowly started talking, breaking the ice a little. "So how did you know my name? I mean, we've never met, so how did you recognize me? And most people call me Dick, not Richard."
She blushed to her roots and too a sip of soda to hide her embarrassment. "I saw your picture in People; it said you lived around here somewhere and so I googled you." He didn't look really angry, thank God, just a little amused. "None of the hits said anything about you having a girlfriend—or a boyfriend; there wasn't much at all about you since...I mean…since …"
"Since I moved here when I was eight?" Dick helped her out; this was always more awkward for other people than it was for him. He'd had years to adjust to his parent's deaths; other people never knew what to say.
"Uh-huh...I guess I wasn't all that surprised you showed up at the game today." There was a pause which became awkward. "Are you mad?"
He shrugged and shook his head; it wasn't like this was the first time it had ever happened to him and while he knew it had a whole lot more to do with Bruce's bank account than anything else, this girl intrigued him for some reason. "You don't look too dangerous." He knew plenty about stalking and gold-diggers but he didn't have much else on this afternoon and she's appealed to his ego enough to pique his interest. It wasn't like he had any plans to elope.
She seemed relieved until she looked up from her drink and saw him watching her. "So what did you find out about me?" This had a harder edge to it and she realized that she'd probably gone too far, that he might think she was a crazy or something like that.
"Not that much; I mean, okay I found out that you used to be a circus performer when you were little and I read about your parents—I'm really sorry about them—you know." He nodded like he'd heard this before, and he had.
"And what else? You obviously know my age and where I go to school. I assume you know all about Bruce and what he does, right?"
"There were a lot of things about him, but he doesn't seem to, I don't know, he doesn't really seem to do much. I mean—shoot, no offense or anything but mostly what's written about him are all the women he goes out with and how rich he is."
Dick was losing interest; she was just another teenager with hopes of striking it rich and not as interesting as she first seemed. "Yeah, well women seem to like him, I guess." A lot of women tried to get to Bruce's money through him; it wouldn't work.
Marilee went into a mental panic as she read his expression. Jeez, she didn't want him to think that she was just some idiot fan-girl or something. She could practically see his eyes glazing over. "But I'm not like that; I mean I guess you probably think I checked you out because of Bruce—I mean Mr. Wayne—because of his money and stuff. But that article in People, the first one I read about you, you just seemed so really nice and like you're not a jerk like most of the guys I know are." She was blushing like crazy and starting to stammer but she plowed on. "And then I read more about you—and you do all kinds of things like helping orphans and whatever and I just thought that, you know…I just kind of thought that, um, that maybe we could sort of, maybe like be friends or something."
He was looking at her like she was completely brainless and was stifling a yawn. Oh, jeez, this wasn't the way she thought this would go, not even close.
"Well, yeah, that would be nice but I'm pretty busy, what with helping kittens up in trees and all so thanks, but…"
She stopped suddenly, stopped her simpering, dropped her fluffy cheerleader act and her flirting and just became a real person. Dick watched with sudden concealed interest; it was a lot like watching Bruce Wayne transform into Batman; the features and all remained the same, it was something internal like a complete attitude revision of personality; even her voice changed. "Look, I know you must think I'm an idiot or someone who's just trying to hook up with you because of money but—crap—I'm really screwing this up—I just liked you as soon as I started hearing about you and thought we could be friends. Honest, that's it. No hidden agenda, no strings, no tricking you into getting me pregnant or 'till death do we part' or any of that garbage; just get to know each other as friends." She ducked her head, as though unsure whether she should bother going on or not. "I mean, 'take a shot, anyway. You never know, right?"
This was a semi-interesting variation of the game, but it didn't wash. "Uh, Marilee, look; you seem like you're a nice person but I'm just…" Games weren't his thing, not when he dealt with so much artifice in his day to day life. "I'm sure you have plenty of friends."
She nodded; she'd blown it and she knew it. "It's okay, really." She paused and sniffed just the slightest bit. "I meant what I said before, I mean about liking you from the moment I first heard about you…I told my friends I saw you in magazines—and I did—but I've known about you for a long time. My parents go to Mr. Wayne's charity things all the time and they're on some boards together." She shrugged in resignation, knowing she's blown it. 'Nothing to lose. "Honest—a month ago they came home from that Animal rescue fund-raiser at Wayne Manor and were talking about meeting you; they were really impressed."
This was something Dick hadn't expected, he'd assumed she was just some teeny-bopper or skank looking to add a notch to her belt; this was out of the blue and something he could check, which she must realize. Though it was still entirely possible—even likely— that she was a gold-digger, "Who are your parents?"
"Bob and Marykate Richards; we live over in Ridgefield now but we used to live in Brixton until dad was made CFO a year or so ago. When we were here I went to Saint Albert's Academy instead of Brixton because of that big drug scandal there a few years ago; my parents kind of freaked about that."
"Yeah, so did Bruce for a while until he sort of came to his senses and realized that drugs are everywhere." Dick vaguely remembered hearing the Richards names; he might have even met them but wasn't completely sure. "So what else do you do besides cheerleading and googling strangers?" He smiled to take the sting out of his words and she relaxed slightly with the unexpected encouragement. He could let this play out a little while longer; he didn't have to be anywhere for another hour or so. Besides, he was semi-interested again. Well, curious, anyway.
***
Later, back in his room, he googled the Richards and came up with about fifty hits. It seemed that they were pretty much as Marilee described them; reasonably well off (though nowhere near Bruce's league), educated, civic minded and pillars of whatever community they happened to live in. As far as he could tell, they seemed like they were on the up and up. Wandering down to the kitchen while Alfred was basting the roast in the oven, he asked the old man if he might know anything about the couple.
"The Richards, you say? Well…I believe that they've been guests of the master on more than one occasion if I recall correctly. They were quite generous with their recent contribution for the new wing of the Wayne clinic, asking that their donation go specifically for the pediatric wing, if memory serves. You may have met them yourself; you were at that dinner, young man."
Dick smiled, lying as he smiled at Alfred. "You know I never pay attention to who's there. No one cares about me unless it's to get through to Bruce at those things." He found a bag of pretzels in a cabinet but put them back when he saw the look Alfred was giving him. "Do you think they're really generous or do you think they're just trying to get on Bruce's good side?"
Alfred seasoned the roast, adding more spices to the outside and different vegetables to cook around the meat, adding their own flavor. "I couldn't really say though they seem pleasant enough; why do you ask?"
"Their daughter came up to me at the game today, that's all. I was curious. Dinner in a couple of hours?"
"Dinner will be at the usual time."
Dick nodded, "Okay, I'll be in the gym for a while if you want me."
Alfred didn't give the exchange much thought other to think it a perfectly normal thing for a young man with Dick's credentials and looks to be the object of attention of a young lady. He didn't seem all that interested nor did he say anything about calling the girl in question to arrange another meeting. Of course, he was busy, but still—it was past due time for him to take a more active interest in the opposite sex beyond a few crushes and a couple cases of puppy love which never came to anything. It was later that evening, when Alfred went in to make himself a cup of tea that he saw the Master's personal phone book opened to the 'R's'.
***
"So did you meet the Grayson boy, sweetie?"
"What do you mean Mom?"
"Marilee—you know perfectly well what I'm talking about. For goodness sakes, you've been mooning about him for weeks now."
"I have not." God, how embarrassing.
Marykate Richards put the pile of clean towels on the shelf in her daughter's bathroom and came back out to the attached bedroom. "So, did you meet him?"
The girl smiled. "He's really nice."
"I told you he was. Last month over at Wayne Manor he couldn't have been more charming. Did you two hit it off, honey?"
"I think so; I mean, he asked for my number but that doesn't mean that he'll call or anything."
"I bet he does."
"He might not."
"Five dollars says he does."
"God, Mom--you're so embarrassing." Marilee and her mother both smiled as Marykate left to deliver more clean laundry to other bedrooms. She knew her daughter and she'd done her own homework on the Grayson boy after she'd spent a good twenty minutes chatting with him at that dinner. Handsome, of course, intelligent despite his background and currently the only known heir (even if he was just a ward) of Bruce Wayne. He would be a perfect match for Marilee, especially since he cleaned up so well. It was always possible that he was just being superficially polite because the event was in his own home and his 'father' was there, but he did make a good presentation. Now the thing would be to make sure that the two of them were kept in touch with one another and that shouldn't be all that difficult; a birthday party here, a charity event there, throw in a football game and a school dance. Human nature and teenaged hormones should take care of things without much help.
Dick Grayson wasn't going to get away that easily, not if she had anything to say about it.
Three days later the expected call came through, Dick Grayson asked Marilee if she wanted to catch dinner and a movie that weekend.
Bob and Marykate raised a silent toast.
TBC