Fish's club was empty when she showed up, something that was quite unusual. She wasn't here to see Fish though, her collections had been done and she was here on the Don's business. While she waited she perused the club, admiring the whorls in the grain of the dark wood on the tables, the scuff marks on the stage from the various acts. Julia even got up onto the stage, taking a moment to look out and imagine an audience. The area in front of the stage was small enough that the audience would seem intimate, but the club extended beyond. She'd taken to pacing in front of the bar when her business showed up.
When Butch walked through the door, she full on bitch-slapped him. He looked stunned for a second and she used that moment to push him back against a wall. Her knife was out and up against his neck. "Are you fucking insane?"
He blinked. "What?"
"I know it's hard to get through that thick skull and into that peanut sized thing you call a brain, but kidnapping nuns and chaining them under a bridge is not a bright idea. Shocking, right?" The Don had not been pleased about that. Neither had Julia. While not religious, she respected the women's decision to give up their worldly possessions because of the strength of their faith. She wished her faith could be that strong sometimes.
Butch pushed back against her, "Falcone said to stop their shipments, he didn't say how."
"You start threatening nuns then everyone gets involved. News, police, the Church." She growled as she took a step back. Butch shook his arms out, hand rising to the little knick she had made on his neck. It wasn't even bleeding.
"That hurt."
"Cry me a river."
He dropped his hand, a smile on his face. "I like you, you've got that fire." He stepped toward her. "You seeing anyone? Pretty, tough, there's got to be someone. But, hey, maybe there isn't. And I'd certainly like to put myself forward."
Her knife was against his gut. "You touch me, you die."
The distinctive clicking of designer heels drew their attention. Fish Mooney always dressed to impress, and she was certainly impressing now. A scale patterned top that barely covered her and a matching skirt. Her nails had been done, long and painted. Julia couldn't help the glare that came into her eyes. Fish responded in kind. "Honey, what have you been up to?"
"Butch here was just getting a little message from Don Falcone."
"Butch, leave." Fish flicked her fingers, sending the bumbling mook off to the back. Fish gestured to an empty table, "Let's discuss this like civilized people, shall we?" Julia sat down reluctantly. Fish had a habit of throwing things and screaming when she didn't get her way. But the woman across from her merely batted her eyes. "I take it you know, then?"
"I have no idea what you're referring to." Julia replied, pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. She took a sip.
"Penguin's alive, that little rat is over with Maroni." Fish's voice dropped down, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.
Julia did her best to hide her knowledge. So she pretended to choke on her water and spend a few minutes coughing. "What?"
"Your little Cobblepot is selling us out. He knows everything about our operations, with him there we're all just sitting ducks." Fish practically seethed, and Julia knew that he attitude would boil the water in front of her if it was possible. Everything about the woman was pure rage, the quick movements of her eyes, the way she would drag her fingers across the table.
Julia recovered from her fake choking. "So Gordon didn't finish him. That son of a bitch." Fish refused to reply, and Julia knew it was her time to go. She drew on her coat and hurried away, pulling her umbrella out of the stand. After Oswald's rather miraculous return, he'd quickly demanded his umbrella and sunglasses back. She'd been more than willing to acquiesce but she found she missed that umbrella. The little spike at the top, the smooth wood handle, all she wanted was something with a bit more color. Of course, the world had to laugh at her by only offering them in black, although Fate threw her a bit of a bone by hiding a navy one among them. So she popped her navy umbrella against the afternoon drizzle, heading for home. Her phone started buzzing, and she rolled her eyes before answering it. "Hi, Harvey."
"Jewels! You need to come out with me tonight." Harvey already sounded halfway drunk, his voice slurring into silence.
She snorted. "And why would that be?"
"Get you out of your house, 'specially if dumbass Gordon comes calling."
"That's not a very nice way to talk about your partner."
"He's got a warrant for you, guy's dumb enough he might decide to serve it." Harvey sounded deadly serious for a moment. Julia couldn't help but pause and duck underneath a florist's awning. For all that she worked for the mob and everything she had done, she never wanted, and never had, set foot in even a holding cell. She'd never felt cuffs on her wrists and shackles on her ankled. Never been searched or brought in. To be completely honest, the loss of control that came with those situations would make her start shivering and want to run away.
As she was having a little breakdown another tone beeped on her phone. "Hold on a minute, Harv." She pressed the button to transfer the call. "Anthony, how's it going?"
"Need you out at Falcone's place, for the night. Need to keep an eye on someone."
"I'll be there." She replied, then picked up Harvey's call. "I've got a thing tonight, sorry Harvey."
"Your loss, Jewels." He said, then hung up. A cab was quickly hailed, driving her to the outskirts of Gotham where Falcone's rather palatial estate was. The place was beautiful, old trees lining the gravel drive that wound up to the house, armed guards watching every car that came in. The cab dropped her off in front, and she was quickly buzzed through the gates. Carmine was waiting in the entryway, his only concession to the comforts of home an unbuttoned blazer. Otherwise, he was her always put together Don.
She walked up, giving him a smile. "Don Falcone, it was certainly a pleasure to hear from you."
"I hope I didn't draw you away from any plans."
"Of course not, I am always open for you." She stated as he walked her through the house, stopping outside the dining room.
Carmine turned to her. "I need you to watch the girl in here for tonight, she's an insurance policy that I'm expecting will pay off. Victor Zsasz will relieve you in the morning." Julia couldn't help the little shudder of revulsion that passed through her. If there was one person Falcone used that she didn't like, he was it. His bald head, rather snakelike features, and sheer masochistic tendencies did not endear him to her.
But she smiled and nodded, walked through the door, and heard Carmine shut and lock it behind her. Spread out on the table was a massive spread, salad, fish, poultry, meat and dessert. It was enough to make her mouth water as she sat in a chair across from the other occupant. Her hair was blonde, her eyes red rimmed, and she looked at Julia as is she was Satan himself. She gave her a smirk as she helped herself to the Caesar salad. "Not what you were expecting?"
"Who are you?" Despite her appearance, her voice was firm.
"Julia, pleasure to make your acquaintance." She stood up, offering a hand for a shake.
"Barbara."
"Well don't just sit there, I can guarantee you won't get poisoned here."
"I won't eat with a murderer."
"Honey, there's blood on my hands but no death. Eat your food, don't just stand there." Julia finished her speech with a wave of her fork. "We can talk as much as you want, but you have to eat." Julia knew the shaking that was in Barbara's shoulders, the red around her eyes. The girl was in shock, and food would help. Almost automatically she began to eat some salad, swallowing like it was an effort. "Good, now why exactly is Falcone so interested in you?"
Her voice was small, but full of affection. "Jim."
"Gordon? I've met him, far too righteous for this town."
"He's a good man. That's what this city needs." Barbara seemed to be regaining a little fire, so Julia put a bit of soup in front of each of them. It was a simple clam chowder, warm and hearty. It seemed to do Barbara even better, because she proceeded to glare at Julia when she could. Over salmon she spoke again. "Why are you here?"
"Make sure you don't run during the night, or anything else."
"I meant with Falcone. He doesn't really have women around him." Barbara looked like she was particularly interested in that point. "I mean, I saw his girlfriend but you aren't like that."
"No, I'm not." Julia replied as she reached for a plate of lamb chops. She was going to have to loosen her metaphorical belt after all this. "But I'm not going to bare my soul to you either. Suffice to say, I saw an opportunity and took it. It's worked out pretty well so far."
"There's got to be more than that."
"There is, but you're not going to hear it." If there was one thing that pissed off Julia, it was someone digging into her mind. Her views of psychologists would fill quite a few pages in a book, mainly with expletives. The meal continued from lamb to steak, to chicken and finally to a few light pastries. Julia felt absolutely stuffed, even though she'd only pecked at each course. Barbara was starting to look tired, and Julia walked over to the massive fireplace built into the wall. It was gas, and lit with a single click of the striker. A lounge had been set up in front of it, a blanket and pillow provided. She gestured for Barbara to come over. "Sleep, everything will work out in the morning."
Barbara was obviously tired, but she looked at Julia before she sat down. "Why are you doing this?"
She couldn't help but snort. "If someone asks you if you were mistreated by Don Falcone, what can you say? That he fed you a full meal, gave you a warm place to sleep?"
"I was kidnapped."
"And you're being held in the nicest of facilities." Julia threw the blanket over the girl, setting herself up in one of the dining room chairs. A few books were scattered nearby, nothing too scandalous but enough to entertain her until morning. She considered calling Oswald, telling him where she was and what she was doing. She dismissed the thought shortly after. If Oswald was concerned, or if bothered to concern himself, he would have called already. She did miss his presence though, every since they kissed they'd grown a little closer. There hadn't been any major romantic overtures, but suddenly it wasn't strange for Oswald to sit close to her, or throw an arm around her shoulders. If she drew her fingers through his hair, he would shiver slightly and lean into her touch. That was what it was, touch. They would touch each other now, and it felt good. He was something warm, solid, and she had to admit she enjoyed the way he would stiffen before relaxing into her touch.
But Oswald wasn't here, and she picked the hardest chair she could so she would stay awake. Morning dawned gray and wet, and Barbara was still asleep. The door unlatched, Zsasz waiting outside. Julia shook Barbara's shoulder, then pushed her through the doors. There was no way she'd leave the girl alone with Zsasz, he'd probably cut off an ear for the honor of being in his presence. Luckily the kitchen was occupied, Lisa was making muffins. Lisa was a fairly nice looking girl, hair done in large waves and dressed in a rather conservative white shirt. Barbara was put into a chair, and Julia let herself out through the back.
She'd be sticking around for one of those muffins.
But for now, she popped her umbrella and went to the Don's chicken coop. Carmine loved his birds, some of them had pedigrees that people usually reserved for their dogs and some were mutts that somehow wandered onto his property. But he loved them all the same, and occasionally he'd give her some of the eggs. Damn, those birds laid good eggs. Occasionally there would be a few chicks, and she'd coddled them when she'd been able to. She was petting one when she heard steps from behind her. A very familiar umbrella was walking up from the trees. She smiled. "You've tipped your hand, eh, Oswald?"
"Astute as ever, Julia." He replied, stopping just short of the rise the coop was on. "But if you would kindly excuse yourself for a few moments?"
"Of course, Mr. Cobblepot." She smiled, walking past him to hide herself behind a screening bush. She heard a brief conversation, Carmine and Oswald speaking like old friends. Julia couldn't help but smirk, walking out when Carmine went back to the house. Oswald made his way back down the rise, umbrella held high. She mirrored him. "You magnificent bastard."
Oswald's smile was wide, stretching his scabbed over cheek. "I aim to please."
