Chapter Twenty-One: I shot an old lady
Author's Note: 2/17/2019: Fixed some grammatical errors that have been driving me nuts after my read-through. Thanks again for reading! 😊
Oswald wrapped a little box in a canary-yellow ribbon as two of Maroni's old thugs who had recently been placed in Oswald's employ, gathered their weapons, adding a few more rounds before hitting the road. I leaned against the frame of his office door.
"Don't look at me like that, Sylvia," Oswald said with his back to me.
"Look at you like what?" I questioned, uncrossing my arms.
"I can feel your glare." He straightened and turned to look at me, noting my facial expression and he pointed at me: "That look."
"Well, forgive me if I seem a little suspicious."
"You have nothing to worry about," Oswald coaxed gently.
"Maroni wants to send you to Fish Mooney's place to discuss terms of business, a woman whose temper resembles something of a very hairy scorpion." I stated with forced calm. "Why would I worry?"
Oswald leaned his backside against his desk, fingers drumming the edges. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, implying for me to take a seat. I did so, lifting one leg over the other and crossing my arms over my chest.
"You don't happen to have a grenade in that box, do you?" I questioned.
"Of course not. It's a gift."
"For her, yes, but why?"
"A friendly gesture."
"If it's chocolate, I hope it's laced with poison."
"It is not," said Oswald.
"'No' it isn't chocolate, or 'no' it's not poisonous?" I retorted coolly.
Oswald smiled.
"No to both."
"Too bad the Mayor ordered for the rest of the Viper crap to be disposed. Wouldn't mind watching Fish taking it and then becoming a pile of crushed bones and jelly."
He approached me, his hands holding either arm of my chair. His face was only centimeters from mine, so close that if I leaned forward a millimeter, we would kiss.
"As much as I love your vivid and hostile imagination, my sweet Dove, we must move forward," Oswald uttered softly. "We are going to pay Miss Mooney a visit, and discuss terms between our two benefactors. During that time, you will not attack her" (I made a scathing noise) "unless I give the word."
His lips kissed my own, lingering to graze my bottom lip.
"Let me get this straight," I said quietly. "You want to give Fish a gift and have a nice chat about territory while I want to scratch the bitch's eyes out and call us even. And you're telling me you don't want me to?"
Oswald grinned, having a laugh.
"I like your passion, darling. It's one of the reasons I grow to love you more every day." Oswald stated, straightening and leaning against the desk again. "But violence wouldn't be in our best interests, not for the moment. We must proceed with a little grace, hm?"
"'Grace' isn't in my vocabulary," I noted, getting to my feet.
I started to leave but Oswald caught my hand and pulled me back unceremoniously. My body collided into his. He held me steadfast, and I felt my insides warm as he looked at me sternly. He held my wrists, placing them over his chest while his other hand caressed my jaw.
"I need you to play nice, Sylvia. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," I answered.
"That's my girl," Oswald drawled.
He nuzzled my neck, and I smiled at the sweet gesture.
As I got out of the car, I smoothed down my dress. For the special evening as it was all elegance when it concerned Mooney, I'd taken to wearing a black cocktail dress. Semi-casual, anyway. Tomas, the dark-eyed, black-haired Italian youth, held out his hand for me to take. Feeling uber-classy, I did so and he smiled politely.
Tomas had become something of a body guard just as Gabe had become Oswald's constant. It certainly made me feel important, being escorted by one of Frankie Carbone's pals since Oswald had taken his place the moment the man had been killed.
Oswald spoke in a hushed voice to Gabe and Tomas while I headed them off, stepping through the doors of Mooney's pride and joy.
The club itself hadn't changed. The red light glowed from all around the vicinity; once upon a dream, it felt like a warm hue, a campfire welcoming friendship. That was before Fish carved her club's symbol onto my collar bone and threw me out. It was barely visible from behind the black strap of my dress, but the hatred born had yet to leave—clearly.
There was a small musical number happening on stage, an old woman who was singing a lovely aria. I admired the singer for what she was, a small-bit performance piece in a spectral of money and disarray. The music itself was glorious; I nearly forgot the reason for being here until I heard a familiar voice creeping in.
"I thought I told you to never come back."
I smiled sarcastically, turning slowly to see Fish standing before me—in all of her radiant glory.
"Well, I just could not stay away." I said with a delightful twist of a smile. "This was once my home, you know."
A subtle glint of spite didn't go unnoticed as her eyes bore down into mine. She approached me with the soft clicking of her golden stilettos, eyes narrowed, eyelashes thick with mascara and eyelids shimmering with white glitter. For a few seconds, she took me in. She reached out and I immediately pulled back.
"That looked like it hurt," Fish drawled, pointing at the white scar.
"Well, it did." I returned, crossing my arms.
"Doesn't look like I cut deep enough." Fish breathed. "Perhaps I should make another?"
"You could, but then I would have to carve something into you."
"Bite me," she said.
"I did once already," I hissed. "But I'll be more than happy to do it again."
I took one step towards her and like a magician, Butch Gilzean popped up between us. He seemed ready to sic himself on me, but the music on the stage died as a new threat appeared behind me. Fish laid eyes on Oswald and suddenly, she smiled.
Oswald looked at me curiously, the tension in the room was heavier than Butch's breathing.
"Let's be civil, shall we?" Oswald said cautiously, glancing between Fish Mooney and myself.
I hissed but retracted my claws. Fish appeared to do the same as she muttered something to Butch, who chuckled at whatever she had to say. They turned to walk to the middle of the club, out in the open. Oswald touched my shoulder as I continued to glare after them.
He whispered, "Did you listen to a single thing I said back at the office?"
"She came up to me," I retorted, grinding my teeth. "If she hadn't, I would have been very well-behaved."
Oswald rolled his eyes, saying, "Will you please play nice from now on?"
"I was playing nice." I whispered harshly. "But she isn't exactly civil herself, Oz!"
"Just mind me, all right?"
"Minding." I chirped, holding up my hands in surrender.
Oswald sat down at the circular table. Fish sat across from him. I stood behind Oswald, arms crossed, my fingernails digging into my arms to keep myself from ripping Fish apart.
This woman was snide and arrogant, her simpering smile just grating on my nerves. Her smooth talking was just a silhouette of just how vindictive she could be. Sending her thugs to my apartment to get Barbara had only been a pre-text prior to Butch and his friends beating the hell out of me; regardless that I had stepped to the plate to protect Barbara, they had planned on beating me up no matter what I had done. Fish was civil—for now—but the faux nicety was enough to make me want to kick her in the shins.
One wrong move, Bitch. Give me anything and I will have you drinking your next meal through a fucking straw.
Three men stood behind her. Gabe and Tomas stood behind me. I remained on Oswald's right side, watching (or rather glaring daggers) at Fish.
Fish smiled at me, saying, "You look well, Sylvia."
"Don't talk to me," I said coldly.
"That's not very nice." Fish chided as though I was a child.
"Oh, you want 'nice'?" I returned. "I'll give you nice. May I please insert a very sharp object into your body?"
Fish chuckled, "Are you politely asking if you can stab me?"
Oswald interjected, "She doesn't mean that."
"I'm fairly certain I do." I returned.
"Sylvia…." Oswald warned, looking at me.
I sighed deeply, rolling my eyes.
I held my hands up again and said in a honey-sweet voice to Fish, "Deepest apologies, Miss Mooney. I truly don't want to cut off your face and feed it to your chimpanzees."
Her men standing behind her frowned at me while Fish grinned widely saying, "You haven't changed in the slightest, have you?"
"Not one fucking bit." I reassured.
"Last warning." Oswald said sternly, glancing back at me.
I shrugged and crossed my arms again, but that didn't stop me from glaring once more at Fish, who looked at Oswald pointedly.
"She's every bit like her brother, isn't she?"
"You have no idea," Oswald muttered, closing his eyes only a second for a prayer of patience. He smiled apologetically, and placed the yellow box on the table, scooting it towards her.
Fish looked at it blankly and said in the most sarcastic tone possible, "You shouldn't have."
"I wanted to make a gesture." Oswald said innocently. "I was hoping that in time, we could become friends."
"Friends?" Fish questioned apathetically. She suddenly smiled: "Hmm. Why not? What's done is done, right?"
"I am so glad you feel that way," Oswald said, smiling as well. Then to business: "Don Maroni wants us to clarify terms."
"Well, it's business as usual," said Fish, "Maroni still has his drugs, his unions. He pays tariffs for the ports. If he needs favors from the cops or the mayor, Don Falcone will consider it. And of course, the families still share Arkham."
"And there's not to be any blood spilled on either side," said Oswald calmly. "Not a drop."
"Mm. Maybe justa drop," Fish suggested half-joking, laughing.
Oswald laughed as well, wagging his finger at her, "Tsk-tsk-tsk."
Fish smiled widely.
"Look at you," she mused. "Timothy," (she looked at and referred to the bearded lad standing on her left) "Did you know this fellow here used to have your job. Carried my umbrella, and thought it an honor. Now look at him…. has a seat at the table."
"Things change, eh?" Oswald said, obviously humored. "What can I say. I've been blessed."
"Perhaps I should open your gift," she said.
She began to unravel the ribbon, lifting the top. Glistening under the lights was a golden broach, accompanied by a sharp needle that could in itself be used as a weapon.
"Oh, my goodness, that is beautiful," Fish breathed. "Now I feel awful. I didn't get you anything."
Oswald smiled.
"Oz..." I muttered cautiously, seeing the underlying glint in the woman's eye.
"Thank you," Fish said sincerely.
And then stab!
I admit that a few unsightly curse words left my mouth when the pin punctured the middle of Oswald's hand and had it not been for Gabe's hand that grabbed my elbow, I would have hopped over the table and stabbed the bitch myself. Tomas pulled out his gun with the same thought in mind, but Oswald held up his free hand, giving the nonverbal order for the rest of us to stand down.
Oswald had an amazing amount of pain tolerance as he didn't even make a sound.
Fish withdrew the pin, sliding its pointed edge between her lips, tasting the blood.
"Mm…." Fish mused. "Sweet."
"That was uncalled for," Oswald said with forced calm.
"I brought you into my family and I treated you like a son!" Fish snapped, eyes glaring. "And you betrayed me."
"For which I suffered!"
"Not badly enough. When I order some fool killed, I expect him to stay that way!"
Oswald seethed, "Your boss, Don Falcone, expressly said—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, he wants peace!" Fish hissed. "That's the only reason your sorry ass is still alive and if I were you, I would pray for his good health."
"Oh, I do," Oswald said, laughing a little. "I do."
"Good," Fish drawled. "Because remember…. things change."
"Convey my respects to your Don."
"Likewise. Peace… 'friend'."
Oswald stood, and made his way out the door to leave. When Gabe finally let me go, I had half a mind to slit her throat. Fish and I glared each other down.
"Sylvia!" Oswald called as he was half-way out the door.
"You better go, little girl. Your master's calling," cooed Fish, grinning maliciously.
I looked at Tomas.
He looked at me expectantly, ready to obey whatever order I bestowed upon him.
"Give me your gun." I ordered.
He held it out to me immediately.
"You can't—" Fish began.
"Shut up—I'm not killing you." I reassured.
I cocked it, then aimed it at the entertainment on stage. The old woman, who had been singing a beautiful song with the most talented voice I'd ever heard, fell down on the wooden tile, hands on her thigh that was bleeding out quickly.
By that time, Oswald was already out the door but I heard him shout my name from the car, "SYLVIA!"
"COMING!" I hollered back.
I handed Tomas the gun. He pocketed it, looking a little fearful of me as I smiled kindly at Fish.
"Eye for an Eye, Miss Mooney," I told her coolly. "If you draw blood, so will I."
"Why you…." Fish growled.
She started toward me, but Tomas stood between us, gun cocked and ready to defend.
With a tongue-in-cheek smile, I walked out of the club. I stepped out in the air, feeling less suffocated. Getting into the backseat, I sat beside Oswald.
"Why did it take you so long?" Oswald huffed, annoyed.
"I shot the old lady on stage," I said simply, closing my door.
"Why?"
"You forbade me to hurt Fish. And someone had to get hurt for what she did to you, so I had no choice, really."
Oswald looked at me as though too many acorns had fallen off the tree. I leaned forward, looking between Tomas and Gabe and asked if they had any gauze with them. Tomas reached into the glove box, rummaged through it, and handed me a full first-aid kit.
"You're awesome, Tom," I said happily.
He grinned at my praise.
"Take us back to my apartment," I instructed.
Gabe glanced at Oswald for his approval. Oswald waved at him to do what he was told with his good hand while I took the injured one and placed it on my lap.
"What are you doing?" Oswald asked.
"Don't worry about it."
I poured rubbing alcohol over his hand, dampening my dress, and he hissed at me. But he didn't pull his hand away. As Gabe drove us to the apartment, I rubbed ointment over the puncture and bandaged his hand with tape and gauze. Oswald looked at me.
"You don't have to do that," he said. "I'm more than capable…."
"I know you are." I returned softly.
He said in a slightly annoyed voice, "Sometimes I can't tell if you're an angry guard dog, my girlfriend, or my mother."
I patted his wrist, saying, "Good as new."
The brakes squeaked as the car came to a halt in front of my apartment. I stepped out of the car, rounding it and opened Oswald's door. He stepped out. I smiled at Gabe and Tomas, gave them a hundred dollars each so they could hit the bar in town, and asked them to leave.
Oswald followed me wordlessly, more curious than anything. I opened the front door; he followed in after me, choosing to sit on the couch while I rummaged through the kitchen. After ten minutes, I came back and placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of him.
"I am not a child," Oswald told me. "I do not need hot chocolate."
"Of course, you don't 'need' it. That's all the more reason to drink it." I insisted.
"I am not drinking this."
About thirty minutes later, he was in a black robe, sitting on the couch with the cup in his non-injured hand, trying to fish out the little marshmallows with a spoon so as to eat them first before drinking the rest of it.
Oswald looked at me, showing me his empty cup.
"Do you have more?" He asked.
"Plenty." I answered, taking it and heading back to the kitchen.
I came back with a fresh cup, sitting down. Taking the remote from the coffee table, I flipped through the channels briskly, watching the news. Oswald snuggled up to me, his face nuzzled between my shoulder and neck.
"Perhaps you were right," Oswald said softly.
"About?"
"I should have definitely given her poisonous chocolates," he grumbled.
"Told you." I sang.