It took much longer than I thought it would before Uncle Riddles and I completed our little course and finally got to test it. Almost a week, in fact. And it was the most boring week in my entire life! Don't get me wrong, I love Uncle Riddles, but I just didn't get the appeal of his games. Afterwards, I gave him his costume back and thanked him for a wonderful time, but that Mr. J seemed a better fit with me at the moment.
He seemed a little upset, but tried not to show it. He said he understood and looked forward to seeing me later.
Speaking of understanding, Dad called me up that Saturday and gave me an earful for upsetting Mom. Actually, I eventually put on headphones and turned the music up loud, just putting in 'uh-huh's, 'I'm sorry's, and 'I was upset's whenever he stopped for breath. Then I told him I was completely fine with never seeing him again and hung up before he could say anything to me.
After the conversation, I made sure to tell Monica what happened if my dad showed up. She was not to let him in, tell him that she knew me, or in any other way encourage his visits. Monica agreed and did just that when he visited two days later. I saw his face briefly around the corner, and he looked furious and confused, probably because he was sure I'd be here. Dads always underestimate their daughters. We can get away with stuff if we want to, and you can't stop us. MWA, HA, HA!
Ehem. I'm sorry, I think I got a bit carried away there. But anyway, it was Wednesday, and Monica had just come back from her shift at the store and I had just come back from my day job (robbing unsuspecting citizens), and we were going out to see a movie with her boyfriend, Alberto, whom she still refused to tell me too much about him. Literally the only thing I knew about him was his name, and that Monica was seriously in love, because whenever she talked about him, she got this soft expression of her face and lit up like a fire.
She was dressed in upper casual wear: a top in camouflage with the letters in faded gold, 'ROCK AND ROLL REBEL' over some rusted dog tags. She also wore a small silver necklace that had two strands looped securely around the infinity symbol. Monica's gray-and-blue hair was up in a ponytail with a sequined army green butterfly sitting on the ponytail band. Since it was still May (though in a couple days we would hit June), Monica had her black, metal studded hi-tops and matching jacket to keep her warm.
I was dressed in a gray t-shirt with white birds in flight in the fore ground, and black telephone poles with birds sitting on the wires strung between them in the background. Below that was written, 'RISING ABOVE THE INFLUENCE'. No necklace for me, but I was wearing pink rose earrings and had my red-and-black plaid jacket with black double breasted buttons and black button flaps on the sleeves. Of course, I was wearing combat boots and had temporarily dyed a single chunk of my hair red (with Monica's help).
As we walked out the door, Monica again slid her Colt into a hidden pocket and into the other one of the packages that I noticed she took with her whenever she went on a date with Alberto. It was strange, but maybe it was just a product that she bought him and gave to him as a present every time.
The walk to Cecil Street and then from there to the movie house was easy, and Monica and I were warned/complimented at least three times that we were brave to be walking out so late at night. Of course, we both nodded politely and walked on, and didn't meet any trouble. Not that it mattered if we had; I had a police gun that I had lifted and spray-painted a deep pink and stuck it inside my purse, and Monica had her Colt. Plus I was sure that both of us also had knives.
The movie house was one of the expensive ones. The ones that have gourmet dinners to buy while you watch the movie and have valets waiting for your car and such. I was surprised that the place where Monica worked could give her enough money to afford this, but she again gave me the standard answer that it paid well. Of course, she also asked me that question, and thinking about all the money I had stashed underneath the mattress in my room at our house, I answered with the same response, which made her laugh and take my arm to go and stand by one of the marble pillars to wait for Alberto.
It didn't take long for him to show up, and his choice of car definitely made my eyebrow rise. Alberto wore a suit, not jeans and a t-shirt like Monica and I, and arrived in a Lamborghini so new I could have sworn he got it in the future. When he got out of his car, he tossed the keys to the valet and readjusted his tie, like something out of a James Bond movie (oddly enough, that was what we were going to go see).
Alberto was nice-looking, I would give him that, but his hair looked greasy the way he had slicked it back and the curls in his hair looked sprayed in, not natural. But the way Monica looked at him made me think that maybe he was a little more handsome than I gave him credit for.
Of course, Monica kind of threw herself at him, and he twirled her around in a circle before giving her a kiss, then putting their foreheads together and having a few quick words together.
Then she lead him eagerly over to me, almost yanking him along, until she stopped, cuddling against his arm as she introduced him. "Vicky, this is Alberto, the one I told you about. Alby, this is Vicky, my roommate."
"Nice to meet you." Alberto said with an accent I couldn't quite place, but his outstretched hand was taken into mine readily and given a good handshake.
"Nice to meet you too, Alberto. Monica has told me virtually nothing about you."
That comment made him laugh, and Alberto put his hand around Monica's shoulder and lead us both inside, only stopping to hand money to the ticket-booth man and get the tickets, before heading into the humongous lobby with a crystal chandelier that left rainbows all over the dark brown carpet.
The smells over by the snack bar (or the place where you ordered dinner; I'm calling it the snack bar) were heavenly, and they even had popcorn, soda, and boxes of candy, like you'd find at less prestigious places. Alberto got him and Monica a menu and offered me one, but I declined, preferring to order myself and eventually settling on a chicken salad sandwich (is it a crime to admit I love a salad sandwich?).
I also ordered some junk food to take into the theater after we finished eating, and the doorman would hold onto the bag until I came to claim it on my way into the double feature.
We sat outside underneath the fairy lights and the dozens of candles lighting up the stone patio with its intricately woven chairs and iron wrought fence. Alberto and Monica kept sharing off each other's plates and making lovey-dovey eyes at one another, but we had a pleasant conversation and I grew to like Alberto before we went into the theater for the movies.
"Have you ever watched any James Bond, Victoria?" Alberto asked as we made our way to our seats. For some reason, he insisted on calling me Victoria, even though my name was Isabelle and Monica had called me Vicky when we first met.
"No, my life has been rather mundane up until recently." I put down the fancy shopping bag my popcorn, Dr. Pepper, and York Mints had come in next to my seat, which was next to Monica's and two away from Alberto's.
"Oh, that's too bad." Monica slid past me and into her seat, reaching over to give me a hug. "You'll really enjoy these, though. They're great spy movies."
"Indeed." Alberto went to the seat on the other side of Monica and she immediately sidled up next to him for a cuddle.
I got a choked up feeling in my throat and started to take deep gulps of air when I imagined myself and Jay (I had decided to call Joker that so that I wouldn't get confused) doing the same thing as we watched a movie. I felt the butterflies start up again and spent almost the whole time daydreaming about Jay and I doing things together. Just…things.
Going for a picnic in a graveyard and looking at the clouds, going through the zoo and stopping to skin a bear… a fancy dinner in a nice place that had generously let us eat there for free when we strapped some bombs to the supports. And then, out on a sunset cruise, all alone out in front of the boat, he would out a diamond ring and say, "Come on, Vicky. The movie's over." What?
The orange-y landscape dissipated to reveal a darkened movie theater again, with the credits rolling and soothing music playing quietly. The lights came up and people started to leave as I looked down and realized I hadn't eaten any of my food. Oh, well. We could eat it on the way home.
The crowd quickly dispersed outside the theater and Monica gave Alberto a kiss on the cheek and a goodbye.
"You are sure I cannot escort you home?" He asked, a touch of worry in his eyes, behind the silver-framed glasses I was sure he hadn't been wearing when he first came in.
"It's okay, Alby. Vicky and I are prepared." Monica slipped a hand into the pocket of her jacket and showed him the tip of her pistol, without taking it all the way out and starting a panic.
Alberto looked relieved, and he took her hand with a, "Very well. Until next time, my lady." He kissed her hand, which made Monica giggle in delight.
"I'll see you next week, Alberto." She blew him one last kiss as we walked away into the darkened night.
The walk home was fairly uneventful, but I think it was because there were two of us and I made sure that the pink pistol I had stuck out of the back pocket of my jeans. Either way, only a few drunken men almost completely wasted jeered at us, and we were soon beyond where they could hear us.
On the way, we got to talking about our jobs, after Monica yelled at one of the men, telling him to go get one. Monica seemed content, but there was a new guy in the shop, a frequent customer, who never bought anything and always stood there, just browsing and looking around as if waiting for someone. He was there from the time they opened to the time they closed, except for an hour when he went out to presumably get a bite to eat. Monica said that she had offered to assist him many times, but he always refused and went back to either shifting through the racks of clothing or staring at the door.
Monica also stated that he always looked so sad when they finally closed up the shop for the day, but really she couldn't feel sorry for him.
"I'm just fed up with him, you know?" She took a bite of a York from my bag, which I'd offered her as we walked underneath the flickering street lamps that cast orange-y and a sickish yellow color of light onto the cracked and broken sidewalks. "It's just so tiring to have a customer that comes back day after day, but never has any business. If he bought something it would be a different story, but, well…" Monica shook her head. "He's just irritating."
When she asked about my job, I almost dropped my bag. "Oh, um, it's just doing little odd jobs, helping out around the house. You know, stuff like that. I did have the most boring house of my life the other day." I took a sip of soda and continued on. "The guy was nice and everything, but it was just so dull. I asked him to take up the job with somebody else after that. I've got enough exciting regular customers."
"Mm." Monica hummed in agreement as I opened the door to the apartment complex, Monica ducking underneath my elbow and skipping up the stairs. She seemed in one of her best moods, and I was glad of that. Whenever she gets mad or melancholy or any other kind of negative emotion, she goes almost catatonic. Monica will just sit there and I'll have to urge her to eat or get dressed, or to go to work. Frankly it's a bit of a job when that happens. But I care for her and she's my friend, so I guess we're even.
I let the door close behind me with a bang and the lock engaged loudly. I could hear Monica on the third floor already and I jumped up the stairs two at a time, wincing at the loud sound my feet made. It was pretty late, and most of the tenants would already be asleep.
This time Monica opened the door and I ducked under her elbow to get into the apartment and then collapse on her red couch with a groan. It was a long walk from the theater to our house and I was exhausted. Alberto had been a perfect gentleman, and while I liked him okay, I was glad to be home and out of that situation (it always looks bad when you're tagging along on a friend's date without your own).
There was a pause as we both looked at each other, then Monica laughed delightedly. "I had such a fun time tonight! How about you?"
"Yeah, I had fun." I stretched sleepily, jerking involuntarily when somebody tapped on the window in the living room.
Monica started too, but relaxed when she saw who was at the window. "It's okay; it's just Robin."
She unlocked the window and threw it open, stepping aside for the vigilante to step through. He looked considerably better than the last few times I'd seen him, but I certainly didn't.
Pirouette suddenly started screaming in my head, "Kill him, now! While he least expects it! Take his head and dangle it out over the roof of the police department!"
"No, that's not a good idea." I argued back, struggling to keep Pirouette in the shotgun seat. "He's too well trained for that in such close quarters! I already took my jacket off, too!" It was true. My jacket, containing all my weapons, lay on the dining room table, crumpled next to Monica's. Drake would be able to react much faster than I could get a gun or knife out of the jacket.
"Vicky?" Pirouette's voice vanished as I looked at Monica, who was staring at me with wide eyes. Drake looked tense and on edge, and then I realized that not only had I not spoken for a good ten minutes, but I was sitting up ramrod straight, and my arms were stiffly braced against my knees, the fingernails digging into my bones.
"Are you alright?" Monica continued.
I relaxed myself and smiled as calmly as I could. "Never better." Unconvinced, but respecting my privacy, Monica turned back to Drake and started up her chewing out session, like she had with me when I hadn't showed up for my first chance to meet Alberto, though I had figured out quickly that you have to head her off quickly or else you're in for a long and tiresome rehash of guilt. Thankfully, Monica's intervention had given me enough time to mentally handcuff Pirouette to the passenger's side door. Although she would eventually pick the lock and be completely free as a bird, for right now she was pretty solidly out of the way.
"I'm sorry about not showing up." Drake had gotten in when Monica had gone the route of 'what have you got to say for yourself?'. "But there were…things."
"What kind of things?" Monica had crossed her arms and was pouting now.
"Superhero….stuff."
"Huh." Monica pulled her hair out of its ponytail and fluffed it up, excusing herself while she went to go and get changed into something else, most likely an old t-shirt and pajama pants, like I was going to when she got back.
But for right now I was stuck in an awkward situation with the guy I had stabbed ("Multiple times." Pirouette added gleefully next to me). After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, I asked hesitantly, "How's your side?"
Drake gave a start and it took him a few seconds to get his head around the question. "It's fine." Normally people show you that kind of thing, but I was guessing that he wasn't about to risk his secret identity just to show me his scar.
"I've had a lot worse, and you, while a violent lady, were holding back."
Pirouette hissed at this statement, but I, though suddenly understanding her situation, laughed light-heartedly. "You know most people would rather only act in self defense? Which that was?"
"Yeah." Drake nodded, and Monica came back, dressed in a white t-shirt with a graphic so faded you could barely see it and black pajama pants that had little ice-cream cones all over them.
He and Monica started up a conversation while I slipped out to change into black-and-red plaid pajama pants and a black v-neck sleeping t-shirt with a sparkly pink heart appliqued to the front of it.
Stopping by in the bathroom, I shakily splashed my face with water, breathing deeply and adding another pair of handcuffs to the passenger's seat, keeping Pirouette under a little longer. She lacked the discipline to keep me under as sufficiently when she was driving, so I could keep her in bed, or something like that, but I unfortunately cannot subdue her violent tendencies (maybe because I am a mask that she created; even I know that).
The smile was painted onto my face as think as clown makeup when I walked back into the room, and Monica's high voice and Drake's slightly less high voice laughed and talked together like old friends.
When I sat down, Monica was just telling a story to Drake about her early life living in a higher-end part of the city. Specifically, the time a friend had dared her to walk the ridgepole of her house like Anne of Green Gables.
"…So I climb up the tall tree next to my house and climb up on the garage roof, right? And then I pulled myself up onto the top of the building, and started to walk along the edge of it. I almost fell three times in a row, but I made it all the way across in back, only for my butler – er, brother – to come out and almost have a coronary, as he put it!"
I burst out laughing, just so that I wouldn't be left out, and Drake laughed too, sharing a story of when he and Batman were chasing the Riddler and had to do almost the same thing, but along the top of a passenger train. Leave it to Robin to outdo everyone else's stories at a party.
My phone rang suddenly, and I took it out to see Harley's name and number glowing from the front screen of an iPhone Five I lifted off some woman and hacked and reprogrammed to be my phone. I almost sighed with relief to have a decent distraction. Being around Robin/Drake was weird at the best of times and downright embarrassing at the worst. And we were steadily heading towards worst.
I flipped open the phone and asked into it eagerly, "Hello?"
"Hiya, dollface. Wanna go on a little, uh, road trip?"