"I don't know, Chels," Dana moaned, cradling her head in her hands, "I
don't know what came over me." The three girls sat huddled together in a
divey coffee shop, away from any of the cool hangouts. Quinzel's Diner -
just the name alone was unschway. A wiry, middle-aged man brought their
orders - coffee and an assortment of cheesecakes. Chelsea nodded
sympathetically. Her eyes urged Dana to continue. "It was like, one minute
everything was normal, and the next I'd do anything for him. I just got
this urge, and couldn't help myself."
"Like an animal attraction, you mean?" the blonde girl offered. "If that's what it is, girlfriend, it happens to us all eventually."
Dana lifted her head quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"A purely sexual relationship," Chelsea stated simply. "Sometimes you meet someone, and going out with them really doesn't make any sense, except on that one, basic level. Don't feel bad," she put a hand on Dana's arm, "it doesn't make you a bad person. If this is a sex-only thing, the only question that matters is," her eyes sparked devilishly, "was he any good?" Max groaned distastefully. Truly, Chelsea made her sick sometimes. Dana blushed furiously.
"Chelsea!" she cried indignantly before lowering her voice. "Even that was wierd. I mean, he's OK and all, and from what I remember he didn't do anything that special, like he wasn't better than Terry." She paused, surprised at the pain she felt from mentioning him. "But I guess it was the moment, I must have really been in the mood, because Oh. My. God. It was like romance-novel hot." Chelsea giggled. Max scowled, stabbing her fork into the strawberry cheesecake.
"Sounds like a fling to me - go Dane," she teased. "What's wrong, Max? It's not like you can't go have your fun, too," Chelsea ribbed.
"Yeah yeah," she said, "but I'm not going to waste my time until I find something better." Chelsea and Dana shot daggers at her. Max quickly turned it around. "But it's not about me. We're here about you, Dane, and you want to know what bothers me? It's that this is so unlike you." She paused to gulp some coffee, washing down a hunk of blueberry cheesecake. "I don't get what Craig has over you, and neither do you. I mean, how long did you make Terry hold out?" Dana sat back reflectively. Of course, she had asked herself the same question over a hundred times just this morning.
"Six months," she whispered. Terry had to prove himself, pass all kinds of girlish tests before she offered - he was her first, her only, until last night. And Craig - maybe he wasn't as loving, or funny, or sweet, but dammit, Terry was never around. That's how she validated her whole relationship with Craig - Terry was never around. So she clung to it like a rope over a cliff. She hazarded a glance into Max's eyes. Max looked neither triumphant nor combative, just confused. "I wish I knew, Max, but I really don't know why it happened. Or how we even ended up in the situation." Dana took a long sip of coffee. "I can't believe that he just suggested it over dessert, and I went along with that - there must have been more."
"No, that was it," Max said, "that's all he said." She picked at the graham cracker crust, then looked directly at Dana. "Did you guys use protection, at least?" Dana's eyes dropped. She didn't need to speak for Max to know the answer.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Max waited as long as she could before calling Terry. God, I don't want to have this conversation, she thought as she pressed the speed-dial to his cel phone. He picked up on the first ring.
"Max." He checked his Caller ID.
"Yo. So I talked to Dana today." Rip the Bandaid off fast, she repeated to herself. She knew Terry was holding his breath.
"She didn't know what came over her. She sounded really freaked out about it." Terry waited in silence for her to continue. Max closed her eyes. "It happened in his car, at some parking lot. She didn't use protection." Several seconds of silence passed before Max heard a short growl and the sound of something breaking.
"Shit!"
She imagined him rubbing his knuckles, bruised from punching whatever just broke. She took a deep breath before continuing.
"Ter. The thing is, she had no idea how it happened. And none of this is like her. And isn't that exactly what you said about the old guy, ever since the helpless chick showed up?" Seconds passed. She could hear Terry mulling this over.
"I gotta drop in on him," he finally said. "Max, I really need you to watch Dane for me. Can you get her to stay at your place?"
"I'll try." Max paused. She was relieved this conversation was over, though her hands were sweating. "Um, are you going to be OK?"
"Just watch over her. And this time do a better job."
"Like you need to tell me," Max quipped to the dead air.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Terry focused intently on the asphalt strip ahead of him. He was hoping, as he wound up the two-lane pass to the Manor, that this in-car meditation would keep his brain from exploding with fury over Craig and Dana. Stay cool and do your job, McGinnis, he repeated to himself, as the Manor came into view. He thanked God Craig's car was not out front. In fact, neither was Hannah's - he felt especially lucky, but not really.
He was sitting in his car, listening to the phone ring. Once, twice. "Wayne."
"it's me. You alone?"
"For now. Terry, I need your help."
"I know. I wanted to talk to you about-"
"Yes. But I want you to call 9-1-1."
"What?"
"Come in the front, and call 9-1-1. Now!"
Terry groaned and jumped out of the car. Was he the only sane person in Gotham? he wondered. He ran up the front stairs, punched in his access code, and swung the heavy door open. Bruce was in the parlor, lying back on the sofa. He turned his head slightly towards Terry.
"Tell them you found me unconscious, that you think I'm having a heart attack." Terry's face whitened. "I'll be OK," Bruce assured, "I need a private room, surveillance, absolutely no visitors." Got it, Terry thought, as he dialed the number, and relayed the message in a distraught voice.
Within minutes, Bruce Wayne was airlifted to Gotham General. The hospital staff assured the young assistant that his employer would be cared for with utmost privacy and confidentiality.
"Oh, he's had trouble lately with a stalker, a middle-aged woman about this tall," Terry added, "she might use the name Hannah. Anyway, can you be sure to watch out fo her?"
"Sure thing, Mr. McGinnis." Terry smiled. He exited the hospital, the sun's warm midafternoon rays casting long shadows on the ground. He wondered what he should do next. He could visit Selina Kyle, Devon Sinclair, or perhaps go find Craig and beat the living crap out of him. Yes, maybe I'll visit Craig first - Terry smiled darkly. It'll make me feel better.
"Like an animal attraction, you mean?" the blonde girl offered. "If that's what it is, girlfriend, it happens to us all eventually."
Dana lifted her head quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"A purely sexual relationship," Chelsea stated simply. "Sometimes you meet someone, and going out with them really doesn't make any sense, except on that one, basic level. Don't feel bad," she put a hand on Dana's arm, "it doesn't make you a bad person. If this is a sex-only thing, the only question that matters is," her eyes sparked devilishly, "was he any good?" Max groaned distastefully. Truly, Chelsea made her sick sometimes. Dana blushed furiously.
"Chelsea!" she cried indignantly before lowering her voice. "Even that was wierd. I mean, he's OK and all, and from what I remember he didn't do anything that special, like he wasn't better than Terry." She paused, surprised at the pain she felt from mentioning him. "But I guess it was the moment, I must have really been in the mood, because Oh. My. God. It was like romance-novel hot." Chelsea giggled. Max scowled, stabbing her fork into the strawberry cheesecake.
"Sounds like a fling to me - go Dane," she teased. "What's wrong, Max? It's not like you can't go have your fun, too," Chelsea ribbed.
"Yeah yeah," she said, "but I'm not going to waste my time until I find something better." Chelsea and Dana shot daggers at her. Max quickly turned it around. "But it's not about me. We're here about you, Dane, and you want to know what bothers me? It's that this is so unlike you." She paused to gulp some coffee, washing down a hunk of blueberry cheesecake. "I don't get what Craig has over you, and neither do you. I mean, how long did you make Terry hold out?" Dana sat back reflectively. Of course, she had asked herself the same question over a hundred times just this morning.
"Six months," she whispered. Terry had to prove himself, pass all kinds of girlish tests before she offered - he was her first, her only, until last night. And Craig - maybe he wasn't as loving, or funny, or sweet, but dammit, Terry was never around. That's how she validated her whole relationship with Craig - Terry was never around. So she clung to it like a rope over a cliff. She hazarded a glance into Max's eyes. Max looked neither triumphant nor combative, just confused. "I wish I knew, Max, but I really don't know why it happened. Or how we even ended up in the situation." Dana took a long sip of coffee. "I can't believe that he just suggested it over dessert, and I went along with that - there must have been more."
"No, that was it," Max said, "that's all he said." She picked at the graham cracker crust, then looked directly at Dana. "Did you guys use protection, at least?" Dana's eyes dropped. She didn't need to speak for Max to know the answer.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Max waited as long as she could before calling Terry. God, I don't want to have this conversation, she thought as she pressed the speed-dial to his cel phone. He picked up on the first ring.
"Max." He checked his Caller ID.
"Yo. So I talked to Dana today." Rip the Bandaid off fast, she repeated to herself. She knew Terry was holding his breath.
"She didn't know what came over her. She sounded really freaked out about it." Terry waited in silence for her to continue. Max closed her eyes. "It happened in his car, at some parking lot. She didn't use protection." Several seconds of silence passed before Max heard a short growl and the sound of something breaking.
"Shit!"
She imagined him rubbing his knuckles, bruised from punching whatever just broke. She took a deep breath before continuing.
"Ter. The thing is, she had no idea how it happened. And none of this is like her. And isn't that exactly what you said about the old guy, ever since the helpless chick showed up?" Seconds passed. She could hear Terry mulling this over.
"I gotta drop in on him," he finally said. "Max, I really need you to watch Dane for me. Can you get her to stay at your place?"
"I'll try." Max paused. She was relieved this conversation was over, though her hands were sweating. "Um, are you going to be OK?"
"Just watch over her. And this time do a better job."
"Like you need to tell me," Max quipped to the dead air.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Terry focused intently on the asphalt strip ahead of him. He was hoping, as he wound up the two-lane pass to the Manor, that this in-car meditation would keep his brain from exploding with fury over Craig and Dana. Stay cool and do your job, McGinnis, he repeated to himself, as the Manor came into view. He thanked God Craig's car was not out front. In fact, neither was Hannah's - he felt especially lucky, but not really.
He was sitting in his car, listening to the phone ring. Once, twice. "Wayne."
"it's me. You alone?"
"For now. Terry, I need your help."
"I know. I wanted to talk to you about-"
"Yes. But I want you to call 9-1-1."
"What?"
"Come in the front, and call 9-1-1. Now!"
Terry groaned and jumped out of the car. Was he the only sane person in Gotham? he wondered. He ran up the front stairs, punched in his access code, and swung the heavy door open. Bruce was in the parlor, lying back on the sofa. He turned his head slightly towards Terry.
"Tell them you found me unconscious, that you think I'm having a heart attack." Terry's face whitened. "I'll be OK," Bruce assured, "I need a private room, surveillance, absolutely no visitors." Got it, Terry thought, as he dialed the number, and relayed the message in a distraught voice.
Within minutes, Bruce Wayne was airlifted to Gotham General. The hospital staff assured the young assistant that his employer would be cared for with utmost privacy and confidentiality.
"Oh, he's had trouble lately with a stalker, a middle-aged woman about this tall," Terry added, "she might use the name Hannah. Anyway, can you be sure to watch out fo her?"
"Sure thing, Mr. McGinnis." Terry smiled. He exited the hospital, the sun's warm midafternoon rays casting long shadows on the ground. He wondered what he should do next. He could visit Selina Kyle, Devon Sinclair, or perhaps go find Craig and beat the living crap out of him. Yes, maybe I'll visit Craig first - Terry smiled darkly. It'll make me feel better.
