HOWARD'S PLACE - Fine Spirits and Specialty Sandwiches
Terry's former high school friend, Howard Groote, had experimented with a number of career choices in the
years since graduation. First it was a stint as an actor in local and regional theater. His parents got tired of
bankrolling him and gave him an ultimatum: he must either return to school, take a job in his father's
business or go out on his own and survive without any support from the parents.
Howard opted for a two year certificate at a culinary arts school. After graduation he found employment at
one of Gotham's more elegant restaurants. Though his employers were pleased with his work, Howard
grew restless after a year. With a monetary investment from his parents he bought a local bar and for the
last half of the past year had been breaking even on the profit end of it.
He had created an accidental niche one day when a patron had asked him to make him a sandwich. So
satisfied by the taste treat the patron had spread the word and 'Howard's Place' had become a popular
stop-off for many hungry customers. He worked hard, long hours to find that success and his enthusiasum
had grown. A long list of improvements for the business were already mapped out in his mind for the next
ten years.
Interactions with his patrons fulfilled a long standing desire for acceptance. A small number of his old high
school friends stopped in occasionally. Always glad to see them he made time to visit each of them and
make them feel welcome, even during the bar's busiest times.
Terry had stopped in with Maxine twice in the past year. The first time at Howard's personal invitation for
the bar's grand opening. The second time they stopped for no special reason except to say hello. The third
time Terry was on his own. When Howard asked about Max, Terry had replied off-handed that she had
made a career move to another state and let the subject drop even though Howard had wanted to know
more.
Terry came often now. Two or three times a week. He had made it clear to Howard that he needed
privacy, to keep a low profile from an inquisitive public. His association with the famous Bruce Wayne had
put him into automatic celebrity status and the media were relentless in keeping tabs on him. He always
took a table in a far-off corner of the bar and usually spent the time poring over work related material and...
drinking.
Howard had seen and talked to Terry more in the past few weeks than he had ever done in high school or
since and he had come to the conclusion that his friend was going through troubled times. He was not the
same Terry he had known before. He certainly had never considered the man a drinker though he was aware
of the, somewhat, dark past of Terry's early teen years.
Howard had learned from past experience that the most he could do for those he cared about was to be
available if they needed help and to listen if they wanted someone to talk too. Isn't that why people came to
bars? If they wanted to just drink they could do it alone at home. They came here because they wanted the
company. They didn't want to be alone.
So, sensing that Terry fit the category, Howard kept his banter light-hearted and at a respectful distance so
as not to intrude, yet giving enough signs that he cared. At the moment he was pushing the distance part for
the sake of getting a burning bit of trivia answered to his satisfaction. He was leaning over the opposite side
of the small table, an enthusiastic grin plastered on his pleasant, homely face, saying.
"Justine Carraro's so famous and you're kind of in her league you know-- always getting your picture taken
with someone like that-- and the way it seemed like she was hanging on you.... "
"We are not dating Howard. It was just a promotional thing." Terry repeated, looking at his old high
school friend in exasperation. "Who you gonna believe? Me or some stupid gossip vid?"
"Well." Howard frowned thoughtfully. "I know who I'd rather believe."
"Howie." Terry drawled warningly.
"Okay, okay. Just tell me one thing though."
Terry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What."
"Is that really a wig that she wears? I mean it looks so natural --"
"Go!"
Howard sputtered and backed away at Terry's growled command. "It's just that when I saw you and her
together in that vid I figured you'd be able to --"
Terry groaned, bowing his head beneath his arms. Howard grimaced, realizing he was intruding on the
friendship more than he should.
"Aw... geez... I'm sorry Terry. I promise I won't ask anything like that again."
Raising an irritated face to Howard, Terry's tone was unpleasant. "Howie. The reason I come here is to get
away from all that media crap. If you ever let on to anyone that I do come here our friendship will be sorely
threatened."
Howard looked affronted by Terry's words. He straightened to his full five-foot-four height, puffing up his
chest to make it more prominent than his stomach and gazed at Terry in all seriousness.
"You know I would never do that Terry. You've been coming here off and on since I opened the place.
Have I ever given you a reason to believe that I don't value your friendship, patronage or trust?"
After a long moment of studying his friend Terry answered. "No."
"Well thank you for that." Howard replied solemn. A heavy pause came between them before Howard
nodded. "I've got customers to serve. Is there anything else you need here?"
A negative shake of Terry's head and Howard turned to leave. Two steps away and he heard the young
exec speak out grudgingly.
"It's fake. Her real hair color is a mousy brown."
Howard pivoted to flash Terry a wide smile then moved away with a skip in his short stride.
Terry grinned and went back to the mundane task set before him. Tasks that would take up his entire
evening- again- for the forth day in a row. A boring job that his secretary would do if he had one. It was
his own fault. He should have been more patient with all the candidates that the agency had sent over.
Unfortunately, he no longer had any patience. Or what he did have he saved for the more influential people
in the company. The ones who were judging his performance and considering his worthiness as Wayne's
possible successor.
That thought made him squirm as it always did. Why did he persist in thinking he had to prove himself to
anybody for anything? It was his life! He was his own man! The urge to chuck it all rose up sharp inside
him. To leave behind everything that meant anything to him in Gotham. To be free of guilt and
responsibility and that damned sense of 'doing the right thing'!
With an effort he took a deep breath, letting the reality of commonsense calm him. That urge was simple
emotion - easy to ignore or put aside. As sure as he knew he needed air to breathe, he knew he needed a
purpose in life and to acknowledge the responsibilities that came his way.
He had his vivid memories of 'juvie', the death of his father and most recent, the scare of his mother's
illness to help him reaffirm his priorities. Seeing her lying unconscious on that restaurant floor, with a
horrified Matt clinging desperately to her hand still made him shudder at what could have been. And if
those memories were not enough to keep him focused on reality he had Bruce's huge example of
accountability to compare himself too.
He would not let the old man down this time. He had confidence in his untested business instincts. The
process of becoming Batman had always overshadowed every other aspect of his life. With that distraction
gone, buried talents were coming to the fore and he was pressing them into use with a rabid determination.
Looking down at the column of data that needed filing, Terry realized he needed to stop letting the past
affect his future. He had to let the anger go and develop civil relationships with the people around him -
particularly the office personnel at WayneTech. Tomorrow was a good day to start with the new secretary
that was scheduled to begin. With mixed feelings of hope and dread, he wrapped a hand around the half
empty glass of amber colored alcohol setting on the table. Raising it to his mouth he muttered a silent toast
to a successful working relationship with whoever the person might be and drank deeply of the bracing
contents.
***************************************************
The intercom buzzed once. His receptionist's cultured voice came through with its usual professional
charm.
"Mr. McGinnis, your new assistant is here sir."
"Female?"
"Yes sir."
"Send her in - please." Keep remembering your manners McGinnis. Terry made sure a pleasant expression
was on his face. When the door opened he stood behind his desk, ready to greet the new person with all the
cordiality he was capable of and vowed to continue to treat her with all due respect. If she ended up leaving
it would not be because of anything he had done this time.
She stepped into his office, her long legged form covered in an elegant pantsuit, compupad firmly clasped in
one hand, head held high, a no-nonsense look composed on the darkly beautiful and achingly familiar face.
Warmth flared inside Terry, a relieved joy that lifted the corners of his mouth and brightened the blue of his
eyes. He murmured her name low, in surprise. "Max."
Tenseness marked Maxine's features, her full lips pressed into a taunt line. She allowed herself to stare for a
moment. He looked different. Healthy. Yes, that was the word. There was a vibrant energy radiating from
him that had been missing the last time they had been together. And he sported a beard now. A black
sculpted mass of hair, highlighted by subtle streaks of red that defined his chin and jawline. It made him
look older, more -- dare she say -- intelligent. Faint scars, that she might not have noticed if she were not
looking for them, dotted areas on his face. Maybe that was the reason for the beard, to hide them.
Terry made a step to move around the desk to greet her, but stopped when he saw her stiffen, her expression
anything but welcoming. Why was she here if....
"You are the new secretary?" A grin of amusement lit his face.
"That's right." Max nodded, shifting her pad to the other hand.
"Aren't you a bit overqualified for a secretarial job?"
"The title is 'first level technical assistant' Mr. McGinnis. I was told that this was a high-risk position and
that the minor training I've recieved in psychological assessment would be quite useful here."
"Is that so." What the hell kind of doubletalk was she spewing out? His good mood was fading fast. If this
was a joke it was no longer amusing. He peered closer at the woman, making sure it was really his Max
standing there.
"That's correct. I mean no disrespect to you sir when I say your reputation as a 'difficult boss' is causing
morale problems among the personnel within this office section. Mr. Wayne has hired me to -- "
"Cut the crap Max. This isn't funny." She was talking to him like he was an idiot.
"It wasn't meant to be." Maxine murmured with constraint and shivered inwardly at the unfriendly stare he
had focused on her. She could not remember a time when he had ever looked at her with such vehemence.
Silence hung heavy between them for the next minute.
"I won't work with you like this Max, so you might as well leave." Terry's quiet words thudded with
serious intent. "Now."
"If you have a problem with me being here, take it up with your boss. Bruce Wayne. He hired me and only
he can fire me."
"So your being here is all his idea?"
The smirky look on Terry's face made Max want to cross the space between them and give him a well
placed kick. Her jaw clenched and she forced herself to relax, replying stiff, but calm.
"Yes. It is. He talked me into it after a lot of convincing and pointing out the undeniable fact that I owe him
for all the things he's done for me in the past."
"Why you?"
"Apparently, since I've been able to put up with your muley-headed ways in the past he thinks I can do it
again."
"I need a competent secretary not a nursemaid."
"What you need is a change in attitude boyo!" Max snapped, resenting the implications of his arrogantly
spoken statement. As if the only thing she had done as Batman's backup was provide first aid every time he
came home after getting his butt kicked from not being attentive enough. "Bruce is concerned about the
situation you've developed here."
"What situation?"
"You're alienating your co-workers with what I'm told is a nit-picky, self-absorbed attitude."
"Bull -- "
"Headed. Yes, I suppose in your case that fits better than muley-headed."
"I don't have to stand here and listen --"
"You'd better listen Mr. McGinnis, because I've been told by the man, that if I can't help you shape up you
are going to be shipped out. If I haven't made myself clear enough then you had better go have a serious
listen with him!"
Terry stared at the angry woman, stunned by her words. "He actually said that?"
"Strongly implied it." Max corrected, her stance easing at his tense quiet. She watched his face, not
surprised to see it turn into a familiar unreadable expression. Gradually he sank down into his chair and
began to rub a distracted hand across his bearded chin.
Max felt her stomach clench as the old reflexive empathy kicked into gear. She forced herself to subdue its
intensity, but being physically in his presence again brought home to her how much she had missed him. He
could not know how much she had wanted to greet him as the friends they once were. She knew how her
words had impacted him. How knowing that Bruce was behind her being here was a sign that he was failing
at his efforts as Wayne's associate. But he must know it wasn't too late. Just a few adjustments on how he
was handling the staff under his control would mean success. That's what Bruce wanted him to learn--
that's why she was here now. Bruce felt she could get through to him when no one else could. Maybe now
was the time to shift to a different tact. Her voice softened with understanding.
"Terry I--"
His head came up sharply, the cold glint in his blue eyes flashing at her, "You can address me as McGinnis
or sir, Miss Gibson. If you're ready to begin there's a backlog of items on my agenda that I hope you can
help me catch up on."
For the second time in the last few minutes, Max felt like she was in the presence of a stranger. She held
Terry's frosty gaze for a moment before looking away in discomfort. Indecision muddled her next thoughts.
Did she really want to put herself through this? Terry had changed more than she had imagined. She had to
admit that Bruce, turning to her for help was a last resort step for the old man. If he did not know how to
handle Terry why would he think she could do any better?
"Miss Gibson?"
Max raised questioning, wary eyes towards his unchanged demeanor.
"You staying or leaving?"
The challenge she heard in his monotone voice helped her decide. With a subtle lift of her chin she replied in
a tone as cold as his eyes, "I'm not going anywhere."
She noted the almost imperceptible slump of his shoulders and wondered at the reason for it. Was it a sign
of relief or regret at her decision? The days that followed gave her more of an answer than she had ever
expected.
Terry's former high school friend, Howard Groote, had experimented with a number of career choices in the
years since graduation. First it was a stint as an actor in local and regional theater. His parents got tired of
bankrolling him and gave him an ultimatum: he must either return to school, take a job in his father's
business or go out on his own and survive without any support from the parents.
Howard opted for a two year certificate at a culinary arts school. After graduation he found employment at
one of Gotham's more elegant restaurants. Though his employers were pleased with his work, Howard
grew restless after a year. With a monetary investment from his parents he bought a local bar and for the
last half of the past year had been breaking even on the profit end of it.
He had created an accidental niche one day when a patron had asked him to make him a sandwich. So
satisfied by the taste treat the patron had spread the word and 'Howard's Place' had become a popular
stop-off for many hungry customers. He worked hard, long hours to find that success and his enthusiasum
had grown. A long list of improvements for the business were already mapped out in his mind for the next
ten years.
Interactions with his patrons fulfilled a long standing desire for acceptance. A small number of his old high
school friends stopped in occasionally. Always glad to see them he made time to visit each of them and
make them feel welcome, even during the bar's busiest times.
Terry had stopped in with Maxine twice in the past year. The first time at Howard's personal invitation for
the bar's grand opening. The second time they stopped for no special reason except to say hello. The third
time Terry was on his own. When Howard asked about Max, Terry had replied off-handed that she had
made a career move to another state and let the subject drop even though Howard had wanted to know
more.
Terry came often now. Two or three times a week. He had made it clear to Howard that he needed
privacy, to keep a low profile from an inquisitive public. His association with the famous Bruce Wayne had
put him into automatic celebrity status and the media were relentless in keeping tabs on him. He always
took a table in a far-off corner of the bar and usually spent the time poring over work related material and...
drinking.
Howard had seen and talked to Terry more in the past few weeks than he had ever done in high school or
since and he had come to the conclusion that his friend was going through troubled times. He was not the
same Terry he had known before. He certainly had never considered the man a drinker though he was aware
of the, somewhat, dark past of Terry's early teen years.
Howard had learned from past experience that the most he could do for those he cared about was to be
available if they needed help and to listen if they wanted someone to talk too. Isn't that why people came to
bars? If they wanted to just drink they could do it alone at home. They came here because they wanted the
company. They didn't want to be alone.
So, sensing that Terry fit the category, Howard kept his banter light-hearted and at a respectful distance so
as not to intrude, yet giving enough signs that he cared. At the moment he was pushing the distance part for
the sake of getting a burning bit of trivia answered to his satisfaction. He was leaning over the opposite side
of the small table, an enthusiastic grin plastered on his pleasant, homely face, saying.
"Justine Carraro's so famous and you're kind of in her league you know-- always getting your picture taken
with someone like that-- and the way it seemed like she was hanging on you.... "
"We are not dating Howard. It was just a promotional thing." Terry repeated, looking at his old high
school friend in exasperation. "Who you gonna believe? Me or some stupid gossip vid?"
"Well." Howard frowned thoughtfully. "I know who I'd rather believe."
"Howie." Terry drawled warningly.
"Okay, okay. Just tell me one thing though."
Terry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What."
"Is that really a wig that she wears? I mean it looks so natural --"
"Go!"
Howard sputtered and backed away at Terry's growled command. "It's just that when I saw you and her
together in that vid I figured you'd be able to --"
Terry groaned, bowing his head beneath his arms. Howard grimaced, realizing he was intruding on the
friendship more than he should.
"Aw... geez... I'm sorry Terry. I promise I won't ask anything like that again."
Raising an irritated face to Howard, Terry's tone was unpleasant. "Howie. The reason I come here is to get
away from all that media crap. If you ever let on to anyone that I do come here our friendship will be sorely
threatened."
Howard looked affronted by Terry's words. He straightened to his full five-foot-four height, puffing up his
chest to make it more prominent than his stomach and gazed at Terry in all seriousness.
"You know I would never do that Terry. You've been coming here off and on since I opened the place.
Have I ever given you a reason to believe that I don't value your friendship, patronage or trust?"
After a long moment of studying his friend Terry answered. "No."
"Well thank you for that." Howard replied solemn. A heavy pause came between them before Howard
nodded. "I've got customers to serve. Is there anything else you need here?"
A negative shake of Terry's head and Howard turned to leave. Two steps away and he heard the young
exec speak out grudgingly.
"It's fake. Her real hair color is a mousy brown."
Howard pivoted to flash Terry a wide smile then moved away with a skip in his short stride.
Terry grinned and went back to the mundane task set before him. Tasks that would take up his entire
evening- again- for the forth day in a row. A boring job that his secretary would do if he had one. It was
his own fault. He should have been more patient with all the candidates that the agency had sent over.
Unfortunately, he no longer had any patience. Or what he did have he saved for the more influential people
in the company. The ones who were judging his performance and considering his worthiness as Wayne's
possible successor.
That thought made him squirm as it always did. Why did he persist in thinking he had to prove himself to
anybody for anything? It was his life! He was his own man! The urge to chuck it all rose up sharp inside
him. To leave behind everything that meant anything to him in Gotham. To be free of guilt and
responsibility and that damned sense of 'doing the right thing'!
With an effort he took a deep breath, letting the reality of commonsense calm him. That urge was simple
emotion - easy to ignore or put aside. As sure as he knew he needed air to breathe, he knew he needed a
purpose in life and to acknowledge the responsibilities that came his way.
He had his vivid memories of 'juvie', the death of his father and most recent, the scare of his mother's
illness to help him reaffirm his priorities. Seeing her lying unconscious on that restaurant floor, with a
horrified Matt clinging desperately to her hand still made him shudder at what could have been. And if
those memories were not enough to keep him focused on reality he had Bruce's huge example of
accountability to compare himself too.
He would not let the old man down this time. He had confidence in his untested business instincts. The
process of becoming Batman had always overshadowed every other aspect of his life. With that distraction
gone, buried talents were coming to the fore and he was pressing them into use with a rabid determination.
Looking down at the column of data that needed filing, Terry realized he needed to stop letting the past
affect his future. He had to let the anger go and develop civil relationships with the people around him -
particularly the office personnel at WayneTech. Tomorrow was a good day to start with the new secretary
that was scheduled to begin. With mixed feelings of hope and dread, he wrapped a hand around the half
empty glass of amber colored alcohol setting on the table. Raising it to his mouth he muttered a silent toast
to a successful working relationship with whoever the person might be and drank deeply of the bracing
contents.
***************************************************
The intercom buzzed once. His receptionist's cultured voice came through with its usual professional
charm.
"Mr. McGinnis, your new assistant is here sir."
"Female?"
"Yes sir."
"Send her in - please." Keep remembering your manners McGinnis. Terry made sure a pleasant expression
was on his face. When the door opened he stood behind his desk, ready to greet the new person with all the
cordiality he was capable of and vowed to continue to treat her with all due respect. If she ended up leaving
it would not be because of anything he had done this time.
She stepped into his office, her long legged form covered in an elegant pantsuit, compupad firmly clasped in
one hand, head held high, a no-nonsense look composed on the darkly beautiful and achingly familiar face.
Warmth flared inside Terry, a relieved joy that lifted the corners of his mouth and brightened the blue of his
eyes. He murmured her name low, in surprise. "Max."
Tenseness marked Maxine's features, her full lips pressed into a taunt line. She allowed herself to stare for a
moment. He looked different. Healthy. Yes, that was the word. There was a vibrant energy radiating from
him that had been missing the last time they had been together. And he sported a beard now. A black
sculpted mass of hair, highlighted by subtle streaks of red that defined his chin and jawline. It made him
look older, more -- dare she say -- intelligent. Faint scars, that she might not have noticed if she were not
looking for them, dotted areas on his face. Maybe that was the reason for the beard, to hide them.
Terry made a step to move around the desk to greet her, but stopped when he saw her stiffen, her expression
anything but welcoming. Why was she here if....
"You are the new secretary?" A grin of amusement lit his face.
"That's right." Max nodded, shifting her pad to the other hand.
"Aren't you a bit overqualified for a secretarial job?"
"The title is 'first level technical assistant' Mr. McGinnis. I was told that this was a high-risk position and
that the minor training I've recieved in psychological assessment would be quite useful here."
"Is that so." What the hell kind of doubletalk was she spewing out? His good mood was fading fast. If this
was a joke it was no longer amusing. He peered closer at the woman, making sure it was really his Max
standing there.
"That's correct. I mean no disrespect to you sir when I say your reputation as a 'difficult boss' is causing
morale problems among the personnel within this office section. Mr. Wayne has hired me to -- "
"Cut the crap Max. This isn't funny." She was talking to him like he was an idiot.
"It wasn't meant to be." Maxine murmured with constraint and shivered inwardly at the unfriendly stare he
had focused on her. She could not remember a time when he had ever looked at her with such vehemence.
Silence hung heavy between them for the next minute.
"I won't work with you like this Max, so you might as well leave." Terry's quiet words thudded with
serious intent. "Now."
"If you have a problem with me being here, take it up with your boss. Bruce Wayne. He hired me and only
he can fire me."
"So your being here is all his idea?"
The smirky look on Terry's face made Max want to cross the space between them and give him a well
placed kick. Her jaw clenched and she forced herself to relax, replying stiff, but calm.
"Yes. It is. He talked me into it after a lot of convincing and pointing out the undeniable fact that I owe him
for all the things he's done for me in the past."
"Why you?"
"Apparently, since I've been able to put up with your muley-headed ways in the past he thinks I can do it
again."
"I need a competent secretary not a nursemaid."
"What you need is a change in attitude boyo!" Max snapped, resenting the implications of his arrogantly
spoken statement. As if the only thing she had done as Batman's backup was provide first aid every time he
came home after getting his butt kicked from not being attentive enough. "Bruce is concerned about the
situation you've developed here."
"What situation?"
"You're alienating your co-workers with what I'm told is a nit-picky, self-absorbed attitude."
"Bull -- "
"Headed. Yes, I suppose in your case that fits better than muley-headed."
"I don't have to stand here and listen --"
"You'd better listen Mr. McGinnis, because I've been told by the man, that if I can't help you shape up you
are going to be shipped out. If I haven't made myself clear enough then you had better go have a serious
listen with him!"
Terry stared at the angry woman, stunned by her words. "He actually said that?"
"Strongly implied it." Max corrected, her stance easing at his tense quiet. She watched his face, not
surprised to see it turn into a familiar unreadable expression. Gradually he sank down into his chair and
began to rub a distracted hand across his bearded chin.
Max felt her stomach clench as the old reflexive empathy kicked into gear. She forced herself to subdue its
intensity, but being physically in his presence again brought home to her how much she had missed him. He
could not know how much she had wanted to greet him as the friends they once were. She knew how her
words had impacted him. How knowing that Bruce was behind her being here was a sign that he was failing
at his efforts as Wayne's associate. But he must know it wasn't too late. Just a few adjustments on how he
was handling the staff under his control would mean success. That's what Bruce wanted him to learn--
that's why she was here now. Bruce felt she could get through to him when no one else could. Maybe now
was the time to shift to a different tact. Her voice softened with understanding.
"Terry I--"
His head came up sharply, the cold glint in his blue eyes flashing at her, "You can address me as McGinnis
or sir, Miss Gibson. If you're ready to begin there's a backlog of items on my agenda that I hope you can
help me catch up on."
For the second time in the last few minutes, Max felt like she was in the presence of a stranger. She held
Terry's frosty gaze for a moment before looking away in discomfort. Indecision muddled her next thoughts.
Did she really want to put herself through this? Terry had changed more than she had imagined. She had to
admit that Bruce, turning to her for help was a last resort step for the old man. If he did not know how to
handle Terry why would he think she could do any better?
"Miss Gibson?"
Max raised questioning, wary eyes towards his unchanged demeanor.
"You staying or leaving?"
The challenge she heard in his monotone voice helped her decide. With a subtle lift of her chin she replied in
a tone as cold as his eyes, "I'm not going anywhere."
She noted the almost imperceptible slump of his shoulders and wondered at the reason for it. Was it a sign
of relief or regret at her decision? The days that followed gave her more of an answer than she had ever
expected.