11. Night Out
Dora fidgeted with the zipper of her jacket, feeling completely out of her element. She was standing in line to get into Gotham's most exclusive nightclub: The Iceberg Lounge, located in the in famous Tuxedo Hotel & Casino overlooking the bay. In line with her were Holly, Rochelle and her boyfriend Ben. Rochelle was wearing a green dress and suede boots, while Ben was dashing in his navy shirt and black jacket. Holly was the boldest, wearing a form-fitting red dress with strappy stiletto heels. Dora felt completely under-dressed in her simple black frock and matte Doc Martens, but having always been a tomboy, it was the best she could muster for the occasion.
"Hey, isn't that the dress you wore to my engagement party?" Rochelle noticed.
Dora looked down at herself. "Um, maybe?"
She only owned a few dresses, all of them were simple and black, and the only time she wore them were to her cousins' communions, weddings, and quinceañeras. She had always gotten a bit of flak from her family for it. "Black is depressing and moody!" they would say, but Dora had always thought it was elegant and modest. For her mother's sake, she had endured the trauma of being forced to wear a poofy pink dress to her own quinceañera and vowed to never wear anything as flamboyant again. Her father had understood. He let her redo the event the way she wanted, with a punk rock karaoke rager at the Alibi. For that birthday, he had given her first battle vest: a black denim vest with patches of rock and metal bands they both loved, which she was wearing now over the dress.
"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thanks for coming, guys!" Holly chirped as they moved up in line.
"Happy to!" Rochelle said.
"Thanks for the invite," said Ben. "Happy birthday, by the way."
"Yeah, no problem..." Dora mumbled. She hated clubs and would not have come if it wasn't a special occasion. She was more of a bar girl, obviously. "Um... Holly," Dora said, careful to keep her voice low, "how exactly are you supposed to get into the club?"
"Oh, relax, Dee. I've got a fake ID." She flashed a laminated card from her clutch handbag.
Dora inspected it with the trained eye of a bartender, and was surprised by the quality of the forgery.
"It's actually real," Holly said, proud. "Borrowed it from a friend."
The girl in the photo—Karon Brubaker, age 22—did bear a resemblance to Holly, except... "Her hair's pink," Dora said.
"The license is a few years old, so if I'm asked I can just say I got sick of the color. It does say Karon's natural hair color is blonde like mine."
Dora handed back the card with a frown. Would it be enough to fool the bouncer? Then a pang of guilt struck her. Here she was, effectively endorsing the type of behavior she would scold Carla for. What kind of role model was she? "Listen, on second thought, I think I'll sit this one out..."
Holly reeled on Dora. "Hey, no! Don't go! Dora, please! Tonight is special! I promise! You won't regret it!"
"But..."
"If you flake out on my birthday, I'll never forgive you." Holly glared.
Dora looked back at her, withering. It was so hard to believe that Holly was only turning seventeen. At times, she seemed more worldly and experienced than she was. Which wasn't necessarily a good thing, Dora decided. As long as Carla never finds out. "Fine," she said.
"Here we go! We're next!" Rochelle exclaimed, prancing up to the bouncer.
They each presented their IDs to the bouncer, with Dora holding her breath as he examined Holly's card with a flashlight. Holly didn't seem bothered by the scrutiny and carried herself with the utmost confidence. In the end, they were let through without a hitch, to Dora's relief. They paid their cover and were given neon blue paper wristbands so they could order alcohol. Dora noticed the wristband had the Tuxedo Hotel's iconic umbrella logo.
Once they were inside, Dora noticed something. It wasn't the white, blue, and black themed decor, or the massive ice sculptures and shimmering water fountains the club was known for... it was the music.
It wasn't the typical dance music she was expecting, the thumping EDM she had always associated with nightclubs. Instead, it was... punk.
Blaring from all the speakers at full volume was fast-paced, distorted, screaming, hardcore punk—precisely her favorite kind of music.
"What the fuck?" Ben shouted over the din.
"Not what I was expecting," said Rochelle, a smile on her face. "But I like it."
Dora was still speechless, trying to reconcile her expectations with the reality that surrounded her. A smile was growing on her lips.
Holly laughed. "I just knew you guys would love it! It's Ballroom Blitz!"
"Ballroom Blitz?" Ben asked.
"Yeah," Holly squirmed, barely containing her enthusiasm. "It's the rock and metal night the Iceberg Lounge hosts every other month. Like, it's obvious that EDM and pop and rap are super popular in the club scene, but the promoters also know that Gotham has a hardcore scene that's underserved, so they play metal music for a night every once in a while."
Dora looked over at the dancefloor where a full-contact mosh pit was roiling—people running in circles and shoving each other to the rhythm of the music. On stage, the band was performing, and all the black-clad members were headbanging.
"Damn," Rochelle cursed, tapping her heels. "Wish I brought better shoes."
Dora smiled; glad she had decided to wear flat-soled boots.
"Follow me, guys. I've got another surprise!" Holly led them across the club, through the writhing crowd, to a flight of stairs cordoned off and guarded by another bouncer, burlier than the last.
"VIPs only," he said.
"My name's Holly Robinson, I'm on the list."
"Can I see your ID, Miss Robinson?"
Holly reached into her clutch, but suddenly froze, hesitant. "Um... Sorry, I... must've lost it."
"What are you talking about?" Ben asked. "You just had it at the door a minute ago. I saw you put it back into your bag—ouch!" Rochelle had elbowed him.
"No ID, no entry."
"But mister, I have a reservation..." Holly nervously adjusted the straps of her dress, 'inadvertently' exposing more skin and cleavage.
The ruse was ineffective. "Yeah, a Holly Robinson is on the list, but I can't be sure you aren't poaching someone else's reservation without seeing your ID first. Club rules. Sorry, miss."
"You know what? That's okay," Dora said, eyeing the mosh pit longingly. Everyone was bouncing to a catchy riff. "We don't need the VIP treatment to have a good time." Dora didn't, at least.
"But it's my birthday! I want table service!" Holly whined.
"It's your birthday, Holly?" asked a smooth female voice. "You'll have to revel in style, if I have anything to say about it..." Dora turned back to see an astonishingly beautiful woman descending the stairs. She had short dark hair and wore a tight black dress that put Dora's own black frock to shame. Tall and slim, with light brown skin, she was everything Dora wasn't—Dora couldn't help but feel envy. The woman touched the bouncer's shoulder and looked at him with her shimmering green eyes. "She's with me, Butch."
The man's ears reddened. "Of course, Miss Kyle." He fumbled with the rope and waved Holly past.
Holly pranced toward the woman and embraced her tightly. "Selina! Thanks for the save!"
"My pleasure, kitten," she said, returning the hug and looking at everyone else with a verdant magnetic gaze. "These are your friends?"
"Yeah, they're with me."
"Butch," she said simply, and the bouncer ushered everybody along.
As they all ascended the stairs, Holly chattered indistinctly with Selina about something. Dora was amazed by her grace and poise. It seemed like Ben was just as mesmerized by Selina, if not more, judging by the way he was watching her walk up the stairs. Rochelle nudged him a little too hard and he tripped down a step.
Selina led them to a private loft with couches and tables that overlooked the dance floor. Before they even settled in, a shot girl came by with a tray of martinis.
"We didn't order those," Dora told her. She had a strict budget that night and would rather have a whiskey sour for her money than watered-down over-priced gin.
"Don't fret," Selina said, taking a glass. She took a seat, crossed her legs, and sipped her drink—all in a series of mesmerizingly fluid motions. "Compliments of the house."
"Thanks," Rochelle said. "Do you work here?"
Selina handed a glass to Holly. "No. I'm... acquainted with the owner, so all my friends drink free." She clinked glasses with her. Dora wondered if Selina knew that Holly was underage.
Ben sputtered some of his drink. "You're friends with the Penguin? Oswald Cobblepot, I mean."
Selina smirked. "We have a... working relationship. And speaking of—" She checked the little watch on her slender wrist. "I must be going. I have work to do."
That piqued Dora's interest. If Selina didn't work for the Iceberg Lounge, but started this late at night, then was she a prostitute like Holly had been? At first glance, Selina seemed a little too classy to be a common hooker, but then Dora remembered Holly mention that her new madam was branching out into the high-end escort business.
As Selina stood to leave, Holly grabbed her hand. "Oh, don't go, Lina! Stay and celebrate with my birthday with us!"
"Holly, darling, don't you think you should be honest with your friends about the reason you brought them here?" Selina said with a smirk.
Holly faltered.
"What does she mean by that?" Dora asked.
Selina smirked at Dora's comment but said nothing. Instead, she bent down and laid a kiss on Holly's lips. It was shallow and only lasted a second, but Holly didn't back away, accepting the kiss as if it was no big deal. Not only were Ben's eyes bulging, so were Dora's and Rochelle's. When Selina pulled away, she pinched Holly's chin and said, "I'll see you soon, kitten."
"Take care." Holly waved as Selina walked away, and Dora thought she saw a look of concern on Holly's face.
There was a pause. Everyone sipped their drinks.
"So... is Selina your girlfriend?" Rochelle asked (what everyone was thinking). "Like, your girlfriend?"
"What?" Holly scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "No... She took me in for a few months when I had no place to go. She's a really good friend. Like an older sister. Like you guys."
"You kiss your friends like that?" Ben asked, with an eager look at Rochelle and Dora.
Holly giggled and winked at him. "I would if they let me."
Rochelle was a little taken aback, her cheeks reddening. "No, she never..."
It made some sense to Dora, though. She recalled how flirty Holly was with everyone in general, even when she was "off-duty." Dora decided to change the subject before Rochelle got any more uncomfortable. "So, what did Selina mean about being honest with the reason you brought us here?"
"Oh, that," Holly said, avoiding all their eyes. "Right, so I have a confession to make." She hesitated and took a sip of her martini. "It's not really my birthday."
"What?" Rochelle said. "When is your birthday then?"
"Not for another few months..."
"So wait... you're still twenty?"
Dora pinched her nose. "No, she's sixteen."
Rochelle and Ben went bug-eyed. "You're... sixteen? What the fuck?" Ben asked.
"But you turned tricks for Stan... and Black Mask... and Ma..." Rochelle looked at Dora. "And you let her into the Alibi?"
"Long story," Dora replied.
"I did what I had to," Holly said soberly. "To survive."
Gawking at her, Rochelle and Ben looked at Holly in a whole new light. Dora, however, dwelled again on how Holly had to grow up too fast.
"Ugh." Holly rolled her eyes. "I was afraid this would happen. I was hoping you'd all be more drunk when I told you, but Selina spoiled it for me... So just do me a favor and drink up." They all looked at her, deadpan and noncommittal. Holly sighed, "I'm not telling you guys anything unless you drink, so chug! All of you!"
Everyone paused a second to consider, but ultimately downed their martinis. As if on cue, a shot girl appeared to bus their empty glasses and take their new orders.
Dora placed an order for a whiskey sour, then asked, "So what are we here to celebrate, if not your birthday?"
"This," Holly reached into her bag and pulled out a hefty wad of cash, bound by a thick rubber band. "I just got my first payday from Ma Gunn, and it was more than a decent wage."
"Jeez, how much is that?" Ben asked.
"I honestly don't know," Holly said, tossing the wad between her hands. "It's in small bills like tens and twenties, so I kept losing count, but it's at least a few grand for a month's worth of work."
"I thought you weren't turning tricks anymore," Rochelle said, looking concerned.
"I'm not, but since I schedule the girls, set up the dates, run the phones, and manage the wardrobe, Ma Gunn gives me a little cut."
"A little?" Ben scoffed, eyeing the wad jealously.
"Are your clients pissed off about the raised price of everything?" Dora asked.
"Actually, prices haven't changed much," Holly answered, eating the olives that came with her new martini.
"Then how are you getting paid more?"
"Red Hood takes a way smaller cut for himself than Stan or Black Mask ever did, so the girls make more money while the johns pay roughly the same. The only things the johns complain about now are all the bouncers lurking around and the extra charge for a date outside of the hotel."
Even though Dora didn't totally agree with prostitution, she supposed it was some consolation that Red Hood had made his own business somewhat ethical and safe for his workers.
"So how much is Red Hood's cut exactly?" Rochelle asked.
"Fifteen percent."
"Is that considered low?"
"Compared to the seventy-five percent that my last pimp Stan was keeping for himself?" Holly scoffed. "Fuck yeah, it is."
"Makes sense," Ben said. "Fifteen percent is the standard for talent agents in other industries, so why not prostitution? Seems fair."
While Rochelle and Ben began a conversation about whether sex work should be legal, Dora brooded, feeling awkward that the man she had almost slept with was technically a pimp. She was bitterly reminded of her conversation with Leslie. Who else, if anyone, had Red Hood seduced?
As Rochelle and Ben's debate heated up, Dora scooted nearer to Holly. Hoping not to be overheard, she whispered, "So... how's Red Hood doing?"
"What?" Holly looked surprised.
Dora was just as unnerved that Holly didn't know what she was talking about. "Red Hood, have you seen him?"
"You're saying you haven't seen him?"
"I—Should I have?"
"I mean, you're fucking him aren't you?"
"I'm not!" Dora said, trying to keep her voice down. "I haven't seen him in over a week; not since that night you walked in on us."
"Wow, really? You'd think after having you topless and ready to go, he'd come back around as soon as possible to, uh... finish the job."
Despite her modesty, Dora lamented, "Right? It's weird! That's why I'm asking you!"
"Wow, you're really hankering for a good fuck, aren't you, Dee? When was the last time you got laid?" Holly asked. Dora glared at Holly, who recoiled and said, "Sorry, Dee, I haven't seen him much."
"I thought he was your pim—your boss," Dora said.
"Nnyeah, sorta... Practically speaking, Red Hood's more like the owner of the brothel. Ma Gunn's really my boss. I hardly ever see Red Hood, to be honest, and when I do spot him, he only talks to Ma. He's in and out pretty quick."
"Really? Why's that?" Dora asked.
"Because he's busy, I assume." Holly sipped her drink.
A lump formed in Dora's throat. She drank some of her whiskey to get rid of it. "Busy ... doing what?"
"Come on. His whole vigilante-slash-crime-boss thing. He's practically the owner and CEO of a criminal organization. The brothel is just a small part of a much bigger machine, so he delegates. Why do you think he killed all those crime bosses and their lieutenants? To take over their rackets, and put people loyal to him in charge, like Ma."
Holly studied Dora's face for a moment, gauging her meaning. "Oh, I see what you mean." She put a reassuring hand on Dora's arm. "Don't worry, Dee, he doesn't sleep with any of the girls."
Relief washed over her. "He doesn't?"
"I mean... he's had plenty of offers from the girls—some of the guys too—cuz... duh. But as far as I know, he's turned everyone down. No one has any idea why." She nudged Dora, smiling knowingly. "But I think I'm the only one who does."
Dora knocked back the remainder of her whiskey sour and signaled the shot girl for a refill.
"Hey," Holly said, wrapping an arm around Dora. "I'll try to give him your number the next time I see him. Okay?"
"Don't make it seem like I'm... y'know." Desperate.
Holly read her mind. "Well, you are. I've never seen a girl as tightly wound as you, Dee." She laughed, hugging her. "Don't worry. I'll be chill about it. But hey, I've got good news."
"Yeah, what is it?" Dora doubted it would improve her mood.
"Rocky, this involves you too." Holly tapped Rochelle, pulling her attention away from the conversation she and Ben were having. "I know stuff is pretty tight at the Alibi, and it's been hard getting the ball rolling again, but I think I know someone who's willing to help you out."
Probably some high-roller client, Dora assumed. She was already prepared to decline, no matter who it was. She didn't want to owe money to anyone anymore—she already had enough debt—to the banks, to Red Hood. Most importantly, being in debt to a criminal was what got her father killed. Still, she was curious. The bar had never attracted investors before, only yuppie realtors that wanted to buy the whole Montgomery building just to evict everyone and gentrify it. "Who's this angel investor?"
"Ma Gunn," Holly answered.
"You mean your madam?" Rochelle asked.
Dora grimaced, shaking her head. "No way—"
"Wait a sec, guys, hear me out. I think it's a good deal—"
"What does she want?" Dora interrupted. "Part ownership? A percentage of the profits? I won't do that."
"No, listen! Ma just wants to pay you to perch a few girls in your bar every night, but they won't be turning tricks there. They'd be like, 'Hey, are you looking for a good time? Your place or mine?'"
Dora's adamance faltered. She didn't want her bar to turn into a brothel, but... under both Kosov and Black Mask, hookers (like Holly) picked up johns in her bar all the time without her permission, and she never got a kickback. She would now. Plus, with Red Hood as their pimp, she was more certain that these girls were consenting and paid fairly—not coerced, trafficked, or enslaved.
"I mean," Dora looked at Rochelle. "As long as I don't catch anyone having sex in the bathrooms, or the alley, or anywhere for that matter... it might be okay."
Rochelle shrugged, but seemed to agree. "Sounds like it might be a good deal. Depends on how much this Ma Gunn chick pays you."
Dora looked back at Holly. "Set up a meeting. I want to talk to Ma Gunn myself."
"Alright, then. I'll let her know and get back to you." Holly hailed the shot girl and ordered another round of drinks for everyone. "Now for the last order of business before we go mosh our asses off."
"What's that?"
"I want to rent an apartment in your building, Dora," Holly said, looking into her eyes with earnest. "Please, I know I'm only sixteen, but I don't want to sleep on Selina's couch until I'm eighteen."
"Why don't you just go live with your parents?" Ben asked.
All three girls reeled on him with disapproving glares, projecting the message "that's not an option" loud and clear. As Ben withered under Rochelle's rant about abuse, Dora considered it. It wasn't ideal but filling a vacancy in her building would really help her financial situation. Another tenant paying rent in addition to Ma Gunn's kickback would relieve the pressure she was under a bit.
"I can't legally rent you a unit," Dora said. "But you can squat in my apartment, the one I never use."
"You have your own apartment? Why are you living in the basement then?" Holly asked.
"I like it down there," Dora shrugged. "And less stairs to climb. My unit is on the top floor." Dora had lived in the building back when she was going to college and working at the clinic, but sublet the unit to make ends meet when Black Mask ramped up his extortion.
"Oh, Dora! Thank you!" Holly squeezed Dora around the middle tightly and kissed her on the check. "This is so great; we have to celebrate—and right on time!" The shot girl had come around with a fresh round of drinks. Holly started drinking hers while taking off her heels. "Let's show those boys in the pit how it's done!"
"All right, I'm on board!" Dora said, removing her jacket and lacing up her boots.
"Give me your shoes," Rochelle told Ben.
"Hey, Dee," Holly said, leading them all down the stairs. "Maybe you can reel in a guy that's not a kingpin fighting a gang war."
Notes
I hope you don't mind the slower pace of this chapter. Its mostly character development and exposition to set up what's coming next... and trust me, it's good. If you liked the Catwoman cameo in this chapter, I'm set do it one better very soon.
Also, if you haven't noticed by now... Yes, Holly that's been in the story from the start, is in fact Holly Robinson, aka Selina Kyle's best friend, roommate, sidekick, and eventually/temporarily (in some continuities) the second Catwoman. She's not an original character, she belongs to DC. Some of my readers on DA and FFN never caught that.
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