13. Moving Day
"Pull, Carla!"
"I am pulling!"
"Well, pull harder!"
"Dora, I can't. I'm tired."
"Woman up, and fucking pull! Dale! Uno, dos, y... Arrgh!"
"Arrrgh!"
A resounding snap emitted from the couch as Dora and Carla wedged it into the apartment.
"You..." Holly lamented, leaning down and inspecting the frame. Through the fabric, she noticed it had snapped somewhere. The whole couch, once sturdy down on the ground floor, was now wobbly and almost gelatinous. "You ruined my couch. Do you know how much I paid for this?"
Carla backed up to a wall and slid down, exhausted. "Not much? It was a used piece of shit to begin with, so get over yourself, Hol. It's not much worse off." She ran a hand through her sweat-drenched hair, pulling back the black and teal strands against her scalp. "At least it's in here now."
"Is that it, though?" Rochelle asked, just as sweaty. "That wasn't much." She gestured at the bed, dining table, chairs, and giant TV.
"I don't own much stuff, to be honest," Holly said. "Everything we moved in here, I bought off Craigslist just yesterday. I've got a few boxes of small shit to bring over from Selina's, but I can do that myself tomorrow."
"Good," Dora groaned.
"I didn't know your building was a walk-up. And that the apartments were so small," Holly said, looking around the tiny flat. "I always wondered why your family didn't just live in your own building, but I get it now. There's barely enough room for a couple."
"I dunno," said Rochelle, looking around. "Ben and I could make due. It's not much smaller than our flat two blocks down... If Dora cuts us a deal on rent like she did you, I'd move in."
Holly's "new" apartment was a studio, just like the other two dozen units in the 50 year-old Montgomery building. Just two rooms: a main room that served all at once as a living area, bedroom, and kitchen; and a tiny bathroom with a standing shower not big enough to bathe in. The floors creaked when stepped on. Cockroaches crawled in and out of a network of cracks that adorned the walls.
"I told you how old the building was a ton of times," Dora told Holly. "You've heard me complain about it, and you come around here three or four times a week. You never noticed it was a narrow building with no elevator before you decided to move in?"
"I only ever hung around your bar..." Holly began, but rubbed her nose. She closed her eyes and took a breath. "Well, whatever the case, it's better having my own place than living on someone else's couch, even if my own couch is a crumbling piece of shit... But we're done. No regrets. So thanks! How about something to eat? On me?"
"I've got food downstairs in the Alibi, if you're hungry," Dora offered. "The re-opening isn't for a few more days, so we've got the run of the place, no interruptions."
"Maybe I don't know how it works here in the States, but aren't flat-warming parties supposed to happen inside the flat you just moved into?"
"This little hole in the wall isn't suited for a party, Rocky," Holly said, and quickly added, "No offense, Dora."
"None taken. As assistant super, I wouldn't let you throw a party in here anyway."
"How about the roof?" Carla suggested. "Fresh air sounds really good right now." She wiped sweat off her forehead.
"Heeeey, I like that idea," Holly said, sliding down next to Carla on the floor and looking out her sole window. "The night sky, the cityscape. Sounds like a great place to chill." She bumped shoulders with Carla and the two shared a look.
"Um..." Dora hesitated.
She didn't like going up to the roof of the building unless she had to.
Every time Dora went up there, she was reminded of her father. She wasn't there to witness Monty jump, but she did recover him from the dumpster he had landed in unintentionally. She was grateful he never attempted suicide again, but every time she looked at a ledge up there, she pictured a shadow of him stepping off.
Carla and Holly exchanged an impatient look, and Dora realized that the two girls were less than two years apart. Fourteen and sixteen years old. For them, the roof was a more appropriate venue for a party than a bar. "Alright. Fine. The roof it is."
"Well, now that's settled. What pizza place?" Rochelle asked.
Immediately, Dora, Carla, and Holly voiced their choices, all different; all increasing volume as they asserted the reasons why their choice was superior. Rochelle stood flabbergasted as the debate waged on, then tried to mediate as the discussion heated up to almost absurd levels of pettiness and nuance. Rochelle learned ordering pizza in Gotham City wasn't to be taken lightly.
After several minutes of heated debate, Dora shouted, "Okay! Listen to me! Let's say all three places are equally as good. Nope, shut up!" She held up her finger, demanding silence and attention. "Dan, the owner of DiDio's, is an old friend of my dad's. I always get a huge discount from him, even if I don't ask, plus it's only right down the block so we won't have to wait long."
"Money isn't an issue," Holly insisted, holding up her rubber-banded wad of cash.
"Holly, take it from someone who knows a thing or two about money and how quickly it disappears." Dora stepped toward her and knelt, so their eyes were level. "You can't be sure what the future holds, so spend your money wisely and save whenever you can. Especially in the line of work you're in."
There was grave weight in Dora's words, which somehow cooled the tempers in the room. Holly groaned. "Fine, you win. DiDio's it is."
"Alright!" Dora said, hopping on to her feet. "I'll go get the pizza myself, so we don't have to tip for delivery."
"Good idea," Rochelle said. "I'll keep you company."
"Get the folding table and chairs set up while we're gone." Dora tossed Carla her keys.
#
Dora and Rochelle stepped out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk. It was day, but hard to tell. The street ran north to south dividing two rows of multi-story buildings, with even taller ones on the blocks beyond. This meant most of Park Row was persistently cast in shadow during the day and it felt like night always descended on it early. People made their way along the sidewalks no matter the hour. Some hung outside the building entrances and on street corners, in their own conversations, but with a wary eye on any passerby. Cars drove along the cramped one-way road, competing for parking along the curb.
The street seemed different nowadays. It felt inexplicably safer, even though most of its residents were involved in some type of ongoing criminal business—whether they were victims or perpetrators. With Red Hood running most of organized crime in the neighborhood, even illicit activities seemed less dangerous. Lately, it was easy to tell who supported him, because they wore red—of course. The most popular way to rep the Red Hood Gang was to wear a red hoodie or jacket, but Dora would see the occasional red hat, red shoes, or red t-shirt.
Although she was supportive, Dora deliberately avoided wearing red these days. Not only did she not like gang colors and gang culture, she didn't want Detectives Bullock and Montoya to think she was involved with the Red Hood Gang, in case the GCPD were still watching her.
Dora and Rochelle passed by the front of the Alibi. A large banner hung over the plate-glass window, advertising: "REOPENING FRIDAY - HALF-PRICE DRAFT BEER & WELL DRINKS."
"When did you put that up?" Rochelle asked.
"This morning."
"Do you need help setting up?"
"No, my mom and I got it covered. Take time off till Friday if you want," Dora said, and stopped. She put her hand on Rochelle's shoulder. "And listen. I really appreciate all your help during this whole mess."
"No problem, I was happy to do it. Sometimes I think you forget that I'm not just your best friend, I'm also your employee."
"Well, either way, I promise to pay you back for all the work you put into the rebuild, just once the cash starts flowing again. Hopefully this half-off promotion works."
Rochelle laughed and pulled Dora into a tight hug. "Oh god, thanks! I was so afraid to ask. Ben and I really need the money, but I didn't want to stress you out. You already have enough to deal with."
"Don't worry about. I'll feel much better once the Alibi's up and running again. I just want things to get back to normal."
"Well, as normal as you can get while dating a wanted criminal," Rochelle teased, nudging Dora as they walked.
"How many times have I told you that we're not dating?"
"How else would you describe your relationship?"
Dora walked silently, pondering. "It's complicated."
Rochelle snickered. "Let's just call you guys friends with benefits then."
Dora rolled her eyes.
What use was it trying to correct Rochelle? Dora herself didn't even know what she meant to Red Hood. She didn't know what he meant to her either.
#
The appetizing scent of baked cheese and dough wafted from under the lids of the boxes. "Hurry up, I'm hungry," Dora urged. She and Rochelle were back in the Alibi, having just returned from DiDio's. "Wait, what are you putting in there?"
"Well, er..." Rochelle looked down at the little plastic crate she had packed with cups, ice, and drinks. "I've got some ice, Coke, Club Soda, Bud, Angry Orchard, Blue Moon, Smirnoff..."
"Why the hell are you bringing up all that booze for?"
"Erm... cuz it's a party?"
"Carla and Holly are minors, Rocky. You're a bartender, you should know better."
Rochelle looked incredulous. "Dee, where were you last weekend? I could've sworn you were at the Iceberg Lounge with us, because then you'd remember that Holly already drinks." She spoke each word slowly for emphasis. "Holly can out-drink us both under the table. And hell, she probably knows more about men than both of us together. Why are you being such a stickler now?"
"Because Carla's with us tonight."
"What difference does that make?"
Dora glared at Rochelle. "Because she's my sister. Because she's fourteen years old."
"You put in almost as much effort looking after Holly as you do Carla. Isn't it a bit hypocritical that you don't mind Holly drinking underage, while you won't let Carla do the same?"
"Well, I do mind that Holly drinks, but unfortunately, as much as I love her, I don't control her life. However, I do have a say in Carla's."
"Come on, I know you're not that naive. Carla drinks too."
"And smokes tobacco, and marijuana, and used to smoke crack. She's fourteen and already failing at Narcotics Anonymous. I..." Dora paused, a twinge of shame tightening her chest. Her eyes began to water, but she held onto the tears. "I didn't pay enough attention to Carla the past few years. I was so busy with school and the clinic and trying to help my dad recover that I didn't notice my little sister needed me to be a proper role model."
"That's not on you. Your mum—"
"My mom tried, but she had her hands full with work and my baby sister Mercy. Come on, she was your boss before I took over, you know how strung up she was about everything."
Rochelle looked a little sorry. "It's still no one's fault—"
"Look, it's fine." Dora traded her pizza boxes for Rochelle's crate and removed the alcohol. "Don't worry about it. I'm not mad, just... My dad was an alcoholic, and I'll be damned if I let my little sister become one too."
"Gotcha, Dee." Rochelle smiled softly. She bumped elbows with Dora as they walked next door to the apartments' lobby. "I wish I had a sister like you looking out for me while I was growing up. If I had, I probably would've stayed back in Melbourne."
"I'm glad you're here, though, Rocky. I don't think I could have survived this long in Gotham without you."
"Please, you survived through six months of anarchy after the earthquake."
"Yeah, but I had my dad with me back then."
On the way up the stairs, they talked about the earthquake and how Monty used his building to house and protect victims in the aftermath, and how Dora got close to Leslie while helping with her humanitarian efforts. Melancholy took over. She thought of how close she was to her father and Leslie then, but also how estranged she became from her mother.
They reached the rooftop landing. Hands full, Dora kicked the door open. Cool night air rushed into the stairwell, refreshing after climbing five flights of stairs. The sky was so black, it was impossible to make out the stars. Taller buildings flanked the Montgomery building on both sides. Their upper floors had easy vantages of the Montgomery's sparse rooftop.
The back half of the rooftop, near the alley and the fire escapes, housed the power and AC units. The front half of the roof faced Park Row itself, and had an uncovered wooden canopy strung with lights. Underneath were barren brick planters—no flowers, just weeds. A tall water tower loomed overhead on rattling scaffolding and piping. Its side bore letters that once said "Monty's Pub," the bar's original name when Dora's grandfather ran it, but the paint had since faded away and gotten covered by too many gang tags to distinguish it anymore. Right below the water tower was a shed Monty had built to store tools, parts, and supplies for the building supervisor.
Dora looked at the deserted rooftop, brows knit. "I thought I told Holly and Carla..."
"... to set up the table and chairs," Rochelle said. "Yeah, I heard you say that."
"Maybe they're still down in the apartment." Dora put down the pizza boxes. "I'll get everything set up. You go find them."
As Rochelle walked back to the stairwell, Dora went to the shed where the folding tables and chairs were stored.
Something clattered inside the shed, then an indistinct voice groaned, "Don't! Stop! Please!" It sounded female, out of breath, and desperate.
"What was that?" Rochelle asked.
They heard a thud on the floor. The rustling and whimpering continued. At least two people were in the shed, doing... Dora was afraid to imagine, but she knew either Carla or Holly, or both, were in trouble inside. Her heart sank, weighed down by dread. The Escabedo Cartel could have sent a sicario for revenge. It had only been a matter of time and Red Hood was not here to save her.
The situation was in her hands, no time to call the cops. She had to maintain her composure. Dora carefully placed the crate down and held up a finger to her lips, signaling Rochelle to be silent. Drawing a folding knife and a small can of pepper spray from her jacket, she waved Rochelle back. Ever since the night of the shooting, she carried them everywhere. She gestured Rochelle into position by the shed but remained silent. Tossing Rochelle the knife, Dora nodded at the door.
Rochelle nodded back tensely, gripping the knife with white knuckles. It was clear she didn't know how to hold it, but some backup was better than nothing. She snuck to the door of the shed and grabbed the handle.
Dora counted down with her fingers. Three, two, one...
Rochelle pulled the door open and stepped away. Dora rushed into the shed, pepper spray at the ready.
What she saw made her lower the weapon.
Carla was pinned against the wall, moaning and breathless, her legs wrapped around...
Holly?
Holly massaged the crook of Carla's neck with her lips while her hands maneuvered inside Carla's shirt, so passionately that tools fell off the pegboard behind them.
Notes
I didn't expect this to get so long. In my plot outline, chapters #12, #13, and #14 were all a single chapter, but as I wrote them, they got longer. (If you haven't noticed, this happens to me a lot.)
I found that this was the perfect opportunity to not only develop some characters (like Holly and Carla), but also expand on the Montgomery building, which I almost consider a character in and of itself. I wanted to emphasize that, yes, Dora's family owns a whole building in what is basically New York, but it doesn't mean that they're well off, as most real estate owners are expected to be nowadays. Before now I only portrayed the exteriors, the Alibi, and the cellar in detail, but seeing as the whole place is a memento of Dora's father, and her livelihood not only depends on the revenue from the bar, but the apartments upstairs as well, they needed some screentime. This was unabashedly inspired by season 7 of Shameless. Fiona Gallagher is a key influence on Dora's character, if you haven't noticed yet.
And this isn't needless filler and exposition. I'm trying to set up some stuff here that will come into play later. For instance, I'm planning for the rooftop to be part of an important set piece in the ending (and a little sooner as well). I just hope it's enjoyable.
Likes and feedback welcome!
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