18. Sway of the Break

"She's just an old lady. You could take her." Rochelle insisted.

Dora considered it. "Not the 250-pound thugs that answer to her." She had no idea what a hitman looked like, but she imagined they didn't look much different than Ma Gunn's burly bouncers.

It was later that night after Dora's meeting with Ma Gunn. Dora and Rochelle sat in a booth inside the Alibi, debriefing over beers. The neon sign on the window blinked the word "open," but the barroom was empty save for them. To save on power, Dora had dimmed the lights, turned off the TVs, and even the AC. If a customer happened to walk in, she would turn it all back on, but right now there was no point. It was all she could do to keep the bar afloat in the current circumstances. Bills loomed in her mind, but her meeting with Ma Gunn was keeping them at bay.

"If you hurt him, I will kill you."

The words still sent a shiver down her spine, but Dora forced herself to shrug them off. Ma Gunn's threat was only a problem if she got involved with Red Hood. Which, after much thought, she resolved not to do. It was too complicated for the both of them, and they both knew it. Dora did not need another thing added to her already full plate.

In the past few months, she had literally stared down the barrel of a gun more than she ever thought she would. She was being threatened from all sides, and she was beginning to lose track. And frankly, it was almost becoming hard to care.

First Black Mask's men, next the cops, then Red Hood's rivals, then the creditors, then the fucking Batman, and now, of all people, Red Hood's god damn mother. At some point, sooner or later, something would catch up and her life would be ruined. The only option was to chug along for as long as she could, hopefully dropping some baggage along the way.

The next time she saw Red Hood, she had to "break up" with him. Before either of them got "hurt," as Ma put it. Even though they didn't have a relationship.

It was all for the better anyway. Being close to him was bad for her mental health. A physical health. Especially after Ma's death threat.

Then something fluttered between her thighs and made her cross her legs.

But damn, at least one night together would be fun. That mask was kinda hot… Maybe I can break up with him after…

No! Bad Dora!

For fuck 's sake, does looming mortality actually make him more attractive?

Oh god, what 's wrong with me?

#

While the specters of numerous threats loomed above her like vultures, Dora had other things occupying her attention, some not so morbid.

The very next evening, without invitation or prior notice, the Alibi hosted a party of almost a dozen women, all extremely amiable and inexplicably clad in scant tight clothes. Not quite the class she saw at the Vermilion, but still has attractive nonetheless. There was also a small cadre of very well groomed and charismatic men that seemed to have no interest in them.

Within a day, word spread down the block that a variety of flirty and loose singles were hanging out at the Alibi, and the lustful blue collar denizens of the Park Row came trickling in.

The deal with Ma Gunn began to bear fruit and in less than a week, Dora and Rochelle were overwhelmed. They had to call in the reserves to keep up with the demand for service: Rochelle's boyfriend Ben to bus and Dora's mother Anita to bartend.

Jessie, Ma's bartender, appeared one night with the working girls to buy the high-end liquor sitting in the Alibi's cellar. But after that transaction was done, (she gave Dora more than a fair price for it all), she began hanging out every other night or so. Apparently, to Jessie, "hanging out" meant sneaking behind the bar and into the kitchen, filling orders when Dora's small staff couldn't keep up.

When they caught her, she claimed she liked dives like the Alibi more than the posh lounge Ma Gunn hired her to run. In their down-time, she began to teach Dora and Rochelle next-level drink mixing. All that extra help came free-of-charge and Dora even noticed that Jessie and Rochelle were getting along surprisingly well. To her own amusement, Dora started to feel jealous.

As promised, Ma Gunn did eventually provide a bouncer. Jessie introduced them one evening.

"Ma extends her apologies," Jessie said, holding the door open. "She had trouble finding someone that wanted to take this gig."

"Really?" Dora asked, offended. "Why did no one want it?"

"Your 'no guns' rule, to be honest," Jessie said.

"I didn't say no guns. I said they had to be licensed and registered. I don't want trouble with the cops. There's enough shady shit going on here already."

"Don't worry, I won't need one," someone said from outside the door. The sound of the bouncer's voice was peculiar to Dora. It took her a second too long to realize why.

Dora was expecting a man, but instead a woman walked into the bar. She was almost as tall as Jessie. Even in a pantsuit, it was clear she wasn't just fit, but athletic. She had sturdy looking arms and legs that evidenced a regular workout regime. Her dark skin, amber eyes, and long brown hair of varying shades were accentuated by a pretty face with keen features.

She wasn't that intimidating at all. Instead, she was positively cute and adorable. In fact, Dora thought the sleazy customers were more likely to flirt with this so-called bouncer than the actual prostitutes—her understated beauty was more approachable.

"Nice to meet you, Dora. I'm Lily." She held out a hand to shake Dora's, who found her grip impressive, but still not reassuring.

Dora smiled, trying to appear gracious. "Nice to meet you too. Let me show you around." As she led Lily around, explaining her expectations, Dora admitted to herself she was a little disappointed with Lily. Maybe a female bouncer would make the working girls more comfortable, but what if one of the johns starting acting up? Dora decided to be polite and let Lily stick around until there was a real problem, then ask Ma to replace her at the first sign she couldn't cut it.

Apparently, Lily was able to read all that on Dora's face. At the conclusion of the tour, Lily perched herself by the entrance and said, "I know I'm not what you expected, but no worries. I've got your back."

Dora smiled, embarrassed. "Um, thanks." She looked at Lily's waist. Despite being annoyingly slim, it was absent of a holster of any kind. Dora was beginning to regret her strict gun rules.

"So when's last call?" Lily asked brightly, putting on glasses with cat-eye frames to inspect someone's ID.

Yeah, Dora thought. Way too cute to be a bouncer.

However, that very night, Lily proved her worth. Nobody challenged her when she cut them off, or asked them to leave. Maybe it was just hard to say no to a pretty face like hers.

Except for one man.

Dora was bussing a vacated booth when she heard someone slur, "Would you knock that shit off! Nobody wants to see that shit!"

She wouldn't have given the outburst a second thought, but then she heard the same person mutter, "Fucking fags..."

Dora stopped what she was doing, anger rising, and scanned the bar for the offender.

It was almost too easy. The bigot was lounging in a booth, one of Ma's girls under his arm, a beer in the other. Several empty mugs were scattered across his table. He wore a green and purple "Luthor for President" baseball cap. He was thick and burly, filling out the reflective jacket he wore. Dora recognized him as a longshoreman. He got paid to do a hard job many couldn't handle, so he thought he was entitled to something.

The man glared at a couple sitting in the booth across from his. Dora recognized them. One was a regular patron named Harry, with his arm draped across the shoulders of Beau, the manager of Vermilion.

"Knock it off, you homos, get the fuck out of here!" the bigot spat.

"Fuck off, jerk, it's a free country," Beau shot back.

"Make me, faggot!"

Tossing her washcloth aside, Dora stepped forward, but Lily had already appeared next to the booth. "Sir," she said in a cool, even tone. "You're making other customers uncomfortable. Please lower your voice or I will have to ask you to leave."

The bigot leered at her. "Hey, I have a right to free speech, and I can tell those homos to quit necking all I want. No one wants to see that shit."

Beau snarled. "How's what we're doing any different than what you're doing?"

The bigot smiled and slapped the girl's breast he was with. "What I'm doing ain't fucking queer!"

The girl had apparently reached her wits' end. She scowled with disgust, shrugged off his arm, and scooted out of the booth. "Asshole," she spat.

The man didn't seem fazed. "Fine, I don't need you! Plenty of other whores around here."

Lily removed her glasses. She glared at the man as she tied back her hair, her amber eyes smoldering. "Sir, please leave."

Dora herself quailed. Lily could change from friendly and welcoming, to hostile and intimidating at the flip of a coin. It was all in the way she set her eyebrows and lips.

However, the look had no effect on the man. He was apparently too drunk to notice Lily's death glare. "I'd like to see you make me." The bigot stood up, taking a sip of his beer. He towered over her by a least a foot. He easily had over a hundred pounds on her.

Lily did not even bat an eye as she looked up at him. She followed protocol. "Sir, this is your last warning. Please leave the premises, or—"

"Or what, coon?" He stepped toward Lily, closing the space between them. He held up his mug, and started to pour beer on Lily's head.

But he never got the chance.

One second the man was leering at Lily, smiling with contempt—the next he was grunting and grimacing with pain. The cup fell to the floor with a clunk. It had happened so fast, Dora had to replay it in her mind to realize what happened.

In a blur of precise motion, Lily had grabbed the bigot's hand, side-stepped, and twisted his arm behind his back—crunches and cracks emitting along the way. She had a vise grip on his wrist and fingers.

Dora was good with anatomy; she could immediately see that Lily had partially dislocated the bigot's shoulder and was about to break two of his fingers.

The whole bar froze in awe. Silence fell.

"Move!" Lily shouted.

"Fuck you, lady!" He tried to shrug her off, but she applied pressure on his arm—another sickening crunch—and he howled in pain. Lily led/shoved him toward the exit. The man's face smashed into the door as she pushed him through it. Once past the threshold, she hooked her foot on his ankle and heaved, sending him sprawling across the sidewalk and into the gutter. It had been raining that day, so he was soaked in mud immediately. "You're banned from the Alibi," Lily announced.

The man stumbled to his feet, growling and grunting, looking ready for a fight. "You little..." He lumbered over to the entrance.

When he was within reach, he threw a punch at Lily with his good hand.

Compared to Lily, he was absolutely sluggish.

She parried, grabbed his arm and pulled, carrying the momentum over her shoulder. The bigot slammed into the wall and tumbled to the ground again. In no time at all, Lily had his foot in her hands, twisted at an odd angle. To top it off, the heel of her boot was digging into his groin.

"If I ever see you around here again, I won't be so gentle," Lily growled.

The man let out a high-pitched wheeze, sounding like a deflating balloon.

"Good night." Lily released her hold and let the man crawl away.

Walking back inside the bar, Lily retucked her blouse and smoothed the wrinkles out of her suit. She was fixing her hair when she noticed the entire bar was silent. She put on her glasses and looked around. Dora and Rochelle gawked at her. And so did everybody else.

Lily smirked, her eyes glittering. "Does anyone else have a problem?"

A heavy pause.

Then the bar erupted in noise as everyone went back to their own business.

Dora walked up to Lily. Their eyes lingered on each other's. An apology was passed, and forgiveness sent back. "Thanks," Dora said.

"No problem," Lily replied.

Not able to contain herself, Rochelle immediately bombarded Lily with questions. Dora just listened.

Lily didn't work for Ma Gunn full-time. In fact, her day job was as a self-defense instructor, teaching Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Krav Maga mostly to women and young girls (and she was, in fact, of Brazilian descent). Sometime ago, Ma had hired Lily to teach her workers self-defense, and when no one would take the gig for the Alibi, Ma hired her for that too.

After last call, Rochelle insisted Lily teach them the moves she used on the bigot. Lily happily obliged, and the pair sparred as Dora closed up.

"This would've come in handy that night Sergei and his assholes attacked us, huh?" Rochelle remarked.

Dora couldn't help but agree. "What time are your classes?"

Notes

Another down beat chapter, I hope you don't mind. I needed to unpack the revelations from the last chapter, and loosen the tension before I start ramping it up again. Trust me, if you read the story all in one go, this little roller coaster I'm trying to make flows better than being fed tiny little morsels every month or so. And hey, I'm really excited for what's coming around the corner. The next peak in tension is quite the doozie, if I do say so myself. Summer's finally here for me, which means I have time off of work and school, so more time to write. I'm hoping to finish the story by the end of the summer, but we'll see.

I'd also like to highlight Lily here, a cameo of my friend Lily-Lucid. Imagine Rochelle, Beau, Jessie, and Lily are characters in a TV show, and Rhelna, MidnightDaybreak, Akrasiel, and Lily-Lucid are their actors. That might not do you much good, since you probably don't know what they look like IRL, but I do, and they support this story, so that's my way of thanking them.

The next chapter is already finished, but I'm letting it cool off while I work on Chapter 20, just to make sure I don't need to go back and change anything.

Thanks for reading!

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