Chapter 44
The Gotham Art Gallery is a slick, modern building with dark hardwood floors and yellowed spotlights. The art itself ranges from classic to abstract, and I notice on a stand board the exhibit is titled, "Art From a Golden Age, featuring artist Barbara Kean".
Oswald and I walk in, the gallery already bustling with people in fancy, formal attire. Even Oswald looks slightly underdressed among the sharp suits and evening gowns. Servers walk around offering small finger foods and martini drinks.
"I know the artist featured tonight. I'll introduce you," Oswald offers, as we approach a blond woman in a short black dress. The woman turns around and smiles.
"Peter! I didn't expect to see you here. How are you?" she asks.
Huh, well apparently I'm not the only one with a pension for fake names.
"Lovely, Barbara. I saw you were going to be featured in the gallery selects, so I had to drop by," he steps slightly behind me, placing his hand on my waist, "this is my...very good friend, Natalie."
Oh, and he uses my real name? I smile brightly anyway, shaking her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Kean."
"Oh no, please, call me Barbara. Ms. Kean is my mother. Natalie, that name sounds familiar. Are you an officer for the GCPD?"
"Why yes, I am," I reply, unsure of how she knows that.
"Oh yeah, Jim's mentioned you once or twice. Where are you from, exactly?" she asks, making small talk.
Jim? As in James Gordon? No wonder she knows about me.
"Star City, I was attending college there but I decided to come back to Gotham to find work," I explain, half telling the truth.
Barbara steps back slightly, "Oh, wow, coming to Gotham City at the same time as that mysterious vigilante. You can't help but be suspicious, right?"
Oswald takes my hand, "Barbara, what are you talking about?"
"Oh, it's a theory Jim has. He thinks you're the masked vigilante," she whispers to me.
I raise an eyebrow, but I play along, "Well, you never know when I'll disappear into the night!"
A tall woman with long red hair calls out to Barbara, "Babs! Over here darling!"
She turns around, "V, hey!" she briefly turns back to us, "So nice to meet you Natalie. Don't worry about Jim, he can get a little paranoid sometimes, but he's a good man."
Barbara walks over to the woman she referred to as "V", and hugs her. After thinking on it for a moment, I realize I recognize that woman.
"Oswald, that's Veronica Vreeland, the famous heiress! She's always in the celebrity section of the papers, but I never thought I'd see her in the flesh," I whisper to him.
He chuckles, "Yes, I run with a sophisticated crowd."
I raise an eyebrow, "No, you, know Veronica Vreeland? Not in a million years."
"Why? Do you doubt me?"
I pull back my waist, placing my hands on my hips, "Well, if you insist you're of such high class, why don't you go up and talk to her?"
His eyes light up, both in fear and in realization of an opportunity, "Why...of course...I will."
I smirk, crossing my arms as I lean against a nearby wall, grabbing a bite-sized sandwich from one of the servers' tray. Oswald shuffles over to Veronica, and I can't help but laugh when I realize that she's practically twice his height. He timidly approaches the confident woman, fiddling with his fingers and finally speaking in a soft, shy voice.
"Good evening Ms. Vreeland, I couldn't help but notice you were in attendance to tonight's gala. I'm-"
She turns around, seemingly only having just noticed him and shrieks, "My word! What sort of attire is that? Absolutely dreadful, cheap, tasteless! And...and that strange hair! You look like a vagabond off of the street! And that nose! Oh! You simply must have it done, this instant!"
Oswald, in absolute shock, slowly begins backing off, "Oh...my apologizes Ms. Vreeland, I, I didn't mean to offend-"
He backs up one step too far and bumps into a server carrying cherry martinis, the tray falling out of his hand and dumping all of its contents onto Oswald. The red drinks soak his hair and suit, leaving him dripping wet in the middle of the gallery. The people around him fall silent and slowly but surely, an uproarious laughter bursts out among the crowd. People point and laugh, and Oswald, now more paralyzed than ever, shakingly moves his black bangs out of his face to witness the laughingstock he's become.
I rush to him, pushing through the small crowd that was beginning to encompass him. Not knowing what else to do, I grab him by the wrist and head straight for the exit, shoving people out of the way as I navigate through the crowd. A large man holding a martini glass of his own, stands particularly in the way of the door.
"What a funny little Penguin man!" he roars, seeing the whole thing as a simple joke.
"Move!" I shout, throwing my hands forward, the force becoming more of a punch than a push.
I hit him a little harder than I'd expected, throwing him against the wall, his drink shattering as he hits the floor. Opps. The laughter growing louder from my own faux pas, and wanting to escape my own embarrassment, I lead Oswald out of the art gallery and into the street.
"Are you okay? You're not hurt, right?" I ask him sternly, checking to make sure no glass had cut him anywhere.
He shakes his head furiously, cherry martini flicking out of his hair and lightly splashing me.
"Good, we're going home," I declare, before pulling him down the street.
As we pass the wide glass windows of the art gallery, I notice Barbara's worried stare as she watches us practically run out into the streets. She's worried yes, but not enough to have done anything about it.
We're two blocks away from the art gallery when Oswald finally speaks, "I...I've failed."
I turn around, "What are you talking about? If anything it's my fault, I shouldn't have dared you to go talk to that vicious vixen Veronica Vreeland."
Wow, alliteration. I didn't mean to do that, but it just seemed like the right words to describe her.
He laughs, but it doesn't hide the fact that he's on the verge of tears, "They laughed...they always laugh...am I...am I really that big of a joke?"
I shake my head, "Oswald, they don't laugh at you because you're a joke. They laughed because...well…" honestly, I can't think of a way to describe it without somehow offending Oswald. They were laughing at him, even if they didn't mean to be cruel.
He stops me in my tracks, grabbing me firmly by the shoulders, "Admit it, you're just like them. You, you belittle me, you think less of me...to you, I'm a failure."
I sigh heavily, before taking a step towards Oswald and pulling him into a hug. He's positively sticky everywhere, but that becomes the least of my concerns as he buries his head into my neck and shoulder and starts quietly sobbing. I smooth his back with my hand as he pulls me close, trying my best to comfort him. For a couple of minutes, we stand in the relative silence of the evening, with only the pale Gotham moon to illuminate the darkness.
Somewhere a church bell gives a low chime, signalling midnight. Oswald sniffs back the last of his tears, and I reach up, wiping a stray tear from his cheek.
"Listen, the chimes of midnight…" I whisper softly, although there's no one else around to hear us, "you know what that means?"
He smiles and nods, before I pull back slightly, offering my hand to him. He excitedly grabs it, yanking me through the Gotham streets, racing home, laughing as we go.
"Is this going to become a normal thing? Taking baths together?" I ask him, turning off the water on the tub.
He shrugs, the water barely going past his shoulders, an innocent look on his face, "I wouldn't mind if it did."
"Well, I'm not getting in the tub with you this time," I tell him, noticing the opaque water turning a slightly reddish color from the cherry martinis spilled on him. If I thought bathing with him was unsanitary before...
He peers out from the tub as I dump his suit into a nearby pile of dirty clothes, "...please?"
I turn around to see that he's staring at me with a puppy-eyed look, pursing his lips, and cocking his head sideways. I roll my eyes, after what he's been through tonight, it's rather hard to say no to him, "Fine."
I unzip my dress from the back and pull the entire thing over my head in one fell swoop. Oswald's eyes widen and he bites his lip, leaving his mouth slightly ajar.
"Do you mind?"
He opens his mouth, but it takes a few extra seconds before he can respond, "No, no I don't mind."
I roll my eyes once more as I throw off my undergarments and march over to the tub, stepping in one foot at a time. I slide to the bottom, the water just grazing the tip of my chin. Oswald reaches over and gently grabs my arm, leading me to his side of the tub. He turns me around and rests my back against his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.
"You're not going to try to drown me again, right?" I ask, leaning my head slightly to face him.
He chuckles, playfully massaging my shoulders, "Stay with me, and your safety is assured."
Oswald leans back slightly, adjusting himself so that I'm sitting directly on his lap...and something else.
"They're idiots, all of them," he grumbles, "I'm just as intelligent as any one of them, and what do they do? They mock me...humiliate me…"
He runs his hand through my hair, clawing it with his fingers until his arm disappears back into the waters, "But I'll show them, I deserve to be among them-...no, above them. They'll see, I'm going to become a man of importance in this town. Veronica Vreeland will beg just to grovel at my feet."
He pauses, both of his hands on my shoulders, before tilting his head down, close enough so that his breath heavy on my cheeks, "Thank you, for being there for me tonight."
We lean in and kiss, his arms moving to my hips below the water. I press against him, pushing his back against the tub as I grind against his chest. We let go, both smiling at each other.
"Alright, that's enough bath time," I lift myself out of the tub, "I'll get another one of your suits from the-"
Oswald leans back into the tub, his eyes leering and his jaw shifting from side to side, "No...no, you misunderstand…"
As I wrap a towel around my body to conceal myself, I slowly turn around, my heart racing both in fear, and anticipation.
His arms splayed on both sides of the tub, his tilts his head up, licking his lips, "We won't be needing anymore clothes tonight."
Author's Note: "Birds of a Feather" is taking a brief hiatus while the Wattpad version catches up. On the Wattpad version, I've been testing a new release schedule and will now be implementing it to accommodate my hectic personal life and to also allow me time to write on other stories. "Birds of a Feather" will return January 23, and will release every Tuesday and Friday from then on, instead of every other day (or every two days, depending on your time zone, as I often post at 9 pm PST). Until then, thank you guys for all of the support, criticism, and feedback you guys have given me, I truly appreciate it
PusanGal: Wow, holiday shopping season keeps starting earlier and earlier. But it's good to hear that you made the best of it. How crowded was the Radioshack? Because I always hear jokes about Radioshack being this outdated ghost town, and my Black Friday tradition has always been to venture with some friends to the empty Barnes and Nobles (formerly Borders) for some lovely sales
Fuchsia Grasshopper: Happy Birthday! I don't think Oswald would agree that it was a good date, but you know Oswald. And there's no way he could've broken the no-killing rule because Frankie is the guy he stabs in Episode 7, and Gabriel is the driver he talks to in Episode 10. So we know when one dies, and the other is still alive
Thanks! :)