Chapter Sixteen: The Sirens
They were on their way to The Sirens. Sylvia sat in the driver's seat, comfortably taking the wheel, shifting the stick often as the traffic either came to a standstill, or passably continued with little interruption; there was no in-between.
In the passenger seat was Oswald, who surveyed the traffic with minimal fuss. Meanwhile Sylvia's hand that wasn't on the steering wheel occasionally held the gear shift, passively switching from one to the other depending on the irregular flow of traffic, Oswald inwardly smiled when that hand slowly rubbed along his thigh. Affectionate as ever.
Meanwhile, Butch took full privilege taking up the back seat. His pant legs were crossed at the ankle; the other part of him was leaning up against the other door while he read the newspaper, sometimes commenting on the section he was perusing.
"Stocks are rising." He noted aloud, thumbing the corner of the page with subtle interest. "Looks like it's going to be a good year this year."
"Looks that way," Sylvia said coolly. She muttered under her breath, "Until the 1% cash in their stocks and the market plummets again."
Oswald side-glanced her, hearing her comment, but he didn't bother to add to it. After all, wasn't she right?
"Weather's looking kind of drafty. High fifties on the weekend: time to take a walk in the park. Better bring an umbrella though; it's going to be a rainy weekend."
"Butch," Oswald said patiently.
"Yeah, Boss?"
"Do you have side job as a meteorologist that I'm currently not aware of?"
"Can't say I do."
"Then your comments about the weather are likely wasted on me."
He glanced over his shoulder at Butch, who smiled apologetically.
Sylvia shrugged, saying, "If it hails, let me know, though."
"Will do!" Butch chirped from behind her seat.
"Don't encourage him." Oswald muttered.
"Now, who's in a mood," Sylvia teased, smirking at him.
He didn't acknowledge her fair-weather taunt with a comment of his own, knowing that if he wasn't careful, he could find himself dealing with a side of Sylvia that he neither had the patience nor the temper to handle.
Sylvia parallel parked neatly against the curb, grinning widely as she stepped out of the car, noticing her fine lines.
"Victor Zsasz would be proud," She sighed serenely. She looked at Butch, adding, "The last time I tried parallel parking, he was in the car with me; I had to hot wire every car on the block so I could move them—I didn't want to accidentally ram into any of their license plates."
"And what happened to the cars?"
Sylvia rubbed her neck consciously.
"They uh…well, they rolled down a hill—how about we go inside, huh?"
Butch shook his head, easily amused, while Oswald followed her in; his hand held the cane, enabling him to walk a little easier; the other rested gently on Sylvia's lower back.
She looked around and was pleasantly surprised with what she saw.
Music was pretty good; decorations were out of sight, and the patrons were flowing like beer at an Irish Stag party. An oval-like bar was constructed in the center where two lively, beautiful barmaids were serving customers drinks. Chandeliers, sun-like orbs glittered from the ceiling. A band of women were absorbed in the white of the spot lights.
"Wow…this is pretty nice." Sylvia muttered.
"That was my thought too," Butch agreed.
"I meant to tell you: I'm sorry about throwing you into the wall the other day."
"It's fine."
"Did I scare you, by chance?"
"Honestly, Liv…you scare me all the time. Just more times than others." He confessed nervously. He side-stepped her, patting her arm, before he continued to stroll forward with Oswald, completely moving into the club, looking around.
Sylvia minded the other patrons for a second before joining their trio.
Barbara stood at the oval-like bar, contending with her patrons and bartenders. Seeing the three of them in her peripheral vision, she turned and greeted them jovially: "Ozzie...Butch…"
She and Oswald did the Euro-Kiss thing. Barbara greeted Butch with a Cheshire grin while she looked at Sylvia with the same grin, although more or less inclined.
"Hey, Girlfriend." Barbara said, winking at her.
"Hi, Babs."
"What a nice surprise," She said encouragingly.
"Forgive me for not coming sooner," Oswald returned, smiling. "The place looks marvelous. Wouldn't you say so, Butch?"
The latter said, almost nervously, "Yeah, the place looks great."
And like a snap, Barbara said serenely, "I imagine you're here about your offer. To let us shelter under your umbrella."
"I only want what's best for you."
"I appreciate the thought. But we're big girls. We can take care of ourselves. Can't we."
Sylvia frowned and almost immediately, Oswald grabbed her wrist closest to him: it was an instant order: 'No. Violence.' And just so, Butch, Oswald, and Sylvia turned their heads to see Tabitha Galavan walking up from behind them, gliding between the two gentlemen.
"Sure, we can," She said slyly, smirking. She put an arm on Barbara's shoulder, just outlandishly proving a point that she and the lovely blonde were an item.
It had little to no effect on the married couple, but it seemed to poke Butch in a sore spot.
Sylvia glanced at Oswald, watching him. It seemed to take all of his cool and calm to keep himself from lashing out at the woman who'd not even a year ago had lain slaughter to his mother. While he seemed more inclined to maintain some type of civility, Sylvia's desire to fillet the bitch had little subtlety.
"Hey, Butch," Tabitha said softly, smiling at him.
"Hey!" He said too readily. "Hey…H-How you doin'?"
"Doing well. Taking care of yourself?"
"Yeah, yeah…so, uh…So, so how you doin'?"
Oswald scoffed, "You already asked her that."
Butch cleared his throat and with an attempt to retain some type of dignity, said encouragingly, "You guys should take him up on his offer. Gotham's full of rough characters…You look great, by the way."
Oswald declined to see this go on much further so he patted Butch's shoulder and said quietly, "Why don't you go wait over there. Please."
Defeated, Butch sighed and he moved to the bar for a drink. Sylvia watched him empathetically.
"Poor bunny," Barbara sympathized with a contrary smile. "Break-ups are hard."
"I offered to kill you," Oswald said calmly, looking at Tabitha. (Sylvia grinned widely.) "I thought it would raise his spirits. It would be my pleasure seeing as how you murdered my mother." And suddenly, just as the passion had risen from his voice, calm suddenly became his master, and he continued with a light chuckle, "But he is nursing some foolish hope that you two will get back together. 'Love'."
Tabitha nearly snarled, "You can take your offer and stick it up your—"
Barbara pulled Tabitha back with an insistent tug, while Oswald (an inner pride blooming) still had some type of restraint on Sylvia, although she looked just as eager to engage in warfare as the Tigress. For a second, it appeared that the two would start a cat fight, but after such a time, it seemed as though that Barbara and Oswald had found a nice lead-and-pull with both women.
"We'll think about it, Ozzie," Barbara placated.
Tabitha let out a sigh as though gaining some patience back while Sylvia still leered at her from beside her husband.
Oswald smiled, although it didn't reach his eyes, as he said, "Fine. But that's not the only reason I am here. Spread the word. I want Fish Mooney. And I will give a million dollars to whoever can bring her to me. Dead…or alive…" He looked directly at Tabitha, spoken to her as a subtle threat. "Chopped into pieces. Either way: I want her."
Barbara nodded and said kindly, "I'll let my people know."
Oswald looked at Sylvia, who gave him a tender kiss before he moved forward to speak with Butch. She glanced after him before turning to Barbara and Tabitha.
"I like what you did with the place." She said tenderly, looking at the ceiling. "Chandeliers." She smiled at Barbara: "Nice touch."
"I'm so glad you approve," Tabitha scoffed.
Barbara glared at her: "Be nice, Tabby. Liv did a great thing for us, you know."
"Yeah, be nice." Sylvia taunted, sneering at her. "I shouldn't have made Barbara ask for my help. I should've had you do it."
"That's not asking a lot."
"I didn't ask for enough."
"Liv…" Barbara warned.
Sylvia smirked at her.
"Really, though. Beautiful place. Pretty lights, good music…I'm not too enthusiastic about the people you have on your stage, but I'm a little biased, you know."
"Yeah, I suppose if you're not busy, you could always come and sing for a night here."
Tabitha looked absolutely appalled by the idea, but Barbara didn't give her in any acknowledgement.
If just to make Tabitha more inclined to stab someone, Sylvia languidly caressed Barbara's face and then, with little regard to who was watching, pressed her lips against hers and kissed her deeply. Sylvia felt Barbara's tongue rub against hers, and that was all she needed. Just as quickly as the kiss had started, it ended. The result: Tabitha glared between Barbara and Sylvia; treason written all over her face.
Barbara smiled at Sylvia.
"I didn't think you had it in you."
Sylvia winked.
She turned to Tabitha: "Do you feel that, Tabs, huh? That feeling of betrayal? Keep that feeling, store it for another day. Because one day, you'll get what's coming to you in a way you will not even begin to comprehend until it's looking you right in the fucking face."
She blew a kiss to Barbara, then spontaneously left the club with Butch and Oswald watching her, more or less surprised.
Sylvia sat in the driver's seat, plugging the key into the ignition. When Oswald closed the door, sitting in the passenger side, he looked at her expectantly.
"Would you mind telling me what that was about?" He demanded calmly, although he seemed like he was holding back one massive temper tantrum.
"I just wanted to see Tabitha look as distraught as she's made Butch feel," Sylvia explained smoothly. Butch smiled appreciatively at her from the backseat. "If I can't punch her, maim or kill her, I'll do what I can to make her miserable. Besides, don't act like you weren't just a little intrigued when you saw me kissing Barbara."
Butch leaned forward and uttered, "I know I was intrigued."
"Shut up, Butch." Oswald snapped, although his voice was insistently low.
However, Sylvia had made a point. He felt angry, seeing her kiss anyone else, but was he not just the slightest intrigued? Oswald did see how furious Tabitha looked, and that was even more thrilling than what he'd hoped to get from just visiting The Sirens.
By the time they were back at the mansion, his reasons for being angry with Sylvia were pretty much nil.