Chapter Seventeen: Barbara Feels Awkward


The last time I saw Barbara, she went out of town to get herself together. I figured a friendly face was what she needed after everything that had happened with Zsasz—and the fact that Jim was seeing Lee Thompkins.

I brought lunch, holding two salads in one hand, using the other to knock on the door, no one answered.

"Barbara, it's me!" I called.

The sound of movement came from behind the door. Then after a pause, it opened. She stood in the doorway, wearing a satin white robe over same colored shorts and shirt. She looked as though she might have just woken up from a long cat nap, or just slept in until the afternoon.

"Hey," I greeted. "I heard you were back in town, so…." (I held up the salads) "I brought lunch."

Barbara smiled a little, but she wasn't the same bright and chirpy woman. So far, she hadn't said a word. However, she stepped to the side, allowing my entry. When I came into the living room, I was startled to see that she was entertaining guests; namely, two children.

One was redheaded, the other had curly hair. Both looked as though they had come from living on the streets.

I glanced at Barbara: "I didn't know you had company, I could come back another time,"

"No, don't worry," said Barbara, forcing a smile. "They kind of live with me. Ladies," (She addressed them) "This is Sylvia, Jim Gordon's sister. Sylvia…. this is Ivy Pepper, and Selina Kyle."

Ivy Pepper didn't so much as acknowledge my presence—I didn't think she would. My brother and Harvey practically framed and killed her father. Hearing that I was in any relationship to Jim, the idea of friendship was quickly out the door.

Selina Kyle reminded me of a black cat. She was perched on the couch, feet tucked underneath her and her eyes bore through mine, sizing me up. I waved at them nonchalantly; they didn't wave back. I cleared my throat, looking at Barbara pointedly.

"We can talk in the kitchen."

I followed her into the room, placing the salads on the table. She refilled her glass with vodka.

"So," She said listlessly. "How have you been?"

"Fine. How are you?"

"Fine." Barbara answered stoically. She took a sip from her glass, staring into it. "How's Jim?"

"Last I heard from him, he was doing all right. Otherwise, I don't know," I answered honestly. "He and I haven't spoken in a week or so."

"That doesn't sound like you two," Barbara noted, looking at me over the rim of her drink.

"We had an argument," I said, waving my hand to the air dismissively. "I'm right; he's wrong. He won't admit he's wrong, and he won't apologize. And I am petty enough these days that I won't call and apologize either."

Barbara sat her glass down on the table gingerly, and started opening her salad. She was definitely in a slump, the way she sluggishly moved. She looked at me indicatively, as I observed her.

"Is my company making you feel awkward?" I asked gently. "Because of the circumstance?"

"Awkward? No! No…Of…Of course not! Don't be silly!"

"No?" I repeated.

She smiled guiltily, admitting, "Okay. Maybe just a little."

"Do you want me to go?"

"No. You're already here and, anyway, it's nice seeing a familiar face."

She stood, moving to the refrigerator and took out a gallon of iced tea, a bottle of ranch dressing, and from the drawer, she withdrew two forks and napkins. All of these items, she placed on the table in front of us. Before sitting down, she placed a glass in front of me wordlessly.

For the longest time, we didn't speak. We just ate salad. It seemed like hours, but in real time, it had only been thirty minutes. Still, in retrospect, it was a long time to go without saying anything.

"I never thanked you properly," Barbara broke the silence, looking at me.

"For?"

"For coming to protect me. When that thing happened with Zsasz and Falcone, you came to protect me, and I never thanked you."

"You don't need to. What is family for, you know?"

"I felt bad when those people hurt you," She continued, slowly chewing on a crouton.

"Sticks and stones," I reassured. "In time, everything heals."

"Does it?"

"It doesn't seem like it. But it does. Every day, you hurt a little less—and I'm not just talking about broken bones."

Barbara frowned.

"Jim found someone else," She whispered, glancing sadly at me. "I saw him kissing her in the locker room."

"Did you tell him?"

"No. I just left. What could I have said?"

I couldn't answer the question. She finished her salad, and drank a whole glass of tea. I did the same.

"So, who are the kids?" I asked, gesturing to the living room.

"They were living here while I was gone," said Barbara humorously. "I came home; they were here. I don't mind the company. They normally come and go as they please."

"Well, at least you're socializing. That's a step in the right direction."

Barbara smiled in spite of herself, saying, "Speaking of socializing, I was wondering if you wanted to be my plus one to this charity gala."

"Interesting segue," I noted.

Barbara strode into the living room suddenly then came back to the kitchen, placing an invitation in front of me. It was addressed to her.

"You're going to this?" I asked incredulously.

"It's good for the gallery," Barbara explained.

"What day of the week does this fall on?"

"A Friday."

I placed the invitation in front of her as she sat down: " I would but I have a prior engagement."

"Where?"

"At 'Oswald's'. I sing there on Friday evenings."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise: "I didn't know you sang."

"I can. It has just taken several years for me to find my way out of a dark hole. I only sing a few songs, then I hunker down for the next six days in my wonderful cozy comfort zone."

"Sounds like you're doing well," said Barbara, smiling. "I'm glad."

"Are you really?" I asked, reclining back in my seat.

Barbara blinked; she appeared taken aback. Her stony expression didn't go unnoticed by me. Her voice was monotonous, depressed. I didn't expect anything different from a woman who had been through what she'd gone through, only to come back home and realize that her love life had fallen apart while she had been away.

My success as an entertainer (half-comedic, half-singer) had only seemed to harden her expression. Seeing as I called her out on it, Barbara cleared her throat uncomfortably, shifting as such in her chair.

"We have history, you and me," Barbara said quietly. "You have always been there for me when I needed you—you sacrificed your well-being so you could keep me safe from people like Falcone."

"You're beating around the bush. What are you really wanting to say?"

Barbara met my eyes: "You have no idea how I feel."

"I'm pretty sure I can guess," I protested lightly. "You left Gotham to put your priorities in check, to get your life together. Then when you come back home, you realize that your love life has been falling apart. You went to live with your parents for a while, right?"

Barbara frowned, and once more the hardened expression returned.

"How did that work out for you?" I asked.

"Not well. They let me stay but...it's like talking to a wall when it comes to them. They just hear me; they don't listen."

"Well, then talk to me," I offered, holding my hand out to her encouragingly. "I'll listen."

"You were right," Barbara admitted suddenly, looking at me coolly. "It is awkward. You're Jim's sister."

"You want to go on a man-bashing rant, I'll go along with you." I said with a smirk. "You can tell me how much Jim sucks; I will pour us wine, we'll give toast to the terrible things our exes have done to us in the past, and we'll go from there. Just because you're not with Jim doesn't mean our friendship changes."

Barbara sighed, "I wish that were true."

I interlaced my fingers together on the table. She looked at me apologetically, like she didn't want to do what I was certain she would. She wanted to cut off ties, to end what we had due to the awkwardness of Jim now being her ex. I couldn't blame her, really. But I would be lying if I denied I wasn't a little hurt by it.

"If my company makes you feel awkward, then why on earth would you ask me to go to this charity ball as your plus-one?"

"It was a thought," muttered Barbara.

"An ice breaker?"

"I know, it was stupid. I'm sorry."

I stood, wiped my mouth with the napkin provided and threw my salad in the trash. I placed my hands on the back of the chair, scooting it under the table. She watched me reproachfully; the way she looked at me, it's like I might as well had slapped her with a phone book.

"You'll cut ties with me so my presence doesn't remind you of Jim," I told her gently, "so you can try and mend your broken heart. That's fine; I understand. But just so you know, if you need to talk to someone, I'm only a phone call away."

"Thanks," She whispered.

"Any time," I responded sincerely.

"Thanks for lunch."

"Again—anytime."

I walked into the living room; the girls looked at me curiously. I didn't bother telling them bye; I was certain they wouldn't say it back.


Tiffany was my one-woman barmaid. She had a knack for mixing drinks, and she kept tabs of everyone who had more than enough drinks for the evening before cutting them off. Since being released from the hospital, it was as though the car accident had made her more assertive, more confident in her own skin.

I strode into the club, thinking of Barbara and how she would cope with the break-up. Tiffany pulled me out of my reverie as she waved at me. Noticing her, I sat at a pew in front of her.

"You're looking better!"

"So much better," Tiffany answered happily. "Thanks again for giving me this job; I've never been happier."

"Who knew anyone would be happy enough to be a bartender," I said incredulously, watching her move about with such grace.

She sincerely looked happy.

"How's everything in general?" I asked.

"It's been steady. Not much has been going on. Not one fight has broken out though; I'm kind of surprised. When you said that there were gangsters here, I thought maybe I'd be able to see a little rough-housing from time to time."

"Give it time. Wait for the holidays."

"That'll be fun, I bet."

"Most likely. Have you seen Penguin?"

Tiffany lifted her eyes over my shoulder; I followed her gaze.

Oswald was sitting at a table, admiring a bottle of Madre Di Dios. I came up from behind him, rubbing his shoulder; he glanced up, smiling when he saw me, and we kissed briefly before I took a seat in front of him.

"Do I even want to know?" I asked, gesturing to the bottle.

Secretively, Oswald replied, "Do you, though?"

I was just about to inquire before he looked over my shoulder; I turned in my seat and couldn't help but roll my eyes when I saw Jim and Harvey strolling into the room. Contrary to my mood, Oswald had a different approach; he stood, meeting them.

"Gentlemen," He greeted politely. "So nice to see you. What can I do for you?"

"Good afternoon, Penguin," Jim greeted just as politely, then seeing me, he nodded, "Vee."

"Long time, no see," I returned coolly.

Oswald gestured for Jim to sit; I scooted my chair to make room for him.

"We need help finding out what Commissioner Loeb is hiding," Jim stated factually.

"Straight to the point," I said, placing my chin in my hand. "Why would I expect anything different?"

Oswald didn't hide the sly smile that came from my sarcastic comment. However, he did acknowledge Jim's request.

"You do realize what you are asking me to do? If Don Falcone is working with Commissioner Loeb to keep this trove of secrets hidden and I help you uncover them...I would be betraying my patron," Oswald said calmly.

"That's right," Jim acknowledged the risk.

"If he found out," Oswald continued, "he would be very angry, to say the least."

Harvey interrupted impatiently, "Enough with the heming and hawing, are you gonna help us or not?"

Oswald seemed to tighten the hold of his patience whereas I wanted to cluck Harvey in the face for using that sort of tone. After all, they'd come here asking for his help—not the other way around.

"Let's say for argument sake, I could help you," said Oswald hypothetically. "What's in it for me?"

"You're fucking his sister," Harvey interjected cynically, "that's not enough?"

Jim looked at Harvey with a major expression of 'what the fuck', and I mirrored him. Oswald looked just as surprised with the outburst.

"What?" Harvey questioned carelessly. "He is."

"Wow," I muttered, getting to my feet. "I can obviously see that the men are talking, so I'm just going to leave now before I get the urge to punch a certain someone in the face. Excuse me!"

I patted Oswald on his forearm, glared at Jim and Harvey, and then headed up on the stage to make sure the performers of the night had everything they needed.

It looked like it was going to be something of a magic show with two women dressed in risqué black and gray shimmering costumes; the magician (if one called him that) wore a pink and lilac suit. On an end table was a curious box and he was sticking half-swords through the top and it would slide through the bottom. I didn't dare imagine what would be inside the box. I figured I would keep all of that a mystery.

After speaking to the magician, he said all they would need was for someone to dim the lights. 'All part of the illusion', they said. Who was I to disagree with them?

I hopped off the stage, catching Henry on the way.

"How's the shift looking tonight?" I asked.

"We're down one person. Rick isn't coming."

"Rick..."

"The other waiter," Henry reminded.

"Did he say why?"

"No... but he called and said he just wasn't coming in. Sounded like he was sick on the phone," Henry informed, rolling his eyes. "Bet you he's just hung over—it wouldn't be the first time this week."

"Thanks for telling me. Anything else?"

"No," He said, shaking his head. "Everything else has been pretty calm around here."

If everything went according to plan, we would have a nice, easy night. But in Gotham, did things ever really go according to plan—I mean, seriously.

Henry bowed slightly in my direction after I dismissed him; I heard footsteps approaching, and I turned to see Oswald.

Jim and Harvey were waiting by the front door.

"Are they kidnapping you?" I asked, half-serious.

"We're taking a little road trip, shouldn't take long," Oswald informed softly.

"You're going to help them? What if Falcone finds out?"

"Not to worry, I have it all taken care of," Oswald reassured, swiftly kissing my cheek. "I'll be back before a little after nightfall."

He left shortly, following my brother and Harvey out the door.

At least I knew who I'd be going to if he didn't come back.