Billion Dollar Vengeance

Chapter 2: Just a Legend

Another lonely dinner at my family's townhouse. Only this time, I have something to think about. Bruce Wayne. He's younger than I expected, and much much more casual. His t-shirt looked old and stretched out, black leather house shoes worn. The way he hunched over his sad, uneaten meal remains in my thoughts as I eat my own sad meal of pasta with eggs in marinara sauce. I get paid decently, but this house isn't cheap, and I don't have the heart to sell it.

Bruce asked a lot of personal questions for just interested in company while he couldn't sleep. We didn't talk about Gotham politics, or the stock market, or the price of gasoline. We talked about what I like to do, and whether or not I date. He was so reluctant to give me anything about himself. And that more than anything has me thinking about him.

If I'm being honest with myself, I really think about the way he stared at me. It was in those moments that I felt truly vulnerable. And it made me want more of his attention, despite the strange feeling it gave me. I try not to dwell on the way his muscles flexed when he pushed the stove back, or how he smelled when he was close to me, or the way the corner of his mouth turned up. His lips aren't thick by any means, but it wouldn't stop me from kissing them if we were different people in a different world.

My rampant thoughts continue as I clean up the kitchen and get ready for an early night in bed. I consider poking through my drawer of toys, but that whole interaction this morning has left me more tired than horny. I never quite lost the fear of being fired on the spot. It wouldn't be such a big deal to lose Wayne manor if I hadn't been forced to drop my other four clients without notice to take it. But the pay increase was impossible to turn my cheek away from.

My phone rings close to midnight, jolting me awake. Heart pounding, I answer it immediately. No one calls this late except for emergencies.

"Hello?" My voice is low and groggy.

The panicked sounds of my niece, Jenna, pierce through my quiet bedroom, the thumping of music and crowds in the background. "My friends left me at the bar! I'm all alone and they aren't answering their phones!"

I sigh, getting out of bed immediately and searching for something to slip on over my half naked body. "Okay, I'm coming to get you. Which bar are you at?"

"Noonan's," she says in a small voice.

I rub my face. "Oh my God. Okay go to the women's bathroom and lock yourself in a stall. I'll be there as soon as I can. Did your friends leave you on purpose? Where are they?"

Her voice breaks as she shouts, "I don't know!" 

"Alright. It's okay, Jenna. Just stay put and don't talk to anyone."

I slip on a pair of sneakers and run out into the night wearing loose shorts and sweatshirt. It seems luck is on my side. It almost always rains in Gotham at night, but tonight, while cloudy, is at least dry. I jump on the train, then sit and tap my foot impatiently, gripping my phone tight in my hand. My heart never seems to really slow down.

Half my mind is panicked with worry, while the other half flips through a dozen different scoldings for Jenna. How in the hell did she end up at Noonan's?! She knows better. I know she knows better. Those friends of hers are trouble. And now they might be in trouble too, but I can't worry about them right now. My poor niece, more like my baby sister, is in a very dangerous bar.

The train rolls to a stop, and I sprint, my sneakers pounding on the cracked, dirty cement of the city. There's a few stragglers walking about, and one rumble of thunder tells me rain is on the way. Fucking Gotham. Thankfully the train stop isn't far from the bar because I'm not in good enough shape to be running around the city.