Clockwork Redux

Chapter Three

"She's alive? At the apartment?"

"I left her in the closet only half an hour ago."

Her eyes dart. Brown koi in a pond of milk. They flick from his slit face to the pissed-on sheets to the fuzzy trail between her own bruised legs.

"How is she?" she breathes, as she rises from the bed to test her balance. Her knees shake, but she grits her teeth and holds them rigid and it passes. "Is she cut anywhere? Did they break any bones?"

"Nah, she's fine. Hid and waited for Durante's leeches to leave. They trashed the place, though, so be ready for that."

"I don't give a shit-here, hand me that bra."

"It's torn."

"Like I care. What do you think of her?"

"She's, ah...." He picks at his shredded mouth as he fishes for an answer. "She's a sweet kid, takes life as she finds it."

"Sounds like my Tay." She rootles around in a pile of clothes for her underwear. "Alright. So. You have my kid; how'd you find her?"

"I'm squatting in your apartment."

"I see." She throws him a narrow-eyed glare. "And this is the point where you strike some kind of bargain with me."

He tucks a greasy green curl behind his ear and shoots for a smile. Judging by her face, though, it didn't come out like that.

"Look, you were right," he admits. "I'm not exactly an angel. I have a few things to settle with the mob. I've been planning a bank heist in your place for the past few days, but we need someone to help us plan it. I'm not native to Gotham, and the guys I've hired hate my guts and want me dead." As he says it, he realises its truth. Those assholes really do want to kill him. They're probably gonna do it on the day of the heist, when all the money is in order and he's served his purpose.

He needs-well, not a friend, but an ally. Someone he can fool himself into thinking he trusts. This woman and her child already have a reason to like him.

Besides, he's missed the crazy beautiful bitch.

"I wanna stay at your place," he says, trying to make his expression stony and non-negotiable. "I want your help with the heist. I need someone to help me case the bank. I'll provide my own food, and I won't interfere with either of you. But I need somewhere to cook. And a bed."

She pulls her hair out of its ratty ponytail and scrubs her scalp, wincing. "Armed robbery."

"Uh-huh."

"That's a doozy."

"You betcha."

"Who does the bank belong to? The state, or....?"

Here's the clincher. He grins wide at her (he's clutching her hand he's singing about the chariot she's wearing a dress the colour of a holy army's banner).

Her face splits into a dirty sweet smile. "That money laundry Durante's daddy runs."

"Oh, yeah."

She stands there, staring at him, piercing him with her happy searchlight eyes. A Jewish child's face reflecting the Hanukkah splendor. On an impulse, he wriggles out of his thick purple coat and hands it to her.

"Now that," she says, as she shrugs it over her shoulders, "is something I'm willing to go to Hell for."