Phobia

The stairway of the building is even dustier than I remember, but then, it has been months since I’d bothered visiting Selina. We hadn’t had much to do with each other lately. That was probably a blessing, from what I could gather her attempted heists were only getting more reckless, and for someone so clearly trying to lay low she wasn’t doing a brilliant job of it.

I wanted to ask her why she had been at the fundraiser at Wayne manor, or rather, what she had gone there to steal. The last I had heard, she had some dangerous people on her tail. It was exactly those people I was scared were in some sort of dealing with Jonathon. They had the influence, the money. I rap my knuckles hard against the door, disappointed the moment it swung open.

“She’s not here.” There was never a time when Jen’s high pitched voice didn’t grate on me.

“She due back anytime soon?” Jen just shrugs and wanders away from the door, as if inviting me in. She looks as spaced out as normal, and her attire is even more skin baring than when I’m out at clubs trying to get information. There are a string of bruises over her ribs and I feel the frown tug at my lips. “What happened to you?”

She makes a confused noise, before twigging onto where my eyes are pointed and rolling them so hard that for a few seconds they turn white. “What’s it to you?”

I stop myself from snapping, “Just checking you’re okay. They look nasty.”

“I’ll survive.” She grins, impishly and spins to sit on one of their worn couches. “Selina would sort him out anyway.”

“Mmm.” I hum, “I’m sure she would.” Selina is Jen’s hero, and her world. I knew she’d picked her up as a runaway a few years ago, before I knew either of them and practically adopted her. It was a shame she’d dragged her into the lifestyle though. “And you’re sure you don’t know where she is?”

“Told you I don’t.” The pixie blinks hard and her platinum brows meet. “What do you want anyway? She hasn’t done any big jobs in a while.”

“We were both at the Harvey Dent day party at Wayne Manor.” I say simply, measuring her reaction, “And I know she wasn’t there earning an honest buck.” She laughs nervously, avoiding looking at me by playing with the end of her hair. It wasn’t worth pushing, all it would do would get her back up, which would then get Selina on mine. I did what I could to keep Selina on side. She’d helped me before, just as much as I had her. “Alright then.” I haven’t sat, and I’m still dithering not far from the door, “I’ll get off then. Can you tell her I stopped by?”

“Yeah, yeah. You look nice by the way.”

“Oh,” The compliment throws me off for a moment, and I find myself vainly straightening my skirt, “Thanks.”

“Wow. That was painful.” She leans forward now, “Why are you so dressed up anyway? Going anywhere nice? Got a date?”

This makes me laugh, properly for once. “Oh yeah, I’ve got guys banging my door down.” She rolls her eyes, but it’s playful and she glances over me again before she stands, “You want a drink?”

“No, I’m good thanks.” It’s a rare thing that I eat or drink anything I haven’t prepared myself. I suppose that’s one branch of my incessant paranoia. “Suit yourself.” I’m heading back towards the door when I realise it’s worth a go, “Hey Jen,” She turns round, wincing a little at her side, “You heard anything weird about a new drug?”

“There’s always new drugs…”

“No, like, an old new…” her face takes on its usual confused daze, and I huff, being indirect wasn’t going to work, “I’ve heard that the Scarecrow’s serum is back around,” she still looks blank. “You know the Scarecrow right?”

“Yeah, yeah, crazy gas guy. I remember. I’ve not heard anything.” Her eyes narrow as my jaw clenches at her words, “Why, you doing work for the Commissioner again?”

“Maybe.” Jen has made it clear how little she thinks of my agreement several times. “Right, well, erm, thanks. See you later.” I’m halfway out of the door when she speaks again.

“What’s it do? Your scarecrow stuff?”

“It’s a hallucinogenic, supposed to make you really happy. Sorta like a supped up LSD.” I could go into far more detail but I know the briefer the answer the better. She pouts, “Some guy I was with last week did say about something that sounds sort of like it…” She thinks hard for a short period of time before shrugging, her manically curled hair bouncing. “Is it bad?”

“If you get a bad trip it’s supposed to be fucking awful.” I should know.

There’s a grimace, before a promise she’ll keep an ear out and I leave the apartment feeling a little better.

Before Blake had dropped me off he’d asked me again not to do anything rash. He said he hadn’t thought and done a lot of stupid things when he was younger and upset. I assured him I had done the same. In fact, by the time I left the police cruiser I had practically told him about the whole of my visit to Jonathon. It hadn’t come out well, a barely coherent babble as I let that particular wall down and it had felt a lot better for a few minutes. I regretted being so open soon after.

But the officer had been persistent, he said he would make sure he spoke to Gordon and get him to call me. He practically made me promise not to go looking for trouble. That wasn’t going to happen, as oddly sweet a thought as it was. Blake clearly felt so sorry for me that he thought he was helping, I got that, it was a way to fill a gap and feel needed. I wasn’t here to fill his gap.

I knew what would fill mine, for the short term and padded to the kitchen, grabbing one of my many cheap bottles of vodka and pouring myself a far too generous amount, barely topping it with lemonade. I drink three over the next half an hour, trying desperately to get my mind to settle.

I can’t, Jonathon, Selina and Blake are all prodding at my brain and it’s infuriating.

I cannot just sit here, not with Jonathon’s slipped threat and Blake’s report about the sewers. I must have heard something, surely. The vodka is making it harder to think deeply, but that’s probably a good thing because my next decision is exactly what Blake warned me against.

Fuck it, I’m going out. I’m going to get wasted and ask about Jonathon’s serum until I get some sort of answer.

I put on something tight and short, with the most comfortable heels I could find. I debated slipping a wig on, but in my half intoxicated state it seemed far too much effort and instead I focused on my make-up, making my eyes especially dark. By the time I was done I looked like a hooker. That was probably good, if nothing else came out of tonight I might get laid.

I poured myself another drink before I left, cramming in some money, a knife and a fake ID into my purse. I was going to go to one of the dingiest, most drug dealer full clubs I knew. I was determined to find something out about Jonathon’s compound. Today had confirmed at least some of my suspicions.

It would have been smarter to stay home, I knew that even as I slammed the remote back on the table, the weak reflection on the tv screen looked messy. I felt messy, sloppy. I didn’t care, I was doing exactly what the pesky police officer had told me not to do, I was upset, I was pissed off, and I was hurt. But was this a rash decision? I did this at least once a fortnight, maybe in a better condition, but I could handle myself.

Or at least, I’d handle myself better than the other night. I didn’t let the memory of how scared I had been bother me, I shoved it back down and shook my head, blowing hair from my face. I had this, I barely went to this club because it was so sleazy, that made it a lot safer than anywhere else. And, if I was being spied on, it was the least obvious. Maybe.

I finished my drink and slammed my door behind me. The Earth was moving slightly, it was off-kilter and the steps were more of a challenge than usual. “Fucking things.” I mumbled, hailing a cab as soon as I was outside. He dropped me off about ten minutes later, and far from feeling any better in the crisp evening air I felt worse, the alcohol really going to my head.

This was a probably a bad decision.

I’d asked the cab to drop me round the block from the club in the hopes the walk may sober me up, or that I could definitely check I wasn’t being followed. Thanks to that stupid twitch of Jonathon’s lip I knew I was going to be more paranoid than ever. It all seemed clear and I slunk past the rough looking bouncer a few minutes later. I was fairly early for this sort of scene, it not being long past midnight so the club isn’t quite full.

That doesn’t matter; it’s easy enough to suss out who to aim for, and I make sure I catch some eyes. Instead I go to the bar, ordering whatever awful sounding cocktail the barmaid offers and drinking it a little too quickly. My fingers are tingling again.

“You want another?” He makes sure his arm brushes against mine as he leans against the worn bar-top. “Depends what you’re offering.” My voice is a purr, and I can tell the mixture of that and my low cut dress is working. He smirks, pushing himself upright and taking several steps away. I stop fiddling with my glass and follow him to a couple of pushed together chairs far from the dance floor.

“So,” I sit just a little too close to him, resting one elbow on the chair back, “What are you offering then?” He goes through the usual list, his hand resting on my knee but slowly moving its way up. I’m glad I shaved. None of it interests me, well, that’s a lie. My record has never exactly been clean, and a few of the things Gordon and Harvey made vanish were to do with drugs. Jonathon only let me have so much once he was worried I was getting addicted so I tried to find highs in other ways.

They were never as good, his initial serum, the injectable clear liquid was unbeatable. Isn’t that disgusting?

I should ask the man about it, I hint, weakly, between him offering and bringing me another drink. I finish this too, only realising after how easily he could have spiked it and how very stupid it was. That thought leaves me quickly, today has been shit, yesterday and the day before that, and the day before that had been too.

His fingers are a couple of inches away from sliding under my skirt, and I don’t mind that. I don’t want to feel awful for a few minutes, pathetic I know. Sad, and pathetic and dangerous and exactly what Blake asked me not to do. Blake, I know why he pops into my head, the last three things I’ve dealt with he’s been there in some part. Me speaking to Gordon on the roof, him and his partner stopping me from whatever horrors those men would have done. Blake took me to see Jonathon, I told Blake stuff I just don’t say. He’s gotten so intertwined in everything in less than two days.

That makes me uneasy. It makes me more uneasy that I know that concerned look would pop up on his face if he knew I was here. That was stupid, he was likely as sick of dealing with me as I was of his interfering. That wasn’t true. I’d felt a lot better sat in the passenger seat of that cruiser earlier than I had in what seemed like ages. My fears about Jonathon hit me now, and I remember exactly why going out felt like such a good idea.

The dealer kisses me. I let him, more than let him, I respond with as much eagerness as him. “We can’t do this in here.” My thoughts are a little fuzzy, and he responds lowly, barely moving his lips from mine. His hand in under my skirt now. “No-one gives a shit, honestly.”

I moan against his lips as his fingers find their target. “I do.”

He grins instead, enjoying the reaction, “No, you don’t.”

Do I? Maybe at another time. But then, what would it matter anyway? In a place as sleazy as this, a couple in the corner would barely bat an eyelid. I doubt they’d even bother looking at all. My stomach sinks, they wouldn’t bother looking, unless they were particularly looking for me. As Jonathon had hinted. I smirk through, imagine someone feed back to him that his little sister was fucking some drug dealer in a club as dodgy as this.

“Somewhere else.” I urge, his teeth grazing against my lower lip. He huffs, and I know he’s debating arguing but the fact I’m clearly a done deal makes him agree with my demand. “There’s a motel down the street,” He breathes, clambering off me and helping me up, dragging his thumb over his mouth as I adjust my dress and grab my bag. I’m fluffing my hair when the cool air grazes over me and I shiver. “You smoke?”

“Hmm?” I take a few seconds to grasp his words but shake my head, feeling the chill night sobering me. He lights his cigarette and takes one long draft. “You still wanna go to the motel?”

“Do you?” I push my hair over one shoulder, and stand a little straighter, it may still be the buzz of the alcohol in my system but I know I look good, or at least I’ve managed to arrange myself in a way that is attractive to his particular sort of low-life. He seems to agree, and smiles, taking another drag and dropping the remainder of the burning stick to the floor, he reaches me again in a few strides and the brick is biting into my shoulders before I can fully comprehend it, the taste of tobacco flooding my mouth.

The short trip is spent much the same way, and I’m aching for him as the motel comes into view. It’s a vile place, the sort where you can literally rent a room for an hour. I wonder if he does think I’m a prostitute. God, with his body pressed against mine like this I don’t care. I need some time away from my life, or the mixture of lives I pretend to have.

I barely notice the first police car, although he drags himself away from me for a few seconds. The next cruiser has its lights and siren going. We both pay attention now. “Wonder what’s…” Three cars zoom past in a quick succession and they don’t seem to be stopping far from where we are. I can see the blue lights down the next corner. This makes him nervous, “What the fuck is going on?”

“Dunno.” It’s true, I have no idea, but the want to go and look is biting in my stomach.

“Come on, let’s get the hell out of here. I ain’t staying with tonnes of cops everywhere.” Ah of course, he’s practically coated in drugs. “Baby, seriously.”

I’m not sure why but that’s enough in itself, and any alcohol ridden feelings towards his evaporate,

“I’m not your baby.” I murmur, and he scoffs, vanishing back the way we had come. Two O’clock in the morning and he’s left me alone not far from some sort of crime scene. Chivalry at it’s best.

I don’t feel drunk at all now, at least not whilst I’m standing still. I watch a couple more cars go past, and as I take a couple of steps before there’s a flare of fire that roars and brightens the night sky. I turn on my heel, I’m not quite stupid enough to go and check this one out.

Instead, with my head starting to ache I head back into a more populated part of town, letting my hair shield my face until I finally find a cab. In the back seat I think over the mess of a day in more detail. I suppose I had only half broken my promise to Blake.

Blake. That send my heart dropping to my stomach. He was likely at the scene of the explosion.