Three Days Later
12:00//noon
The Warehouse
After telling and retelling Jack all about the date, he continued to pester her as to why she hadn't called him.
She simply said there was no need to: Bruce was a better human being, for not letting Harley kill that man. And it was all "under control."
But their conversation was interrupted when her phone began to ring.
| 12:15 pm//noon |
Incoming call from Bruce Wayne
Winnie?
It's me, Bruce. I was
wondering if
I could have that
second date with you?
I'd love that.
Where do you want to go?
We could go to
this little hot dog
place I know, it's really
good.
She chuckled at his dorky suggestion.
Sounds good to
me, what time? And can you pick
me up from the Warehouse?
I'll be there in fifteen.
| 12:18 pm//noon |
Call ended
She looked at Jack, smiling.
"I have a lunch date with him." She grinned.
"Well you look great, do you feel good?"
"Yeah. I feel better than I ever have." She said, playing with the hem of her shirt.
He smiled sadly, recalling his similar feeling with Harley. Four days, only four until he can explain things.
There was a knock on the door within minutes, it opened and Bruce stood in a sports suit. She smiled at the sight of him.
Jack came up beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back in a protective manor.
"You two have fun," he grinned wildly. He watched Bruce, who stood tall. He wore his pride on his sleeve as most billionaires do.
He went and hugged Bruce, showing false friendship. He whispered in his ear, just loud enough for the him to hear:
"I'm onto you, Batsy," he backed up, with a smile so as not to alarm Winnie.
She smiled at the two and took Bruce by the hand, leaving the Warehouse and Jack behind.
"What was that about?" She asked him, gently.
"Nothing, just the usual parental pep-talk," he chuckled lightly, playing along with his lie as they got into the car.
"Right, 'parental'," she chuckled, irony embroidered in each word. He looked at her briefly but kept his mouth shut.
And so they were off; eating, drinking, kissing...
He'd walked her down Gotham's pier, holding her hand because he was a hopeless romantic. They talked about Gotham's underground, Arkham, even her own crimes.
"And what about you, Bruce? Any of your own horrific stories, battles, demons?" She left out her demons, her interior storms, but wondered what laid behind this man's eyes.
"Oh you don't want to hear about my battles," he said lightly. His brick wall was up, as it had been since he was a child.
"Yes I do. Please, tell me, Bruce. I love secrets," she pet his arm soothingly.
He eyed her before looking at his watch.
"I've got to go, I have a meeting in an hour," he lied and she knew it this time. "I can take you home."
"You can take me to your home," she suggested. "Please? I'll keep the bed warm, and I can ask your butler to start a fire?"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Take a walk on the wild side, have some fun darling," she whispered. They reached the car, he opened the door and she got in.
"Alright. But on one condition."
"Name it," she said eagerly as he started the engine.
"This doesn't get back to Jack, or Harley," he watched her and pulled out.
"Deal," she laced her fingers in his and cradled their entangled hands in her lap.
YOU ARE READING
dark places | wayne
أدب الهواة"could you imagine the taste of your lips if we never tried to kiss on the drive to queens? 'cause i imagine the weight of your ribs if you lied between my hips in the backseat. and i imagine the tears in your eyes the very first night i'll sleep w...
