Can You Find Me? (The Dark Knight) Even in the Dark?

Can You Find Me? (The Dark Knight) Even in the Dark? (Chapter Four)

            I got the expected call nearly thirty minutes later. I pressed ignore, smiling up at my taxi driver who was looking at me suspiciously now. He shrugged, looking away as I put my phone on silent just as Bruce’s name popped up. His picture, one that he had taken of himself, stared up at me, tongue sticking out and one eye squinting. I hit ignore once more. I realized just how much of a bratty ex-girlfriend type I was acting, but I didn’t care. Let him suffer and wonder what on earth perfect Bruce could’ve done wrong.

            Perfect freaking Bruce and perfect freaking blonde, having a nice little party while secretly laughing at the dumb friend who was so naïve to think that he would actually want to come along. He probably forced himself to say yes, secretly wishing that he could be back with Blondie, which is what I’ll forever call her, sleeping away, having sex. She probably smoked. She probably had a sexy, smoker’s voice in bed.

            Gross, I scolded myself. I wasn’t going to think like that. So when Bruce called for the third time, I answered. “What?”

            “Why did you leave?”

            “I didn’t want to interrupt your party,” I said sweetly, hiding all traces of venom from my voice. I was angry, but not angry enough to yell at him. He would tell me I was being irrational and…I would have no defense. Because I was. “I didn’t realize you had a guest over.”

            “Ricky? She’s gone now, she left a while ago. Why don’t I just meet you there – “

            “Don’t worry about it,” I interrupted, though I badly wanted to say yes, yes just meet me there and we can spend the day together. An irritated sigh floated through the phone.

            “I’ve already cancelled my day, Ash.”

            “Then un-cancel it,” I said. “I’m not in the mood, Bruce. Go about with your plans with – what’s her name? – Ricky, right? Who names a girl Ricky?”

            Another sigh came through, more frustrated than the last. “If you don’t tell me where you are, I’m going to come looking for you and I won’t stop until I find you.”

            “Try it. I dare you,” I hit the end call button with a certain amount of satisfaction, glad I had stood up to him, though really, it was immature. I didn’t care. Screw maturity. I was going to play injured girl for a while longer. And to console myself, I was going on a shopping spree. A big fat shopping spree where I didn’t care how much I spent. I hadn’t bought myself new clothes in nearly a year, anyways, except perhaps for a sweater.

            I started my largely satisfying spree at Bloomingdales, selecting a few dresses that I figured would look alright. I was part way through the pile when my dressing room curtain was yanked open, and there stood Bruce, looking irritated and handsome, and everything in between. Dressed in a grey cotton shirt and well-fitting jeans, he was easily the most handsome man in the store. And I was halfway in a dress. “Bruce!”

            “Found you,” he declared, pulling the curtain shut after entering. I yanked the dress on in a rush. “I told you I would.”

            “It’s been an hour!” I exploded. “How on earth did you find me! And where do you get off barging into dressing rooms? Is that normal for you?!”

            He sent me a look. “Please. I know people everywhere. I know how to check security cameras. And as for barging in, I was simply proving a point.”

            “You proved it! Get out!”

            “Alright, alright.” He paused, just before leaving, to send me a handsome grin. “By the way, I like that dress.”