The Good, The Bad, And The Lucky

From the diary of Penelope Halwind:

St. Patrick’s Day
“You must be my lucky star, ’cause you shine on me wherever you are…” Madonna

Stanley Marx woke up alone, he was used to it. Penelope usually opened her cafe at noon and he didn’t usually get out of bed until 2. Last night was unusual, too. He had actually gotten away with his latest crime and away from Nightshade. He and Penelope had celebrated with a big bottle of her favorite snappes and he was a little hung-over.

He stumbled to the coffeepot and found it set up, according to the note Penelope left. Good girl, he thought as he unwrapped the bran muffin she also left. As he sat down to do the crossword in the paper he started to think about something she said the night before:

“You are always welcome here.”

Was that her way of saying he could move in? His lease WAS up at the end of the month…Did he want to? Was it only the snappes talking?

At about 5, when the doors opened, he made his way to the front of the line at his favorite club. He knew the bouncer. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up! Don’t you ever go home?” They shook hands. “Man, you have GOT to introduce me to the hottie that was hangin’ with the sorority chicks the other night.”

“Who? Oh, yeah. Their designated driver, poor pledge. I think her name was Jennifer. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” He spotted a set of twins. “If you are going to be too busy thinking about a girl (he made a jerk off gesture with his hand) to keep the riff-raff out of here (he pointed to himself) then the riff-raff is going to bring company. Ladies.” The bouncer, hiding a smile, flipped him off.

Once inside he went to his usual table. The twins just wanted to get in (they were underage) and were now dancing together, showing off. He ordered a 7 & 7 and sipped at it, letting the whiskey work its way slowly through him.

He thought about Penelope and how she wasn’t ‘one of the guys’ but wasn’t frilly and flimsy either. She had lost about half of her weight, too, and probably FOR him. She might need back up against Joker (he didn’t relish the potential for violence there). She wasn’t what he usually looked for on the outside, but he seemed to be ok with that. There were too many gorgeous but snobby women in Gotham; the kind of girls who wouldn’t have given him the time of day 2 years ago.

He had been a ‘nerd’ in school. Lanky, intelligent, had to wear glasses (thank God for contacts). Then in college he started running track. He wasn’t a jock though, and loved learning. He still had a knack for puzzles and riddles. He may not be Johnny Depp on the outside but he had a brain, damn it. Something most women either didn’t notice or scoffed. Most, but not all.

The waitress came over to refill his drink and he declined. She then leaned over the table and asked if he wanted to meet her later. His first thought was ‘wow, she could be a hooker.’ Instead of being rude and asking ‘how much’ (in case she wasn’t) he just looked her over from head to chest…to toe and back.

“Thanks for the visual, honey, but I have someone waiting at home.”

She replied ’suit yourself’ and walked away, swaying her hips as she went. He watched, as he gulped down the last of his drink, and left her a bigger tip than usual.

I was sitting in my office going over the books when The Question came in. I said hello and looked up. He had something on his mind.

“Did you mean what you said last night? About being welcome?”

“Yes, of course. Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just thinking about how my lease is up at the end of the month…”

“Oh! Are you saying you’d like to take me up on my offer to move in?”

“I was worried I read that wrong.”

I smiled. “No.” I caught myself before covering his hand with my own, and he was now almost behind the desk. To my surprise he put both of his hands on the armrests of my chair and kissed me. Deeply.

Stanley looked in her eyes, enjoying the very feminine shock that passed through them. “I’m very lucky to have you in my life.” He then made his way out of the office. ‘Think about THAT for a couple of hours, girly.’