I Bet On Losing Dogs

Cellophane

Ghosting is the lowest low you think anyone could do. After Bruce left, you heard nothing from him all weekend. You wouldn't have cared if you didn't turn on the news on Sunday and saw that the Gala was infiltrated as Bruce suspected and poisoned people. Not lethally, however. Batman arrived and apprehended the suspect with the catering company.

Harvey Dent gives a moving speech about how we need to care for people and not allow this corruption to continue. "If it were not for Batman and our responsive police department, I do not believe that my wife or I would be here today." You roll your eyes. From what you read on Twitter, the company states they've been set up by someone else, and someone compromised their inventory, but you and the other online detectives are confused. Why would they need police involvement for potential food poisoning? What if it's staged? Harvey wanted to meet Batman, and you remember how he mentioned it at the Gala. You text Bruce asking if he's okay because of the news. You don't text him again because you don't want to come off as desperate. You know you'll see him again. If not privately, probably at work.

You walk from your living room to your bedroom, and your mind flashes back to the night before. The dominance in his eyes as he holds you down, his nostrils flared. Tingles rush through your body as you grab your sheets to wash.

Monday comes, and you hate to feel the stereotype, but it comes too soon. However, you think the city is on edge as you decide to stop to get a coffee. The barista stares at you a little too hard as you keep your head low and wait. When she calls your name, her stare intensifies, holding your drink from you. "Hi..." You say, smiling, so she'd let go. "Aren't you Bruce Wayne's girlfriend?" She lets go when you stare at her blankly. "No. Why would you think that?" She starts to explain, but you leave quickly.

You feel eyes on you even in traffic. You don't think everyone knows or how everyone knows. Your social media has been low, and there are no new tags added for you in any Gala pictures like Bruce. You did like them, however, because you looked good. Bruce did too, plus you don't know if you'll ever have anything like that again.

In the office, it is just you and Greg. Greg isn't the type to gossip, so you feel a bit safe. He gives you a somber nod before shaking his head and going to your desk. "The Gotham Team is not going to the World Series." You grimace, "Oh, I'm sorry." You don't know what else to say, still thinking about the barista. "It's nothing to be sorry for. Baseball isn't our forte. But how was the ball? I saw the pictures of you and Bruce, and then I saw the news. Did you get sick?" You're surprised Greg knows anything besides sports, his family, and maybe this job. "It was a perfect time. We didn't eat there, so we missed out. I didn't see Batman either." Greg smacks his lips. "Damn. I thought you did. I saw some vids on Facebook, and they were insaaneee. I thought you had been there." After that, he leaves you, and you check your phone—still nothing from Bruce.

You decide before you work you'd send another text. Not desperate, of course, but because you're spooked. "The barista recognized me as your gf *embarrassed emoji* that's wild, right?" You don't expect an answer, but you fucking want one. All the cards from Saturday are in your work mailbox, and your email is also packed with the people you missed or spoke to briefly. You let a slight groan and hear Greg pipe up, "Mondays, am I right?"

Your phone vibrates, and you grab it a little too quickly. "No." You sigh. It is something but so brief. "can we talk today?" You send after a moment for texting etiquette. He doesn't wait. "now." Now? You look around before getting up. You don't know where he is, but you don't want him to come here. Greg wouldn't listen because Bruce doesn't have any information about Batman, but you still want privacy. "I'll be right back." Greg gives an acknowledging nod but doesn't look up from his computer.

There's a little park area next to the Foundations office. Alfred told you when you were hired that they wanted to expand it for an outdoor space that the public could enjoy, but it was halted for unknown reasons. "im at the park by the office." You text as you sit on the bench. You wear dark glasses, not wanting to be recognized again. Why did she hold your coffee like that? And like an idiot, why did you drink it? It could have been poisoned, but you feel fine.

"Hello." You jump, dropping your phone. Realizing it is Bruce, you gather your bearings, shaking your head. "You're alive." He sits beside you, his hand resting on your thigh. Your eyes rest on his hand. "I'm sorry I was unavailable yesterday. I was dealing with business."

"Did you hear about what happened?" He nods, frowning. "Yes. I was having my people look into it. The contacts we got will have to be triple-checked. We can't be certain of anyone. I'll send you an updated list of names to look for." You gaze at his face, the warmth and charm from Saturday gone. He looks so pale and tired. You doubt he's slept since then. "Are you okay?" You ask, distracted by his state. "I'm fine." He says quickly. "We just have to stay on top of this. It's going to evolve. Trust me." "Evolve?" You ask, not following him.

"Halloween is in six weeks. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I wouldn't put it passed someone to try to recreate the Riddler." His eyes penetrate yours. You can barely move as he leans forward, closer to you. "I have to protect you." "Me?" You're not following, and you see his mind going a million a second. "Can you stay with me?" What is he talking about? "Bruce, I don't know what you're talking about, but you're scaring me." He blinks as if coming back to Earth, coming back to himself, and he sighs. "We have to be careful, is all. I don't want anything to happen to you. I just want you safe. If you stay with me, then I'd know you're safe."

You shake your head. "I'm not moving in with you. I can take care of myself. I just need to know what's going on." He hesitates before pulling away from you. "The poisoning was more than what it seems. That's all I know." He's lying, but what can you do with that information? You're not going to investigate further. "I'm glad we left when we did... As well as the other stuff." You segway into your main topic. "What are we?" Bruce's intensity calms, and he looks you over. You decided to stay toned down with a beige tank top, dark brown pants, and your brown cardigan. "I don't want you to feel like we have to be anything." Your eyes narrow, hearing him. "I don't want to be your girlfriend, but people think I am your girlfriend."

As he starts his rebuttal, your phone vibrates. You check it and see it's a tagged image from a tabloid magazine. Proof that people think you're more than you think as you open it. It's a picture slide show of you and Bruce leaving the Gala and then at the bridge and kissing. The caption reads, "Billionaire and Philanthropist @TheBruceWayne seen leaving the Mayoral Gala before the poisoning. Finds something more fun to do downtown. I didn't know this was part of the deal when you get hired by @TheWayneFoundations." Your blood runs cold, and you wish that your sober mind had taken over your senses instead of making out with your boss.

Bruce moves closer and sees the pictures as well. "Who is this? Who posted this?" His voice breaks, but not in a nervous, scared way. Anger bubbling. "I don't know." You hand him your phone, feeling naked.

"We should break it off," Bruce says softly. "We had fun, but they may say I'm abusing my power over you." "You're not." You protest but feel him pulling further away. "What do you want me to do? I can't control the media, but they're already making up their minds. The barista thought I was your girlfriend and I think thought I did something at that Gala because the timing was too perfect." You're musing and don't think that but don't know what to believe.

"We never were dating. We shouldn't have slept together. We both had a moment of weakness. I'll fix it." He stands, turning to you. "Take care of yourself and be aware." You're so angry; you can barely speak. He strodes away, his shoulders tense. How could he just leave you like this? You didn't ask to be his date. He asked you. All of this was his idea. You run after him, but he's somehow disappeared. What the fuck?