[for Dinah]
dated March 13th
I send Helen on home, telling her I'll lock up tonight. Probably she wind up at my place, but it's easier on me, her whole being with other people thing if we don't leave together. Stings less if she decides to head somewhere else. Not that she does it all that much, but I'd kinda rather not see it happening before my eyes.
While I'm marking the books, I hear a thump out back and shake my head but don't go look. Probably Grayson and the kid, and, man, I'm fine with it. I am. But I don't need to see it, y'know? I finish marking the books, make a note to Helen to ask Grayson if he wants to stop giving lap dances for real, since it doesn't look like he's given but five since Valentine's Day, and three of 'em to the redheaded guy he used to be with a lot. Harper.
Standing, I run my hand forward over my hair, then back again. Grayson. Being a superhero's gotta mess you up, y'know? But I still can't figure. Guy like that, surrounded by babes like the Black Canary, and he's hooked on some kid? Granted the kid's Robin, but still.
I shrug my way to the front of the house, hit the lights and smile into the dark while I back out and lock up. "To each his own," Grams always said, and a healthy "mind your own business, boy," always seemed to follow. Not that she did. Woman knew every damned thing that happened in our hood and then some. Told her once CSIs can't mind their own business and she swatted me with her spoon. "That's different Warrick Brown and you know it," she said, and damn if she wasn't right.
Tonight's not one of those nights. Not when I see a flash of bright blonde hair ducking around the corner of my club, and I'm thinking, no way in hell is anyone busting in here.
"Hey," I call out and round the corner in time to catch another flash, this time of showgirl legs in fishnets. Figures. "Black Canary, right?"
It's been years since I really sat down with a comic book, but Dinah Laurel Lance is an LEO geekboy's wet dream.
I send Helen on home, telling her I'll lock up tonight. Probably she wind up at my place, but it's easier on me, her whole being with other people thing if we don't leave together. Stings less if she decides to head somewhere else. Not that she does it all that much, but I'd kinda rather not see it happening before my eyes.
While I'm marking the books, I hear a thump out back and shake my head but don't go look. Probably Grayson and the kid, and, man, I'm fine with it. I am. But I don't need to see it, y'know? I finish marking the books, make a note to Helen to ask Grayson if he wants to stop giving lap dances for real, since it doesn't look like he's given but five since Valentine's Day, and three of 'em to the redheaded guy he used to be with a lot. Harper.
Standing, I run my hand forward over my hair, then back again. Grayson. Being a superhero's gotta mess you up, y'know? But I still can't figure. Guy like that, surrounded by babes like the Black Canary, and he's hooked on some kid? Granted the kid's Robin, but still.
I shrug my way to the front of the house, hit the lights and smile into the dark while I back out and lock up. "To each his own," Grams always said, and a healthy "mind your own business, boy," always seemed to follow. Not that she did. Woman knew every damned thing that happened in our hood and then some. Told her once CSIs can't mind their own business and she swatted me with her spoon. "That's different Warrick Brown and you know it," she said, and damn if she wasn't right.
Tonight's not one of those nights. Not when I see a flash of bright blonde hair ducking around the corner of my club, and I'm thinking, no way in hell is anyone busting in here.
"Hey," I call out and round the corner in time to catch another flash, this time of showgirl legs in fishnets. Figures. "Black Canary, right?"
It's been years since I really sat down with a comic book, but Dinah Laurel Lance is an LEO geekboy's wet dream.