BAE Chapter 10

The gala will go until late, but Barbara can dip out at ten or so and get to work. That will satisfy her obligations, give her time to sleep, and a little time to stop by Wayne Enterprises in the afternoon.

“Gala,” she says, handing the schedule back to Alfred. “I’ll need something to wear.”

“Consider it done, Ms. Gordon. And may I tell you how refreshing it is to serve someone who recognizes these things?”

Barbara reaches out and squeezes his hand. “I appreciate you too, Alfred. Now I’m going to bed.”

“Shall I prepare a room?”

“Not tonight. Barbara Gordon’s still just a hotshot intern.”

“Very good.”

Barbara gets to her feet with a tired, sore groan. “You’d better bring over a costume and enough gear for an emergency. We’ll have to find someone to put the bike near my place.”

“Much more efficient for you to simply stay here,” Alfred says lightly.

“It’s too sudden. If a little redhead moves into Wayne Manor the same day that a little redhead hits the streets at night, people will get ideas. I won’t need Hugo Strange to out me. Some five-year-old will,” Barbara says.

“Very good, Ms. Gordon.”

Barbara dresses in street clothes, packs her still-damp hair into her helmet and rides out.

It’s a 30-minute commute and she’s tired. Alfred has a point.

Barbara lives in a modest, but nice one-bedroom apartment on the tenth floor of a downtown building. It’s simple, but more than roomy enough for one, especially one who is not very large. Dad’s house is huge, so Barbara keeps most of her stuff there. The apartment is minimalist and she keeps it very clean without the help of a butler. There’s no room in her life for clutter of any kind: physical or otherwise.

She likes her apartment. She feels safe there, where everything is always in its place.

Her eye twitches as she prepares to insert her key. There is something in her apartment that does not belong. Or rather, someone. She unlocks the door and opens it, finding exactly what she expected: clothes on the floor, a purse on the sideboard, and an empty takeout container.

Barbara is bone tired, but she can’t leave a mess. She carries the clothes to the nook in the kitchen where her washer and dryer are stacked and puts them in a wicker basket. She disposes of the takeout container and checks the carpet for stains. Finding none, she hangs up the purse in the closet, where she pulls out Kate’s jacket and straightens it.

Forcing herself to be calm, Barbara opens her bedroom door. Kate is sprawled on the bed, facedown in just her gray, athletic-style designer panties. This is the snoring of a woman in a profoundly deep sleep. So deep that Barbara is almost envious.

Barbara is too exhausted to even be angry that Kate broke in, although she has to be a little impressed: even drunk, Kate is very good with a lockpick.

Should Barbara just crawl into bed?

Or sleep on the couch?