Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

Liza, Don't Delay

   Tonight, instead of a scantily clad dancer’s outfit, I’m in a maroon jacket and tie, working the bar. Fish still hasn’t found a replacement for Lazlo to work the bar, so she’s been rotating the girls to serve as a fill in, and now it’s my turn. I guess no one wants to work for Fish Mooney, even in this economy. Honestly, I don’t blame them.

Fish is entertaining some men in suits upstairs, and their laughter can be heard from down here in the restaurant. Whatever it is they’re talking about, it must be awfully funny.

“Trixie, I’m going to need something hard. Pronto,” Timothy jokingly orders, walking up to the bar and sitting on one of the stools.

I laugh, “Why? Need to drink away your troubles?”

“I think I need to drink away my memory altogether. Fish was just insane when she got back from her meeting with Don Maroni this afternoon. Apparently she ran into her old umbrella boy, and, let’s just say that things didn’t go as intended.”

I shiver, “Ugh, what, was she expecting to skewer his head on a stick?”

Timothy rolls his eyes, “...probably. Hey, you dated him, right?”

“Define ‘dating’,” I tease, with only a hint of seriousness.

He chuckles, “Oh, I see, one of those kinds of relationships.”

“Why are you so interested in my dating life anyway?” I question, as I grab a towel to clean a glass.

“No reason…” Timothy responds as his eyes wander around the room, “say, Jack was suggesting that you and I put on a number up on the stage. You know, since he thinks I can sing.”

“I’m sure you can sing,” I assure him, “and yeah, just throw out a song and I’ll try to learn it.”

“Great! I’ll run some ideas by you in a little, maybe you could think of something too?”

I nod my head as he walks off. I finish setting up a set of glasses when Fish and her guests walk down from upstairs. Standing up straight, I bow slightly to greet my boss, keeping a pleasant smile.

“Boys, why don’t y’all excuse yourselves? Nikolai and I have to talk privately,” she orders to the other mobsters, who all immediately head out the door.

All the men exit except for one, a tall man with graying hair and an equally gray suit. Fish wraps her arms around his shoulders, “Hmm...so baby, you ready to take out Falcone?”

Take out Falcone? She’s trying to take out Falcone through him? It’s hardly a surprise, but I would think she’d try to do it on her own accord, rather than hide behind a man.

“Oh course, and then this empire will be mine,” he replies in a thick Russian accent.

“Ours,” Fish corrects, waving a long finger in the air.

Suddenly, she whips her head around toward me, “Girl, you better not have been snooping.”

Realizing I’d been staring at them this whole time, I bow my head down, “S-sorry Ms. Mooney.”

She kisses him on the cheek, before patting him on the back and sending him off. With her high heels she suafts over to the bar and takes a seat, “Whatcha say we put those nosey little skills to use?”

She wasn’t exactly being discreet.

“...how?” I ask, almost afraid to hear her answer.

“Remember that girl, Liza?” she begins, articulating with her right hand while her elbow rests on the bar.