Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

Fish Mooney

Chapters 13-23 Author Commentary (Androids only)

   “You’re insane,” is my response to his plan, “but also...kind of a genius.” I’m pressed up against him, my back lying against his stomach, his arms around me.

“Oh, was that a compliment I heard?” Oswald coos, pulling me closer.

“It was a compliment to your plan, not to you.” I counter, although he’s right, I did mean to compliment him.

“Hmph, I’ll take it.” he concludes, smiling in satisfaction.

I look down at his hands that are wrapped around my lower stomach. While I love the warmth and general good feelings I seem to get whenever we touch...wow his fingernails are dirty.

I begin to get up, “Alright, if we’re ever going to execute this plan, we’ve got to be heading over to Mooney’s Nightclub soon.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me back down so that I awkwardly land on his leg. Dragging me against his chest, he keeps his arms tightly fastened around my stomach, “Just...just give me a minute. Please?”

I turn and look him in the eye, and he responds with a pouty, puppy-dog look. I squint, okay, now he’s just being manipulative. He leans forward, lowering his head, and gets as close as our lips briefly touching before I pull away,

“No...no Oswald.”

He pauses thoughtfully, resting his chin on his hand, “Oh Trixie…how you’ll grow to regret those words.”

   Oswald holds out his umbrella for the two of us as it starts to rain again. We walk the night time streets of Gotham’s Theatre District, with the pink neon lights of Mooney’s Nightclub visible in the distance.

“You were right to bring that umbrella, but I have to ask, do you carry it around with you everywhere you go?” I ask, adjusting my new black dress.

“Mother insists I bring it whenever I go out. She’s always worried about me catching cold.” he explains, sounding somewhat annoyed.

I arch my eyebrow, “Why do you let your mother control every aspect of your life?”

“Well, Mother knows what’s best for me.” he reasons.

“You’re a grown man, Oswald, you can make your own decisions.” I conflict, as we approach the nightclub.

We open the door to a dark, stylish restaurant club, with booths, a bar, and a small stage where two women in slinky lingerie are performing a burlesque dance. The crowd is sizable, with most of the booths filled up. A single man in a worn leather coat and purple button down waves us down, and we approach him. Leaning in, he whispers, “Which one of you is Amanda’s agent?”

“That would be me.” Oswald introduces politely, shaking hands with the man.

I want to stop him right there, he’s coming off as too friendly, the guy probably thinks he’s a rookie now.

“Good, and, uh...you are?” he asks me, “Amanda only mentioned one agent.”

“Oh, she’s with me.” Oswald excuses.

The man shakes his head, “Well, my name’s Morgan, I’ll act as your contact with Amanda from now on. I’ll go get Fish Mooney, she’s the boss of this place, although I’m not sure if there’s another job opening available.”

He gets up from the bar, and walks over to a table toward the front of the stage, where a lone woman in a gold lame dress sits with a cocktail drink. He bends down to whisper to her and she turns around, sees us, and gets out of her seat, slowly sauntering towards us in a manner that’s both sexy and threatening,

“So, I’ve found my new umbrella boy,” Fish declares, looking over Oswald. She folds her fingers together, netting in her fake nails, “do you know what I did to my last umbrella boy? I had my boys smear him against a wall, and then we dragged his ass to a dumpster,”

My eyes widen as I realize that’s the body Ed and I found earlier today. This woman must go through toadies like no other. She glances over at me, snapping me back to the present, “and who are you?”

“I-I’m just looking for work ma’am.” I stutter. Shoot, that was a terrible delivery.

She nods, “You’ve got respect, I like that. But I’d like someone taller than me carrying around my umbrella if you don’t mind,”

Ugh, my height, did she really need to bring that up?

“so boy, you still want the job?”

Oswald nods, “Yes, I do.”

“Good. And you...girl...well, we could always use more dancers. Can you dance?” Fish asks.

“Yes, she can. I, I can vouch for that.” Oswald replies before I can.

I sigh, clenching my teeth, if he messes this up for us…

She smiles, “Oh, you can? What are you two exactly? Lovers, perhaps?”

“Not lovers just, very, very good friends.” he explains.

She stares daggers at the both of us, “I see…”

I’d bet money that she’s going to try to use our relationship against us, the way she stares at us. She’s trying to pick out any weaknesses, any vulnerabilities. And Oswald just unwittingly gave her a very big one.

“well, what the hell, you’re both hired.” she declares.

I smile, “Thank you so much Ms. Mooney, when do we start?”

“Right now,” she snaps her fingers and Morgan rushes to her side, as she lowers her head to mumble, “take the girl to the dressing room, I’ll handle the boy,” she looks up at us, “I didn’t catch your names.”

“My name is Oswald Cobblepot.” Oswald formally introduces.

Now it’s my turn, “I’m Trixie...Trixie Tamaya.”

Fish nods, “Good, I’ll have you perform at the nine o'clock slot, Trixie. Prepare to impress me. Come along, Oswald.”

Oswald complies, glancing back briefly at me. Morgan leads me to a side door by the stage marked Employees Only. He holds the door open for me, and enters himself. The door leads to a narrow hallway where three women are leaning against the wall, all dressed in similar red and black lingerie.

“This is Annabelle Sanna, our most seasoned dancer. Ann, this is Trixie, our newest dancer. Could you get her a spare costume? Mooney wants her out onstage right away.”

Ann, a tall woman with dark skin and frizzy hair blown up into an afro. She stares me down, sizing me up, “...okay…”

Morgan pats me on the back, before sending me off with Ann. We walk through the hallway in relative silence, and I feel the need to start up some semblance of a conversation,

“So, does this job entail more than just dancing?” I ask her.

She raises her eyebrow, “You’re a forward one, aren’t you?”

“I just want to know what I’m getting into.”

She nods, “Well, we have private rooms upstairs for the clients, but usually they have to be pretty wealthy to request a room with one of us.”

Good, as least the first thing she mentions is sex, something that’s usually associated with dancing on a stage in provocative clothing. Had she mentioned something concerning violence or the drug trade, I would’ve had a very different reaction.

I follow Ann to a small storage closet, “What’s your size?”

“Small or medium, depends on the clothes.”

She finds me something, throwing the article of clothing at me along with a pair of high-heeled boots and fishnet stockings, “If you don’t like it, you can pick anything out from the clothes here. Can you sing?”

“Yeah.” I reply.

“Good, the band is pretty experienced, so they’ll probably know whatever it is you want to sing,” she starts walking out of the room, her long legs swaying back and forth, my eyes can’t help but wander a little. She turns around, and gives a suggestive wink, “break a leg kid.”