Thursday, November 6th, 2008, 07:30
New Jersey
Gotham City
Fashion District
Ten days of living with Selina Kyle had taught Malik that comfort came with its own set of complications.
The apartment was warm, the food was regular, and the bed she'd given him was softer than anything he'd slept on in his parents' cramped East End place. But Selina herself was like trying to live with a beautiful, dangerous puzzle that changed its shape every time he thought he'd figured it out.
She slept until noon most days, emerging from her bedroom with hair that looked deliberately messy and wearing silk robes that probably cost more than his father had made in a month. Mornings belonged to Malik and Isis, who had decided he was acceptable company for breakfast and lazy sunbeams by the windows.
The cat was easier to understand than her owner. Isis wanted food, warmth, and attention in predictable amounts at predictable times. Selina was more complicated.
"We need to talk about rules," she said over coffee that Thursday morning, settling into the chair across from him with the fluid grace that marked everything she did. She'd traded the silk robe for dark jeans and a sweater that hugged her curves in ways that made Malik's face burn with embarrassment.
"What kind of rules?" He kept his eyes firmly fixed on his cereal bowl.
"Ground rules. Boundaries. The things that keep us both sane while you're living here." Selina took a sip of her coffee, studying him over the rim of her mug. "First rule: you don't ask about what I do at night. Not where I go, not who I see, not why I come home smelling the way I do."
Malik nodded. He'd already figured out that much from the costume and the way she moved. Whatever Selina did for work, it wasn't the kind of job that came with tax forms and vacation days.
"Second rule: school is non-negotiable. I've already enrolled you at PS 141. It's not Gotham Academy, but it's decent enough and they don't ask too many questions about family situations." She pulled out a folder filled with official-looking papers. "Your name is Malik Robinson now. Selina Kyle is your legal guardian as of yesterday."
"Don't worry about how. Worry about keeping your grades up and not getting expelled for fighting." Selina's green eyes fixed on his with laser focus. "I know you've got a temper, and I know you know how to use your fists. But school fights draw attention, and attention is the last thing either of us needs."
"What if someone starts something?"
"Then you walk away. And if walking away doesn't work, you make sure there are no witnesses." Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Third rule: what happens in this apartment stays in this apartment. You don't talk about me, about my schedule, about the people who might visit. As far as the outside world is concerned, I'm a boring businesswoman who travels a lot."
"What kind of business?"
"The profitable kind." Selina finished her coffee and stood up, moving toward the kitchen with the boneless grace. "Speaking of visitors, Holly's coming by later today. You'll like her."
"Who's Holly?"
"A friend. Someone I work with sometimes." She rinsed her mug in the sink, her movements efficient and controlled. "She's also someone who doesn't believe in boundaries the way normal people do, so prepare yourself for questions you're not going to want to answer."
The warning turned out to be insufficient preparation for Holly Robinson.
She arrived that afternoon like a small tornado wearing leather pants and a attitude that could strip paint. Holly was shorter than Selina, with bleached blonde hair that looked like she'd cut it herself and eyes that seemed to catalogue everything in the room within seconds of walking through the door.
"So this is the stray you picked up," she said without preamble, looking Malik up and down like she was evaluating livestock. "He's cuter than I expected."
"Holly." Selina's voice carried a warning.
"What? I'm just saying, you usually go for the wounded bird types. This one looks like he might actually survive whatever you're planning to put him through." Holly dropped onto the couch next to Malik with casual familiarity, close enough that he could smell her perfume. "How old are you, sweet thing?"
"Twelve," Malik said, hyperaware of the way Holly's presence seemed to fill the space around her.
"Twelve." Holly's smile was different from Selina's, more predatory but somehow warmer. "That's a good age. Old enough to be interesting, young enough to still be trainable."
"Leave him alone," Selina said, but there was amusement in her voice rather than real annoyance.
"I'm not doing anything. I'm just getting acquainted with your new pet project." Holly reached out and ruffled Malik's hair, her touch casual and comfortable in a way that suggested she was used to crossing personal boundaries. "Tell me, honey, what exactly has our Selina told you about what she does for a living?"
"Holly." This time Selina's warning had teeth in it.
"Relax, I'm not going to spill any state secrets. I'm just curious how much the kid knows about what he's gotten himself into." Holly leaned back into the couch cushions, studying Malik with sharp blue eyes. "Because let's be honest, living with Selina Kyle is not like living with normal people."
Malik glanced between the two women, sensing undercurrents he didn't understand. Holly was testing something, pushing at boundaries that existed between her and Selina more than between her and him. Selina, for her part, was watching the exchange with the kind of focused attention she usually reserved for locks and security systems.
"I know she works nights," Malik said carefully. "And I know she's good at getting into places she's not supposed to be."
"Diplomat and a quick learner." Holly's grin widened. "I like him already."
The conversation was interrupted by the buzz of Selina's phone. She glanced at the caller ID and frowned, the expression transforming her face into something harder and more distant.
"I need to take this," she said, stepping into the bedroom and closing the door behind her.
Holly watched her go with knowing eyes. "Twenty bucks says that's tall, dark, and brooding on the other end of that call."
"What?"
"Nothing you need to worry about, sweetie." Holly turned her attention back to Malik, but her expression had sharpened with interest. "So tell me, what's your story? How does a twelve-year-old end up on Selina Kyle's doorstep?"
"My parents died." The words came out flat and emotionless, a fact rather than a tragedy.
"Shit." Holly's playful demeanor shifted, replaced by something that looked like genuine sympathy. "That's rough, kid. How long ago?"
"About a month."
"And you've been on the streets since then?" When Malik nodded, Holly whistled low under her breath. "That takes guts. Most kids your age wouldn't last a week out there."
Through the bedroom door, they could hear Selina's voice, low and intense. Malik couldn't make out words, but the tone suggested frustration mixed with something that might have been concern.
"She's been different since she found you," Holly said quietly, following his gaze toward the closed door. "More domestic. It's weird seeing her play house with someone."
"Is that bad?"
"Not bad. Just... unexpected." Holly studied him with renewed interest. "Selina Kyle doesn't do charity cases. She doesn't bring home strays unless she sees something in them that's worth the trouble. Question is, what does she see in you?"
Before Malik could answer, Selina's voice rose sharply from the bedroom. Not angry, exactly, but forceful in a way that made both Holly and Malik turn toward the door.
"I don't care what your schedule looks like. If you need backup, you call someone else." A pause, then: "Because I have responsibilities now that don't involve cleaning up your messes."
Holly's eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline. "Well, that's interesting."
"What is?"
"Nothing you need to worry about yet, honey." Holly stood up, smoothing down her leather pants. "But if I were you, I'd start paying attention to who calls this place and when. Might give you some insight into what kind of world you've just stepped into."
The bedroom door opened, and Selina emerged looking like she'd swallowed something bitter. She glanced at Holly, then at Malik, her expression carefully neutral.
"Everything okay?" Holly asked with false innocence.
"Fine." Selina's smile was sharp enough to cut. "Just business."
"Sure it is." Holly grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair. "I should get going. Places to be, people to rob, you know how it is."
She paused on her way to the door, leaning down to whisper something in Malik's ear that made his face burn red. Then she was gone, leaving behind the scent of leather and trouble.
"What did she say to you?" Selina asked.
"Nothing important," Malik lied, his face still burning from Holly's whispered promise to teach him things Selina wouldn't.
Selina studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Holly's good people, but she's also dangerous in ways you're not ready to understand yet. Be careful around her."
"Is she your girlfriend?"
The question slipped out before Malik could stop it, and Selina's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"No. Holly and I are... complicated. We work together sometimes, but we're not together." She settled back into her chair, picking up her coffee mug even though it was empty. "Why do you ask?"
"She just seemed really comfortable here. Like she's been here before."
"She has. Holly's one of the few people I trust with my real address." Selina's voice carried a weight that suggested trust wasn't something she gave away lightly. "But that doesn't make her safe, Malik. Remember that."
The phone buzzed again, and this time Selina ignored it completely. But Malik noticed the way her jaw tightened, the way her fingers drummed against the empty mug in a rhythm that suggested barely controlled agitation.
Whatever world he'd stepped into by accepting Selina's offer, it was bigger and more dangerous than just one woman in a leather costume.
But he was learning. Every conversation, every phone call, every visitor was a piece of information he could file away for future use. His father had taught him that survival was about paying attention to details, and Malik was discovering he had a talent for seeing patterns that others missed.
The phone stopped buzzing, but the tension in Selina's shoulders remained. Outside the windows, Gotham City went about its business, unaware that in one apartment high above the streets, a twelve-year-old boy was getting his first real education in the art of staying alive in a world where heroes and villains played games with other people's lives.