Part 1
Enter Search.
Richard Grayson.
The list of responses extended to over seven thousand entries. She clicked on
the third one; “Richard John Grayson, ward and presumptive heir of Bruce Wayne,
eighth richest man in the world, according to Forbes magazine…” There he was,
pages and pages about him and who would have ever thought that he’d have that
much stuff about him available to the entire world when he was still like
seventeen years old. Go figure.
Well, he had serious potential.
She kept the same name in the search box and clicked on ‘images’. This time
almost two hundred pictures came up on several pages. Everything from posed
formal portraits with Bruce Wayne at some high brow society functions to candids
of him eating at some sidewalk café, alone with a newspaper and a glass of soda
to one shot of him as part of his school’s gymnastics team during some meet.
He was beautiful.
He was perfect.
She loved him.
There had been a time when she’d really thought that the middle Hanson brother,
Taylor, would be the guy for her, but then he gotten married when he was like
eighteen or something so, well, screw that. After that she’d really, really
liked Johnny Depp, even if he was old but he was practically married and had
some kids so screw him, too. From there she’d moved on to Christian Bale after
she’d seen him in Little Women and, while he was still pretty cute
and had even looked hunky in those stupid Batman movies. Then she found out that
he was married and had this really, really bad temper so she just wrote him off.
Of course he was still pretty handsome but so were a lot of guys, so while she
still liked him, she didn’t like him.
Besides, those guys weren’t real. Nobody really knew Johnny Depp or the
Hanson’s; they only existed on movie screens and in magazines.
But then one day she was thumbing through People at the hairdresser’s
while she was waiting for Annaclaire to get a trim and there he was—really cute,
and really rich. He was even the right age and he was single—they said that he
didn’t even have a girlfriend so that meant that she had a real chance with him.
And Bruce Wayne (and Dick Grayson) lived like less than ten miles from
her house. Absolutely perfect! He was like a real person, the kind you could
maybe run into at McDonald’s (like Richard Grayson would stoop so low—not) or at
Brixton Country Club, if they were members.
And she knew her parents went to Wayne Manor once in a while for charity dinners
and stuff—this was beyond perfect! She’d talk to her parents about that as soon
as she got home; they were bound to have some real inside stuff.
“Marilee, c’mon, my mom will kill me if we’re late again.”
“You always say that.”
“And I always mean it; move it, will you?”
Heaving a sigh Marilee picked up her back pack, cleared the screen on the
computer monitor in the library study section and got up to go. Annaclaire was
her best friend since fifth grade and they did everything together. “What time
are we meeting the guys?”
“Right after practice; you want to get something to eat first? I had to make up
that math quiz and didn’t get lunch—I’m starving.”
Marilee rolled her eyes, “Like I’m going to eat before practice so I can barf
for two hours, no thanks.” The two girls were both on the varsity cheerleading
squad and had been since sophomore year, they were co-captains and trying to
really build up the level of the stuff they were doing this year. There was lots
more tumbling, harder pyramids and new uniforms that didn’t look nearly so lame
as the old ones.
“So what were you looking up in the library a few minutes ago?”
“History.”
“History, my ass. You checking out ‘Brix’s front line?” ‘’Brix, formally known
as Brixton, was the school they were playing Saturday for Homecoming and were
expected to lose to. They always lost to Brixton.
Marilee nodding, lying. It was a thing they did before every game; looking up
pictures of the opposing team, picking out the cute ones and the real losers
then seeing if they looked as good/bad when they got to check them out in person
on the field. She wondered if Richard Grayson was on the football team, though
there’d been no mention of it in any of the articles she’d read about him.
“And…?” Annaclaire prodded her. “Any of them decent?”
“Maybe, mostly they just look like the usual bunch of rich WASPS who spend all
their time spending their parents’ money and getting drunk every weekend; you
know the kind.”
“All white, all rich, all snobs; gag me. Whatever…c’mon, let’s get practice
started, I want to work on the basket tosses.”
* * *
After practice they’d met up with their respective boyfriends, a couple of
varsity first stringers named Adam and Brian the two girls had been dating since
about eighth grade. If things worked out the way they used to fantasize about
back in Junior High, they’d get married as soon as they either finished college
or got reasonably paying jobs, buy houses on the same street and raise their
kids in the same town they’d all grown up in. Marilee didn’t tell any of the
others that the longer they all talked about it, the more she knew that was what
she didn’t want, at least not any more. Adam was a really good guy but he was
boring, and had less ambition that an old housecat. She’d probably dump him as
soon as the prom was over.
Marilee wanted more than that; she wanted to travel, meet some of the famous,
fancy, accomplished people she read about in the magazines and she wanted to
live in a house with a big in-ground pool and a cleaning lady twice a week. And
she wanted someone better than Adam to share it with.
“So we’ll meet up after the game, okay? ‘Everyone’s going over to Stewart’s for
burgers like always. Marilee? ‘You listening?”
“Of course—we’ll pick you guys up outside the locker room, okay?” She took
exactly three fries off Adam’s plate and no more; cheerleaders didn’t eat stuff
like that, not if they wanted to be a flyer in the pyramids, they didn’t. She
sipped her diet coke. The four of them always sat in the same booth, always
ordered the same things and in the off season always double-dated to a movie
after a pizza—pepperoni with extra cheese. Every week. Marilee was starting to
think she was the only one who was starting to have a problem with being in a
rut at the age of seventeen.
Finally, a couple hours later, home and after dinner, she was up in her room
finishing work on the French verbs she had a test on in the morning. After half
an hour, bored and knowing them all by heart, she googled Richard Grayson again,
finding out more about him than she had that afternoon in the library.
He was an orphan, used to be a really top grade circus performer until his
parents were murdered in front of him when he was just short of his ninth
birthday—God, how horrible! Bruce Wayne was in the stands, saw it happen, took
him in, was now his legal guardian and he’d been living the high life in Brixton
ever since.
From all the accounts she read (and she read a lot today), he was smart, a good
student and there was no record of him ever being in any kind of trouble. There
weren’t any mentions of any girlfriends or any friends at all, for that matter.
It was pretty much assumed that he’d end up either working for Wayne Enterprises
or having so much money he could spend all his time painting his toenails
different colors every hour.
God, he was handsome.
And all the articles ended by saying that there was an official news blackout on
him from Wayne Enterprises to maintain the privacy of a minor. Well, okay, that
seemed reasonable. Like who, other than maybe Lindsay Lohan or Zac Efron or some
jerks like that would want to become public property? Jesus, that would totally
suck. And that meant that everything she’d just read was probably, maybe not
true, exaggerated or flat out lies. Great.
But he was still a beauty, no matter what else was real about him.
Next she googled Brixton Academy’s sports teams. No mention of Richard Grayson
in any football, baseball, basketball, soccer or lacrosse articles she could
find but there was that one mention of him competing for their gymnastics team a
year or so ago. It said that he was an alternate filling in for some injured
team member in a dual meet and won two of the six events, floor and high bar but
fell in the parallels and the pommel horse so finished way down in the
individual standings, despite two first places.
Okay, so he might, maybe be at the game tomorrow but he wouldn’t be
suited up or on the field; she’d just have to look in the stands and hope she
got lucky.
* * *
The next afternoon Marilee and Annaclaire were on the visitor sidelines at
Brixton’s football field watching Ridge’s team go down to a twenty-seven to
fourteen defeat. Damn. So they had a crummy team and usually lost, it still
sucked and that meant that Adam would be in a crappy mood the entire rest of the
weekend. Again. Seriously, he was getting on her last nerve lately.
Walking to the team bus and surrounded by the other cheerleaders, her shoulder
was bumped by someone going faster than she was. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” She gave the guy a half-second glance then stopped dead,
“Ohmigod, it’s you!”
Dark, built and gorgeous and glancing at her with surprise and confusion.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean—it’s—I mean, um—are you—I mean—I guess that—um, you’re Richard Grayson,
right?” She felt like an idiot and could feel herself blush. Annaclaire was
staring at her like she’d lost her mind, the three of them making a knot of clog
in the stream of people leaving the game.
“Do I know you?”
Oh God, this was a nightmare. Maybe she could fall through the sidewalk or he
could develop amnesia and forget this happened. “Um, no—I mean we’ve never
really met or anything but I’ve seen your picture…in the papers and stuff—you
know…” He was just looking at her. “I’m Marilee.”
His expression became a little wary as if he’d been around this block before but
he looked at her kindly, holding out his hand to shake. “And I’m Dick; now we’ve
met.”
They were being carried by the crowd; Annaclaire lost in the sea of people. “I’m
usually not like this; I mean I never do this, but would you like to get
a soda or something?” He didn’t answer immediately, just looked like he was
sizing her up. He also looked a little surprised, but what the hell. “I mean if
you’re busy I understand or think I’m weird or something…”
They were by the team buses, the Ridge players, band and cheerleaders loading on
and talking about the loss or later plans. “Don’t you have to get back on the
bus with your team?”
Right, of course, she was in her cheerleader uniform—obvious much? “It’s okay. I
mean, yeah I’m supposed to go back with them but I can call someone to pick me
up if that’s okay.” Please say yes, please say yes.
Adam would kill her. The rest of the cheer squad was staring at her through the
windows, not believing what they were seeing. Marilee and Adam were like carved
in stone since like sixth grade and now she was picking up some richie
pretty-boy from Brixton?
Dick gave her a small smile, like he’d decided to take a shot with her. “Or I
could maybe give you a ride if you’re okay driving with someone you’ve just met.
I mean, if that won’t get you into any trouble or anything like that. Don’t they
do a head count?”
“My friends will cover for me.”
He laughed then nodded, gesturing towards another section of the parking lot.
“Okay, then…”
She nodded, grinning and happy; he was gorgeous and he was nice and he was
willing to get to know her a little over a coke or something.
“Marilee, you coming?” A cheerleader leaned out of a bus window, annoyed.
“I’ve got another ride, Anna—I’ll call you later, okay?”
Marilee saw Annaclaire frowning and clearly not approving her doublecrossing
Adam with this rich stranger kid, “I’m calling you later, count on it.”
Her look made her feelings plain and Marilee knew she’d be grilled when she got
home and would have some major explaining to do if she wanted to still have a
boyfriend by Monday…okay, or at least still have Adam as a boyfriend, anyway.
“’You sure this all right? ‘No one will be upset?” Marilee shook her head as she
and the Grayson guy turned towards another part of the parking lot, walking till
they got to a new racing green Porsche Boxter, mint and fabulous. “Do you mind
if I leave the top down or would you rather it was up?”
Oh jeez… he was even considerate. “You decide, Richard; it’s such a nice
day, though…”
“Okay, c’mon.” They pulled out and went a few slow blocks towards town in the
game traffic. He turned down a quiet side street and drove a mile or so before
stopping at a small mom and pop coffee place that was a little out of the way
and not too busy. Finally seated and with iced tea for him and the diet coke for
her in front of them they slowly started talking, breaking the ice a little. “So
how did you know my name? I mean, we’ve never met, so how did you recognize me?
And most people call me Dick, not Richard.”
She blushed to her roots and too a sip of soda to hide her embarrassment. “I saw
your picture in People; it said you lived around here somewhere and so I googled
you.” He didn’t look really angry, thank God, just a little amused. “None of the
hits said anything about you having a girlfriend—or a boyfriend; there wasn’t
much at all about you since...I mean…since …”
“Since I moved here when I was eight?” Dick helped her out; this was always more
awkward for other people than it was for him. He’d had years to adjust to his
parent’s deaths; other people never knew what to say.
“Uh-huh...I guess I wasn’t all that surprised you showed up at the game today.”
There was a pause which became awkward. “Are you mad?”
He shrugged and shook his head; it wasn’t like this was the first time it had
ever happened to him and while he knew it had a whole lot more to do with
Bruce’s bank account than anything else, this girl intrigued him for some
reason. “You don’t look too dangerous.” He knew plenty about stalking and
gold-diggers but he didn’t have much else on this afternoon and she’s appealed
to his ego enough to pique his interest. It wasn’t like he had any plans to
elope.
She seemed relieved until she looked up from her drink and saw him watching her.
“So what did you find out about me?” This had a harder edge to it and she
realized that she’d probably gone too far, that he might think she was a crazy
or something like that.
“Not that much; I mean, okay I found out that you used to be a circus performer
when you were little and I read about your parents—I’m really sorry about
them—you know.” He nodded like he’d heard this before, and he had.
“And what else? You obviously know my age and where I go to school. I assume you
know all about Bruce and what he does, right?”
“There were a lot of things about him, but he doesn’t seem to, I don’t know, he
doesn’t really seem to do much. I mean—shoot, no offense or anything but mostly
what’s written about him are all the women he goes out with and how rich he is.”
Dick was losing interest; she was just another teenager with hopes of striking
it rich and not as interesting as she first seemed. “Yeah, well women seem to
like him, I guess.” A lot of women tried to get to Bruce’s money through him; it
wouldn’t work.
Marilee went into a mental panic as she read his expression. Jeez, she didn’t
want him to think that she was just some idiot fan-girl or something. She could
practically see his eyes glazing over. “But I’m not like that; I mean I guess
you probably think I checked you out because of Bruce—I mean Mr. Wayne—because
of his money and stuff. But that article in People, the first one I read about
you, you just seemed so really nice and like you’re not a jerk like most of the
guys I know are.” She was blushing like crazy and starting to stammer but she
plowed on. “And then I read more about you—and you do all kinds of things like
helping orphans and whatever and I just thought that, you know…I just kind of
thought that, um, that maybe we could sort of, maybe like be friends or
something.”
He was looking at her like she was completely brainless and was stifling a yawn.
Oh, jeez, this wasn’t the way she thought this would go, not even close.
“Well, yeah, that would be nice but I’m pretty busy, what with helping kittens
up in trees and all so thanks, but…”
She stopped suddenly, stopped her simpering, dropped her fluffy cheerleader act
and her flirting and just became a real person. Dick watched with sudden
concealed interest; it was a lot like watching Bruce Wayne transform into
Batman; the features and all remained the same, it was something internal like a
complete attitude revision of personality; even her voice changed. “Look, I know
you must think I’m an idiot or someone who’s just trying to hook up with you
because of money but—crap—I’m really screwing this up—I just liked you as soon
as I started hearing about you and thought we could be friends. Honest, that’s
it. No hidden agenda, no strings, no tricking you into getting me pregnant or
‘till death do we part’ or any of that garbage; just get to know each other as
friends.” She ducked her head, as though unsure whether she should bother going
on or not. “I mean, ‘take a shot, anyway. You never know, right?”
This was a semi-interesting variation of the game, but it didn’t wash. “Uh,
Marilee, look; you seem like you’re a nice person but I’m just…” Games weren’t
his thing, not when he dealt with so much artifice in his day to day life. “I’m
sure you have plenty of friends.”
She nodded; she’d blown it and she knew it. “It’s okay, really.” She paused and
sniffed just the slightest bit. “I meant what I said before, I mean about liking
you from the moment I first heard about you…I told my friends I saw you in
magazines—and I did—but I’ve known about you for a long time. My parents go to
Mr. Wayne’s charity things all the time and they’re on some boards together.”
She shrugged in resignation, knowing she’s blown it. ‘Nothing to lose. “Honest—a
month ago they came home from that Animal rescue fund-raiser at Wayne Manor and
were talking about meeting you; they were really impressed.”
This was something Dick hadn’t expected, he’d assumed she was just some
teeny-bopper or skank looking to add a notch to her belt; this was out of the
blue and something he could check, which she must realize. Though it was still
entirely possible—even likely— that she was a gold-digger, “Who are your
parents?”
“Bob and Marykate Richards; we live over in Ridgefield now but we used to live
in Brixton until dad was made CFO a year or so ago. When we were here I went to
Saint Albert’s Academy instead of Brixton because of that big drug scandal there
a few years ago; my parents kind of freaked about that.”
“Yeah, so did Bruce for a while until he sort of came to his senses and realized
that drugs are everywhere.” Dick vaguely remembered hearing the Richards names;
he might have even met them but wasn’t completely sure. “So what else do
you do besides cheerleading and googling strangers?” He smiled to take the sting
out of his words and she relaxed slightly with the unexpected encouragement. He
could let this play out a little while longer; he didn’t have to be anywhere for
another hour or so. Besides, he was semi-interested again. Well, curious,
anyway.
* * *
Later, back in his room, he googled the Richards and came up with about fifty
hits. It seemed that they were pretty much as Marilee described them; reasonably
well off (though nowhere near Bruce’s league), educated, civic minded and
pillars of whatever community they happened to live in. As far as he could tell,
they seemed like they were on the up and up. Wandering down to the kitchen while
Alfred was basting the roast in the oven, he asked the old man if he might know
anything about the couple.
“The Richards, you say? Well…I believe that they’ve been guests of the master on
more than one occasion if I recall correctly. They were quite generous with
their recent contribution for the new wing of the Wayne clinic, asking that
their donation go specifically for the pediatric wing, if memory serves. You may
have met them yourself; you were at that dinner, young man.”
Dick smiled, lying as he smiled at Alfred. “You know I never pay attention to
who’s there. No one cares about me unless it’s to get through to Bruce at those
things.” He found a bag of pretzels in a cabinet but put them back when he saw
the look Alfred was giving him. “Do you think they’re really generous or do you
think they’re just trying to get on Bruce’s good side?”
Alfred seasoned the roast, adding more spices to the outside and different
vegetables to cook around the meat, adding their own flavor. “I couldn’t really
say though they seem pleasant enough; why do you ask?”
“Their daughter came up to me at the game today, that’s all. I was curious.
Dinner in a couple of hours?”
“Dinner will be at the usual time.”
Dick nodded, “Okay, I’ll be in the gym for a while if you want me.”
Alfred didn’t give the exchange much thought other to think it a perfectly
normal thing for a young man with Dick’s credentials and looks to be the object
of attention of a young lady. He didn’t seem all that interested nor did he say
anything about calling the girl in question to arrange another meeting. Of
course, he was busy, but still—it was past due time for him to take a more
active interest in the opposite sex beyond a few crushes and a couple cases of
puppy love which never came to anything. It was later that evening, when Alfred
went in to make himself a cup of tea that he saw the Master’s personal phone
book opened to the ‘R’s’.
* * *
“So did you meet the Grayson boy, sweetie?”
“What do you mean Mom?”
“Marilee—you know perfectly well what I’m talking about. For goodness sakes,
you’ve been mooning about him for weeks now.”
“I have not.” God, how embarrassing.
Marykate Richards put the pile of clean towels on the shelf in her daughter’s
bathroom and came back out to the attached bedroom. “So, did you meet him?”
The girl smiled. “He’s really nice.”
“I told you he was. Last month over at Wayne Manor he couldn’t have been more
charming. Did you two hit it off, honey?”
“I think so; I mean, he asked for my number but that doesn’t mean that he’ll
call or anything.”
“I bet he does.”
“He might not.”
“Five dollars says he does.”
“You’re on.” Marilee and her mother both laughed as Marykate left to deliver
more clean laundry to other bedrooms. She knew her daughter and she’d done her
own homework on the Grayson boy after she’d spent a good twenty minutes chatting
with him at that dinner. Handsome, of course, intelligent despite his background
and currently the only known heir (even if he was just a ward) of Bruce Wayne.
He would be a perfect match for Marilee, especially since he cleaned up so well.
It was always possible that he was just being superficially polite because the
event was in his own home and his ‘father’ was there, but he did make a
good presentation. Now the thing would be to make sure that the two of them were
kept in touch with one another and that shouldn’t be all that difficult; a
birthday party here, a charity event there, throw in a football game and a
school dance. Human nature and teenaged hormones should take care of things
without much help.
Dick Grayson wasn’t going to get away that easily, not if she had anything to
say about it.
Three days later the expected call came through, Dick Grayson asked Marilee if
she wanted to catch dinner and a movie that weekend.
Bob and Marykate raised a silent toast.