I Saw, She Saw

Part Six

Dick was eating his breakfast in the kitchen. It was Saturday morning and he hated eating alone in the dining room, even if it was the small one; he hated the reinforcement of Alfred in the role of hired help. It grated on everything in him and so, early Saturday morning he was sitting, eating eggs and ham at the kitchen table.

“May I inquire what plans you have for the day?” Alf sat down across from him, cup of Earl Grey beside him.

“Bruce wants me to go over to the office to meet the new VP and I guess we're supposed to have lunch with her then I was going over to Brittney's, catch a movie and dinner.”

Alfred sipped his tea for a moment, skimming the Gotham Times headlines. “I take it that your arrangement with the young lady hasn't become onerous to you?”

“Brittney's okay.”

“Despite the original reason for your association?”

“She's not that bad.”

From a teenager, that was effusive, indeed. “I think perhaps I should warn you that Master Bruce is planning on using today's trip into Wayne Enterprises to question you about your future plans regarding a university.”

Dick downed his milk. “I figured as much. I've applied to Occidental, Carlton, Oberlin and Hudson and should hear in a couple of months.”

Alfred hid his surprise. “I thought that Robin was offered scholarships to several of the larger universities, Ohio, Stanford, Michigan and several others as memory serves. I take it you've decided against them?”

“They don't want Dick Grayson, they just want Robin for some easy PR and some gymnastics medals. I'd rather go somewhere I can be myself.”

“Understandable, of course, but might you be able to blend in more in a larger environment?” Meaning, couldn't Robin be less likely to be outed if he was one of thirty thousand students instead of four thousand?

“It'll be fine.” Loose translation, drop it.

“I shan't expect you for dinner, then.”

 

* * *
 

“I understand that you're looking at some smaller liberal arts schools. Do you think that's the best for you?”

“I don't have any idea, to be honest. I just know what I don't want; a major in criminal science, a place on the gymnastics team, living in some huge cinder block dorm. I want something more personal, a place where Robin can make a difference.”

“You're talking about a place where Robin will stick out like a sore thumb.”

Dick looked out of the car window, the city changing back to suburbs as Alfred drove them home from the meet and greet with the new VP in charge of development. She was just what he expected her to be; Ivy League, pretty, late twenties, type-A, ambitious and obviously very smart. She also seemed like she was torn between naturally feeling competitive with Dick, the assumed heir apparent, and wanting to impress him which would likely include an attempted seduction in short order. She also made a subtle play for Bruce which would come back to bite her in the ass if she kept it up.

Same old, same old.

“If I don't like it or it doesn't work out I can always transfer.”

“You'd be wasting time if you end up transferring, and there's no guarantee that you could transfer credits. You could be spinning your wheels.”

“Or not.”

They rode a mile in silence. “No new threats from Brittney?”

“No, and I don't think there will be. I've told you I don't think she's going to do anything.”

“Yes you've said that.”

Dick looked at Bruce sitting there with his jaw clenched again. “And you don't believe her—or my opinion?”

You know I trust you, Dick. 'You're not the wild card here.”

The car was just pulling up to the Manor's front door, Dick letting himself out almost before it stopped. “Where are you going?”

“I have to change and then I told Brittney that I'd go over there.” And he was inside, taking the main staircase two steps at a time, two minutes later he was coming back down, his city clothes changed for jeans and a cashmere sweater, Christmas bounty. A minute after that they heard the Porsche leaving the garage.

“I'm not happy about this 'arrangement' he has with that girl, Alfred.”

“I'm aware of that but I suspect that you may be missing the silver lining of this particular cloud, Master Bruce. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to begin marinating the game hen for your dinner this evening.”

“Silver lining?”

“I seems to genuinely believe that the young lady is trustworthy and gives every appearance of enjoying her company. His grades remain good and he's focused on things you deem important. I fail to see a problem and Miss Wilson seems, from what I've witnessed, to be honest in her insistence that the pictures are safely hidden somewhere.”

“Or so she wants us to think.”

“...If that's you're feelings, I suggest that you may wish to pay her another visit to make sure she knows you haven't completely relaxed your vigilance.”

 

* * *
 

Brittney's sister opened the door when Dick rang the bell. “Britt asked me to tell you that she's running late but should be back in about twenty minutes so you should come in.” She stood aside to let him pass into the main hallway. “'Want something to drink?”

“I'm good, thanks.” He waited. “I'm Dick Grayson, nice to meet you.”

“Sorry, I'm Christine, Chris. Hi. You can wait in the family room with me if you want.” Without further pleasantries she led him into the den, the TV playing an ancient copy of Gone With the Wind. Gettysburg's casualty lists were just coming into Atlanta and Scarlett was having a really bad day. “Popcorn?”

“No, thanks.”

“So, I hear that you and Britt are pretty solid. Have you two talked about what's going to happen when you graduate? You're going to college, right? How's she going to handle that?”

“I'm sure that she'll be fine, thanks.” Change the subject. “'She said that you go to Yale?”

“Um-hmm. Psychology with a minor in Business. 'You know where you're going yet?”

“Not yet, I have to see where I get in.”

She moved a little closer on the couch. "I'm sure you'll get in, Britty says your grades are good and you must have connections everywhere, I mean, who's going to turn down the Wayne money, right?” She looked aghast. “I didn't mean to say that, I just meant that no school would want to risk losing...oh, crap—you know what I meant.”

He watched her blush and squirm then nodded. “I do know what you meant. And I still have to wait to find out where I've been accepted.” He took a few pieces of the popcorn. “And 'Wayne' doesn't appear on any of the applications, my name is Grayson so it shouldn't be a factor.”

“I really am sorry, I didn't mean anything by that—honest.” She seemed to be genuinely contrite.

“No problem, forget it.”

They watched the film for a few minutes, or pretended to, anyway. Then, “If I ask you something, will you answer?”

“'Depends what it is.” What was it with this family?

“Mom thinks that Britt has something on you, some pictures you don't want to get out, that might embarrass Mr. Wayne or something; nudes or you with some girl. Is that true?”

“Why don't you just ask her?”

“Because she'd probably lie and I think it might be true. Is it?”

Dick hesitated, not that he cared one ay or another what Chris' agenda was, but he really didn't want to get into anything with her. Not even a little. “Why do both of you think it's such a stretch that I like your sister?”

She smiled a 'gotcha' smile. “Answering a question with a question, so it's true, then. What, she caught you with your pants down or smoking some dope or something? You know she's a total mouse, she won't do anything; you don't have to waste your time with her.” She gave him a serious once-over. “And you could do better.” Her hand strayed to rest on his inner thigh near his knee and started to move upwards.

He gently but firmly removed it and stood up. “I do just fine, thanks. If yo don't mind, I'll wait in the kitchen.”

He was getting tired of this and could catch up with Britt later.

Then it got serious.

Brittney arrived just as he was about to give up and leave but was stopped by the look on her face.

“What?”

Close to tears, “I can't believe this, I can't. I swear, I had no idea that he'd do something like that. I didn't—if I known, if I'd thought I never would have had it with me, I wouldn't have left it in the car and...Ohmigod.” The ears spilled.

“What?”

“Oh God, I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry.”

“Brittney, what happened?”

Her face was stricken, frightened. “I was out having lunch with my dad—I almost never see him since he left and he called me. He just said he wanted to see me and I didn't know, I swear I didn't suspect anything. I really didn't think he'd do anything. I, I...”

“What, c'mon, what happened?”

“My father has my camera.”

“But you took out the memory card months ago, didn't you?”

“Um, it had like three hundred pictures still on it so I...Ohmigod, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to take his picture I hardly ever see him.”

“Did he have any reason to think there was anything on it, that he could make money from it?”

“No, no, I swear. I think he just wants to pawn the camera. He's really broke and he's always asking mom for money and he drinks a lot so he lost his job—I think he just wants to, you know, get money for it.”

Oh, shit...

TBC

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