Who: Wren and Jacob What: Clearing up the matter of the necklace Where: Caesar's Palace When: Recently Warnings/Rating: Nada
Jacob glanced at the parcel for less than a second before slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket. The bass line of the extra loud song thrummed through the air, surrounding the patrons and passing through them, their silhouettes reverberating in the dim light. The bar was a dive, but one of Jacob’s favorite places for a drop. Not only was the bartender someone he had worked with for years, but the music was always turned up to a steady 11, making it too hard to think, let alone notice anyone else getting up to no good. Jacob’s business in the place was limited - come in, order a splash of something strong, throw it back, and walk out - so he didn’t mind the noise in the least.
He slipped out of the door into a quiet alley, straightening his jacket quickly before joining the crowd passing down Fremont street. He walked slowly enough to not draw attention to himself, but with enough purpose to left alone. He slipped by drunk tourists and dawdling sightseers on his way back to his apartment, flashing half a smile at a cute blonde that met his eye. The package moved against his chest as he climbed the stairs, the promise of a paycheck making it seem even lighter than it was. Jacob moved patiently through the sparsely furnished apartment as he gathered his supplies to evaluate the piece. It took him five minutes to set everything up before he took a seat at his work table, and slowly unraveled the brown paper wrapping.
Something was wrong. Jacob’s senses registered the difference almost immediately. This wasn’t the piece from the picture; not even close. It was a necklace, and not a half bad one, but it was worth nowhere near what the one in the picture was.
Wrapping the piece up as delicately as he had taken the package apart, Jacob rose to his feet. The parcel went back into its secure location, and Jacob went back out the front door. He had gotten a description from the bartender of the girl who had dropped the parcel off, and it had not been hard to figure out who she was. Better yet, Jacob knew exactly where he needed to go to find her.
Caesar’s Palace. He had not been there in a while.
Wren was tense, and part of her was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She didn’t know how good the fence was, didn’t know how much money his buyers had - or how much power. She didn’t know if they’d fall for the replacement necklace, and she didn’t know if they’d do anything more than demand their money back. Regardless, she had three times as much money as the fence had given her set out on the nightstand, just in case she needed to pay someone off in a hurry.
The real necklace was already back at Luke’s. delivered via courier, safe. The problem was that the real necklace was old, at least twenty years, maybe thirty, and the diamonds were pristine, which meant she couldn’t find a perfect replica on short notice. Gold was solid back then, all the way through, not hollow like it was now. Stones were still pure, and that was hard to find these days. And the necklace was vintage. Selina had accepted a ridiculously low bid for it intentionally, because she wasn’t interested in the money. She’d just wanted to anger Bruce Wayne, and now Wren was left with a buyer that expected a steal and, she suspected, wouldn’t be happy they hadn’t gotten one.
She didn’t have any clients that night which was, at least, a blessing. She changed into leggings and a designer tunic, and she tried not to worry her French manicure as she paced her room - waiting. The courtyard door to the $30,000 a night suite was open - intentionally. She didn’t think the fence would try to waltz his way past security, and he wouldn’t be able to get in (the traditional way) without showing ID to the concierge. That left only one way in, and Wren figured she might as well make it easy.
Jacob took the long route through the hotel to the courtyard, remaining inconspicuous enough to never have to show identification or answer questions. He had visited the casinos often in his early days in Vegas, and learned how to get through most of them without drawing undue attention to himself. The hotels had expanded and improved since then, of course, but he still had a general idea of how to get where he needed to go.
The courtyard was quiet and mostly empty - it was still too early for drunk patrons to stumble back into their rooms. He was surprised to find the door to the suite he was looking for left open, but continued forward, undeterred. Minette was a popular woman in town. She might not have guessed he would be paying her visit, and could simply have been waiting for her next customer. He doubted that was the case, however. You didn’t get far in this town without well-honed street smarts. Whatever this Minette woman was, Jacob doubted she was stupid.
He knocked twice on the open french door, leaning casually against the wooden frame as he waited to be invited in. The expression on his face was intentionally neutral, allowing Minette the freedom to set the tone for their conversation.
She hadn’t gotten a very good look at him at Fremont because she hadn’t lingered. It had all been done in a few seconds, her worry that Luke would show up making her disappear into the crowd faster than she might have otherwise. But she recognized him, even still. She nodded toward the money on the nightstand. Three times what he had paid her. “You can take that to your buyer, and tell them I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” she said coolly. There was no indication that she was nervous, or that she expected anything but a yes, ma’am from him. It was her work voice, minus the crop, and it was all ice.
Inside, she was nerves and a heart that raced so fast she could hear it in her ears. It would all hinge on his buyer, after all. On whether or not the person knew jewels, was a connoisseur who was buying because of the quality of the necklace she no longer had in her possession. She walked over to the bar, and she opened the decanter there, the diamond bracelet on her wrist glinting in the light from overhead. “Would you like one?” she asked, nodding toward a glass, then pouring her own amber liquid into the waiting crystal.
Something in Jacob’s eyes flickered for a moment, but his expression remained carefully neutral. The cold, demanding voice didn’t rile him. He had spent his entire life refusing to follow orders people thought they had the right to give him, and was well practiced in how to stand his ground without crossing over the line to being insulting. “Money can’t buy good will.” He said by way of response, barely glancing towards the nightstand. Jacob didn’t work directly as a fence very often (he had a few go-tos he used to hand off his own acquisitions) had been lucky enough to be working with a friend, and knew that even though he would be upset for a while, no lasting harm would be done. But that information could wait, at least until he knew more about Minette’s situation.
He considered turning down the offer for the drink for a moment, before realizing that it was probably better quality than he had had in a while. “Sure.” He moved slowly towards the bar, his boots silent on the plush carpet. “That was quite a piece you had for sale. Vintage, from the looks of it.” Jacob wasn’t much of a connoisseur of jewelry, but it didn’t take an expert to figure out the necklace was hard to come by. “They don’t make ‘em like that these days. You sell it to someone else?”
She watched his gaze slip to the nightstand and the money, and she didn’t show even a hint of bristle at his comment about goodwill. “No, but it can help soothe unintentional slights,” she said of the piles of neat bills. He was younger than she’d originally thought, she realized, and she poured out a second glass of single malt and walked it over to him. It was not a woman’s drink, and she didn’t keep on hand for herself, but lately she’d been thankful to have it around. She held the glass out, and she smiled a cool and distant smile, one cultivated to go with the pale hair and skin. “I gave it back to the original owner,” she said, knowing he’d think she’d stolen it herself. The suite around them made it obvious that if she was stealing things, well, it certainly wasn’t for money. “You can keep the necklace I gave you, and you can take the money with you. I don’t want any trouble with you, or with your buyer.” She had to resist the urge to tack a please onto the sentence; unlearning old habits was a challenge, and she was still trying to manage it.
“It certainly can’t hurt,” he said with a shrug, taking the proffered glass from her hand. Jacob watched her for a moment as he took a swig of the dark liquor, taking in the level of expertise that went into every movement. She was young, probably younger than him, but her eyes seem older in much the same way the ones he saw in the mirror every morning did. Their careers might be nothing alike, but they were both people who put on act for someone else’s benefit, and Jacob could appreciate a craftsman when he saw one. It was difficult to gauge why someone like her would return a necklace so valuable after successfully stealing, but Jacob supposed that was the point. It could have been cold feet, or regret, or a variety of other reason he would never have the time nor opportunity to discover. “Hopefully he didn’t mind you lifting it for a few days,” he said with a half smile, as he finished his drink.
Jacob turned to face the blonde. “I’m not a big fan of trouble. I’ll take the money to the buyer, and calm him down. But this,” he paused, pulling the parcel from inside his jacket pocket. He placed it on the bar, next to his empty glass. “This I don’t need. I don’t know how much you paid for it, but you can probably get something decent for it if you wanted.” Jacob didn’t know if she was a veteran in the business or just trying to break into it, but either way, it wasn’t his style to take advantage of someone on his side of the fence. “Doesn’t seem like you need the money, but what the hell do I know.”
She watched him tip the glass back, and she knew he was sizing her up. She’d played that particular game for her entire life; it came with the territory. She didn’t know what he saw when he looked, not these days. Before, the facade had been perfect. She was everything she wanted people to see, and nothing that she didn’t want anyone to know. But the past had come crashing back and taken that level of distance with its arrival. “He minded,” she said truthfully of the necklace (and the man she’d stolen it from).
“Thank you,” she said when he offered to calm the buyer. It was a strange thing for a fence to be willing to do, and she knew better than anyone how buyers could be when the blood they smelled in the water turned out to be a mirage. “I don’t need the money,” she agreed, because she didn’t, and she didn’t see any point pretending, not when they were standing in the middle of the suite and drinking obscenely expensive whiskey in even more expensive glasses. She barely glanced at the necklace that he’d set on the bar; it wasn’t important. The necklace was only a means to a failed end, after all.
“Tell your buyer that I’m sorry.” She paused. “And if someone named Catwoman offers to sell you something on the journals, tell her no the next time around. Or, better yet, hold onto whatever it is for me, and I’ll give you double what you could sell it for.” Because he’d made the deal there, on the journals, which meant he was like her. Who knew who this man had in his head, but she doubted it was anyone who would take her thievery well. Or, maybe, it was someone who did even more damage that Selina did; it was impossible to tell.
Her gratitude gave Jacob the sense that the woman tended to deal with more violent men than he associated with, which made sense given her choice in profession. Still, it was not his place to judge. He had done many a questionable thing in his life time, and if his days lacked mortal danger and threats of bodily harm, it was because he had taken pain to make sure they stayed that way. Jacob Barnes was an identity that had taken ten years to craft, and he had put in a deliberate effort to keep violence out of it.
So it was not pure conjecture when Jacob said he would talk his buyer out of it. White Collar criminals could get violent on occasion, but at the end of the day the ones he associated with cared more about cold hard cash than blood. “He’ll get over it. I’ll give him the money, and find him a better deal. It won’t come back to you.” He couldn’t help but grin at the mention of Catwoman. She must be the woman’s alter, the way Will was his, even though they seemed to have more trouble getting along than Will and Jacob did. “She’s an interesting one, that’s for sure. But if your offer is good, I’m willing to give it a try.”
“It’s good,” she said of her offer, thankful that she had the money to back it up. She didn’t spend as much time worrying about Selina as other people did about their Alters; too many other concerns pushing Selina to the side in her mind. But this would make her sleep easier, regardless. It meant that whatever Selina tried to drag across the door would make it back where it belonged. Surely she could find whoever controlled Batman on this side of the doors, and surely she could get him (or her) to help. She smiled, and it was the first real smile of the evening. “Thank you. Hopefully she won’t bankrupt me,” she added, putting her own glass down beside his empty one. “You made this a lot easier than I expected. I appreciate it,” she said honestly. This could have turned into a nightmare, but it didn’t, thanks to him. “I would ask your name, but I suspect you wouldn’t give it,” she added.
“If she’s anything like her namesake, I suspect she might try.” He smiled in response to hers, one that was equally genuine. This smile was all Jacob - there was nothing of the smooth con man or cunning grifter present just then. “The name is Barnes. If you do plan on working with me again, it might help to know it.” He had a feeling she might check up after him to make sure he was legitimate, and did not mind in the least. In fact, he welcomed it. Word of mouth meant everything in his business, and if this was going to be the beginning of a new arrangement, he wanted his reputation to speak for him.
He walked to the nightstand and picked up the money, flipping through it briefly before securing it in his jacket pocket. “I guess that’s it for me then. I’ll go get this worked out. In the meantime, if you need my services, you know where to find me.” With one last smile he stepped out of the door and into the shadows, melting back into the night where he belonged.
He was right. She would look into him. She’d ask Silver for help, but that hadn’t gone very well the last time around. She waited until he was clear of the courtyard, and then she closed the doors and locked them. At least things hadn’t turned out too badly that time. And, with any luck, she’d be able to get Batman’s help to avoid future situations turning out worse.