Chapter Text
The inside of the club is pretty much what Helena had expected: red lighting, way too much mask decor, echoing bass. There’s no sign of Zsasz, but Sionis is making the rounds, chatting up all the heavy hitters.
Just as she’s found a nondescript spot along the wall to keep a casual eye on the room, the music fades out and the spotlights on the stage come up. She takes another quick glance at the crowd, but Zsasz is still absent. When her gaze returns to the stage, she freezes.
At the microphone is the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. She’s clad in some sort of mesh dress layered over a yellow-gold bodysuit and the effect is mesmerizing. Dozens of gold rings sparkle on her fingers and in her ears and her voice is low and sweet. Helena swears she can feel the sound seeping into her veins.
By the time the set is over, Helena realizes she hasn’t looked away since the singer started. Sionis is loudly praising the performance, and the singer replaces the mic with a bashful smile, showing the dimple in her right cheek.
Helena decides she needs a drink.
She grabs a seat at the bar, orders a vodka soda, and resolves to give Zsasz another half hour to crawl out of the woodwork before calling it for the night.
He does not.
Just as she’s preparing to make her exit, someone slides onto the barstool next to her. The bartender immediately places what looks like a glass of whiskey in front of the newcomer, who murmurs a “Thanks.”
After a couple of sips, she turns to look at Helena. “Can I help you?”
“Me? No, I-” she stammers, caught off-guard. “I didn’t mean to stare, just...you’re the singer, right?”
“Sure am,” she replies flatly. She still has her stage makeup on, but she’s changed into jeans and a very cropped t-shirt that highlights her toned stomach and sparkly bellybutton piercing.
“You’re amazing,” Helena goes on. “I’ve never heard anyone sing like that before.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” She pauses, taking in Helena’s appearance. “First time at the club?”
“Yeah; I’m from out of town. Is it that obvious?”
“You’ve just got that, like, startled deer look.”
Helena has no idea how to respond to this. “Uh, thanks?”
This, somehow, gets a laugh out of the singer. The dimple in her cheek reappears for a split second and Helena can’t look away. “Look. If you’re here for Sionis, the way to him sure as hell ain’t through me.”
“I’m not.”
The singer shrugs. “Whatever you say.”
Helena frowns. “I’m serious.”
“Okay, sure.” She drains the rest of her glass. “You got a name, doe eyes?”
“Yeah.” Out of probably too much caution, she defaults to her middle name. “It’s Rosa.”
“Hmm.” She looks at Helena curiously, but doesn’t question her. “Everyone in here calls me Black Canary.”
“What about when you’re not here?”
She leans in close and Helena’s heart hammers. Then, lips brushing the shell of Helena’s ear, she says, “That’s none of your goddamn business, is it?”
Helena’s face flushes. “Oh. Sorry? I can just, uh, call you Canary.”
She moves back into her own space, and to Helena’s confusion, she’s smiling. “I’m fucking with you.” She lifts her gold-shadowed gaze to meet Helena’s. “It’s Dinah.”
“Dinah.” Helena tests out the name, finding she likes the shape of it on her tongue. “That’s pretty.”
Dinah takes out a pack of cigarettes and tucks one behind her ear. She chuckles. “You think so? You’re funny.” She slides off the barstool. “Gonna go for a smoke. You coming?”
“I don’t actually-”
“You don’t have to smoke,” she explains, amused but not unkind. “I’m asking if you wanna come outside with me while I smoke so that we can keep talking.”
“Oh! Yeah, okay, that’d be nice. Lead the way.”
Dinah makes her way through the crowd with practiced ease, guiding Helena along with a light grip on her wrist. They step out into a back alley, empty except for a couple of other smokers.
“Gets hard to breathe in there sometimes.” Dinah leans against the brick wall and lets go of Helena so she can use her lighter.
“I can imagine,” Helena says, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Is it always this busy?”
“Oh, yeah. But it’s always the same fuckin’ people in there. Every night. Sometimes it just gets so goddamn boring, you know? That’s why it’s nice to see a new face.” She blows out a curl of smoke. “But it pays the bills, so I can’t complain.”
“Have you been here long?”
“I’ve been at the club for...six years now. Gotham, though? My whole damn life. You?”
“I’m visiting from Sicily,” she admits, half because she doesn’t see the harm in it and half because she didn’t have time to come up with a plausible lie.
“Like, Italy? The fuck are you doing in Gotham when you could be, I don’t know, drinking Aperol on a terrace?”
Helena chuckles. “If you’ve seen one terrace, you’ve seen them all.”
“I doubt that.”
“This is actually my hometown,” she goes on, consequences be damned. She wants to keep this conversation afloat for as long as possible. “I was born here, but I moved abroad when I was still a kid.”
“No shit.” Dinah drops the end of her cigarette and extinguishes it under the toe of her boot. “You’re really nailing the tall-dark-and-mysterious bit, huh?”
“The what?”
Dinah shakes her head. “Never mind.” She checks the time on her phone and swears under her breath. “How the fuck is it this late already? I need to get home.”
They get back inside and find the party still in full swing. Helena briefly wonders what insane designer drugs these people have to be on to do this every single night. Dinah’s grabbed her bag from the back and she stifles a yawn, leaning against the end of the bar.
“Hey, Leo,” she says, and the bartender turns. “Call me a cab, would you? My car’s in the shop.”
Before she can think it through, Helena’s speaking up. “I can drop you off. My bike’s outside.”
Dinah looks at her, eyebrows raised. “Never mind, Leo. Looks like my knight in shining armour here is gonna whisk me away on her motorcycle.”
Helena blushes. “If you want, I mean.”
“I’m just givin’ you a hard time.” Dinah reaches out and squeezes her bicep. “That’s very chivalrous. Lead the way, hotshot.”