#apotheca

 It was a cold night in Gotham, and the good doctors stood in front of the Iceberg Lounge. Apotheca stood with her head held high, her red ‘business’ lipstick painted brightly on her lips. She absently played with the pearls on her necklace. Her beloved husband stood next to her, dressed in a simple brown coat and khakis. They appeared to be waiting on someone. Jon checked his watch every so often.

 "Where’s the child we never had?“ He asked. Apotheca giggled behind a delicate hand. "Late as usual, I assume. We’ll just have to begin the party without her.” The doctor adjusted the brim of her white cloche hat. Before she could open the door, Jon took hold of her hands and pulled her closer.

  “A moment, darling.” He said, giving her a kiss. It was their tradition to give each other a kiss before she conducted business, a good luck gesture if you will; but let’s be real, they’d kiss each other anywhere, anytime, good luck or not.

“Knock 'em dead, my love.”

“Only if necessary, dear.”

   And with that, they opened the door and stepped inside. One could always hear the click of her heels before you saw her coming. Jonathan, always her faithful shadow, stayed behind her during these deals, as they were known to get a bit… messy. They reached a table with three, clean cut men in suits, talking over wine and steaks. Apotheca set her sequined handbag on the table and went to take off her lavish, white fur coat. She stopped when her husband helped her out of it instead and hung it on the back of her chair.

  “Thank you, Jon.” She smiled and curled a finger under his chin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It left a lipstick stain, but he didn’t notice nor did he care. They lingered in the moment before taking their seats. An empty chair was to Apotheca’s left.

  “We waiting on someone else?” The man who seemed to be the boss asked. “Oh, yes my friend should be arriving shortly, but we can start without her. She won’t mind.” She said, crossing her legs. A nervous looking waitress came by and took her order, just wine and a whiskey for her husband. Their… Friend would bring her own sugary, caffeinated drink. Most of these deals began with small talk and pleasantries, just to be civil before the real difficulties began.

 They were hardly ten minutes into their chat before the doors busted open and the pungent perfume of gasoline and sewer hit the company like a tidal wave. The disgusting smelling person at the door stopped to flirt with the nervous waitress before weaving her way through tables and chairs, stealing a woman’s wine glass, and plopping at the chair next to Apotheca. Loudly propping their grimy boots on the table, she downed the glass of wine in one go.

 "Sup, suits, how we doin’ tonight? Sorry for the fashionable lateness, my date with Jonesy caused me to lose track'a the time.“ She said, slamming the wine glass on the table and wiping her mouth with the back of her grimy hand. Apotheca grinned politely at her associates, patting her friend’s knee. The men looked at one another before gray haired man on the right pointed his steak knife at the kid. "You bring children to your business deals now?” He asked.

 "Razor is much older than she looks. Besides, she always been such a help when things go south.“ The doctor lovingly ruffled Razor’s greasy red mohawk.

 "S'Right.” She said, looking proud of herself as she cracked open a rather large Red Bull. Apotheca swirled the wine in her glass, and Jon lit a cigarette. They let the moment sink in before the doctor cleared her throat.

 "I think that’ll be enough idle chat.“ She said, suddenly switching gears. Her posture changed and she sat up straighter. "Now, Vincent, let’s discuss your affairs. You’ve gotten yourself in quite an economical pickle. I’m afraid I’ll have to stop the supply of pain pills and other such luxuries until I get my money. And that’ll include interest.” She said, sipping her wine.

  Vincent sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I told ya, Doctor, I don’t have it. I’ve been trying to collect, but business is tanking. I barely have enough to pay my employers.” He griped. Apotheca grinned again.

 "And yet you seem to have plenty for expensive booze and fancy dinners. And those lovely suits, must be Italian, am I correct?“ She asked, her eyes looking for traces of lies on their faces. Apotheca had sent Razor and few of her employees to spy on this particular mob family, so she knew plenty about where there money was going. Razor pulled out a knife and jabbed it in the bread basket, getting two rolls on a knife and eating them shish-ka-bob style. She winked and flicked her tongue at the nervous boy to Vincent’s left. He blushed darkly and tried to eat his steak without looking at Razor too much.

  "W-well we’ve also been trying to pay off other bosses, y'know. We’ll have your money next month, I promise.” Vincent was really trying to cover his ass now. Apotheca tsked and opened her handbag, pulling out a small notebook. “Now let’s look at numbers. See, you’ve been promising to pay me since November, and it is January now. I’ve been ever so generous and patient with you since you pay pretty well for my products, but I’m afraid if you don’t pay now, then we’ll take our business elsewhere. So pardon my French, but at this point in the game, your promises don’t mean shit.” She snapped the notebook. A vein began to pop in Vincent’s forehead.

 "Are you calling me cheap, you sorry, conniving-“ he wasn’t given a chance to finish when Jon jumped to his feet and Razor attempted to lunge over the table at him. Apotheca caught her husband by the crook of his elbow and Razor by her patched vest. "Now, now, sweets, let’s not cause a scene. I’m sure Vincent didn’t mean what he was about to say, now did he?” She asked, her voice leveled but hinting that if she were to let go of her people, it was going to get violent. Vincent cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “Not at all.”

 Apotheca rested her chin in one hand, keeping the other on her lap. “Wonderful. Now back to your payment, I want my money by tonight. I will accept it no later. Cash only, I will not take checks.” In the early days, she learned never, ever use or accept checks. They were easily traceable and besides, what bank would take checks from mob bosses?

 "And I’m telling you, I. Don’t. Have it. End of story. I can have it to you by February.“ Vincent waved his hand dismissively. That made her blood boil, but she kept a cool smile on her face. "Oh, dear. I suppose February will have to do, won’t it?” She asked, feigning defeat with a hefty sigh. Jon smiled, he knew exactly what was coming next. Razor tried to muffle her giggle. Before Vincent could say another word, Apotheca reached under the table and pulled out her handgun, hitting Vincent point blank in the head and his gray haired partner in the chest. The boy to his left, with black, curly hair and hardly out of teen hood, had covered his face and cowered in his chair. Jon was on him in seconds, a syringe of fear toxin at his neck with his thumb on the plunger. Razor came up behind him, grabbing some hair and poising her knife like she meant to scalp the poor boy. Apotheca stood, the beads on her sumptuous black dress swaying as she walked, and sat across from him on the table.

  “Now you seem much more agreeable, sweetie, what’s your name?” She asked softly, holding his chin. The boy gulped and stuttered out “Michael.”

  “Alright, Michael. You’ll have my money to me by tonight, now won’t you? In exchange, I’m sure we can find a nice suitable position in our family. Maybe you can even have a little fun with Razor. Would you like that, sweetness?” She asked, comfortingly touching his face. It wasn’t his fault his boss was an idiot, why punish the kid? He gave a weak nod.

 "O-of course ma'am, tonight.“ He said, his voice cracking with anxiety. Apotheca looked pleased and gently poked his nose with a long, perfectly manicured nail. "I knew I could count on you. Let him go, sweets.” Jon withdrew his syringe and put it in his pocket, straightening his jacket. Razor ran a hand through his hair and pulled the knife away.

  “You’re free to go, young man.” Apotheca said shortly and the boy scrambled to get out the door, forgetting his jacket. Razor cackled. “Man, his face! He was pissing himself! He was lucky he was so cute, I woulda been harder on him.” The mob boss smiled before they heard someone shouting.

  “Goddammit, Apotheca! What have I told you about shooting up my club?!” Oswald waddled towards them as fast he could, the thick cigar in his mouth puffing with smoke. “I’m sorry, Oswald, but business went sour with him. It was necessary violence. I promise, we’ll have it cleaned up for you.” She said, her voice like velvet, hoping to quell him before he got worked up.

 "Better watch the old blood pressure, Ozzy. Wouldn’t want you to have a stroke.“ Razor said from behind her, giving Oswald a Cheshire grin. Apotheca sighed deeply. She loved her friend to death, but she never knew when to shut her mouth.  

  "YOU!” Oswald bellowed, brandishing his umbrella at Razor, his face red and splotchy with anger. “You are violating about seven different restraining orders by being here you lunatic piece of gutter trash!” He jabbed the end of the umbrella to her chest. Razor didn’t even look slightly fazed. “Yeah, yeah, waddles, I’ll be outta your receding hair in no time. This place is too stuffy for me anyhow.” She flicked the barrel of the umbrella gun before she was whacked over the head with it.

  “What she means to say is that we’ll get going once we clean up and pay.” Jonathan intervened before Razor and Cobblepot killed each other. Oswald glared at Jonathan. “You’ll make sure of it, Crane. Spotless! I want no blood stains. I will NOT have my business ruined by your 'business’!” He snapped before waddling away.

 "He’s gonna give himself a grand mal seizure one’a these days.“ Razor muttered, picking dirt from under her nails with the point of a steak knife. They cleaned up the blood and disposed the bodies in the boiler room below the club. Once they payed for their drinks, they walked outside into the night.

  "I think that went rather well.” Apotheca said, putting her tiffany blue plated gun in her coat pocket. Jonathan nodded and wrapped his arm around his gorgeous wife. “I’m off to Jonesy’s. Gimme a holler if you are in need of my services, m'lady.” Razor gave a dramatic bow before giving her friend a bear hug. “Don’t cause too much trouble sweetpea.” The doctor smiled, knowing fully well Razor WAS the trouble.