#korydonna

(Okay, maybe she could get a new apartment, but she quite liked this one.  It had granite countertops, and good water pressure, and four cabinets in the kitchen.  That was three cabinets more than her friend Roy had in his East Village studio.)

“Roy only has one cabinet?”

“That’s beside the point!  I need a roommate, and I really don’t wanna look on Craigslist.”

“Hmm.”  Dick sat on the customer side of the bar, wearing a thoughtful expression and brandishing an almost-full pint of Sam Adams in one hand.  Donna didn’t like where that was going.  Dick’s ‘thoughtful looks’ usually ended in spectacularly bad plans and possible bodily harm, and if he spilled that beer it’d be hers to clean up.  Unfair.  The bar wasn’t even open yet.

“Don’t give me that ‘hmm.’  What are you thinking?”  Please don’t let her regret asking.

“Well.  You’re in want of a roommate, right?” Dick raised one eyebrow.  “I happen to know a fantastic lady in want of a room.”

How weirdly and coincidentally helpful of him.

“Sounds perfect,” said Donna.  “What’s wrong with her?”

“What’s … wrong with her?”

“Yeah.”  Donna shrugged.  “What’s wrong with her?  Why doesn’t she have a place to live?”

“Uhh, nothing?  She’s new in town, just moved from LA.”

“Ohhh, so she’s one of your celebrity friends?”  Dick had a habit of befriending celebrity-adjacent people.  He was Rich (with a capital R), and hung out with models and musicians and people who worked on movies.  People on magazine covers.  He had VIP passes to most of the clubs in Midtown because he knew the owners of most of the clubs in Midtown.  

Really, some of Dick’s acquaintances weren’t the sort of people who’d give a down-on-her-luck bartender the time of day.

Dick rolled his eyes.  “I guess you could say that.  She’s great though: she’s fun, she’s down to Earth, she’s stylish – just your type!”

“My type?”

“Of friend!  She’s your type of friend.”

Donna didn’t sigh, but it was a close call.  “That’s great, but it doesn’t tell me anything.  Is she clean?  Is she loud?  Sounds like money’s not an issue, but is she responsible?”

“Yes to all of that.”

“Loud isn’t a good thing, Dick.”

“Okay fine.”  Dick shrugged and leaned back.  “If you can’t accept that one flaw, I guess you’ll have to just find some schmuck off Craigslist.”

“No, it’s.”  Donna groaned.  “It’s fine. What’s her name?”

“Kory.”

She’d heard that name.

“Kory.  You don’t mean your ex, Kory?”

“Is that a problem?”

Donna pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Why are you trying to set me up with your ex?”

“Hey, not all exes are created equal!” Dick said, maybe a little too quickly.  “I know you’re still reeling from Kyle, but Kory’s not some slack-off jerk-face like him.  Promise.”

“Well, if you promise.”

Dick tilted his head pointedly.  “Oh, come on.  We broke up like two years ago and I’m still friends with her.  That should be recommendation enough.”

“That doesn’t mean much.  You’re friends with all your exes.  Roy … Babs …”

“Yeah, coz I don’t date assholes.”

Donna narrowed her eyes.  What happened that patented Dick Grayson charm?  Or was that reserved for strangers and reporters, old friends be damned?

He must’ve seen the look on her face, because he quickly tacked on, “Too soon?”

All he got in response was a small hmph.

“Sorry.  But seriously, why are you being so resistant?”

Why was she being resistant?  This was good, technically.  She’d spent the last two weeks asking around for friends of friends of friends who were possibly looking for a place to live, with no luck.  And here Dick was, suggesting someone who definitely (probably?  How much did models make?) had enough money that rent wouldn’t be a problem.  Someone he knew and held in high regard – and as much as Donna liked to tease him, Dick was a good judge of character.  Kory should be, more or less, a perfect roommate.  So, what was Donna’s problem?

Maybe it was that she’d met Kory once and could say, without exaggeration, that she was the most intimidatingly beautiful woman Donna had ever seen.

Not that she could say that to Dick.

“I’m not … I’m not being resistant,” Donna said.  “Go ahead and give her my number.  Have her call me if she’s interested.  And either drink that beer or get out, we’re opening.”

Dick slid his glass across the bar and hopped off his stool with a mock salute.  “Knew you’d give in.  See ya tomorrow, Troy?”

“Later, Dick.”

Kory moved in two days later, on a Friday.

It wasn’t like Donna hadn’t met Kory before.  She had, once, during her senior year of college.  It was at some Wayne Enterprises banquet she had to attend for her scholarship.  Dick had introduced them, and Kory had told some story about her sister and an angry pelican, and Donna had walked away from the encounter with a general feeling of holy shit.

But that was two years ago, and even the memory of holy shit wasn’t enough to prepare Donna for the sight of Kory Anders, popular instagram model, standing in her living room with two suitcases and a hairless cat.

She just seemed so … out of place.  Donna’s apartment wasn’t bare by any means; there was a couch, a tv, curtains on the windows, and even some of Donna’s prints framed on the wall.  She had a rug on the floor and a blanket thrown over the couch.  It was all very tasteful – and of course it was, having housed pair of artists for nearly two years.

The apartment could be a Renaissance painting, all soft light and muted colors.  And there Kory stood, with her dyed pink hair and flagrantly purple, sleeveless blouse.  Like one bold, bright stroke of paint right down the center of the canvas.

And wow, Donna really needed to get Kyle out of her head.  She was a photographer, not a painter, dammit!

“Your home is lovely,” Kory said with a small smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you,” Donna replied.  “Here, let me grab one of your bags.”  They were both lime green, but otherwise mismatched.  One was a large, hard-shelled roller, the other a half-sized canvas duffel bag.

Most of Donna’s accessories were black (or at least very dark jewel-tones).  Black was practical.  It went with everything, didn’t stand out, never looked dirty … an all-around useful color, really.  

But all of thirty seconds in Kory’s presence, and Donna thought she could stand for more greens or purples or pinks in her life.

Best not read too much into that...

She led Kory to the spare room and gestured around.  “So this’ll be your room.”

Kory looked around, humming appraisingly.  She let the cat jump out of her arms, and Donna gave it a wary eye.  The apartment was pet-friendly, and Kory had assured her that Silkie (seriously, the cat’s name was Silkie) was house-trained, but Donna had never lived with a cat before.  She was more of a dog person, herself.

Plus his wrinkly, pink skin was a little off-putting.  Still, she supposed he was cute in his own sort of disgusting way.

“What are those?”  Kory gestured with her chin towards the ceiling.

Donna looked up and grimaced.  “Yeah, those.  This was Kyle’s studio and he wanted, uh, glowy stars?  For some reason?  I haven’t been able to get them down, sorry.”

“That’s fine.”  Kory said airily.  “It adds a bit of whimsy.”

Donna thought Kory probably knew a lot about whimsy.  Amazingly, the thought wasn’t in her judgemental voice.

“I don’t have a bed or any furniture for you,” Donna said, eyeing the two (only two?) bags Kory had packed.  “Do you …?”

“I’ll have to purchase them,” Kory said.  “I left everything in LA and only brought what I need.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“You can always find cheap furniture,” Kory said as if it was the simplest fact of life.  “I find it easier to replace things than to try and carry them everywhere.”

“Not me, sister,” Donna said, leading Kory back out to the living area.  “That couch is staying with me ‘till the day I die.”

Kory looked at the couch with an inquisitive eye as Donna ducked under the counter separating the living room from the kitchen.  The couch wasn’t anything special, Donna knew – not even a full set.  Just a loveseat and an armchair, both a deep red color.  They weren’t overstuffed, but they weren’t threadbare either.  Overall, it was an exceedingly average couch.

“Does it have some sentimental value?”

“Nope.”  Donna emerged with a three-quarters full bottle of Chianti.  She popped the cork and poured two generous glasses.  “I just like the color red.”

Kory smiled.  It pulled one corner of her mouth higher than the other and made her eyes soft.  Donna smiled in kind and handed her a glass.

“To new roomies,” Donna said, raising her glass.

“To new roomies,” Kory repeated, clinking her glass against Donna’s.  As she took a sip, Donna couldn’t help but notice the wine matched Kory’s lipstick.

A thought occurred to her.

“Hold up.”  Kory stopped, glass still held to her lips.  Donna put up her thumb and forefinger, framing Kory’s face between them  “Stay right there,” she added with a grin.

Kory seemed to catch on as Donna ran to her room for her camera.  Dick must’ve told her Donna was a photographer.  

It wasn’t like she was a professional or anything.  Well, technically she was, had a degree and a practice and all, but mostly she did shoots for senior photos or family portraits or whatever.  She’d tried to do freelance for some magazines, but apparently nobody was interested in pictures from some no-name bartender in New York.  Something about them being a dime-a-dozen.  Even attaching her name to Dick’s (he offered) hadn’t done the trick.

Not that she was giving up.  She still sent out her portfolio and did interviews every chance she got.  She had an instagram with a decent following.  It just … wasn’t enough to live on.

Hence the bartending.

“So where do you want me?”  Kory was perched on one of the kitchen stools when Donna came back out.  Her legs were crossed and she held her wine glass delicately in the air, elbow resting on the counter.

“Right there, actually.”  Donna grinned.  She hadn’t worked with a subject who actually knew what they were doing since college.  This was going to be fun.  “You don’t mind, do you?” she added as she flitted around the room, adjusting the lights to be soft and flattering.

“Oh, not at all,” Kory replied.  “I was actually going to ask how much you charge.”

“How much –”  Donna stopped in her tracks.  A popular model wanted to pay her for her services?  Usually she had random strangers trying to get her to work for free.  “Well, I was gonna give you the friends and family discount.”

“And how much is that?”

“Free.”

Kory’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline.  “Free?  Donna, do not undersell yourself.  Everyone else will.”

Donna snorted.  “Ain’t that the truth.  But no, this is just for fun.  Call it a bonding exercise or something.  Besides, I’m not gonna charge you when you haven’t hired me.  You don’t even know how good I am.”

“Dick showed me your instagram.  I may be just a model, but I know good art when I see it,” Kory said with a wink.

“Oh, Miss Anders.”  Don’t blush, don’t fucking blush.  “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Will it now?”

“You know it.”  It wasn’t what Donna wanted to say, but she didn’t want to scare Kory off ten minutes after meeting her.  “Alright so … look at the door.”

“What’s my mood?”

Donna considered for a moment.  “You’re on a blind date set up by your best friend, and it’s going great.”

Kory’s demeanor barely changed.  Her posture straightened, her fingers curled a little looser around her glass, and her eyes seemed almost imperceptibly brighter.

“Are they funny?” she asked.

“Mm … they’re witty.”  Donna snapped three shots in quick succession.  “You’re vibing pretty hard.”

“Are they pretty?”

“Just your type.”

Two more shots.  Kory sucked in her lips in what might’ve been the most adorable expression Donna’d ever seen a person bear.  She took three more shots.

“Are we coming back to my place after?”

“Uh … you might wanna buy a bed first.”

Kory threw back her head and laughed.  There.  That was the energy Donna wanted.  She took five shots before Kory turned to look at the camera.

“I think we’re gonna get along splendidly, Miss Troy.”

Donna didn’t bother holding back the grin spreading across her face.