It's a Guy Thing [Rowdy & Marc]

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It was nearly 2 p.m. by the time Rowdy Yates got finished with payroll and was switching off his computer.  He had been working on the task ever since he had returned from the flower shop about a half hour ago.  Noting the time on his Rolex, he wondered where Marc Dahlmaine was.  They had made plans to get together for a drink at the club.  Rowdy began to wonder if the Frenchborn vintner and vanguard of Chevalier Cellars had stood him up.

It wouldn’t have been the first time somebody did that.  The people Rowdy was attracted to were usually busy types – successful based on hard work and diligence.  Rowdy had sensed that about Marc in the flower shop.  Marc was someone Rowdy wanted to get to know better.  As a person. Yes, there was an attraction – Marc was a very handsome man, indeed – but there was something about Marc’s eyes, which held both warmth and wisdom.  Rowdy sensed a potential friendship between him and Marc, and he was being proactive to get the ball rolling so they could see where their interaction would lead.  Rowdy’s intentions were honest and pure.

Rowdy had a simple philosophy in life: Attempt great things.  Expect great things.  Without that strategy, he would’ve given up a long time ago.

Moving to Gotham City was a true blessing for Rowdy.  He never realized how lonely and empty his life was until Vicki Vale re-entered it.  The thought of having her in his life again motivated him to stop dreaming about opening his own nightclub and actually do it.  Although they had been apart for a decade, they reunited and picked up right where they left off, a sign of real friendship.  He shared a history with Vicki.  He knew they’d both be a part of each other’s lives forever.

All Rowdy could think about was how good Vicki and Marc would be together, but Marc was seeing someone else.  It frustrated Rowdy to no end.

Suddenly, Rowdy’s office phone rang.  It was Jimbo downstairs at the bar, informing him that Marc had just entered the building.  Hanging up the receiver, Rowdy hesitated for a moment to focus and muster his confidence before he exited his office and descended the stairs.  He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Marc standing at the bar, still in his trenchcoat and carrying an umbrella.

“Marc!  Welcome to Rowdy’s!” he greeted, extending his hand for Marc to shake.  Then he exclaimed, “Drinks are on the house!”

A cheer went up from all the customers and patrons, in appreciation for the free booze.

With that, Rowdy motioned for Marc to walk with him to his favorite table.

“No waiting, Mr. Dahlmaine,” he mused with a wink.  “Knowing the owner personally has its advantages.  Would you like a cocktail from the bar?”

As they got situated at the table and took their seats, Rowdy chuckled to himself, wondering if Marc would order a Vodka Martini, "shaken not stirred".  Yes, in a way, Marc reminded him of James Bond.

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After the two men had parted he made headway home. His flower arrangement was set upon the desk in his suite room before he headed to a shower. His prior errands had left him in dire need of a shower. And he was to indulge in one prior to this meeting with Mr. Yates. A brief time later he was settling on another pair of charcoal slacks and an oxford to wear to the club. Standard attire for clubs varied but one could never go wrong with something classy.

Gathering his keys, wallet and phone he was on his way. Signalling a car he was able to give the directions to the diver and be deposited in front of the club. For mid afternoon it seemed there was a decent amount of vehicles there. Interesting. He was used to clubs being open for business later-much later than the afternoon.

As he stood in line he was noticed and taken inside rather quickly, being asked to wait until Rowdy met him in the entrance. He was then ushered to one of the many bars within. Mr. Yates met him with a grin and a firmly gripped handshake. Before he could state anything, Rowdy was already claiming a free round for the patrons, the people cheering loudly. It seemed quite the place to be even if he had to question who would be drinking this early in the day.

"Nice establishment you have, Rowdy. Thank you for the invitation." Nodding to the man he turned partially to glance behind them at what the man stocked. "Scotch, neat." His head motioned to a certain bottle toward the back that seemed untouched. Settling into his chair he motioned toward Rowdy. "And what are you going to be having?"

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Scotch Neat?  Rowdy was impressed.  Marc Dahlmaine had style.  Was there anything more elegant than a man with a glass of Scotch in his hand?  Rowdy didn’t think so.

“Jameson on the Rocks,” Rowdy answered when Marc asked him what he was going to be drinking.  “Not every Irish whiskey drinker is averse to frozen cubes, but I find that Jameson is just fine with a little chill.”

Dressed in navy blue dress pants and a white-button-down, Rowdy Yates looked very much like the successful businessman that he was.  The stark contrast of his dark hair and light blue eyes turned more than a few heads -- both male and female -- including most of his wait staff.

“Business is so good that we open at noon,” Rowdy explained to Marc as they waited for their drinks.  “Rowdy’s is known for its food, as well as its alcoholic beverages and entertainment.  We do pretty well at lunchtime.  Gotta keep that edge over the competition, y’know?  I invite you to be my guest any time, Marc.  Your name is on the V.I.P. List.  No cover charge for you, my friend!”

With that, Rowdy settled into his chair.

“So, how are you liking Gotham so far?” he asked, making small talk.  “By the way, I hope you didn’t take offense to the way I was acting in the flower shop earlier today.  I act kinda goofy around beautiful women to make a lasting impression.  It’s part of my irresistible charm and personality!”

Of course, Rowdy was jesting about himself, but there was some truth to it.

“There are just some people you meet and click with right away, and you want to get to know them, y’know?” Rowdy continued.  “You’re one of those people, Marc.  I like you . . . even though you talk funny.”

He smiled playfully.

“You know you talk funny, right?” he chuckled, noting Marc's expression.  “Hey, relax!  Actually, I find your accent to be quite charming and endearing, sir.”

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Their drinks were brought to them promptly and correct. He nodded and raised his glass to his host for the time. "To good men and good drink. Thank you for this opportunity, Rowdy." Clinking their glasses he would sip at his scotch before setting it down. Both men were dressed sharp and he thought nothing less of a man who owned his own establishment. "If you're ever looking to sell some wine here as well, I can send a few bottles over." He offered.

Surprisingly he had forgotten to bring a bottle or two. Most times he did not just cart around bottles of wine. Another time. And considering he was 'VIP' no doubt that would gain him access much quicker if he need be.

Nodding as the place was explained Marc nodded. That was a much different understanding. It was not just a bar but a quality establishment for entertainment. "It seems you are doing quite well for yourself. It's good to see that sort of flourishing in a city."

As he was asked about how he liked Gotham thus far he grinned. "It's interesting. I've met my share of people so far and I can't say that I'm disappointed." Shrugging at how Rowdy seemed to almost dwell on his actions at the flower shop he didn't mind. "Women do that to us sometimes. No foul. No harm." He grinned as he turned the glass in his fingertips.

As focused as he was on his drink he looked up at Rowdy at that statement. "Accent, is usually what it's called. To me, most Americans speak different. Clipped. And I can understand what you mean when you find someone you just click with." He was rather nonchalant in his demeanor. It took more than a few jesting remarks to get his ire up.

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As Marc raised his glass to make a toast, Rowdy smiled and complied, lifting his own glass to meet that one.  He felt a little awkward when Marc thanked him for the opportunity of getting together.  “No one’s ever said that to me before,” he revealed.  “Thank you, Marc.  And I’d be glad to start carrying your wine.  A few bottles?  Hell, bring me a couple of cases of your best sellers, man!  Seriously, that was the first thing I thought of when you gave me your card earlier this afternoon.  I’ll make sure Chevalier Cellars is featured in the new menus I’m having printed next week, and recommended to our customers and patrons, as well.”

Rowdy nodded when Marc commented on his observation that the nightclub was doing well.

“Yes, this place has a good, solid reputation in the community,” Rowdy confirmed.  “I don’t wait for the people to come to me. I go to the people -- y’know, to put a face with the name of the club.  So far, it’s working out pretty good.  We have our steady regulars.”

Rowdy was glad Marc was having a positive experience so far in Gotham City.  “You have a nice smile, Marc,” he commented, watching the Frenchman turn his glass in his fingertips.  “You should show it more often.  And, yes, in my line of work I’ve met some colorful characters myself.  Believe you me, they come in all shapes and sizes in this town, and some are more fun than others, but, hey, people are people.  It is what it is.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  “I really don’t know how much longer I’ll be managing this place though.  I have a few opportunities opening up.  In fact, do you happen to know Lex Luthor?  At the Metropham Gala, he asked me to –“

Suddenly, one of the waitresses approached the table and interrupted Rowdy.  “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, looking at her boss sheepishly.

“It’s all right, Lorraine,” Rowdy told her, lifting his right hand to Marc to signal a brief halt in the conversation.  “What can I do for you, my dear?”

“Mrs. Davenport wants to know if you’ll sing a song,” the young woman answered.  “You know how much she enjoys listening to you croon.”

“Yeah, she’s nicknamed me ‘Bing Crosby’!” Rowdy laughed, rolling his eyes.  “Okaaaay," he whined sarcastically.  " If I muuuust!”  He smirked at Marc.  “Please excuse me.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

* * * * * * *

The lights dimmed as Rowdy took his place at the piano onstage.  The crowd grew silent when he was bathed in a soft blue spotlight.  The silence was deafening.  Once he was comfortable on the bench, Rowdy addressed the audience with a dazzling smile.  Then he began playing a catchy melody line with one finger.

“Recently, I wrote this song for a friend who was going through a rough time,” he said into the wireless microphone he was wearing.  He began to chord, adding more notes for a fuller sound.  “I want to dedicate this song to her and to every one of us here today who has loved and lost.  If you’ve ever been lucky enough to have loved someone so deeply, I hope this song speaks to you as much as it does to me.  It’s called “Without You”.


“Without You” (Rowdy Yates)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0TFPc6EwhM


As Rowdy played the piano and sang, a quiet hush blanketed the room.  The passion that resonated from both instruments (the piano and Rowdy’s voice) was very moving -- something that was surging from somewhere deep down inside his soul.  The people in the audience listened – really listened -- as Rowdy poured out his heart, singing about love, loss, and pain, and they knew they were hearing something real.  Both men and women were mesmerized by his falsetto, wiping their eyes by the song’s end.

Sustaining the last note, Rowdy sat quietly for a moment with his head bowed and the foot pedal pressed, letting the sound of his voice and the music fade away into nothingness.  Then he looked out at the audience and smiled again.

The crowd stood to their feet and cheered.

And with that, Rowdy took his bows and made his way back to the table.  He met Marc with a grin.  “So what do you think?” he beamed, removing his wireless mic.  “Give me an honest critique.  Should I quit my day job?”

Taking his seat, Rowdy reflected on the solo performance.  He thought it had gone pretty well, considering it was sung on the spur of the moment.  He knew all the words because the song had been so personal to him.

“As handsome as you are, I’m sure you could relate to those lyrics,” he chuckled.  “I’m sure you’ve broken some hearts in your day, if you haven’t been a victim of a broken heart yourself.  I dug deep when I wrote those lyrics.  My friend was hurting, and I just put into words all the emotions she was feeling and set them to music.  Trust me.  I knew exactly what she was going through.  I’m very proud of that piece.”

He took a sip of his drink.

“Have you ever loved and lost, Marc?”

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He was surprised at the unabashed enthusiasm Rowdy exuded.
It was usually not this easy to get a proprietary venue to
carry his liquor. So he raised his glass to Rowdy before
downing a significant amount of it. "Then I will make sure
to get several cases of white, red, and champagne sent as
soon as we are done here." The fact Rowdy was printing new
menus was also a nod to how well his business was run. He
was impressed.

As Rowdy filled him in he clientele and how the reputation
of the place was he was sending his wine to. For a random
encounter it seemed that this little meeting was paying off
greatly. He had that sort of luck; meeting the right people
at the right time.

"That is a valuable trait, Rowdy. Putting in the work and
the communication. Not just being a name, but being the
heart, and like you are saying, the face behind your
business. Your club is no doubt flourishing because you are
putting great effort into making sure your patrons know who
you are." It was a high compliment coming from him. The
more personal an owner could be without compromising
professionalism the better. It was a fine line to walk.

"Gotham is interesting. A bit more grim than Metropolis but
it's also less refined. And I smile when I feel led to.
Thank you." He could understand what Rowdy was saying about
people. He'd traveled extensively in his life so he had
met his share of interesting folk. As Lex was brought up
he smiled once more and let out a chuckle. Did he know Lex
Luthor? He did. Why yes he did. He was unable to say
anything as Rowdy was rather rudely interrupted with a
request. Draining his glass he watched as the man whined
over such a request and made his way to the stage. If he
was not planning on staying on at his own club he might
need to rethink investing his product. Just in case the
next proprietor decided to not be as hands on as Mr. Yates
was.

Taking his refreshed drink in hand he watched the man do
his work at the piano. He was gifted with music there was
no doubt in that. The song was good he had to admit. As
was the overall musicality of the performance. He could see
why the club did well if Rowdy did these sort of
performances. It demonstrated just how important this
establishment was to Rowdy. As the applause ebbed and flowed and Rowdy rejoined him he raised his glass to his host.

"Only if that is what you desire. It seems you have the best of both worlds. Owning your own club and performing." The next statement from Rowdy brought about a shrug. "I try to not lean too hard on anyone. Including myself. That is a nice thing to do for a friend in need. But yes, to answer your question. I have. Have you?"

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When Rowdy returned to the table, he smirked as Marc saluted him with another toast.  He really liked how easygoing Marc was.  “I’d love to get you drunk sometime, buddy,” he admitted playfully with a huge grin.  “I’m talking totally shit-faced!  I bet it would be a riot!” 

He continued before Marc could respond in any way to his comments.

“I meant that as a compliment, Marc.  I like you.  Seriously.  If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Waving to Jimbo, Rowdy ordered another round of drinks for them.

“Jimbo’s a great guy.  He doesn’t believe in himself, but I know he’ll make a great manager of this place one day.  I’ll still be the proprietor and call the shots from behind the scenes, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Jimbo can handle it.  He just needs to grow a bit more.  I have no problem investing in him whatsoever.”

Easing back in his chair, Rowdy took a long draw from his glass as Marc answered his question.  He was caught offguard when the Frenchman threw the question back at him.

“Yes,” Rowdy answered reluctantly.  The way he said that one little word spoke volumes.  For a moment, his eyes glassed over as his mind clouded with nostalgic afterthoughts of his past.  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this life, it’s that a broken heart never mends.  It just keeps getting broken over and over and over again.”

He put his glass down on the table.

“Another thing I’ve learned is that a crowded elevator smells different to a midget.”

Keeping a straight face was very hard for Rowdy, but he wanted to see how Marc reacted to his humor.

“So, do you play racquetball, Marc?” he asked afterwards, steering the conversation to another topic altogether.  “I can’t seem to be able to find a decent competitor here in Gotham City.  I’ve been playing for about five years now.  I’m pretty good, even If I do say so myself.  I enjoy healthy competition.  It builds character.  There’s nothing I hate more than a bad sport and a sore loser.  What do you like to do to stay in shape, Marc?  Do you fence -- like one of the Three Musketeers?  They're French, right?”