Chapter 9: Batman and Catwoman's Holiday
Across from him, Naomi smiled as she poured wine with practiced elegance. Though she had never asked about Wayne's family, she could tell he came from a well-bred background. His table manners alone—refined and natural—betrayed the kind of upbringing no average household could afford.
"Wayne, tell me," she said teasingly, "do you prefer the fiery and bold type, or the gentle and attentive one who makes you lunch? Or maybe you don't have to choose at all. We've still got two days off—you could lock me up right here and take your time enjoying me."
She raised her wineglass and clinked it lightly against his. After a slow sip, she deliberately traced her tongue along her lips—she knew he liked that kind of thing.
"Alright, darling," Wayne replied with a half-smile, "but it's still broad daylight—don't tempt me to transform into a wild beast already. You've no idea how irresistible you are right now."
He looked at her, suppressing the desire stirring within.
"Then talk to me," Naomi said, setting her glass down. "Let's talk about your childhood. I'm really curious—what made you the way you are? You're so serious, so… old-souled for someone your age. Always working, always focused. Doesn't that get tiring?"
She genuinely wanted to understand him. It was obvious Wayne had laid out a strict life plan for himself and had been following it meticulously. At his age, most people were out partying, chasing fleeting pleasures, experimenting with sex and smoke. But Wayne was different.
He didn't seem bothered by her question. Lifting his glass and taking a thoughtful sip, he began:
"My childhood? Not much to say. It was all about learning, one step ahead of everyone else. From a young age, I knew what I wanted—and I worked hard for it. That made me… different. Hard to relate to other kids.
They said I was cold, antisocial, even cruel—but I just couldn't connect with them. Weekends were my only break. I'd go hunting or watch games with my dad. Then on my fifteenth birthday, he gave me a young horse. I took care of it every day—it helped me relax.
I also had two golden retrievers. Smart, loyal, always lying at my feet when I worked, keeping me company when I needed a break. That was pretty much it. What about you? What made you want to act?"
After saying it all out loud, he realized just how uneventful his early years really were.
Naomi gave him a look of mock dismay.
"That's it? God, you were born boring. Alright, in my case—it was 1983, I was fifteen. I remember it so clearly. My mom took me to one of her musicals. I was completely spellbound. That night, I swore to myself—I was going to become an actress.
Later, I got into drama school, started studying seriously. I landed a few small roles here and there, but my career didn't exactly take off. To make ends meet, I modeled in Japan for a year. Didn't want to waste time though, so I came back to Australia, worked as editor-in-chief at Follow Me, a fashion magazine—wanted to see if I could break into the fashion industry.
But I wasn't satisfied. So I came here. The dreamland for actors—Hollywood."
Wayne listened quietly as Naomi got lost in her memories. It confirmed what he already knew—anyone who made it in this industry had fought for it, step by step. If she hadn't met him, chances were she would've gone back to Australia… only to return again, driven by stubborn dreams.
He knew her future. She'd do odd jobs for six more years, play bit parts until finally catching her break. Not until she was thirty would she rise to fame with Mulholland Drive, followed by The Ring, 21 Grams, King Kong, and Birdman—culminating in an Oscar nomination.
"Sorry, I zoned out for a second," Wayne said.
"That's okay," Naomi grinned. "You're still handsome when you drift off."
With his hunger and thirst satisfied, his thoughts turned predictably toward more primal instincts. Naomi wasn't just beautiful—she was patient and driven. He had to admit, he admired women like that.
"I heard you can transform into a superhero," Naomi said with a playful sparkle in her eyes. "Come on, show me. Don't you like wild little kittens? Believe me, I play a great Catwoman. So, Mr. Batman… care to conduct a rough
little casting session with your Catwoman?"
Naomi clearly wasn't saying no—after all, this strong, composed man exuded an undeniable charm. Slowly, she sank to her knees, crawling forward like a graceful kitten.
"You'll see, little Catwoman," Wayne said with a teasing edge to his voice. "Let's go to the bathroom. I'll show you what transformation really means. You like it rough? No! Who told you to stand up? That's not how a wild kitten behaves—crawl like before."
He slipped off his shirt and stepped into the bathroom first.
---
The next morning, Wayne woke up hungry. His entire body ached, especially his waist. Clearly, alcohol had made him more indulgent than usual.
He glanced at the little wildcat curled up beside him—Naomi was still asleep, snuggled into his chest. She must've been exhausted too. He hadn't expected her preferences to be so… unique. Strangely, he found it addictive.
"Hey, sweetheart, you're awake. Want me to get up and make you breakfast?" she asked with a sleepy smile as she opened her eyes and looked at him.
"Nah, you're probably still worn out. Maybe you can stay in bed while I whip something up. Consider it a reward for your, uh, stellar performance last night. Ever had Chinese breakfast?"
He threw on his shirt and turned to ask Naomi.
Naomi tilted her head, the blanket slipping down to her waist. She didn't care. After thinking for a moment, she replied, "Chinese food? I think I've had General Tso's Chicken… and fortune cookies?"
Wayne was halfway to the door, but paused, visibly struggling to stay calm.
"Oh, come on, sweetheart," he said, almost exasperated. "That stuff? That's not real Chinese food. That's Americanized junk. I remember you had spaghetti, right?"
With that, he walked into the living room and opened the fridge. Just as he'd thought—there was spaghetti, tomatoes, and eggs. Perfect. Tomato and egg noodles—a true Chinese comfort dish.
It was a dish every Chinese person could make, but for Americans, it always seemed oddly complicated. Wayne hadn't cooked like this in years, but today, he was simply in a good mood.
Americans might tolerate Chinese food once in a while, but it never became habit—different culture, different palate. When he finished and placed the bowls on the small dining table, he nodded with satisfaction. Cooking, it seemed, was embedded in his soul.
He went to wake Naomi. They sat across from each other, slurping noodles together. Once Wayne confirmed she actually liked the taste, he relaxed and dug into his own bowl.
By the end, they were both full and leaning back, warm and content.
"Wayne, I can't believe you actually know how to cook Chinese food. I would've never guessed—Mr. Workaholic has hidden talents. It was delicious, really surprising."
"I went through a phase," Wayne replied. "Got into the culture—language, food, all of it. I even took Mandarin as an elective. My pronunciation's pretty solid, too."
"Sometimes I really envy people like you," Naomi said softly, admiring him. "When you want to learn something, you just… do it. And do it well."
She meant it. People like Wayne—gifted, driven—seemed touched by some divine favor. Everything came so easily to them.
"Alright, Naomi, break time's only till noon. This afternoon, I need to get in touch with Luke—he's taking care of car rentals and equipment prep. I don't feel comfortable just handing it all off. Plus, I still haven't finished my shot list, and the production schedule needs tweaking."
He started gathering their clothes from the floor, dressing quickly—socks, shirt, shoes.
"Well, we've still got the whole morning, don't we?" Naomi suggested. "Why don't we go for a stroll? Forget work for a bit—how about the Hollywood Walk of Fame?"
Watching him dress efficiently, she made her pitch with a smile.
Wayne thought for a second. It wouldn't delay anything too critical, so he nodded.
"Then you'd better hurry—get dressed, do your makeup. I don't want to waste too much time just getting out the door. I'll go shower and change, and when you're ready, come get me."
With that, he stepped out and returned to his apartment.
---
Later, Wayne and Naomi walked hand in hand through the streets like any other couple. Tourists wandered around them, cameras clicking, laughter echoing under the bright California sun.
The Hollywood Walk of Fame stretched ahead—one of L.A.'s most iconic destinations. Over 2,500 terrazzo and brass stars lined the sidewalks along Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street, immortalizing the names of actors, musicians, directors, producers, bands, theater groups—even fictional characters.
Maintained by the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce and the self-funded Hollywood Historic Trust, it drew millions of visitors each year. By 2003, reports estimated over 10 million tourists had walked these streets.
"Wayne," Naomi said as she looked down at the stars beneath their feet, "do you think one day my name will be here too?"
She clutched his arm tightly as they strolled past those shining tributes. She wanted—no, needed—her name to be among them. Every dreamer in Hollywood did.
Wayne looked at her gently. "No, Naomi, I don't know if I'll ever be up here. But I do believe your name absolutely will be. One day, it'll be etched into these streets—forever."
He meant it. Sure, in the future the Walk of Fame might lose some of its luster. Maybe anyone with enough money could buy a star. But right now? It still meant something.
With the career she could have—even if his presence in her life had changed a few things—her success was inevitable. If anything, she might get there sooner. And even if things shifted, she'd always have him. He wasn't planning to settle down, but if his film succeeded, he'd have the perfect excuse to invite her to star in a breakout role.
"Want a coffee?" Naomi asked, pointing at a nearby Starbucks. "Let's sit there for a while. I've been here so many times, but every time… it still makes me dream."
Wayne nodded, and she pulled him along to sit under a roadside umbrella.