Smooth Criminals: Harley x Joker Origin Story

Chapter 6: Batsy

I leaned over Mister J's shoulder. "I think we should use all our dough to go on vacation, puddin'."

He grunted. He sat on the living room floor, his attention on spray-painting the assault rifle gold. His entire apartment smelled like paint fumes.

I grazed my lips up his neck. "Somewhere hot would be nice, you think?"

Mister J leaned away and swatted a hand as though a bee buzzed too close.

I stuck out my tongue at the back of his head and made for the kitchen. "I always thought Botswana looked fun. I like the hyenas. They have such adorable laughs. We could bring back a pup. More fun than a rottweiler, right?"

I popped a few Skittles in my mouth, watching him work. When he still didn't respond, I sighed.

"I'm going kickboxing."

I put on non-sparkly gym clothes and covered my hair with a baseball cap — deciding that regular people dressed boring — and left. If he wanted time to romance his rifle, fine. But he would be mine when I got back, even if it meant tying him to the bed.

Outside, I called Pam.

She answered with, "Don't add that yet. I need to check it."

"Huh?"

"Sorry, Harl, I'm just — wait! I haven't measured — oh, nevermind."

I waited while something in the background made a CLANK! and then Pam's breath returned to the phone.

"Are you cooking?" I said.

"Something like that — stop it!" She giggled.

"Who are you with?"

"Um, someone from school."

I gasped. "Red, do you have a boyfriend?"

"It's not — we're just working together."

"Can you plug that in?" said a man in the background.

"I'll call later if this is a bad time," I said.

Pam paused for too long before saying, "No, it's fine."

I frowned.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you..." she said. "I saw you on the news. The national news."

I stopped walking. "Photos?"

"A lot of people have sent in pics in the last few weeks."

"You recognized me?"

"I'd know your face anywhere, babe. But—" She hesitated. "What happened?"

I glanced at my acid-bleached hand, making a fist. "Nothing. It's part of our cover."

"Did he do that to you?"

"Of course not. He would never hurt me."

"So it hurt, then."

I huffed. "It was an accident. We're both fine."

"Harl, he's dragging you into a scary lifestyle. It's a matter of time before the authorities find out who you are and come after you — or worse."

"Mister J isn't dragging me into anything," I said heatedly. "And no, they won't find out who we are. Harleen Quinzel is dead."

Pam's silence stretched for a long time. The man shouted for her to come back.

"I wish she wasn't, Harl. Sometimes I miss her."

"Enjoy your private cooking class," I said, and hung up.