Hearts, Clubs, and Diamonds

Chapter 4

Harley had the bag removed from her head at last, and found herself tied to a chair in what appeared to be a dingy warehouse. She was instantly greeted with a low whistle of disapproval.

"Woah, seriously? That's the clown chick? She's not even that hot. Kinda a chubby face, small tits, not my type at all. She's probably a 6 at best. You'd think J could do a lot better, but then he is crazy."

Harley saw a fat, balding man smoking a cigar and examining her. He was surrounded by a gang of men, all armed. "I was gonna let the clown have her back after I had a little fun with her," continued the fat man. "But I ain't gonna do any dame who's less than a 10."

"I think you shouldn't point fingers on the looks front," retorted Harley. "Or on the crazy front, if you think it's a good idea to mess with Mr. J."

The man snorted. "I ain't scared of that clown, sweetheart. Anyway, you're the crazy one if you think he gives a damn about you. He ain't coming to save you, and I'm looking forward to sending you back to him in pieces. I'd prefer it to the ransom I asked for, actually. It's fun to watch people who act so defiant at first break down into screaming, pleading messes, begging for mercy. And the same thing's gonna happen to you, sweetheart."

"I doubt it," retorted Harley. "I'm used to being hurt living with Mr. J. He's taught me to take a little pain."

The man laughed. "You say that like it's a matter of pride. Maybe you're too dumb to get this, sweetheart, being blonde and all, but people who love you shouldn't hurt you. If they do, they don't love you. When your boyfriend beats you, it ain't a sign that you're special to him. How does that old song go? 'He hit me and it felt like a kiss, He hit me and I knew he loved me, If he didn't care for me, I could have never made him mad, But he hit me, and I was glad.' Is that your twisted rationale for his behavior like the lunatic you are?"

"You don't know him," snapped Harley. "And you don't know me. What we have is special. We like the pain, we both do. But you won't like what he's going to do to you when he comes to save me."

The man laughed again. "You really are an idiot to have faith in someone called the Joker. Face it, sweetheart, his whole attitude toward you is just one big joke. The only one who doesn't see the punchline is you."

"Or maybe I'm just the only one crazy enough to understand him," replied Harley. "But trust me, you are gonna be sorry you made him mad."

She was suddenly punched across the face. "I'm getting a little tired of your lip, sweetheart," growled the man. "And I really wanna bruise up that ugly baby face of yours. So why doncha be a crybaby? C'mon, you sick little bitch!" he shouted, punching her again. "If you like violence so much, doesn't this turn you on?"

"Not if it ain't from Mr. J," growled Harley. "You ain't got the skill to hurt me like he can. He hurts me real good."

"Well, I'm gonna hurt you real bad," hissed the man. "But not too bad that on the off chance the clown does show up, he won't pay for you. But I wouldn't count on that."

He punched her again, and Harley felt her nose crack as blood began to pour from her broken lip. "There's a little taster, sweetheart," he hissed. "We'll be back soon with the main course."

He left with his men following him. The moment the door slammed, Harley broke down in tears. The tears mingled with the blood dripping down her nose and lip, pooling onto the floor around her. She could always put on a brave face, but the truth was, she was terrified about what these men were going to do to her. She had faith that Mr. J would save her, but what if he didn't arrive in time? And what if...what if he didn't come at all, like everyone said? What if she was just some stupid joke to him that he didn't care about at all?