Chapter Ten
"Harley, get up."
She ignored him as she laid in bed, belly down, her eyes closed yet very alert at his words. She felt his weight take a seat next to her, then curled her toes when his hand smoothed over the back of her naked thigh up towards her derriere.
"You've been moping around all week. And you're starting to get skinny and losing your ass. How am I supposed to fuck you if ya ain't got no ass?"
"Easy," she spoke against her pillow, the sound coming out muffled. "You fuck yourself."
She knew he would be pissed at her remark, and this was confirmed when he grabbed her waist harshly and turned her around to face him, throwing her down onto the bed.
Her lips curving downwards, she pouted at him.
"You've got a mouth on you lately. I don't like it," he warned her. He was fully dressed, in a white shirt and blazer, pestiferously buttoned down to his navel, gold dangling from his neck and wrists and decorating his fingers. He reeked of expensive cologne. His hair was slicked back neatly, his lips a dark crimson. As he placed a hand underneath the fabric of her short nightgown, she shuddered from the simultaneous warmth of his skin and the coldness of his rings touching her flesh.
"What do you want," she muttered, feeling him graze over her stomach until he reached her breast.
"I want you to get up," he scowled.
"It's midnight, I'm going to bed." Her breathing quickened a bit when he began to manipulate her nipple.
"You've been in bed all day and all fucking week," he snapped back at her, and with a painful squeeze of her nipple, she flinched, as he stood and adjusted his collar.
"Now get up, we're going out."
Harley hugged at her chest defensively.
"Where we going? You gona have me kill another lady?"
"We're gona get you a fucking steak and then we're going to the club."
"I don't wana go out. But you can bring me the steak though."
Narrowing his gaze at her, J leaned against the bed, their eyes locking. "Get up, Harley. I ain't fucking around."
"I don't know. I kind of want to fuck now."
His face twisted in what seemed to be a look of confusion and arousal. "You just told me to fuck myself."
She only shrugged, now rubbing her knees together. Cocking his head to the side, he let out a heavy, aggravated sigh.
"I ain't fucking you, Frost is in the other room."
"We got a lock don't we?"
"Harley."
Rolling her eyes at him, she reached at her hip bones and carefully rolled her underwear down past her legs. With a smile, she placed it securely in his palms.
"Do me a favor and throw these in the wash would ya?"
Looking down at the article of clothing, he could feel the wetness from the fabric stain his fingers. Somehow she could see his chest sink.
"I ain't fucking ya," he repeated himself, tossing her briefs onto the floor. She frowned, crossing her knees.
"Then I ain't going no where."
She saw his fists clench as he rose and looked down at her with a forward scowl. "Why are you being so difficult?"
"Because I'm still upset!"
Her reply emerged more passionately than either of them had anticipated. Hugging her knees towards her chest, a cloudiness fogged her eyes as she held back tears.
"You need to get over it," he cautioned her lowly, lacking any remorse in his voice. He sat next to her again, his shoulder brushing against hers.
"I don't wana go back," she complained, refusing to look at him. "You'll make me do coke again."
"No, I won't."
"You'll make me kill someone."
"No, I won't."
"You'll kill someone."
He didn't answer that one. "Harley, just get up."
She hesitated. "You always keep me in here anyway why you want me to go out with ya so bad?"
"Because I'm tired of you sulking around like a God damn baby." Rising from the bed, he took her arm and pulled her up. "Now get dressed."
She sighed in annoyance, removing her nightgown in front of him, allowing him to watch her naked form march straight towards the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
~oOo~
"You know this phone you got me ain't got no internet."
She sat besides him on the couch, her legs crossed and head rested obnoxiously on his shoulder. She could feel him tense beneath her, but acted serene, gripping a gold studded cane in both hands.
Even in their barricade of beaded curtains, the multitude of lights from the club hit their complexions and flashed against the screen of her phone as she held it in her hands, frowning at the lack of connection it had.
"It ain't got no internet because I ain't put no internet," he retorted crossly at her. She could barely hear him through the music playing, but frowned at his answer.
"You're really controlling, you know that?" She hoped he couldn't hear her, but felt him flinch.
His neck snapped at her, forcing her head to lift from his shoulder. "Watch it, Harley. Just because you killed someone doesn't mean you can say whatever the fuck you want."
"I'm still pissed."
"Well then get un-fucking-pissed. Have a fucking drink."
"What about you? You ain't drinking."
Suddenly Joker looked at the three men who sat before him smoking cigars.
"Hunter, bring the strongest liquor you can find."
Running a hand through his light brow hair, the handsome young man nodded. "Sure thing, boss."
"I want a martini!" Harley shot out, but was met with a rough hand to her knee. "Shut up, Harley."
A peculiar wave of silence took over the booth, and Harley watched Frost and Drake sit back against their seats, cigar smoke encircling their forms.
Placing the phone down besides her, Harley leaned forward against her thighs, resting a cheek on her palms.
"So, Fellas, did Mistah J tell y'all I beat the shit out of him last week?"
They didn't respond to her remark, but lay motionless. However she could feel the amusement trapped within then, but they dared not respond.
"You're gona get it, Harley," Joker muttered, a little too calmly.
He seemed relived when Hunter emerged cradling several shot glasses and a bottle of clear liquor, placing them on the glass table before them.
"Boss, this stuff is Greek. It's called Ouzo. You can drink it straight or mix it with water."
Harley didn't hesitate to immediately pour the liquid into a glass and observed it for a moment before downing it into her throat. It looked like water but tasted like fiery licorice. She erupted into a coughing fit as it hit her esophagus, throwing herself back against her seat, her face contorting into pure disgust.
"I told you before, Harley, you have to make sure you don't taste it."
Her eyes still shut, she recognized Frost's voice, and pursed her lips together. As she opened her eyes, she looked over at J who seemed amused by her reaction, continuing to watch her as she poured another shot and gulped it down. This time she didn't cough, but scrunched her face as if she had sucked on a lemon.
"Want some water with that?" he asked her, cocking his head to the side and smiled.
"No," she hissed back, pouring another shot and handing it to him this time. "But this one's for you."
He accepted it emotionlessly, drinking it easily as if it were water, and handed it back to her.
Her intoxication had begun to build inside her, but she tried her hardest to conceal it, taking in deep breaths, blinking repeatedly to sharpen her vision. Warmth filled her abdomen, and a desire to giggle had taken over her.
With a shaky hand, she poured another shot, spilling onto the table, messily bringing the glass to her lips as she downed the drink, this time her tongue immune to the harsh taste. Her nostrils flared as she slammed the cup onto the table, and no longer was she able to control her fit of giggles.
It came out as a snort from her nose, and evolved into deep throaty laughs. It may have been the first time she genuinely smiled that entire week, despite her drunkenness. As she reached to pour another shot, J grabbed her wrist, giving her a stern look, his fingers digging harshly into her flesh.
"I think that's enough for now," he told her, his brow bones furrowing.
"Just one more, Puddin." She pouted at him, her red lipstick now smeared past her lips. His face was inches from hers and from there he could notice the detail of her makeup, the thick darkness of her lashes and how they curled beautifully front her eyes. The gold that decorated her lids glittered under the lights, while her cheekbones contained a luminous captivating highlight that looked like glass on her cheeks. She wore the dress she loved, the tight red one with the swarovski crystals and matching spiked heels. And she looked absolutely stunning in it.
He seemed transfixed in her beauty for a moment, letting go of her wrist, and didn't refuse when she kissed him briskly. He could taste and smell the licorice in her hot mouth.
And through the haziness and instability, despite the fire that was forming in her belly and the fogginess in her head, she could see it now, that he was turned on, and he watched with ravenous eyes as she sloppily poured another shot for herself and drank it, laughing while the glass was at her lips.
Droplets of the clear liquid dribbled down her chin, and when she laughed some of it spurted out her nose, causing her to erupt in another episode of high-pitched giggles.
Her laughter was contagious, especially to him beside her, causing a wide grin to pull at his mouth. And they laughed merrily together, as lunatic lovers, but the laughter had ended tragically abruptly.
"And here he is, the Jester of Genocide."
Immediately and in perfect unison, Hunter, Drake, and Frost stood, dropping their cigars and pulling out their hand guns, pointing them directly at the new figure before them. Harley suddenly didn't feel so drunk anymore, gulping as her throat became dry and sweat began to crease at her forehead. Sinking in her seat, she hoped she would somehow disappear.
The man who had entered their private booth seemed rather collected although he had three different guns pointed at him. His English was clean, with a slight Mediterranean accent. He was a tall and lean man, with a tanned olive complexion, black hair slicked back with heavy gel, and dressed in a crisp black blazer and pants. There was a dangerous handsomeness about him that reminded her of the Joker.
J chuckled gleefully however, motioning to his men with his cane to lower their weapons. With steady eyes, the three of them carefully sat back down.
"Look who came to join us, fellas. The infamous Giovanni Romano. How the fuck did security let you in?"
"I have my ways." Giovanni walked in as if he and J were long time pals, but as he approached an empty seat, the Joker smiled at him with a deadly glare.
"No, you're sitting with the boys, Romano. Right between Frost and Drake over there."
The men obliged, making room for the Italian as he approached their sofa, and he sat with them. They eyed him carefully, palms grazing their guns in preparation. Drake picked up his cigar and resumed smoking, blowing the fog straight into Giovanni's face.
"Fellas, why so anxious? Relax. I'm sure Romano has no bad intentions, don't ya G?"
The smile had left Joker's face, as he leaned his torso forward, supporting his weight on his cane. A very grave, somber expression etched onto his face.
Heavily Harley breathed now, wishing to God she hadn't downed all those shots. She tried not to move, not to fidget, not to bring any attention to herself. Her body stiffened as she felt the bitter tension devouring the room.
"It depends what you mean by bad intentions, J," Giovanni smirked, sitting back comfortably while resting his elbows against the top of the couch. "You see, you killed my cousin's wife. We had a good thing going, you and I, and you kind of fucked it up."
"Your weasel cousin fucked me over, if you recall," the Joker shot back, placing his chin onto his knuckles.
"See Joker, the difference between your clown posse and Italian mobsters, we lookout for our own. I know you'd give up one of yours in a heartbeat. Your loyalty is as good as a bag of rocks. But with us, it's not so simple. You got a whole lot of people on my turf mad at ya, J. And that's not a good thing. Not a good thing at all."
The Joker smiled however, and easily the smile evolved into a grin. "Romano, I got plenty of people mad at me. Plenty who want to kill me. I got a Bat chasing me for 20 years. I'm not worried about the mafia right now."
Harley found Giovanni's calmness chilling. He seemed to terrify her more than the Joker in a certain way. He didn't seem insane or unable to control his anger. No, he was smooth, collected, unafraid.
"You should be worried about the mafia, Joker," he retorted serenely. "You should be very worried. Because we like to get even. And when someone's got a hit out on you, it means business. We ain't running around in Bat suits playing tag. We mean fucking business."
"So, Romano, are you here to warn me or to threaten me?"
"A little bit of both. I personally'd like to keep ya around. But my family, and Angelo, not so much."
And it finally happened, the moment she had been dreading. His brown eyes found hers and he smiled.
"This your new goomah, J?"
She felt the Joker tense up beside her, as his face darkened into a scowl.
Giovanni looked her up and down, glossing his tongue over her lips. "A real looker, ain't she? More gorgeous than Alexandra."
She felt him boiling now, his raging energy beginning to radiate. And the fear inside her, clawing at her chest, causing her lips to part and her heart beat to accelerate.
"You need to leave right now," J spat out.
As if he were surrendering, Giovanni extended his palms, a raise to his thick black brows. "Just trying to help a colleague out. Giving you a heads up on what to expect." He glared at Harley once more. "And who you need to protect."
Gracefully he stood, pressing on the wrinkles of his pants, and nodded his heads towards the Joker.
"Always a pleasure, J. Fellas. Miss."
Even when he left, his presence still lingered in the room, and Harley still could not catch her breath.
"Frost, Drake, Hunter," J spoke lowly after a moment of silence, staring at his men with deep, irate eyes, the blue of his irises almost appearing black.
"Follow him, and kill him."
They didn't jump up at his command however, a look of unease consuming their faces.
"Boss, I'd have to advise against this one," Frost spoke up, rubbing at the hair on his chin. "I don't think we want to create more trouble with this group than we already have."
"Trouble?" the Joker bellowed with a harsh laugh, slamming his cane onto the ground. "Trouble? I don't care if I have to kill every single person in that family. Angelo is a fucking nark and a crook. He ripped me off out of fucking millions and set me up to get caught by the Bat. I will not stop until I have completely fucking destroyed him. I have a fucking reputation to uphold, and this bitch ass snitch is not going to intimidate me with his old school crime. They want to threaten me, go right ahead. But I will fuck them up before they even have the chance to try."
Heaving a deep sigh, he spoke again. "Now follow him, and fucking get rid of him."
Still, they hesitated.
Chuckling madly, the Joker stood briskly. "I can't believe the bitches I have working for me. I'll take care of this myself."
As Harley watched him walk away, an instant panic took over her. "Jonny, give me ya gun."
He gave her a peculiar look. "Are you fucking crazy? You're drunk Harley, just relax."
"He is going to get himself killed. Give me ya gun!"
Leaning over the table, she knocked over the bottle of ouzo and glasses surrounding her, her dress drenched as she reached towards Jonny's gun holster.
He struggled with her until she climbed on him and kneed him in the chest, the strike stunning him long enough for her to grab the gun and march out of their booth.
"Holy fucking shit," Hunter muttered, his mouth falling agape. "Did she just do that?"
"Hunter, shut your fucking mouth and get the fuck up. Boss will kill us if anything happens to Harley."
"God, you know those Italian fuckers are gona off us one by one now, right?" Drake said as the three of them stood and headed towards the back exit.
Harley had found them just in the climax of a heated argument. Both men yelling down the other's face, as J spoke dramatically with arm gestures, Giovanni pulling at his own hair.
She found them outside of the back of the building, the only source of light gracing them from the moon and stars.
When she saw J reach into his holster to pull out his gun, Giovanni was too quick, and with a fearsome swift grace he had pulled out his gun and placed it at the center of Joker's forehead. She saw her lover laugh, as he always seemed to do in the face of death.
She could hear the yelling but couldn't hear what they were saying. But when she saw Joker make another attempt to pull out his gun and Giovanni massaging his finger over the trigger, she lost her mind, her sense of control, a raging violent panic consuming her, that she lifted the gun and shot it, the bullet going straight into Giovanni's chest.
His eyes widened, a sharp, throaty gasp leaving his throat. She saw him fall over and drop his gun, blood staining the white shirt underneath his blazer, as he clutched at his chest while landing harshly onto the black gravel.
Immediately, J pulled out his gun and turned around to face her, the two of them now pointing their weapons at each other.
His shoulders relaxed upon seeing her. "Oh fucking A, Harley," he barked, throwing his arms down. "If you're gona shoot, at least fucking shoot to kill!" He looked down at the man gasping for air, moaning in pain. "Now I gotta finish him off."
Almost joyfully, Joker walked towards him, kneeling down handsomely before Giovanni. Harley stumbled against the gravel in her heeled shoes as she advanced towards them, standing behind J as she continued to hold the gun with trembling fists. The sound of heavy footsteps running towards her did not seem to phase her, as if she could not feel or hear the clamor. She was immediately grabbed and held by the three henchman, Jonny making it a point to pry his gun from her grasp. Lifelessly she stood there, staring down at the scene before her, that she didn't even try to fight them off her.
J slowly brought the gun to Giovanni's sweat glazed forehead. He was still gasping for breath, his body shaking on the ground.
"Sorry Romano, didn't mean to start a war with ya mob. But when someone fucks me over, I fuck them over. That's how it works with my mob."
"Don't do this, J," he managed to speak against his wound. "They've already got a hit out on your girl."
"That's okay," the Joker smirked, pressing the gun deeper into his skin. "Because I got a hit out on all of you."
And the sound of the gun firing came quickly, echoing into the bleakness of the night, a ringing taking over Harley's ears. And then a deadly, serene silence came. She felt herself crumble, and there the men made extra attempts to support her weak body.
"Harley, are you okay?" Frost asked, shaking her shoulders. She tensed up however, any hint of color in her skin draining. And as the Joker rose slowly from the corpse, he wiped the dust off his jacket, placing his gun back in his holster. There was blood splattered onto his blazer.
He looked at Harley and their gazes intertwined. And there for the first time she could see a hint of fear in him. And to see him afraid made her even more petrified.
"They're going to kill me," she spoke silently, as tears began to sting at her eyes. Hysteria taking over her, she freed herself from the henchmen's grasps, shoving them off her as she ran to J and threw herself at him.
"J they are going to fucking kill me!" She grabbed his face and forced him to look down at her. She was crying now, tears falling down her cheeks in a long, tedious flow, her body rigid while a tremor struck her knees.
"They ain't gona kill ya," he promised her, grazing a thumb against her cheek. "Because I'm gona make you unkillable."
As she pulled herself away from him, she fell to her knees, grasping at her hair, and shaking her head frantically.
"Ain't none of us here unkillable, Mistah J!" she shrieked. "You messed with the wrong fucking people!"
"Honey, I messed with a lot crazier freaks than these old school gangsters," he shot back at her, grabbing her elbow and forcing her up. "Now you listen to me and believe me when I say nobody is going to touch you. Not under my eye."
"Boss," Frost spoke up, pointing at Giovanni's lifeless form. "What are we supposed to do with the body?"
"I don't know, be creative! Just get it the hell away from my club!"
Drake looked at Hunter. "You got the gloves?"
"Oh just shut up," Frost muttered, pulling white latex gloves from the inside of his blazer.
She didn't watch as the men handled the body, but looked the Joker in the eye, her heart beating so ferociously that it physically hurt her chest.
"Mistah J, I'm scared," she whispered.
"Soon they'll all be scared of you, baby," he replied, and a grin captured his lips as his palm petted her cheek. "Now you're gona come with me. There's something we have to do."
He took her hand and led her back into the club, as they left through the front entrance. It almost felt like a hazy dream as they moved past the swarm of clients, the go-go dancers on tables as dim multi-colored lights hit them. She could still feel the alcohol warming her belly and now giving her a massive headache.
"Mistah J, where you taking me?"
He didn't look at her when he answered. "To get ya branded."
~oOo~
As they stood alone in the back entrance of a tattoo parlor at three in the morning, Harley couldn't help but think this would have been a perfect opportunity for the mob to make their hit on her.
With one hand the Joker held his phone against his ear, with the other he securely held onto Harley's hand. It didn't make her feel at ease, however, as a horrible sense of nausea poured into her chest.
"Mistah J, I don't know what the fuck we are doing here, but I want to go home now,"she found herself saying in a whisper.
He ignored her plea however, as she could hear the faint sound of his phone ringing.
"Mike, it's me, J. We're in the back. I need some work done."
It was a matter of seconds before the door burst open and Harley found herself looking at a handsome man covered in tattoos. He was black with a medium complexion in a wife beater shirt, his arms slender yet toned and covered in black tattoos, none of them in color. His hair was in a short buzz cut.
He looked at the the Joker and then he looked at Harley. Then, a grin swept his lips. "J, long time no see." He didn't make a move to hug him or show any sign of a friendly greeting, but instead cocked his head up in some sort of familiar respect. J nodded towards him, squeezing Harley's hand more firmly.
"I heard you busted out of Arkham like a month ago," he continued, leading them inside. "You guys wrecked the entire place. That's insane, man."
"It's what we do best," J boasted, to which Harley frowned.
"I busted him out," she found herself blurting out. Mike had been apprehensive of showing any sort of attention to Harley, but glanced at her now with intrigue, bringing them into his parlor and switching on the lights.
The place was absolutely empty and looked like the type of establishment that would reuse needles. Harley frowned as she stared at the multitude of bizarre artwork on the walls, while they stood on checker patterned tile.
"Is this your new girl, J?" Mike found himself taking a closer look at her, squinting his brown eyes until they widened in sudden realization. He had taken a wet rag and began to wipe down a seat next to his station.
"Get the fuck out, that's the doctor you kidnapped from Arkham." He chuckled to himself, while putting on white latex gloves. The site of it led her mind back to the scene at the club, and she felt sick to her stomach.
"I'm his girlfriend now," she spoke coarsely, taking J's arm and holding it securely. "And the name's Harley Quinn."
"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you Harley Quinn." He flashed a look at J. "So what you getting done tonight?"
Roughly, he jerked his arm away from Harley, then pushing her towards Mike.
"Not me tonight. You're gona work on her."
Nervously, she sat on the black seat. It looked like a massage chair, and as she leaned back she sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You better not make me get any stupid ass tattoos. Like the one on your hand."
The look on his face promised a beating soon to come, but Mike laughed beside them as he prepared the ink at his station. She exhaled in relief she she saw him unpackage new needles.
"The smile? That's my favorite one. It's fucking dope."
"It's stupid," Harley muttered. "And you can glare at me all ya want, Mistah J. I'm gona fucking die anyway."
"A newly freed man and already you got yourself into trouble?" Mike observed, continuing to assemble the black ink.
"Oh you know, the usual sort of mayhem," J retorted, leaning himself against a vacant station. "Got into a war with the mob. Now they got a hit out on Harley."
Mike laughed. "Can't be as bad as when the Penguin had a hit on you, can it?"
J grinned, placing his hands into the pockets of his pants. "Definitely not as exciting."
Harley sat in disbelief, her lips parting, eyes glittering. How could anyone be so casual about this?
"So what are we going to do for the young lady today?" Mike beamed, rolling his chair over to her.
Harley shrugged, giving the Joker a dirty look. "I don't know. Ask him."
"Is this your first tattoo?" he asked her.
"Yes."
He looked at J. "What are we doing with her?"
"Put a fucking tear by her eye or something."
She gasped, making the motion to lift herself from the seat. "No way, Mistah J! No way in hell is that happening!"
"Well you earned it, didn't ya?"
"No! I don't want nothing on my face!"
"Well too fucking bad. If you want crooks taking ya seriously, you need to have your face tattooed. Its the first thing they see and the first they'll remember."
"Why don't we do like a heart instead of a tear?" Mike interjected, gently taking her chin to observe her face.
"What do you think about that, Harley?"
She frowned. "No."
Joker sighed. "Put the fucking heart on her."
She heard the buzzing of the needle ring and she began to panic. "No! You better not fucking do it!"
At her attempt to rise, Joker pressed on her shoulders from behind, forcing her to sit as he grabbed her jaw and held it firmly for Mike. Sloppily, he rubbed some ointment on her cheek, lifting the trembling tattoo gun towards her face.
When she felt the needle dig into her right cheek bone, she groaned. It felt like millions of bee stings per second, though the full extent of the pain came when he began to fill in the heart, in which she shut her eyes and moaned painfully. It was quick, however, and she let out an exasperated sigh when he finished and heard the buzzing cease.
"Can you put some words too or do you have to stencil that shit out?"
"I think I can freehand it."
Harley jerked to get up, but Joker pushed her back down.
"What are ya thinking, doll face? What's a good word for you? Something that let's everyone know you're a bad ass bitch but still absolutely adorable."
She frowned. "Piss off."
He chuckled, however, patting her shoulders as he pressed his mouth against her ear, his breath warming the nape of her neck. "What do you think, Mike? Got any ideas?" She grunted when he grabbed her jaw again, holding her securely.
"Here, I got a good one."
When she heard the humming of the needle begin once more, she closed her eyes, groaning as she felt the pinching sensation against the right side of her jawline. This one took longer, was even more painful as it hit against her bone and flesh. Even when the noise and pain ended, she didn't feel relieved, but instead stood, no longer held down onto the chair, and found her way to the full sized mirror.
She saw the single black heart in her reflection, on her cheekbone right underneath her eye, and below it she saw the word Rotten written cleanly in capital Roman lettering.
She tensed up as the Joker, came up from behind her, taking both her hands in his, joining her gaze in the mirror.
"Now look at you, don't you look tough?"
A blithering sigh heaved from her nostrils. She was terrified, she was upset, she was utterly confused.
But most of all, she was fucking pissed. And as she felt J pressed his mouth on her neck and smile against her skin, she felt the rage boil within her, just as it had that night when she wanted to kill the both of them.
She felt the rage and accepted it, let it become a part of her. And she looked at her reflection and at the tattoo that left the surrounding skin red. She glared at her altered face and smiled, one of lunacy and disturbance. One of sadness and trepidation.
She smiled for no other reason than that she was going to fuck up somebody out there, somewhere. Whether it would be J, the mob, anybody who would cross her.
Grasping the collar of his shirt, she pulled him down to her level, her eyes burning into his, her lips grazing against his mouth.
"Take me home. Right now."