A/N: Wow, y'all. What up? Happy New Year 2019. I am sorry that this has taken me so long. Full-time job plus social responsibilities plus holidays equals no time to write. I think this chapter was a labor of love. Hope you enjoy! :)

Chapter 9: We Don't Talk Anymore

We don't talk anymore, we don't talk anymore

We don't talk anymore like we used to do

We don't laugh anymore

What was all of it for?

We don't talk anymore like we used to do.

- "We Don't Talk Anymore," Charlie Puth feat. Selena Gomez

Pam was huffing and puffing straight out of her nose like a fucking horse in heat when I followed her into the elevator. She leaned against the wall, placing a hand instinctively on her rounding belly.

She was silent for an uncomfortably long time. The elevator dinged and dinged as it went down the floors. I shifted, feeling the geometric patterned carpet beneath my sandals.

The elevator opened, and she pushed – well, not really pushed because there wasn't anyone to push – and I tailed her dutifully.

We crossed the lobby to the front door, the doorman calling a half-hearted, "Have a nice day, ladies" behind us as we did.

We got to the front door and Pam started pacing like a caged animal.

"Do you need me to call the Uber?" I asked.

She nodded, still making those snorty horse sounds out of her nose.

I clicked the Uber and after a couple minutes our ride pulled up.

I slid in first and Pam followed behind me.

"Ritz Plaza?" the driver confirmed.

"Yes, thanks." I turned to Pam, who was staring very intently out the window.

I decided not to push it, so I dug through my purse to pull out the New York Times to rifle through it for the article.

Pam glanced over at me, "You got a copy?"

"It lives." I commented, not looking up from the paper.

She cracked a small smile, "Sorry."

"It's ok. It was a big day for you."

"Thanks." She said, sounding relieved that I didn't ask further questions.

As Pam was my best friend, I knew better than to press the issue if she clearly wasn't interested in talking about it. She would tell me on her own terms.

Of course, the article was on the second and third page, 'An Interview with Senate Candidate Robert Callahan V: A Legacy on His Own Terms' by Vanessa Roberts. Good Lord, gag city.

Anyway, I tried skimming through the article for any mention of me. I froze when I got to the section on his crime policies.

Vanessa wrote,

One of Robert's major platforms for his Senate seat election is his strict policy against the rampant crime sweeping through today's Gotham.

Vanessa: "In a town torn by gangs and drug dealers, vigilantes have struck out to assist the overwhelmed public officials. You feel quite strongly about this issue, I have found. With your campaign of 'Crime Never Wins', you have avowed to stop the vigilante justice and stick with the traditional methods of police involvement and changing policy to enforce stricter terms for convicted criminals. Can you elaborate on that? How do you feel about the Batman?"

Robert: (chuckling) "While, of course, like anyone in this city, I am most appreciative of the Batman. He represents a symbol of hope, coming to the aid of his common man – and woman. The police, however, feel differently in that he is obstructing justice."

Vanessa: "Would you consider it obstructing justice if he is catching the criminals?"

Robert: "Sure, I see what you mean. Counterpoint: the police are being paid by the city to catch these criminals. I understand why the Batman came about. He took the law into his own hands because he felt a humane need to help the city. The police just want to do their jobs. I want to create better policies and hire more police in our more at-risk areas so that we don't need the Batman."

Vanessa: "That would be rather costly to the taxpayers."

Robert: "I think that the people of Gotham and the state of New York above all want peace. I think people are willing to contribute a little more to make sure their streets are free of criminal activity. I am not above taxing the 1 percent as well. As someone who is from the 1 percent, I understand it is our duty to utilize our resources for the good of everyone."

Vanessa: "I imagine that will be a little controversial for your fellow 1 percenters. I think it is a good idea in practice, but do you really think they'll get on board?"

Robert: "Absolutely. I have an insight into how my peers think, and that will be a benefit to me for the election."

Vanessa: "Your father was also a Senator, and your grandfather."

Robert: "Yes, a very proud legacy."

Vanessa: "Is your father supportive of your run?"

Robert: "Oh, yes. When I first went to college, I told him that I wasn't even interested in politics. I was a philosophy major, bent on playing my guitar and trying to change the world. That changed, of course, when I was a sophomore and I realized that my smarts would be better placed for politics."

I almost burst out laughing. That was not true in the slightest. His dad told him he would pull his personal funding for him to go to NYU if he didn't change his major, and he was too much of a pussy to stand up to him.

Vanessa: "Well, obviously an excellent choice in the change, as you have been very successful in your political career and plan to achieve another milestone. You are a proud graduate of our own New York University, a bold choice considering your family background."

Robert: "Yes, certainly. My father was a Princeton man and his father a Harvard man. I broke the mold of the Callahan family. They told me I was a hippie for going to NYU. It was the best 4 years of my life."

Vanessa: "Yes, as you met your lovely wife, Katherine Callahan, there."

Robert: "That is the primary reason, yes." (laughing)

Vanessa: "Before Katherine there was another woman."

Robert: "Yes…"

Vanessa: "Dr. Harleen Quinzel, alias Harley Quinn, a woman we all know from the nightly news as the accomplice to the infamous criminal mastermind, the Joker."

Oh God, I can't show this to Jay. His ego is big enough already.

Robert: (clearing throat) "Well, I can't deny it."

Vanessa: "What exactly was the nature of your relationship with Dr. Quinzel?"

Robert: "I don't see how this is relevant."

Vanessa: "I think it is relevant, in that you are strongly against crime, and your former girlfriend is now a disgraced criminal psychiatrist and on the run from the Gotham police. Would you like to comment on that?"

Robert: "I don't have any control over what Harley does. Our relationship ended a long time ago. Even though our relationship was personal, I would still hold to my promise that criminals like her belong behind bars for a lifetime."

Vanessa: "I repeat my question, what was the nature of your relationship?"

Robert: "We were in a committed relationship for 6 years. The relationship was terminated due to my having met and fallen in love with Kathy."

Vanessa: "And how did Dr. Quinzel react to this?"

Robert: "Not well, as any breakup would be."

Vanessa: "Adding in the complication that Kathy was her roommate."

Robert: "Yes, that is how Kathy and I met. The point is that Dr. Quinzel and I haven't had contact since our breakup, and her status as a criminal has no effect on my running for Senate."

Vanessa: "I appreciate your candor, Congressman Callahan. I merely wanted to bring it up as I imagine it would come out whether you wanted it to or not, and our readers are curious."

Robert: "Understandable. I am not going to hide my past. It's pretty well-documented that Harleen and I were in a relationship."

Vanessa: "Do you know the whereabouts of Dr. Quinzel?"

Robert: "Of course not. Again, we've had no contact. If she's out there, I do hope she gets caught."

Vanessa: "Thank you. Now, let's talk about your father and his policies from his term in the Senate. How are you going to continue-"

I stopped reading at that point. For fuck's sake, Rob.

Our Uber pulled to a stop in front of the hotel.

Pam stared at me, "We're here."

"Yeah, I see." I folded up the paper and climbed out after her.

"Are you ok? You're white as a sheet."

"You need to read this." I shoved it at her.

Pam started skimming the article as we walked into the lobby and into the elevator.

When she finished, she looked up at me, "Christ on a cracker."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Fucking snake. Why would he bother talking about me? It's such a dead issue." I shook my head, grabbing the newspaper from her. I wanted to rip it to shreds.

"I don't understand his angle here." Pam commented as our elevator dinged each floor toward our penthouse suite, "Does he want you to seek him out or something?"

"Why would he want that?" We got off the elevator and walked down the hall to our room.

"I don't know, it just seems like that interviewer deliberately mentioned you, and he could have just shoved it off or said 'no comment' but yet he offered up some information." Pam said, swiping our room key to our door. She opened it and it was empty, as usual.

Mr. J had been incredibly busy trying to recoup that, you know, 20 MILLION DOLLARS he owed to some thugs.

I chose this. I chose this. I really did. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

"I am taking a nap." Pam announced.

"Shocking." I said, dead-pan.

She flipped me off and then retreated into her room, closing the door behind her.

I texted Jay to let him know I was home, and flopped down on the couch, flipping through the channels.

My phone dinged, 'How was the doctor's appointment?'

'Dramatic.'

'I feel this is a long story I don't have time for right now. (roll eyes emoji)'

'Yes, you are right. I will tell you when you get home.'

'(thumbs up emoji)'

Yes, we do use emojis. We are not animals.

I settled on a marathon of Great British Bake-Off on BBC America and snoozed a little myself. Those British voices are very soothing. After a 20-minute nap, I looked at the article about Rob again. I could just hear his voice. No matter how many years had passed, his silhouette, his cologne, the feeling I had when I was with him never really fully dissipated. Rob was my first love. You all may remember, I know we're 800+ pages into this shitshow and things fall by the wayside. I had a baby and all that. Priorities.

As a refresher, Rob and I dated for close to 6 years. I didn't tell John – ok, sorry, MARCUS, I won't ever get used to that - everything about him because I didn't like to tell many men about the fact that I dated Robert John Doyle Callahan V, current senatorial candidate for the state of New York, and descent of many generations of senators, governors, and congressmen on the Eastern seaboard. Somehow, it makes them feel a little insecure. Can't imagine why.

What I told Marcus was true. Rob and I had known each other all our lives. He and Bruce even knew each other; they went to the same prep school. Bruce hated Rob. He always had. He thought he was an old-money, pretentious dickbag. Which, I mean, he was. I am not going to deny it. I just was infatuated with him that I didn't notice for a very long time. An embarrassingly long time. You know, a long time as in 5 plus years and then I caught him and Kathy in reverse cowgirl in our living room because he thought I was at the library studying for my finals. As you do.

Anyway, I had pretty much considered him to be dead to me at this point. As much as I could. I thought I would marry Rob. It seemed like it was meant to be. The popular guy finally notices the geeky girl after she takes her glasses off and loses a few pounds and then it's bang boom cut the wedding cake and get our own house in the Hamptons, even though I am a Martha's girl. Just saying. That was what everyone else did. Then he fucked it all up.

Not that he hadn't fucked it up before that. I was just too deep in denial to acknowledge the abuse. That subtle, creeping vein of your relationship where it starts off with a snarky comment and then escalates to screaming matches where you're told you're a heartless bitch.

The memories flooded back to me and it almost knocked the breath out of me, really. I hadn't thought about all of that in so long that it almost felt like a dream. A really fucking shitty dream, but a dream.

What was he getting at by mentioning me in that article? Did he want me to address it? Why, after all these years, would he even bother to do this?

I scrolled through the contacts in my phone. He was still in there after all this time, like a lingering spirit. The number you keep with no intention of ever calling them again, but still remembering when seeing their name pop up made your heart leap. It made me feel a little queasy, like a lump was forming in my throat.

Then I did the utterly unthinkable. I texted the number. It was like I was out of my body, watching myself do something so incredibly stupid.

'Hi Rob. I don't know if this is still your number, but I saw the article in the Times. Thanks for the shout-out.'

I almost threw my phone away from me when I hit send. I am sure it wasn't his number. It couldn't be.

The phone dinged after 30 seconds. I felt my pulse quicken. I am sure it's just someone telling me that they didn't know who Rob was, or just the standard, 'who dis?'

I swiped to open it.

'This is certainly unexpected.'

Cryptic. My least favorite kind of text message. But also, he still had my number saved. Curiouser and curiouser.

'I felt somehow compelled to address the false rumors you are spreading about me.'

'I thought you might. How are you?'

'I am well. Hope the same for you.'

'Yes, all is well. I think it is best to be direct. I knew you would reach out after that article was published, and that is exactly what I was hoping for.'

That gave me pause.

'Oh, trying to stalk me, are you?'

'Hardly. I was hoping we could meet.'

'I think that would be a terrible idea.'

'It would only be for a few minutes. I have something I need to talk to you about.'

Again, cryptic motherfucker.

'I see. I am open to meeting, I guess.'

'Are you in New York?'

'Yes. In Manhattan.'

'Perfect. Can you meet me tomorrow morning at the Starbucks on 7th and 34th by Penn Station?'

'That should be fine.'

'I will be there at 10 AM.'

'Ok. See you then.'

The conversation ended, and I felt like I was walking directly into fire. What could he possibly want from me?

…

The following morning, after another 13 hours of an MIA boyfriend, I snuck out, texting Pam before I went that I was going for a walk around Central Park. She was either sleeping or vomiting these days, so she merely texted back, 'K'. Riveting.

I donned my store-bought Halloween brown bob wig that I had for such occasions, a sun hat, and large dark brown Prada sunglasses. My standard trying-to-be-inconspicuous costume.

I took the subway a few stops over and walked up the steps, where the Starbucks was right around the corner according to my maps app. Look, I am directionally challenged as most millennials are. Live with it. I am not ashamed.

I glanced up from my phone and did a double-take as I saw Bruce Wayne standing on the corner of 7th and 34th, my intended destination. He was dressed all in black, dark sunglasses on, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. He was absent-mindedly scrolling on his phone as well. I was going to try to brush past him, I really was. I was fervently hoping he wouldn't recognize me.

I started to round the corner, silently cheering that I was in the clear, when I heard, "Harley?"

Fucking goddamnit.

I slowly turned, "Shut up." I hissed.

He lowered his sunglasses, "You really thought I wouldn't see you, despite your 20-dollar disguise?"

"Dude, these sunglasses are a little more than 20 dollars." I scoffed.

"What are you doing here?"

"None of your business."

"My favorite answer." He said, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"Why are you smoking again?"

"I am feeling existential." He said, just slightly too dramatically.

"Good Lord, please get over yourself." I turned away, and started walking toward the Starbucks entrance.

He stepped in my path, "Ok, so you're just going to get coffee. You didn't want to tell me that?"

"Not exactly. Please move." I pushed past him and opened the door.

He followed me inside, disposing of his half-lit cigarette into the trash can.

"Can I at least buy your coffee?" he asked.

"No, I am fine." I said firmly, "Can you please go?"

"I want a coffee now."

I took a good look at his face; he looked like utter hell, "Yeah, you seem to need it. Aren't you going to work?"

"Yes, I have a meeting later. I own the company. I can go in whenever I feel like it." He said, grinning.

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. I scanned the room, and my eyes lit on Rob, who started when I looked at him.

Bruce ordered venti cold brew something or bullshit and turned and saw where I was looking. He leaned over, "Is that Rob Callahan?"

"It is." I said softly.

"Ah. I understand now why you're here. That article in the Times."

"You read it?"

"Yes, of course. Scathing, really. Are you coming here to cuss him out?"

"I am not sure why I'm here." I admitted.

Rob stood up and walked over toward us. My heart was beating so loudly I felt it in my eardrums. He looked almost the same as when we ended things, just a few more lines in his face, a few more pounds around the waistline. But still, not terrible. Ugh.

He said quietly, "Harleen?"

"Yes." I answered.

"You needed to bring Bruce Wayne as your bodyguard?" he raised an eyebrow.

"No, honestly, I ran into him on the way here." I know how flimsy that sounded.

"Sure." He drawled, "Do you want me to get you a coffee?"

"I am perfectly fine with paying for it myself." I said curtly. I ordered a latte and went to the end of the counter to get my order. I watched Rob and Bruce extremely awkwardly exchange some small talk until I came back, at which point they both looked very relieved.

"Bruce, I imagine, will be leaving now." I said pointedly.

"I think I'll sit outside for a bit." He said equally as pointedly.

"Fine." I knew that was the best I was going to get. Bruce absolutely hated Rob. He knew everything that went on in our relationship, and I am sure he was a little protective. Which was kind of sweet, to be honest. But annoying. But sweet. I will reiterate that.

Rob led me back to his table. We sat down.

"I didn't think you'd come." He said.

"Ok, dude, I haven't even sipped my coffee. Slow down." I replied, holding my finger as I downed a good beginning gulp of that sweet nectar of a latte. I put it down. "Ok, what do you want? My time is not unlimited."

I think he was a bit stunned by my candor. I had grown a decent amount of balls in recent years. He didn't know this Harleen Quinzel.

"Aren't you worried about being in public, considering your position?"

"Position?" I snorted.

He lowered his voice, "You're a wanted criminal."

"Pretty well aware of that." I said in a stage whisper.

He seemed so puzzled by our whole interaction.

"You've changed so much." He remarked, "I mean, not really your looks, but just your – I guess, your demeanor. The way you carry yourself."

"It's easy to be confident when you have nothing to lose." I said haughtily, raising an eyebrow over my coffee cup, "Unlike you. Lovely wife, 2.5 kids, dog, cat, goldfish or whatever the fuck. A future senator position."

"Yes, well, that was my intention of asking you here today." He said, shifting in his seat.

"I assumed. You need my discretion."

"Preferably."

"Why the hell are you worried? People think I'm a whack-job. Would they even listen to me?"

"Are you actually crazy, or is it all just an act?" he asked.

That threw me, I have to admit. My balls were shrinking a little.

"I'm sorry?"

"Harley, cut the bullshit. I've known you nearly my entire life. I knew you intimately. You're one of the smartest people I know. Truly. When I heard about you and that madman, I was in deep shock."

I chuckled. "Sometimes I don't know if I'm in my right mind, Rob. Jay is volatile. But he loves me."

"Is he…here?" he asked quietly, glancing around surreptitiously.

"Lord, no. He has better things to do." I folded my arms across my chest.

"Does he know you're here?"

"I have a microchip in my ear, so yes, he knows I'm here." My sarcasm was apparently lost on him, "Ok, sorry, no, bad joke."

"He's got a tight hold on you, hmm?"

"Frankly, no, it's the other way around." I said, smirking, "I mean, definitely not the healthiest relationship I've ever had, but at least he didn't hit me because I left the light on in the bathroom."

Rob blanched.

"Or scream at me in public until I cried…multiple times."

"I'm not going to make excuses for myself." He said, his voice stumbling a little.

"No, I imagine not. You were pretty good at excuses for your behavior before."

"I didn't come here to have a post-mortem on our relationship, Harleen."

"Then what the hell do you want?" I snapped.

"I am running for Senate."

"Didn't have a clue."

"Ok, cool it. I am just asking you…um, how do I put this? To keep quiet."

"Mmmm." I said, leaning back in my chair, "Go on."

"You know a lot about me that I would prefer the general public isn't made aware of, if you catch my drift."

"I really doubt anyone cares about your college modeling photos."

"That's not what I meant." He said dryly.

"Believe me, I am picking up what you're putting down." I said, trying to adopt a more serious tone. Rob was just such a dipshit. He always was. His family enabled him to the point where he could barely think for himself.

"What do you want in exchange for your silence?"

I huffed, "I don't need your money."

"Harley, please. I cannot afford to have you go to the press on what happened in our relationship." His eyes were starting to look a little desperate.

"I think you aired enough dirty laundry in that article." I remarked.

"Are you still going to hold a grudge about Kathy?" he asked wearily.

"Of course I am. I am holding onto that grudge until the end of all goddamn time itself."

"Jesus Christ." He muttered.

"No, don't even start with me. We dated for SIX fucking years, Rob. I gave you the very best of me. And it just wasn't good enough, was it?"

He was awkwardly silent at that.

"Yeah, you always were a chicken shit. Running to mommy and daddy anytime something went wrong." I sighed, "Do you still do that?"

"Your parents sheltered you just as much as mine did." He said defensively.

"I have to disagree."

He said the next line a little softer, "Ok, sorry. I am being insensitive. I know you're still recovering from the loss – and your sister, too."

I bit my tongue. I kept forgetting everyone thought Maggie was dead.

"I am fine." I said firmly.

"How are you fine? You could be put in jail for the rest of your life. No one wants anything to do with you."

"Well, you're here." I pointed out, putting on a bravado even though his words stung. They never seemed to have lost their power, as much as I hated to admit it. Fucking bastard.

"You think I want to be here? If Kathy even knew that I agreed to meet with you, she'd probably lose her shit."

"Oh, so you didn't even tell her?"

"Yeah, ok, I am going to tell my 8-and-a-half-months' pregnant wife that I'm meeting up with my ex-con ex-girlfriend. Great idea."

"So, um, I was never in prison, so shut the fuck up. What are you having?"

"Another boy." He said, a little smug.

"Oh goody, another dick for the Callahan dynasty."

His face was dead-pan, "You can't just be a little happy for me? Or at least fake it?"

"Fuck, no." I snorted, "I am a petty bitch if there ever was one."

"Yeah, I remember." He tapped his fingers against his coffee cup.

"I take it you need to stay quiet about your family, too." I said, inspecting my fingernails.

His mouth tightened into a thin line, "Yes."

"How is your younger brother, Thomas, by the way? And Raul?"

His mouth almost entirely disappeared, "Do not."

"Still in Argentina?"

"Yes."

"Your parents still won't acknowledge it?"

"What business is it of theirs?"

"I think their son being hella gay is a lot their business." I retorted.

He hissed, "Can you not?"

"I can and I will."

"Do you even care about me at all?"

"Is that a joke? What kind of stupid-ass question is that?" I snapped, "If you got hit by a bus right now in front of me I would keep walking and sing a jaunty song. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Yes, that's clear." He shook his head, "I can't believe the type of person you turned out to be."

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual." I muttered.

Rob merely sighed, and then dug in his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Harleen, what's it going to take?"

I glanced down at the wallet, "I don't know what you're implying."

"For you to stay quiet about my family, about us. My father is prepared to pay you whatever you need to get off our backs."

I was almost insulted. But I like money. I really like money. I am a 1 percenter, what can I say? 1 percenter who doesn't have full access to her money due to her criminal status. Also a 1 percenter whose boyfriend owed some people a lot of that aforementioned money.

I decided to play it cool, "You really want to know?'

"Yes." He said, sounding exasperated.

"With that attitude, I am not telling you." I said, inspecting my fingernails.

"Just…" he gritted his teeth, "Tell me."

"How does 10 million sound?"

He sputtered, "10 what?"

"Million. Dollars."

"You've got to be joking."

"I am not." I said, holding firm.

"Ok, well, how about this: I give you two million now just as a security deposit and I will consult with my father. Will that suffice?"

I sniffed, "That will be acceptable."

He pulled out his checkbook, and I said, "To cash, please."

"Cash." He repeated.

"Yes."

"Where are you going to get a bank to give you two million dollars in cash?"

"We have our ways." I answered. Honestly I had no goddamn clue, but Mr. J is good at shit like this. I would handle it later.

"Fine." He swiftly wrote it out and handed it to me, "I will give you a call in a few days and let you know."

"Thanks." I said curtly, standing up, "I would say it's been a pleasure, but it really hasn't, so bye."

I began to stalk out the front door, still even more pissed because Bruce Wayne was lingering out there. Rob started as if he was going to follow me, but slowly sank back into his seat. Coward.

I glanced at Bruce, and he stood up.

"Walk with me." I said.

He obeyed.

"So, how did it go? Will there be a second date?" he drawled.

"God, fuck off. It was brutality." I said, shaking my head.

"He's a dickless fool, so I am not surprised."

"I feel gross just talking to him." I shuddered, "But I got some good out of it."

"What was that?"

"Hush money." I grinned.

"Why would he owe you hush money?" Bruce inquired.

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I am the CEO, like I said. I'm not beholden to schedules."

"Let's just say I know certain things about the Callahan's that he doesn't want repeated."

"Ah." He said simply, "Good old-fashioned blackmail. Don't see it too much anymore."

"I'm a classic, what I can say?" I remarked.

"Do you really need the money? Don't the two of you just scam it off people?"

"We do actually need money to live. It would be better if it wasn't other people's." I was choosing my words carefully, not to betray our dire situation.

"Well, Harley, if you needed money, I would be more than happy to give it to you."

"No, that's not going to work." I shook my head, "You know he would have a fucking fit if he found out it came from you."

"How much do you need?"

"We are fine. Rob is going to give me more."

"But why do you need it?"

"That's none of your business." I snapped, stopping. I shoved his chest with my finger, "You do not get a say in my life anymore. You need to accept that."

"I want what's best for you."

"Then stay out of it. We can handle things on our own."

"You know I don't trust him."

"Well, I do." I said stubbornly.

"He's an emotionally abusive homicidal clown-" Bruce began to argue.

"He asked me to marry him." I interjected.

Well, that stopped him in his tracks. His voice sounded far away, "What?"

"He proposed. When we were in Nebraska."

"And what did you say?"

I held up my empty hand, "Do you see anything here?"

"Wow. And he's still around? I give him credit."

"Well, I didn't say no, exactly. I said I had to think about it."

"You said yes to me." He said smugly.

"Look how that turned out."

He went dead-pan, "Gee, thanks for the reminder."

"I haven't decided anything. With Pam being pregnant, there's just too much happening."

"Right. That's just…there's a lot going on there."

"Tell me about it." I said, rubbing my temples, "I am trying to get her to see reason and it isn't working."

"Reason about what?"

"About the…father."

"Oh, I just assumed she had a sperm donor or something."

"While she was in prison?" I retorted.

"Fair point. So then…who knocked her up?" Bruce held up a finger, "Wait. Wait. When you were at Justin's office that day…"

GOD DAMN IT.

"You cannot say anything to anyone about this." I said, flustered.

"Oh my God. Wow, that's shitty of him."

"Do not mention to him that you know."

"I should have him disbarred."

"You will not because Pam needs his child support." I said matter-of-factly.

"As always, the plot thickens." He rolled his eyes, "I was incredibly stupid to ever get involved with the likes of all of you. It's brought me nothing but pain."

"Oh, whatever, drama queen. Don't be ridiculous. I know this is about Selina."

"Do not talk about her to me." He said, his voice dangerously low.

"She's not worth it, man. She's more of a mess than you are. She abandoned you and your son. Let her ruin someone else's life."

"That was a surprisingly nice thing to say."

"My heart, all evidence to the contrary, is not completely made of stone."

Bruce sighed audibly, "I don't know what to do, Harley."

"I think you should forget about her. You have too much else on your plate right now to worry about her slutty ass."

"She is not – ok, well, maybe she is just a little bit." He admitted.

"Thank you." I said, and checked my phone, "Ok, dude, I gotta motor. Pam is blowing up my phone wondering where I am."

"I take it she just woke up?"

"Yeah, men are already ruining her life, even from inside the womb." I said, putting my phone back in my purse.

"Oh, a boy, huh?" he raised an eyebrow, "How did she take it?"

"Stupidly bad." I replied.

"I figured. I love having a son, personally."

"Yeah, but you have a penis. You understand how they work. She's a little at a disadvantage there. You know, being a lesbian and all that. Well, she did have sex with a man before but-"

"That's a lot of information." He said, holding up his hand, "Please refrain from telling me more than that. It's just too early in the morning."

"Fair, admittedly." I said, "I will see you later. Even though I don't want to, but you keep appearing."

"Love ya too, Harleen." He drawled and turned to begin walking in the other direction.

I called Pam, "Hey sorry, I went out for coffee. Do you need anything?"

"Yes, get me so many donuts."

"So many?"

"Two or three."

"I would call that several."

"Shut the fuck up and get me three donuts of the sugary variety. The life-sucker is not satisfied with the banana and oatmeal I had an hour ago."

"Ok, I'll see you soon."

"Bye."

This pregnancy might kill me.