"—you'll beat her, but Selina wants it to be a long one. Give the fans what they're paying for."
"I don't know," Kate sat back on the couch, running a casual hand through her short hair. "She kinda creeps me out, I'd rather not let it last that long."
Pam subtly hiked her skirt up so she could more easily straddle Kate's lap. "You know I don't make the rules."
"Ugh," Kate closed her eyes with a sigh. "This season already feels fucked up."
"Tell me about it," Pam agreed, leaning down to trail wet kisses down the other woman's neck, tugging on her v-neck t-shirt to reveal more of her chest. "Selina's already title-run pissed and-,"
"Pamela, this is a bad idea," Kate's head lulled to the side, giving her some very mixed signals.
Pam chuckled, "Why?" she bit down playfully where Kate's neck met her shoulder. "Because you got in trouble?"
"No…" Kate maneuvered her hands between them, creating a bit of space. "I was threatened. The only reason she agreed to stay is I promised I don't actually care about you."
Pam sat back on her heels. "Well, that's sweet."
"No, come on, Pam. I'm serious." Kate lifted her strong hands to squeeze Pam's shoulders, the movement somewhere between comforting and awkward. "I gotta get my shit together a little and you're not helping."
"Oh, that's rich," Pam moved quickly off of her, yanking her skirt back down and gathering her shoes. "Need I remind you this whole thing was your idea?"
"Right, and you wouldn't let me fuck you until after you fell out of love with Barbara, remember?"
"'Fell out of love' is a little dramatic," Pam scoffed.
Kate rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. Look, Pamela, I'm not going to have boxing forever, alright? I realize that. But I need to have Renee. When this is all over, she's who I want to come home to."
"Congratulations," Pam's words dripped with satire. "You two should renew your fucking wedding vows."
Kate rose to follow her out as Pam stormed for the door. "I don't understand why you're being such a bitch about this! You're the one who demanded all the no strings attached bullshit. It's not like I'm breaking up with you."
"No," Pam agreed. "You're certainly not," and with that, she slammed the door in Kate's face.
When Pam looked up from the spot on the wall she'd been staring at, it was 9pm and she was still at the office.
"Shit," she muttered, her eyes sliding closed as she massaged her temples.
It wasn't often Pam had days where she felt like she'd taken steps backwards rather than forwards...except for her entire career path, but that was a much more involved conversation.
She glanced down at her phone, there was a missed call from Lillian Isley, one she wouldn't be returning any time soon. Why would she add insult to injury?
After another long moment of silence that, fortunately or unfortunately, wasn't reflective in any way, shape or form, Pam took a deep breath and stood up. She didn't feel like going home, probably because she knew she'd try to do something reckless with the 23 year old sleeping on her couch. So, instead, she grabbed her gym keycard out of her drawer, choosing a healthier coping mechanism, heading past Barbara's empty desk towards the elevator and down to the locker rooms.
She changed quickly into a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved shirt and a ballcap-an ensemble that made her look every bit the suburban housewife out for a vigorous walk with her book club that her mother wanted her to be.
Pam was hoping the gym would be empty at this hour, but of course Damian Wayne was there on her preferred stair-climber.
Damian was Bruce's son, but not Selina's. Well, legally he was Selina's but not biologically. He was the product of a sort-of-affair Bruce had been involved in with the woman Kate would be taking on in her next fight. The boxing world was a very small one.
He glanced back when Pam entered the room, marking his territory with a steely, "Move along, Isley."
Pam was famously not a big Damian fan, and Damian famously wasn't a fan of anyone. She really didn't feel like dealing with his anger issues tonight, so she moved on, registering the repetitive sound of gloves on a heavy bag as she left the cardio and weight rooms for the boxer-designated training room.
That's when she saw Harley nodding along to the music blasting from her headphones, those familiar cheap boxing gloves creating the rhythm Pam was hearing. She was, predictably, wearing only a sports bra and compression leggings that did a lot to accentuate her ass because testing Pamela was evidently God's favorite pastime.
The redhead looked to the ceiling with a resigned sigh. "Why?"
Harley noticed her then, her punching slowing to a stop and a smile spreading over her face. She took one glove off, and then an ear bud. "Hey, Red! Fancy seein' you here."
Alright, big guy, if this is what you want... "Hey…" Pam's smile was slower than Harley's, more reserved with just a hint of sultry. She'd perfected this smile long ago. "I was hoping I'd find you here."
Harley raised an eyebrow, her head tilting. "How come?"
Pam approached her slowly, noticing how Harley's eyes fell to her hips-too easy. "Oh, I was just thinking about what you said the other night," she played it casual. "About boxing being a good cardio workout. I was thinking, maybe, you could give me a tutorial? And then I could show you my favorite form of cardio."
"You wanna punch stuff with me?" Harley grinned.
"Among other things," Pam didn't feel the need to wink, she figured she was already laying it on thick enough.
"OK!" was Harley's bright response.
Huh…
"So…" Pam prompted. "How do you want me?"
That seemed to go over her head as well.
"Well, you gotta square up first," Harley explained, dropping her other glove and slipping her 2nd earbud into its case. "Like this," she got into an athletic stance, raising her now wrapped hands to protect your face.
Pam copied her, though her form (purposefully) left a little to be desired. "Like this?"
"Not really," Harley giggled.
That was cute.
"You gotta shake it out, Red," the blonde coached. "Get loose!" She wiggled her arms playfully.
This was not at all the Harley Pam had met in her office that first day. Pam hadn't been sure exactly what to expect after Harley sobered up, but this wasn't it.
"And protect your face!" Harley was still critiquing, but after another lackadaisical show of participation by Pam, the blonde moved forward with a quick strike, hitting Pam in the nose with her wrapped fist.
The room was silent for a moment after it happened, neither of them quite sure how to react.
Finally, Pam's hand shot up to cover her nose, feeling warm blood begin to drip from her nostril and over her lip. "Ow! What the fuck was that?!"
Pam had never seen a human being flush a brighter shade of red. "I'm so sorry!" Harley was horrified at what she'd done. "I thought you were gonna block me!"
"BLOCK you? I can't-I don't know how to box! You were going to teach me!"
"Shit, I'm so sorry, here!" Harley rushed forward, roughly pinching Pam's nose to stop the bleeding, but exacerbating her pain in the process.
"Don't do that! Jesus!" Pam pushed her away, holding her nose herself. "Who raised you?"
"Oh, nobody, really," Harley answered honestly. "My dad was a crook and my ma-,"
"No, nope, stop," Pam interrupted her. "The question was rhetorical."
Harley looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. "I'm real sorry, Red, I didn't mean it. Honest.
"It's fine," Pam waved her off with the hand that wasn't preoccupied stopping her nose bleed, though her tone made it clear it wasn't fine. "Just, buy a girl a drink first, my God. I don't know how it works here in Gotham, but where I'm from people at least have a bit of fun before the domestic abuse starts."
It seemed Harley registered very little of her meaning.
Pam turned away, mumbling, "Whatever. I'll just use an elliptical."
She was almost out the door before Harley stopped her. "Hey, wait!" the blonde jogged to catch up. "Let me make it up to you."
Pam was mildly interested, so she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "How?"
"Come to the Katana fight with me tomorrow night," Harley said. "I'll buy you a beer and a pretzel."
"I don't ingest either of those substances and I have permanent skybox tickets."
Harley frowned. "Well, geez, you don't gotta be so uppity about it."
"You punched me in the face," Pam felt the need to remind her.
"Just come with me!" Harley insisted. "It'll be fun, I promise! I'm a lot of fun."
It seemed Pam was unable to learn her lesson, so she took another go at it. "Prove it."
Harley clapped happily, not unlike a seal, again failing to register any innuendo. "Yay! Girl's night!"
Oh no, what if she's just a misguided straight girl with anger issues?
/
Pam hadn't realized how dire Harley's wardrobe situation was until this very moment. It seemed the only article of clothing she owned that she didn't train or compete in was a white t-shirt that said "I shaved my balls for this this" in big red letters across the front- meaning she was either a frat boy or an ironic lesbian.
"You ready?" Harley asked, cheerily.
Pamela was about to be seen in public with this woman. What a wonderful 'fuck you' that would be to her mother…
"Sure," Pam intoned, locking the front door behind them. "Harley, do you not have access to your bank account?"
"What do you mean?" Harley wondered, though she seemed distracted by the lack of a door handle on the passenger side of Pam's Tesla.
"I mean, why is it you haven't done any shopping since Selina paid you?" Pam clarified, watching Harley's eyes widen with amazement when the door handle popped out after the vehicle was unlocked.
"Oh, Mistah J just hasn't sent me my cash yet," Harley explained, sitting down. "Or maybe I'll have to pick it up, I don't know."
To say Pam was confused would be an understatement. "Come again?"
"Mistah J's sorta my accountant too," Harley said. "I'm not too good with money so he gives me spending cash after all my fights so I don't have to bother with the accounts."
Pam shut herself in the car, her brow furrowed. "And how much did he say you'd be receiving for this fight?"
"5 grand!"
"Harley...Selina wire transferred 30 thousand dollars into your bank account after your fight with Kate. That's a 25-thousand-dollar discrepancy."
It was taking Harley a minute to process this information. "30 grand?"
"Yes."
"He never told me that…"
"And you didn't look at the contract?"
"I don't—I can't remember. I was—"
"High. Right. He made sure of that."
Harley stared down at her feet, still in disbelief, not quite to anger yet, but hopefully that would come. "You...you really think Mistah J would steal all that from me?"
Pam laughed out loud at that. "Yes. But I think I know someone who can help. Let's go watch some violence, maybe it'll inspire us."