"I appreciate the hospitality. Thank you so much for the backstage pass." Luke's smile was charming, his eyes kind and gratitude genuine. Pamela rarely understood why women were attracted to men, as she met so few with redeeming qualities, but she supposed she could see why Barbara was proud of this one.

"No, please, it's our pleasure," Selina assured him. "Your Harley interview was must-see TV and we appreciate it. Front row seats are really the least we can do."

Pamela heard Harley's name echo over the loudspeakers as she stood in the VIP loading area with Barbara, Luke and Selina. Slade had requested she not enter through the tunnel with Harley again—evidently, he saw her as a distraction that Harley couldn't afford right before a fight. He did, however, let her keep the ringside seat, and Selina had kicked Damian out of his so she could put Luke and Barbara there as a thank you for the flattering profile.

DJ Khaled

It was obvious Selina was trying not to outwardly cringe at the music cue.

All I do is win win win no matter what

"You guys should get in there," Selina quickly ended their powwow, signaling the usher to take Barbara and Luke inside. "Don't want you to miss a moment."

Got money on my mind I can never get enough

Luke nodded, allowing himself to be led away by the usher, Barbara on his arm, who flashed an excited smile at Pam before she was pulled into the arena.

And every time I step up in the buildin'

Everybody's hands go up

Selina waited until they were out of earshot before turning to Pam. "She's literally won one match. What's with the music choice?"

And they stay there

And they stay there

And they stay there

"She's experiencing what I would describe as an excess of confidence," Pamela attempted to explain.

Up down

Up down

Up down

Selina's eyes were narrowed, now focused on the portion of the jumbotron that was visible from her vantage point. "Is she throwing money into the crowd?"

Ludacris goin' in on the verse

Cause I never been defeated and I won't stop now

Pam sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. But if it's any consolation, she did budget that money for this purpose."

I'm on this foolish track, so I spit my foolish flow

My hands go up and down like stripper's booty's go

Selina seemed done with their conversation. "Georgia O'Keeffe, by the way? Really, Pamela?"

All I do is win win win no matter what

"I'll make sure to prep her better next time," Pam promised, though she couldn't fight off her own smirk.

The brunette shook her head, starting towards the elevator. "Enjoy the fight."

Pamela watched the rest of Harley's entrance from there, waiting for a break in the festivities to take her seat beside Barbara and Luke. In a perfect world, she wouldn't be spending her Friday night entertaining her assistant and her assistant's boyfriend, but clearly this world was far from perfect, so she took a deep breath, reminding herself that acting cordially towards television personalities was (for some reason) part of her job description, and began to make her way to her seat.

As soon as she was about to leave the VIP loading area for the arena, however, she felt her phone vibrate. Pamela paused, fishing her phone out of her purse because all the people that would be calling her were already settled in to watch the fight. Except, of course, for her mother. And if her mother was calling at 9pm on a Friday, it meant her father was dead.

The name on her caller ID was not Lillian Isley, however. Still, a similar lump formed in the pit of her stomach. She stared at her phone screen for a long moment as it continued to ring, briefly considering sending the call to voicemail.

But just as the thought flashed across her mind, she'd raised her phone to her ear, her finger making the decision for her as it pressed and slid the green icon.

"This is Pamela."

"Oh, hello, Love," the familiarity of the greeting was unnerving. "I wasn't sure you'd take my call."

"I wasn't sure either," Pamela's response was truthful. "I'm not still your emergency contact, am I?"

"Don't be silly," she laughed. "Have I caught you at a bad time?"

Pam cleared her throat, leaning against the cement wall. "I wouldn't exactly call it a good time."

"Bollocks, you're probably working," her self-consciousness sounded less than genuine. "I don't mean to be a bother, I'm just back in Gotham for the moment. Phoning for a favor."

"I'm sorry, I'm—I'm having a hard time hearing you," Pamela pressed her hand to her ear when the crowd cheered for Stephanie's entrance. "It sounded like you said you wanted a favor?"

Her chuckle came through the speaker clear as day. "Well, you can always say no, now can't you?"

Pam was growing impatient. "Barbara, as much as I'd love to finish this awkward catch-up session, I'm kind of in the middle of something. What is it you want from me?"

"Fine, I won't keep you," Barbara acquiesced. "I caught a jet to throw a state-side benefit gala for the eradication of private exotic animal ownership within the US. Seems your yokel's have continued their infatuation with animal abuse, and I'd like to get some rich and influential people in a room to help deal with it."

Pamela rolled her eyes. "How noble of you."

"I'm afraid I've fallen a bit out of touch with the who's who of the city," she continued. "I was hoping you'd attend—and bring that crass friend of yours with her charming husband. Plus a date, if you can think of someone."

With her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose Pam said, "Have the relevant information sent over to my assistant and I'll check my schedule."

"Ah, wonderful," she could hear the smile in her tone. "I'm so looking forward to truly catching up."

"Right," Pamela's tone was clip. "We'll be in touch, then."

"Yes, love, have a marvelous evening."

Pam hung up without a goodbye, throwing her phone back into her purse. "Have a marvelous evening," she mocked under her breath, arriving at her seat just as the bell was ringing in the first round. She settled in, watching Harley slip to the inside of Stephanie's attempted hook, following with an uppercut of her own.

Harley was supposed to win this fight in a decision, as it was her first match up with a heroic character after receiving her villain status and Selina wanted it long and drawn out.

Luke was leaning over Barbara to talk to Pamela now. "Slade was a great choice for her."

Pam hoped her smile was friendly when she nodded.

"You made that happen, didn't you?"

Pamela pretended to be enthralled by Harley's overhand punch in response to Stephanie's attempted bob.

"That was your house, right?"

Barbara was growing uncomfortable between them as Pam continued to pseudo ignore him.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Luke offered, clapping as Harley landed a solid cross. "Your secret's safe with me, I just know a sugar mama set up when I see one."

"Well, aren't you perceptive," Pam didn't attempt to make this smile friendly. "I guess sports reporters can be real journalists."

"Babe," Barbara mumbled, pushing Luke upright in his own seat. "Let's just watch the fight." She gave an overzealous "WOOOO!" when the end of the round was signaled, Harley having clearly won that one.

Luke leaned back this time, speaking behind Barbara now. "Listen, Dr. Isley, I mean no offense—,"

Pamela was already offended.

"—but you've got something special in her. I know she just got out of a shitty, exploitive situation. I'd hate to see the WBA turn her into another Jason Todd."

"Thank you for the unsolicited advice, Mr. Fox."

"You're doing great, but you've gotta keep believing in her. Athletes are fickle like that."

Pamela leaned over, patting the hand Luke had on the back of Barbara's chair with palpable condescension. "Understood."

By some miracle, Stephanie was able to hold on through the complete 10 rounds despite Harley not pulling any punches. Pamela watched her smile—relieved—as the referee raised Harley's glove in victory, she'd certainly earned that bonus.

Harley's victorious fist pump and head banging was still somehow enthusiastic as she sort of wobbled around the ring, milking her audience for every last scream.

Pamela stood, offering a semi-genial "pleasure to meet you, Luke," and an "I'll see you on Monday" to Barbara before walking towards the locker room to wait for Harley.

The blonde fell asleep on the ride home, which was against protocol, but Pam hadn't seen her take too many shots to the head and 10 rounds was a very long time to sustain that level of energy. Once home, Pam parked in the garage, circling around to the passenger side to wake her.

Harley mumbled groggily as she was gently shaken awake, something along the lines of "did you see that shit? Took forever."

"Come on," Pamela helped her to her feet, letting the blonde rest against her as she guided them into the house. "You need to rehydrate."

"Hey, Red, you proud of me?" Harley's smile was slightly 'out of it'.

"You worked very hard," Pam acknowledged, laying her down in bed. She then went to retrieve a gallon jug of water that was meant to last Harley through the night and next morning without requiring her to get up.

Harley snuggled into the pillows, clothes and all, and hadn't moved by the time Pam returned, setting the water jug on the bedside table. "Yeah, but, are ya proud of me?" Harley asked again.

Pamela wasn't sure why she found the answer to that question so difficult to vocalize. "I am, Harley," she finally admitted. "Please drink some water, I'll be back with ibuprofen."

/

Selina took her time sipping her mimosa, looking awfully pensive as she did. "I'd really rather not," she finally decided.

Pamela had zero plans to accept that answer. "Nice try, there is no way I'm suffering through this alone. And I'll have the farmer's scramble," she told the waiter who'd been patiently waiting beside their table for some time now.

"Scallops benedict, please," Selina requested, the waiter making a note and leaving quickly afterwards.

"That sounds revolting."

"Then I'm glad we won't be eating off each other's plates," Selina downed the rest of her mimosa. "I should have asked him for a refill."

Pamela wasn't done arguing her case. "It's your favorite type of party and it's for a good cause, I shouldn't have to twist your arm."

"She's such a bitch, Pam," Selina complained. "You two aren't even together anymore, why should I have to continue suffering through social interactions with her? Fucking philanthropists, I swear to God."

"Bruce is a philanthropist."

"That's exactly what I mean."

"You're going to make me show up alone to my ex fiancé's gala? Some friend you are," Pam huffed.

"Are we out of touch, do you think?"

"Selina, I'm serious," Pam signaled the waiter after he'd finished taking an order at the next table over. "Can she get a refill?"

The brunette nodded gratefully at the waiter once he'd acknowledged the request. "You're not going alone. Harley will be there."

Pam scoffed. "There are no circumstances under which I'd bring Harley."

"Maybe she cleans up nice."

"She has a tattoo that says Daddy's Little Monster under her right breast."

Selina cleared her throat, taking that into consideration. "That's unfortunate."

"It is."

They waited for Selina's next mimosa to be delivered before either spoke again. "Alright," Selina eventually told her. "I'll go, and I'll drag Bruce along with me."

Pamela breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"But only if Harley comes too," Selina finished. "That's my one condition."

"Why in the world would you want that?"

"For the comedic value," She answered like it was obvious.

/

"They gonna have food there?" Harley asked from where she was lying on a yoga mat in the living room, holding an ice pack to her badly bruised abdomen.

"Yes," Pam adjusted her glasses to look more closely at the invitation. "It says it's a 'watering hole' theme."

Harley frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means I'll be contemplating suicide the whole time, but there will be food. And alcohol, God willing."

That answer made sense to Harley, so she nodded, moving the ice pack a bit higher so she could pull one of her knees to her chest to stretch her glute and hamstring. "Do I gotta dress up?"

"Yes, you have to dress up," Pamela answered her question while correcting her grammar. "I'll be wearing black since I'm treating it as a funeral for my self-respect."

Harley switched legs, now deep in thought. "Are we gonna match?"

Pam glanced at her in that position just long enough to almost lose her train of thought. "Some color coordination would be appreciated."

"Can I wear animal print cuz it's for tigers and stuff?"

Pamela set down the invitation, considering the request and wondering if she had time for an orgasm before she had to leave for the office. "If it's subtle."