"You look gorgeous!" shrieked Julia as she pounced on Harley, hugging her as she emerged from dressing in her room.
"I'd better – I can barely breathe!" gasped Harley. "My waist is pinched, my boobs are shoved up and clamped in place, and I can already feel my ass going numb – I feel like I've just forced my whole body into a vise!"
"It'll be worth it when you see the look on Bruce's face, trust me," said Julia. "That dress really brings out your figure, Harley."
"And it doesn't look too slutty?" she asked, looking at her reflection in the mirror. "I wanna look grown up, but not slutty. I'm a bit worried about this slit up the leg…"
"It looks sexy, not slutty," retorted Julia. "Same with the makeup. You look like a beautiful young woman going out for a night on the town, and you are going to stun everyone at this party. But especially Bruce. He'll wanna do a little more than kiss you tonight, I guarantee it," she said, grinning. "And wouldn't that be a great way to celebrate your 20th birthday?"
"What, fooling around with Bruce Wayne?" asked Harley. "I can think of better ways to celebrate."
Boy, could she ever, said her mind, as it began to wander. She imagined Jack planting kisses down her revealing neckline, his hands all over her body - tight, clinging, thin fabric all that separated his eager flesh from hers, and her own flesh was straining through it, needing to meet his…
"Oh God, I've gotta stop," she whispered, feeling herself blushing. "Don't wanna faint, and that's a real danger in this dress…"
"I guess you could leave the zipper down a little," said Julia. "If you think it'll help."
"No, I'll just deal with it," said Harley. "If you're sure it's worth it."
"Trust me, you are gonna turn heads tonight," said Julia, smiling at her. "Though I know there's only one head you wanna turn, right?"
"Yeah," whispered Harley, thinking of Jack. "That's right."
Her parents had left early to finish setting up the party, but they had ordered a limousine to pick Harley up from the apartment at six-thirty. Julia rode along with her, chattering all the way, about how cool it was to be in a limo, about how fancy everyone must think they were, about how this was going to be the most amazing party, while Harley just stared out the window, feeling butterflies of nervousness and excitement in the pit of her stomach. She hoped Jack would be pleased…
And then the door to the limo opened, and the driver held out his hand. "Madam?" he said, helping Harley out.
"This is so cool – I feel like we're Cinderella at the ball!" whispered Julia, excitedly, as the doors to the Diamond Lounge opened.
Jack had been holding a drink and chatting with the Quinzels when he saw the doors open, and looked up at Harley. His jaw, heart, and glass dropped, one of them shattering on the marble floor, and one of them leaping back up into his mouth as he gasped, "Jesus Christ!"
And then the band began to play as Harley walked down the stairs to the applause and cheers of her guests. "Harley, baby, you look stunning!" said Mr. Quinzel, embracing his daughter.
"You're all grown up now, sweetheart," whispered Mrs. Quinzel. "Oh, George, I'm gonna cry!" she sobbed, burying her face in her husband's chest.
Harley stopped in front of Jack, who just stared at her. She stared back, smiling nervously, feeling her heart pounding at his gaze, and also at how handsome he looked in a nice suit and bowtie, his dark hair slicked back…
"You look beautiful," they both said at the same time, and then laughed.
"No, but…seriously, just…look at you," stammered Jack, who literally couldn't pull his eyes away from her. "Hard to believe that this is the little girl who used to have mud fights with me."
Harley smiled, taking his hand. "I ain't a little girl anymore, Jack," she whispered, gazing at him. "I'm a woman now."
"You…sure are," he stammered. Uncontrollable madness seemed to have seized him – he couldn't bear the thought of being around this gorgeous creature any longer without telling her he was in love with her. He opened his mouth and began, "Harley, could I have a word with you in private…"
"Harley, won't you introduce me?" asked Bruce Wayne suddenly, coming over and putting his arm around Harley's waist. He smiled at Jack in a way that was anything but friendly, and that seemed to break the spell over Jack's mind.
"Oh…sure, Bruce," said Harley. "Uh…Bruce, this is Jack Napier, my…friend. Jack, this is Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises."
"Jack Napier?" repeated Bruce. "Are you related to the Valestra hitman Joseph Napier?"
"I was," replied Jack, nodding. "He was my father."
"Oh. I see," said Bruce, lightly. "And how does a hitman's son know a girl like Harley? There must be a fascinating story to go with that."
"Jack…broke into our home when I was a kid," murmured Harley. "But he…didn't mean any harm, and Dad…let him stay with us and gave him a job…"
"Your father is a braver man than me, taking criminals and sons of criminals into his home," laughed Bruce. "Especially with a young child. But good for him for taking pity and being charitable toward an unfortunate case. It's that kind of philanthropy that's made Wayne Enterprises the recipient of the Humanitarian Business of the Year Award eight years running."
"Good for you," said Jack, smiling thinly.
"And what is it that you do, Mr. Napier?" asked Bruce. "Or would it not be appropriate to discuss in polite company?"
"I…work with Harley's father, in the used car industry," retorted Jack.
"Oh, still?" asked Bruce, raising his eyebrows. "I would have thought that you'd have retired from a pity job like that years ago to stand on your own two feet. How can a man respect himself if he's just given handouts from strangers, after all?"
"This from the billionaire inheritance case," snapped Jack.
"I run Wayne Enterprises now," retorted Bruce. "A multi-billion dollar conglomerate. I would say that's standing on my own two feet, and carrying on the Wayne family tradition of public service."
"Oh, you do carry on the Wayne family tradition," agreed Jack, grabbing a glass of champagne. "You're just like your father."
"Well, I imagine you're just like yours," retorted Bruce. "However much you pretend not to be. But then maybe not – a boy can't be influenced by a man who was probably in prison from the day he was born, a boy who was probably the product of a conjugal prison visit."
"Bruce, stop it," said Harley, frowning. "Jack can't help his past, but he's a great guy now."
"Yes, I'm sure he is," agreed Bruce. "If you need a car repaired, I'm sure he's just the man to ask. Do you have any other hobbies, Jack?"
"Shooting," retorted Jack, glaring at him.
Bruce laughed. "Well, there's an intellectual pursuit! Personally I find guns incredibly vulgar – you wouldn't catch me dead using one. But apart from car repair and shooting, do you have anything else to add to a conversation?"
Jack didn't respond, glaring at Bruce. "You see? Just as I thought," said Bruce, nodding. "Frankly, I don't even know why you're here – you can't possibly add anything to Harley's party or her life. Nobody wants you here, so why don't you just leave?"
"No, that's not true, Jack…" began Harley, but he had already put down his glass, turning and heading for the door without another word.
Harley rounded on Bruce angrily. "What the hell was that, Bruce?!" she demanded.
"What?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You can't honestly expect me to be on my best behavior for a criminal. I don't waste manners and politeness on scum like that. He didn't have any business being here."
"He's my friend!" snapped Harley. "I invited him, because I wanted him to be here! I like him!"
Bruce snorted. "Harley, I understand it must be flattering to you, but frankly it's cruel to torment the less fortunate like that."
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Didn't you see the way he was looking at you?" asked Bruce. "If I hadn't got here when I did, the brute was going to stammer out some clumsy confession of love for you. I was simply sparing you from his awkward advances. You can thank me in any way you see fit in private later," he said, smiling at her.
Harley stared at him. "What?" she gasped.
"Come on, Harley, it's obvious!" laughed Bruce. "You must know he's in love with you! I almost feel sorry for him, in a way – a pathetic clown like that thinking he could ever be worthy of a girl like you. He must be crazy!" he laughed.
Harley's brain slowly processed the information, and then she headed straight for the door with a muttered, "Excuse me."
"Harley? Where are you going? Harley? You can't walk out on your own party! Harley!" called Bruce after her, but she ignored him, the pounding of her heart drowning out his calls, and replacing them with the same words repeated over and over in her head: He's in love with you, he's in love with you, he's in love with you…