The meeting didn't really improve much after that. Different kinds of music and décor were tossed around, but nobody really seemed to have something that fit.
"Well," said Bruce with a tired smile, "We've certainly gotten off to a spirited start today. How about we call it for now and meet again tomorrow? Same time and place?"
This was agreed upon and Harley found herself walking out with Wesker and Selina.
"Well, that went well," said Selina dryly.
"I'm sure you'll think of something," said Wesker to both of them.
"You didn't have much to say, Arnie," said Harley.
Wesker shrugged, "I guess it's all a little above me. I don't know anything about fundraising. Legally anyway," he smiled a little sadly.
"Well," Harley sighed, "I think I'd better sleep on it. Night, folks."
"Harley, wait," Selina said, "Why don't you come out with me. There's a little place I usually visit on Friday nights and you look like you need some company. Wesker, you want in?"
"No thanks," said Wesker, yawning, "I've been at work since 8 this morning, I think I'll have an early night."
"Hey, Arnie," said Harley, "Look, I'm sorry I hit a nerve earlier…"
He waved a hand, "It's okay. My Ventriloquist days are way behind me, but it was hard not to think of myself as that for a while. I've got my second chance and it's working out so far. I wanted to say it earlier: good luck with yours."
Selina's car was parked on the street outside, and she drove them to a cellar bar a few blocks off the waterfront called (Harley smiled) the Catspaw.
The atmosphere inside was stuffy and warm, small wonder since it was lit with candles! There was a stage with a piano, bass, drums and saxophone, but the musicians were, as yet, absent.
They assumed a table and a waiter came up and said, "Your usual, Ms. Kyle?"
"Thanks, Tom. And menus, we haven't had dinner."
Harley ordered a lemonade, and Selina half smiled. "What?" Harley asked.
"It just makes me smile that you have been able to conduct yourself so comfortably among hardened criminals over the years, but you still order drinks like a schoolgirl."
Harley scoffed, "Hey, I got no head for liquor, what can I say?"
"It's a pity," said Selina, "I can tell you aren't very relaxed."
Harley blinked at Selina, who looked back impassively. "I…"
"You're nervous about living on the straight and narrow," Selina said. It wasn't a question, "Wondering if you have what it takes, if you can function in normal society when you've been outside and against it for so long."
Harley stared, stricken at Selina. "I…I just wanna live my life," she said softly, "No more crime, no more craziness. But, I dunno if I can do anything else." She almost laughed, "I don't know if I can do anything legal anymore!"
"No chance of getting back into the psychiatry game?"
Harley shook her head, "Nah. Besides, I don't think I want to go back to that. Too many bad associations. Too many good ones…"
Selina looked shocked, "Good ones?"
"Look, I realize what – he – did to me," Harley said with difficulty, "But in those days, I laughed, I had fun. At the time, I thought it was worth it. But does this mean going back to the days of hard work, no fun, of being boxed in?" She plucked at the lapels of her suit. "I tried to have fun my first day out of Arkham and look how that turned out!"
"I heard," Selina said, "If it makes you feel any better, I know how you feel. The challenge and thrill of being Catwoman is hard to let go of. But for all the doors that close, others sometimes open."
"I guess…"
"What about Poison Ivy?"
Harley blinked, "What about Red?"
"Was she worth it?"
Harley was sunddenly uneasy. "Well, she was always a good friend, yeah, I…"
The menus arrived along with a lemonade and a small glass of white wine, which Selina gratefully accepted. "It's okay Harley. I know you and Ivy were always a bit more than just pals, but I was never sure just what the feeling behind it was."
Harley faintly wished she'd worn more makeup, it might have covered the interesting shade her face was now turning. "Uh, well, I…"
She was interrupted when applause broke out from the other people in the bar. They both looked round to see a group of well-dressed musicians appear on the little stage. With little fanfare they took their places and began to play a soft jazz number. Harley looked wistfully as they played. She liked the swanky, danceable sound. It reminded her of the Iceberg Lounge, old Penguin's front. Too swanky for her these days…
Something prodded at her memory, and then it hit her. She'd heard this tune before. She'd sung it before! It was 'Say That We're Sweethearts Again.'
"Hey!" Harley cried, "I know that guy on the piano! He works for Boxy Bennett!"
Selina, in a slightly quelling tone (Harley had spoken rather loudly) said, "Worked for. That's Jerry Black. White Black to his friends. He's been playing for tips here since somebody got Bennett thrown in prison." Selina cocked an amused eyebrow at Harley.
"Oh. Whoops." Harley was a little abashed. But she was suddenly very far away. It was too bad, Jerry having to play for tips. He was good.
The first song ended and then, apparently on a whim, the band went off into a totally different sort of tune that sounded almost like classical music. The piano and saxophone led the way into an uplifting sort of tune that seemed more apt for a big concert hall…
Click. Harley felt so excited suddenly as to leap from her chair. It took her a moment to register that not everyone felt the same way. The audience wasn't booing, but they looked annoyed, distracted by the powerful notes, and when the song came to an end somebody yelled, "Go back to the 80's!"
But Harley was floating on a nimbus of inspiration, and with a whoop she sprang forward, did a cartwheel and, knocking over a waiter in the process, arrived at the edge of stage.
"What the-" The bassist blinked.
"Whoa!" Jerry Black said, rising from the piano, "What's your game, lady?"
Harley smiled and said, "What, don't you recognize me, Jerry?" She took a breath and sang,
"I never knew that our romance had ended
Until you poisoned my food
And I thought it was a lark when you kicked me in the park
But now I think it was rude!"
Jerry's eyes popped out. "Harley Quinn, is that you?"
"Harleen Quinzel, these days," she said with a little bow.
"Wait," said the bassist, backing off, "Harley Quinn? Don't you work for…"
"She works for the Wayne Foundation these days," said Selina, appearing silently beside Harley. "And so do I."
"No kidding," said Jerry, "Good to know somebody's got honest work in this town. It's cool, boys. This dame and me go way back. Played together once, although I wasn't expecting to!"
"Whatcha doing here, White Black?" Harley asked.
Jerry's expression was wry, "Well, between you, the cops and the Batman, Boxy's business is in the tank. He was running most of the swanky speakeasies on the east side, and a lot of us musicians were working for those outfits. Not because we liked what he was doing, just 'cause musicians gotta make a living, see?"
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," said Harley. Exchanging a smug glance with a nonplussed Selina, she launched into her big plan.
Afterword: Spot the man I've named Jerry Black in the Batman: TAS episode "Harlequinade" where he plays the piano in Boxy Bennett's casino and he backs Harley's diversionary performance of 'Say That We're Sweethearts Again,' which is, somewhat disturbingly, a real song. Bennett was captured in the mad mess of chases in "Harley's Holiday."
The song that the audience receives so poorly is inspired by the excellent "To the Summit" performed by the Piano Guys, available on YouTube.