Jack left the diner and finally let his smile drop. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Harley, he knew it wasn't good for him. Pretending wasn't good for anyone long term, and he knew she was only humoring him, and flirting with him to get her tip. But it was too much fun to stop seeing her, to stop pretending that a girl like her could ever have any actual interest in a guy like him.
Still, it wasn't healthy, not for either of them, he thought, as he walked home. She could have told him that, with her study of psychology. He enjoyed deluding himself by imagining she was interested, but the problem with delusions was that they always fell apart in the end, and the truth was often terrible to face. Harley didn't know him, not the real him, and she never could. She'd be horrified that the man she thought of as sweet and funny was a murderous criminal.
And she deserved better too – sweet, bright, pretty girl like that. She deserved better than to get involved with a thug like him. He was a textbook case of abnormal psychology, but if he revealed that to her, she'd be repulsed, not fascinated like she had been by her book. She was so young and naïve and innocent – she didn't deserve to have those qualities spoiled, certainly not by him.
He returned home to his dingy apartment, and poured himself a scotch. "I won't go see her again," he vowed. After the tension of the meeting tonight, where he had expected betrayal at any second from his mob colleagues, he had needed to see her to cheer himself up. He couldn't be blamed for wanting to relax afterward, and spend some time with someone fun and carefree and unspoiled. His business was dark and depressing, and he craved contact with something light and beautiful. That was Harley.
He shut his eyes, seeing her sweet, pretty face in front of him, her full, red lips calling him: "Mr. J."
He had started coming to the diner a few months ago – it was heated, and his apartment wasn't. He had picked it out specifically because it wasn't busy – Jack didn't enjoy having lots of people around, and he was hoping it was a place where he could just relax and think and be alone.
He had noticed Harley right away – who wouldn't? She was such a pretty girl, young and delicate – not the kind of woman you expected to be working at an all night diner. After he had come in a few times, she had introduced herself, and he had done the same, telling her his name was Jack.
"Jack what?" she asked.
"Just Jack," he said. Jack rarely gave out his real name, and he especially didn't want to give it to her, in case she found out who he really was.
"I don't feel right calling a customer by their first name," she said. "It's always sir and ma'am or mister or miss…"
"I'm fine with the disrespect," he replied, grinning at her.
She shook her head. "Nah uh. You're mister someone, and if you won't tell me, I gotta make up a name myself."
"Go ahead, kid," he said.
She studied him with her wide blue eyes, and said, "Mr. J. You're Mr. J."
He had liked that – he loved the way she said it, with her Brooklyn accent bringing out the "Mista." She was so good at playing with him, at engaging with his games and jokes. And he enjoyed playing with her so much.
But all games had to end, and a guy couldn't live in a fantasy world forever. As pleasant as it was to pretend, he had to wake up, and the sooner the better, for both of them.
He headed into his bedroom and undressed, then lay down on the bed and shut his eyes. But rather than sleep, his mind crowded him with thoughts and visions of Harley. "See, this is why it has to stop," he muttered. "A guy needs his rest, especially a guy in my position. He can't be kept awake all night with visions of some dame."
But they didn't stop. He doubted they would even if he stopped seeing her, and if he did, he'd be utterly miserable and still awake. So it was a choice between no sleep and going to bed happy, or no sleep and going to bed despondent. And it wasn't difficult for a guy like him to make that choice.
He imagined her lying next to him, tired and happy, with that gorgeous smile of hers. "You can't keep me up like this, kid," he said to the vision. "I have work tomorrow, work that I gotta be rested for."
"I ain't trying to keep you up," she replied in his mind.
"I know you ain't trying to do anything, but you do it all the same," he replied. "You do something to me, kid. I've never felt like this before, not with anyone."
"You're just a kidder, Mr. J," she sighed. "Quite the joker."
"Yeah, I am, kid," he agreed. "Go to sleep now, and let me do the same. I'll see you tomorrow, and every night after."
"Mmm, promise?" she asked, grinning at him.
"I don't think I got a choice," he said. "I'm crazy about you. It ain't the kinda thing that goes away, no matter what you try and do about it. I know I should leave you alone, for your own sake if not for mine, but I just can't. I'm selfish, I guess, but you know that."
"Good tipper though, so you can't be too selfish," she said.
"I am though," he murmured. "If I weren't, I could give you up. But I can't. I can't."
He rubbed his temples. "But you don't need me to mess up your life like that. Young college girl, just starting off her life with a promising career. And me, this dark and disturbed criminal your teacher warned you about. It can't work out, not long term. Best not to start it, for both of us."
"Whatever you say, Mr. J," she said, yawning.
He gazed at her. "You don't know what I'd do just to kiss you…" he whispered, reaching out to her. But then the vision disappeared, and he was once again alone in his room.
He sighed, rolling over on his pillow. "Keep it to a fantasy, Jack," he muttered. "Don't you dare ruin her life like that. Don't you dare."
…
Harley took the cash that Jack had given her, and put the amount due for the coffee in the cash register. She folded the other bills carefully into her pocket, and then reached up to feel how red her face was. "Jesus, Harley, learn to wear a mask, would ya?" she sighed to herself. "It's so embarrassing blushing like a schoolgirl. Why can't you learn to play these things cool, like other girls do?"
But it wasn't girls who played things cool, she thought – it was women. Grown up women who dated grown up men, and who didn't blush when guys complimented them. They were calm and collected, pretending to be detached and distant, never giving a hint of their true feelings. That was the kinda thing which drove guys wild, when women played hard to get – Harley had heard that a thousand times from the other students at her university. And Harley didn't know how to play that. She was still just a little girl, obviously, a silly, blushing little girl. She deserved a silly, immature boy, not a grown-up man like Mr. J.
She had tried to play it cool by pretending to study, but it hadn't worked - she always had to give in to him in the end. He was so fun and interesting and engaging that it was impossible to resist. And he seemed to really get her, and her sense of humor. Mr. J had guessed it when he asked if she liked older guys. Those were the kinds of men she found attractive, not college boys her own age. They were too young and superficial – she wanted someone experienced and capable.
Not that she had had much experience with boys or men. She had always been shy and quiet and timid, and while she knew she should be trying to enjoy the sociable aspects of college, that was hard to do when she had to work a job in addition to her studies. She was mostly eager for the whole experience to be over with, to get her degree and get a real job where she could deal with really interesting cases. The only part of college she enjoyed was the things she learned in her classes, especially her psychology classes. She had always been drawn to extreme personalities and exceptional people, even people who did bad things. She was fascinated to learn why those people did the things they did, and she couldn't get enough of criminal psychology, which was her major.
She had often wondered what was wrong with her, to be so morbidly engrossed in something that most people found twisted and depressing. There must be something twisted about her, she concluded, which is why she had told Mr. J that he shouldn't be sure she wasn't a freak and a weirdo. What else could she be, someone so attracted to dark and disturbing things, and who didn't fit in with people her own age?
One of the many disadvantages of being a freak and a weirdo, of course, was being very lonely a lot of the time. But since Mr. J had started coming into the diner, she had something to look forward to, and someone who didn't make her feel so alone, at least for a few hours. She had never been as happy with anyone as she was in his company.
But she knew he could never really be interested in someone like her – he was just being nice and sweet to her, because that's the kinda guy he was. He could have his pick of women, and he would never choose a silly college girl like her. He was so interesting and talented, and he knew so much, and there was so much she didn't know about the world and everything in it.
She sighed, returning her attention to her book so she could learn more about the world and everything in it. But she couldn't concentrate – she kept seeing Mr. J's smiling face instead of the words in front of her.
If she told him her feelings, she knew he would laugh at her. She knew he would see her as just a kid who didn't know what she was talking about, just feeling puppy love. And maybe that was true, she reasoned, because she certainly didn't know any differently. But she honestly couldn't stop thinking about him.
She remembered how it had felt when he had touched her chin, the way her heart had fluttered. And the way it had pounded when he had leaned over to pull the money out of her ear, his face so close to hers, so close she could almost kiss him…
But she would never do that, she knew – she'd never have the courage to make a move like that, and risk him leaving and never coming back. And she felt she would literally die of embarrassment if she did, by some miracle, find the courage. He would never return her affection – she wasn't pretty or self-assured, like other women, she thought, as she adjusted her glasses. Men didn't like awkward, nerdy girls – they liked strong, confident women. And Harley wasn't that.
She shut the book with a sigh, resigning herself to the fact that studying was useless. "If I fail my exams, it'll be all your fault, Mr. J," she sighed, as she cleaned up the glasses Jack had been playing. "Not that I could ever hold it against you."
Time passed quickly while she daydreamed about Jack, and the time came to close up the diner. Then she headed out into the streets of Gotham, where daylight was just beginning to break beyond the grim skyline. She returned to her dormitory as the sun rose, trying not to wake her roommate, and setting the alarm for a few hours from now, in order to get to her classes on time. Every second of sleep was precious, but as Harley changed and climbed into bed, she found she just couldn't drift off. Her brain kept bombarding her with thoughts of Mr. J. She couldn't wait to see him again tomorrow night.