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Harley when she was younger never expected to end up here: untying her skates after the long night and treating the bruises. What she expected was success. An accomplished psychiatrist who completed college and lived an easy life. But, after one harmful after another that kept pulling her into a life she never dreamed of, she’s here. A delinquent who dropped out of college, has a rap sheet, and a no longer useful knowledge of psychology and mental illness.
She looks at the smeared makeup in the mirror, the bruises from being pushed or pushing, and can’t find herself to care. This life isn’t easy and certainly a life she can’t ever forget or cover up, but it’s a fun one. Every day there’s something new and wild to do. She wouldn’t have this if she stayed in college and off the streets, now would she?
She discovered a while ago that caring too much causes too much pain. So she stopped caring.
“Kicked their asses tonight, didn’t you?” Dinah says as Harley leaves the bathroom.
“Hell yeah we did!” Harley cheers, throwing her fist into the air.
Dinah rolls her eyes at her friend, turning her head to hide her smile. That’s their relationship, pretending to detest each other. Makes it much more fun and interesting.
Harley and Dinah met at a club. Dinah sings there, Harley gets drunk there. They were bound to meet each other at some point. Dinah didn’t expect to meet her after beating up some creepy guys for a drunk Harley though. But, this is a messed up world they’re living in?
Harley’s crazy. She’s a constant impulse, no thoughts before acting out. It’s no wonder she can’t hold a job. She doesn’t like being held down or told what to do. Dinah thinks there’s some sort of trauma under it all. There’s some sort of need for pain going through the girl’s veins. Dinah will never forget when Harley yelled “Fuck the police!” for no real reason (the real reason is self explanatory: the police do suck) and nearly got the both of them messed up.
Dinah’s glad Harley got into roller derby. She thinks it sort of helps Harley fuel her anger and frustration with life. Besides, she’s in such a great mood about it; she loves it.
Harley fascinates herself with trouble. The boyfriends. The shady jobs. The way she challenges any person of authority. And now she’s been rivaling with their derby team’s biggest opponent’s captain. Dinah doesn’t understand why Harley has to push it with Pamela Isley. The teasing and taunts, the constant arguing. You don’t mess with Pamela Isley, or “Ivy” depending on who you talk to. You want the good shit weed? Or kick ass mushrooms? Pamela Isley is the person to go to. She knows her way around plants, which is why everyone is loyal to her. Messing with her isn’t the best idea.
Yet, Harley does. She messes with her. Dinah doesn’t know if it’s flirting or not. She knows Harley thinks Ivy is pretty as hell. Talks about her red hair all the time. Or how her green eyes are the prettiest shade of green she’s ever seen. Sounds pretty gay to Dinah.
“Heard you lost your job, Harley,” Ivy says, crossing her arms.
“Oh fuck off,” Harley replies, flipping her off.
Ivy approaches her anyway, taking a seat in front of her. There’s a bar the players practically call their own. This is the place. Everyone gets along here, except for Ivy and Harley.
“I have a job for you,” Ivy tells her in a hushed tone. “Could pay well depending.”
“What is it? Delivering your drugs?”
“Or protecting the products in my top-secret greenhouse. Your pick.”
Harley glares, yet the wish for danger quickens her heart. She’s done worse things. More illegal things too. It wouldn’t be too hard anyway. The GCPD is corrupt, they’re probably part of the operation for all she knows. And she does need the money. For the apartment. She doesn’t want to end up on Judge Judy with Dinah suing her for unpaid rent.
“Fine. When do I start?” Harley asks, hiding her excitement.
“Give me your number, Pretty Girl,” Ivy says, looking at her with a seducing glaze. If Harley’s affected by it, she doesn’t let Ivy know.
Harley allows Ivy to place a hand on her bare thigh, acting to ignore it while in reality she wishes for Ivy to run it higher up. She takes Ivy’s phone, putting her number into the phone. Ivy stands up afterwards, winking at Harley before walking away.
Harley falls back into her cushioned chair, letting out a dreamy sigh. So what if she’s hopelessly in love with the red head? Or that her crush is even worse because she knows Ivy is a lesbian. That makes her available, if she was interested. She thinks about Ivy a lot, the way she walks with such grace and confidence. How her red hair looks so good, stuck to her forehead from the sweat. Her green eyes are so alluring, bright, and shiny. Sometimes she wonders what she looks like when she peaks. How perfect does she look like then?
“You good?” Dinah asks, standing over Harley with a drink in her hand.
“I need to take a cold shower. A very cold shower ,” Harley sighs.
Dinah groans, leaving Harley as quickly as she came over. The pining is getting very tiring. Can’t they fuck already? All the unresolved tension would be finally resolved.
Ivy texts Harley a week later, telling her where to meet her and at what time. They’ll talk about their agreement then. She ends it with a green heart. Harley swears Ivy’s purposefully messing with her. The touching and flirting. But she can’t complain. How could she?
She arrives at a worn down greenhouse. It’s clearly abandoned, ivy and plants growing all over the used to be see-through the building. Harley puts her hands into her red jacket as she walks up the driveway. Her hair is up, black crop top on, and ripped red jeans matching the jacket. She was going to look good for Ivy, interested or not.
“Pretty Girl, what a pleasure,” Ivy greets, turning to lead her around the building.
“You should stop calling me that,” Harley says, following her.
“Why should I? You’re pretty.”
Harley tries to ignore the blush that rushes to her pale cheeks. “Every woman is pretty. I’m not special.”
Ivy looks at Harley over her shoulder and then chuckles. “You sure are.”
Harley doesn’t let herself fall for the flirting. She refuses to become one of Ivy’s little trophies. Well, she doesn’t exactly know what Ivy’s sex life looks like, but she must get around, right? With all that natural beauty and seduction she has. Harley can’t be the only one Ivy flirts with. Can she?
They end up in a room and Harley is shocked by the sight that awaits her. Marajuana plants filling the space. She’s sure there’s some cellar Ivy hasn’t shown her with the mushrooms. It looks natural and real. Not laced either.
“This shit isn’t laced, right?” Harley asks, “I’m a lot, but I’m no killer.”
Ivy laughs, shaking her head. “No, it’s not laced. I don’t need blood on my hands. People think it is, how good it is. I’m simply skilled.” Ivy looks Harley over. “ Very skilled .”
Once again, she won’t let herself fall for it. “What do you have in mind? Job, I mean.”
“Well, you could make sure no one steals anything. I know you can fight. But, I’ve also heard that you have a way of reading people well. You could be a good seller. What type would be best for someone.”
It does sound interesting. She could put her former major to use for once. “Hmm… how much?”
“You’d get a commission plus general pay. I can afford it. My stuff brings in thousands.”
“How have you not been caught?”
Ivy shrugs. “A lot of the GCPD officers use my stuff. Numb the mind or pain, help it get up with the wife. Whatever. I don’t really ask.”
“This is some crazy shit you’ve got going on then?” Harley looks around the room again, suddenly laughing. “I’m in. I love the crazy shit.”
Ivy smiles at her. A true smile, and it makes Harley’s heart flutter a little bit.
Harley makes a lot more than she expected just for picking people’s brains. Dinah doesn’t ask about it. Most of the time she doesn’t say much about Harley and how she gets her income. As long as she’s paying rent.
Working with Ivy has changed things. Not on the roller derby track, they still purposely shove each other more than needed, but things are different out of the arena. Now, Ivy and her hang out. Harley keeps her company at the greenhouse and lets herself be clearly flustered over Ivy’s nickname for her “Pretty Girl.” Ivy’s actually kind. She’s funny. She has a heart too. She’s better than anyone Harley’s ever been in love with before. Maybe Ivy’s the one.
No, don’t get ahead of yourself.
“You can go home, you know?” Ivy tells her, breaking the peaceful silence in the greenhouse.
Harley looks at the clock. Yeah, perhaps she should. Dinah doesn’t like it when she stays out too late, suspecting she’s in jail.
“Yeah, I guess. Dinah will get worried.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
Harley splutters. “What?! No! We’re friends. She’s hot, but just friends. She can hardly stand me anyway.”
Ivy nods. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Good about you not having a girlfriend.”
She can’t leave now. “Good?”
“Pretty sure I’m in love with you.”
Harley can hardly believe it. Months of pining. Months of the flirtatious looks and taunts. And here she is, being told by the prettiest girl in the world that they’re in love with her. Wild. Unreal.
“Cool,” Harley chokes out. She flails her hands, trying to correct herself. “I mean, I love you too. Have you seen yourself? Drop dead gorgeous, and I really mean it. Pretty sure I’ve nearly passed out a few times.”
While Ivy laughs, attempting to quiet her laugh with her knuckles to her mouth, Harley walks over and places herself in Ivy’s lap, straddling her. Ivy suddenly stops laughing, her hands going to Harley’s hips on instinct.
“You better kiss me or I’m never talking to you again,” Harley threatens.
“Certainly… Pretty Girl ,” Ivy drawls, her look of sex returning. Oh how Harley loves it.
It’s perfect, it really is. Kissing Pamela Isley. The feel of her lipstick. The taste of her mouth. The way Ivy grips her hips, one hand moving underneath her shirt. Harley has her hands curled in Ivy’s red hair, fulfilling a dream of hers. Her hair is more beautiful than she thought.
Harley raises her arms, aiding Ivy in her mission to remove her shirt. Ivy returns her hand to Ivy’s now bare back, and the hand on her hips moves down to Harley’s thigh. Her lips move down from her mouth, pressing kisses to her neck and biting every so often. It’s sexy, and addicting. Sitting in Pamela Isley’s lap shirtless as the woman in question leaves hickies all over her exposed skin.
Harley tilts her head, giving Ivy better access to her neck. She bites in just the right spot, the juncture of her neck and her shoulder and she whimpers. She can feel Ivy smirking against her skin, sucking hard on the sensitive spot.
Ivy eventually removes her lips and falls back into the chair, wanting to drink up every inch of skin she can see for now. Harley’s a sight to behold, flushed, shirtless, and bruises darkening across her neck.
“You’ve got a lot of tattoos,” Ivy pants.
Harley leans forward. “I’ve got more I could show you.” She bites Ivy’s bottom lip, eliciting a moan.