“Huh?” he asked blankly.

     “Ivy,” she said.  “I’ve been told that Poison Ivy is the new owner of the Lounge.  I thought maybe she decided it wasn’t enough just to fire you, that she greened you and told you to leave town.”

     “Oh,” Sly replied.  “No, I haven’t seen Ivy since the night Joker died.  This is all my idea.  Actually, it’s a good thing you showed up, Ms. Kyle—”

     “Please, I think you can call me Selina,” she told him.

     “Sure thing, M - Selina.  Like I said, it’s a good thing you’re here.  I’m moving back to Key West, and I was thinking maybe you could make sure nobody follows me to bring me back here.  I appreciated what Mr. Dent did, I really did, but I’m not coming back this time.  Now I’ve got more to keep me there.”

     While Sly was one of the most normal and likeable people to be found at the Iceberg Lounge, Selina realized she knew much less about him than she did about the Lounge’s deranged clientele.  She was reminded of the time she investigated Kittlemeier’s disappearance, and found herself learning things like where he lived and shopped and ate.  “I didn’t know you had anything waiting for you there besides the bar, Sly,” she said.

     “Well, she’s not actually there yet.  She’s coming with me.”

     “Who—” Selina began to say, but then she remembered what Eddie had told her.  Sly had left the Iceberg early that night so he could get Roxy Rocket to a hospital.  “Roxy?  You’re taking her with you?”

     He nodded.  “She’s going to need a lot more time to recover from her injuries, so I figured the sun and the sand would be good for her.”

     “How is she anyway?  Nobody seemed to know—”

     “Yeah,” Sly said, sighing.  “After what happened to the Joker, everyone basically forgot about her.  She was pretty bad, Selina.  Broken ribs, broken jaw, skull fracture, ruptured spleen …Ivy really worked her over.”  His eyes hardened, and Selina noticed that he no longer referred to Ivy as “Ms. Isley.”  Somehow she doubted that meant they were on friendly terms. “She’s finally getting out of the hospital tonight, so you picked a good time to drop by.”  He paused.  “Why are you here anyway?”

     “Looking for a martini prepared the right way,” she said dryly.  “Actually, I thought you might know what’s going on at the Iceberg.  It’s been closed for days, and lately we’ve heard some - disturbing news.”

     “Ivy, you mean.”

     “So you’ve heard?”

     “Oh, yeah,” he said.  “Gina and Raven called me.  They’re upset about it.  They still have their jobs and all, but they’ve seen enough of Ivy to be unhappy about working for her.”

     “I’m guessing you were let go on account of your Y-chromosome,” Selina said.

     “You’d think that,” he agreed, "but apparently I’ve made enough Cosmopolitans ‘the right way’ that I’m forgiven for being a guy.  Ivy’s left me a couple messages asking when I’ll be coming back.  I haven’t called her back.  I’m not going to speak to her ever again, Selina.  Not after what she did.  She could have killed Roxy, and she would have enjoyed doing it,” he said bitterly.  “All because I had a conversation with her.”

     “Sly, Ivy tends to blame men for everything, but I don’t see how what happened could be your responsibility.”

     “I was sitting with Ivy when Roxy came over,” Sly said stubbornly.  “Roxy got jealous, and she said some things that pushed Ivy over the edge.  What she said wasn’t called for, but Ivy went too far.  If I’d been behind the bar where I belonged, none of it would have happened.  Or if I’d spoken up sooner, Roxy wouldn’t have been injured so bad.”

     “Forgive me for pointing this out, Sly,” Selina replied, getting him off the subject of blaming himself, "but Roxy has never struck me as the type willing to relax on a beach all day.  What happens when she’s fully recovered and decides to do something like, I don’t know, paraglide into a volcano?”

     Sly shook his head.  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.  The hospital shrink thinks she might be cured, if you can believe it.”

     “I never really thought of thrill-seeking as a condition that could be cured,” Selina admitted.

     “Yeah, well, Roxy said two things about almost being beaten to death by Poison Ivy,” he explained.  “One was that she’ll never find another thrill that comes close to that, and two was that she never WANTS to come close to that again.  I don’t know how else to say it but that she was ‘scared straight.’" 

     “Crane would appreciate that,” Selina said, but inwardly she was irritated.  Now she was going to have to deal with Pammy after all, although Selina was beginning to feel some added incentive to do something about Ivy.  Bruce thought Ivy had gotten away with murder, and maybe he was right, but personally Selina didn’t care that Joker was dead or Ivy was responsible.  Now, however, it looked like Ivy had also gotten away with almost killing Roxy and for something blown completely out of proportion.  And she’d hurt Sly in the bargain.  But instead of suffering any kind of consequences for what she’d done, Ivy had come out of it with her very own nightclub.  Selina didn’t look at every situation in terms of right and wrong the way Bruce did, but this one was starting to feel like - a miscarriage of justice.  One that didn’t sit right with her.

     He nodded.  “You’ll tell Mr. Dent and the others I’m gone, right?  And that I’m not coming back?  Some of them are all right, but I think both Roxy and I would like to put a thousand miles between us and Ivy.”

     Selina smiled slightly. “And leave the rest of us stuck with her?  I don’t know if I can forgive you for that - although I can certainly empathize.  I’m going to have to deal with her sooner than I care to.”

     “I feel your pain.”

     “Yeah,” she sighed.  “Look, tell Roxy I hope she’ll be all right.  And that I hope you two make it down south.”

     “Thanks, she’ll appreciate that, coming from you.  She always thought important Rogues like you didn’t respect her.”

     Selina thought "respect" was too strong a word for what she thought of Roxy, but she let it go.

     “Ms. Leibowitz?  There’s a - problem you need to take care of.”

     Jenna Leibowitz sighed.  Teenagers, even the ones in college, had such astounding initiative when it came to playing pranks, and yet they were hopelessly paralyzed when it came to problem solving and decision-making.  “I’m a little busy, Trish.  Just tell me what it is, and I’m sure one of you can handle it,” she said, gesturing to her paperwork.

     “Yeah, well, there are these - customers?  And they’ve been sitting at Table 12, and they’re starting to scare people.”

     Jenna looked at her dubiously.  “Scare them?  What are they, Hell’s Angels?”

     Trish tugged at her hair nervously.  “Actually, I think they might be criminals.  Or they’re wearing masks.  But we’re getting a little scared too.”

     She was confusing criminals with people in masks.  Well, in Gotham that could really only mean one thing, couldn’t it?

     Jenna suddenly found herself “a little scared too.”  But not entirely for the same reasons.  “I’ll take care of it, Trish,” she said, getting up.  The girl retreated gratefully as she did.

     This, Jenna thought peevishly as she left her office, was a Starbucks.  While a Starbucks Coffee franchise could be a real money machine, they didn’t really have the kind of cash on the premises that would justify a robbery when there were perfectly good banks in Gotham.  Why would criminals, much less "themed" criminals, come to HER store?  Or maybe this was the theme.  Maybe they were going to hit every Starbucks in Gotham, and her store was first. 

     Of course, if they WERE going to rob every Starbucks, they probably wouldn’t get to them all before closing time. 

     Jenna pushed her red hair out of her eyes as she came around the front counter and saw Table 12 being given a wide berth.  The line in Starbucks at this hour generally went straight back to the door, but today that line would take them right past Table 12, and so the line bulged like the Allies in World War II.  All because of four men, three of whom were pretty normal.  Two of them looked familiar, but you couldn’t remember from where. 

     The fourth, however, was unmistakable: Two-Face.   And when you realized that, then you realized the first two looked a lot like Edward “Riddler" Nigma and Jonathan “Scarecrow" Crane.

     She didn’t recognize the other guy.

     Jenna stood still for a moment as she calmed her nerves.  This was her store, she was both owner and general manager, it was her own petty fiefdom, and events only unfolded the way she wanted them to.  She’d seen these men - at least three of them, anyway - at the Iceberg Lounge, and whatever their reputation was, they were still men, and they could be handled.

     “Good morning, sirs,” Jenna said as she came to their table, standing just behind Two-Face so she didn’t have to look at him and debate whether the wise course was to stare at his face, or ignore it completely.  “I hope you’re enjoying our selection?”

     “I just finished another of your chai lattes,” Edward Nigma said.  “Or rather, HI CAT TALES,” he added, looking directly at the one she couldn’t identify.

     This man seemed to snarl at him, and suddenly Jenna placed him.  Tom Blake, aka the Catman.  Not exactly the high-profile Rogue one would associate with the other three, but then some Rogues weren’t exactly the coffeehouse types.

     “You’ll have to forgive our ‘friends,’" Two-Face said, sneering.  “They got into a slap fight yesterday, and they haven’t exactly kissed and made up yet.”

     “Would any of you care for a refill?” Jenna asked.  “To go, perhaps?” she added gingerly.

     There was a tense pause while Harvey fished a coin out of his pocket and flipped it.  “We’d like another Red Eye with a double shot of espresso,” he finally replied.  “Why don’t we come with you and get it ourselves?”

     Jenna swallowed as he stood up.  Her fiefdom was starting to look a little shaky.

     The other three dismissed her and resumed their conversation as if the two had already left.  “Some of the henchmen,” Nigma said offhandedly, "have already talked about going back to Pete’s Sports Bar.”

     “Absolutely not,” Blake replied.  “We will absolutely not be going back there.  If we do, it will look like we’re following the henchmen—” 

     “And you’ve had so many of THOSE,” Crane interjected dryly.

     “Instead of the other way around,” Blake continued, “and pretty soon they’ll start thinking of themselves as human beings instead of cannon fodder for the Bat while one makes his getaway.”

     “With the help of your amazing Technicolor cloak.”

     “Of course YOU would make references to Broadway shows,” Blake shot back, and Crane glared at him.  “Besides,” Blake complained, "everyone smokes there, and do you know how hard it is getting cigarette smoke out of my cape?”

     “Thankfully, no,” Nigma said.

     “Cripes,” Two-Face muttered as he dragged Jenna away.  “Fucking prima donnas.”

     “You can’t really come behind the counter,” Jenna said with a degree of urgency.

     “No problem,” Harvey answered as he steered them towards the front counter where the line ended.  He leaned on the countertop on one elbow, ignoring the customers right behind him.  “We’ll just wait here until our Red Eye - double shot, remember - is finished.”

     The line quietly shuffled toward the second cash register while a few less hardy souls dropped out of the rear of the line.

     “You can just wait at your table if you—” Jenna said weakly.

     “Actually, we’d like to get away from them for a couple minutes,” Harvey said.  “We would have come without Crane and Blake, but ever since Wayne Manor, they’ve got to be involved in every stage of the situation, like a coupla PTA moms with nothing better to do.  As for Eddie, nice guy and all, but we would have preferred the cafe at Borders.  Of course, with Eddie Borders equals Doris, so that idea was out.”  Harvey’s grin became almost rueful.  “We couldn’t even agree on a place to get coffee.  How are we going to agree on a new nightspot?”

     “Um,” Jenna said noncommittally as she prepared his Red Eye.  “New nightspot?”  If that was the problem, then maybe she could get them all out of her store once the question got answered.

     “Yeah,” Harvey sighed.  “You know the Iceberg?”

     “I’ve - heard of it,” Jenna lied.  She’d been there a few times, years ago.

     “Well, seems Poison Ivy’s taken over the Lounge so she can turn it into her own personal jungle gym.  And not to go into details, but we used to have this little thing with Ivy, and we don’t need to flip a coin to know we don’t want to keep going to a nightclub run by a vengeful ex with a rancid personality - that was three shots,” he suddenly said, annoyed.

     Jenna looked down.  She could have given him six for all she remembered, she realized.  She’d stopped paying attention to the coffee once he’d mentioned Poison Ivy.  “Right, sorry,” she said.  “Will four do?”

     He sighed and gave his coin another flip.  “Heads,” he said.  “Four will do.” 

     “What would have happened if it came up tails?” a tourist couldn’t refrain from asking.

     Harvey turned to look at the customers in line, having almost forgotten they - the six or seven that remained - were there.  “Technically there is no ‘tails,’” he explained conversationally.  “There is another head – scarred.  If it came up, we would have shot her for trying to give us three.”  

     Jenna’s hand shook as she gave him a fourth shot very carefully and brought the coffee over.  “Poison Ivy, you were saying?” she asked, hoping to get him to put that coin away again.

     “Yeah, Pammy,” he said, then grunted.  “Anyway, the Iceberg was such a popular place for types like us, we’re not exactly sure where to go now.  Kinda forgot what it’s like not being welcome when we enter a bar.”  He took his coffee, then looked at her.  “Say, do we know you?” he asked.

     “I doubt it,” Jenna said quickly.

     He shrugged and headed back to Table 12.

     She felt compelled to follow him as her brain processed what she’d learned.  As she came back within hearing range of the other three, she heard Crane talking about the unbelievability of the situation.  “And I say, if Oswald has been greened, then perhaps it’s what he deserves.  Obviously the Lounge must be vastly more profitable than Oswald led us to believe all these years if Poison Ivy is willing to lower herself and take on a common TRADE.”

     “If you need anything else,” Jenna said absently as this last bit of information hit her, “Trish will be happy to help you.”

     Then she turned around and went back to her office.

     Sitting down at her desk, Jenna thought about the future.  While the franchise continued to be profitable, she knew for a fact that another Starbucks would be opening up two blocks away in three months.  Jenna couldn’t seem to make the regional managers understand that this would have the unintended effect of cannibalizing her own sales.  They seemed to believe that same-store sales would continue to grow even with a Starbucks on every street corner in America.

     If she got out now, she could use the return on her investment …and a few private investors always looking for the next young hot thing, especially if it was stolen from something that was already a success …

     There was evidently a market that only the Iceberg Lounge catered to, and it didn’t sound like the Lounge would be open much longer.  Whereas SHE had infinitely more managerial experience.  And unlike Poison Ivy, she was willing to give the Rogues what they wanted, knowing also that the Rogues were what the tourists wanted.  It could be a major cash cow. 

     Plus, there was the incident years ago …Poison Ivy had humiliated her, not to mention infested her apartment with so much mold that everything she owned was ruined.  Ivy had accused her of thinking she could "replace" Ivy, when all Jenna had wanted was to be like her.  Apparently thinking you could be as good as Ivy was the worst kind of sin.  Well, how would Ivy like it if she went ahead and actually did it?

     That would be a more satisfying vengeance than grinding millions of coffee beans.     

     Ivy leaned back and pressed her hands against the small of her back.  She hadn’t spent so much time bent over a desk in years, including the times she’d been hunched over a microscope in her greenhouse labs.  She really needed to get outside and feel the sun on her body, she thought.  It had been too long.  Maybe a precious hour at the park -

     She glanced at the clock to see how long it would be until sunset, and was dismayed to realize it had already come and gone.  She’d put in twelve hours that day, and it wasn’t the first time.  Ivy was drowning in so much work that her body clock didn’t even recognize when sunset was approaching.

     Still, that same work could be surprisingly therapeutic.  It had provided her with a distraction not only from the time, but also recent unpleasantness like that scene in Arkham with - Harley.

     Over time, Ivy had assured herself that the best thing to do was give Harley time on her own.  She really couldn’t be blamed for what happened at the asylum.  Who could have predicted Harley would react that way?  Really, Harley just needed to work it out herself.  What she needed was counseling, and wasn’t that what the doctors were there for?  And when Harley got out, she’d come right to Ivy to apologize for that little scene. 

     Ivy certainly wasn’t avoiding her.

     But the memory of their encounter made her feel uneasy, and she scowled, pushing the thought away.  She preferred to think about the problems she COULD do something about.  The Iceberg renovations had grown progressively more elaborate as her ideas for the Lounge expanded, and as long as the Lounge remained closed for repairs, the costs were consuming the profits she’d started realizing from Oswald’s underworld business.  Her original grand designs for that money had been put on hold. 

     And she had to keep a close eye on the contractor.  She’d been FORCED to hire a man for the job, and knowing men, he’d cut corners and build on the cheap whenever he had the chance.     

     Plus Sly had yet to return her phone calls.  Ivy had been prepared to forgive him for threatening her and running to Roxy’s aid the other night.  Nobody could mix a cosmopolitan the way he could.  Plus his popularity with the customers was such that four of them had once driven almost the length of the East Coast to bring him back to Gotham after he left.  (May one of the four rot in Hell.) 

     And Oswald had helpfully pointed out that when you changed an establishment as much as she was about to, it was important that some familiar element remain if she wanted to hold onto her regular customers.

     Ivy still felt that being the owner meant doing what SHE wanted, not what the customers thought they wanted until she showed them how puerile their limited tastes really were.  She’d even briefly considered discarding most of the Iceberg’s regular clientele and hanging a sign over the doors that said “No Men Allowed", but economics wouldn’t allow it.

     Fortunately, most of Oswald’s other employees were women, and so it was relatively easy to retain the more experienced staff.  Ivy had contacted all of the regular female employees and promised them they would keep their jobs at their old pay. 

     She’d also grudgingly added Sly’s name to the call list.  His failure to answer or return her calls, she thought darkly, was leading her to reconsider.

     Despite this, she’d pumped Oswald for advice on much more than just whether or not to retain Sly.  He may not have been able to run the place himself, but he had no trouble remembering how, and she’d questioned him for hours about things she reluctantly admitted to knowing nothing about, like liquor delivery and payroll service providers.

     There was a rapping at her office door - Ivy stopped.  Her office.  Not Oswald’s, she wasn’t borrowing it, it was hers.  She had an office and a desk and a file cabinet.  This was NOT an acceptable lifestyle for Gaia’s Goddess, and she had only herself to blame.  Well, herself and Oswald.  If he could only take his mind off her for five fucking minutes, she wouldn’t have to run the place herself and would be free to return to her greenhouse, perhaps fix up a little room in the back for when Harley was finally out of Arkham and ready to —

     “Come in,” she said, putting her head in her hands.  It was probably one of the fool workmen, needing a diagram and an instruction manual to understand where something was supposed to go.  Since this was her office now, she really needed to get rid of Oswald’s stuff and make it more -

     “Pammy?”

     Ivy looked up.  “Selina,” she said, standing up.  “You really shouldn’t be here, I TOLD them not to …"

     Selina grinned.  “You can’t keep a cat out if she wants in – or vice versa.”

     “Oh, right, of course.  Well, I suppose the cat’s out of the bag, if you’ll forgive the expression.  I’m going to be running the Lounge from now on.” 

     “Not sure how to tell you this, Ivy, but half of Gotham has heard the news by now.  Eddie got hold of one of your flyers.”

     Ivy scowled.  “Nigma,” she muttered.  “Mister Know-it-all.”

     She seemed not to notice that one of Eddie’s friends was in the room, but Selina had become used to such tactlessness from her long ago.  Selina’s smile belied the tension she felt inside.  From the beginning she’d realized that she couldn’t just TELL Ivy this was a mistake.  She had to lead Ivy there, so the goddess reached the conclusion in her own divine style.  Knowing Ivy’s aversion to work – or indeed any sort of activity she considered beneath her, Selina thought she had a shot if she could hammer away at the dull, monotonous, unglamorous, and ungoddesslike aspects of running a business.

     Now, however, as she took in Ivy’s tired face and the desk littered with papers, Selina realized it might not be that simple.  If Ivy hadn’t known before, by now she was QUITE well aware of the amount of work it took to run a bar.  And so far, she was doing it anyway. 

     Still, it wasn’t like Selina had much of an alternative.  She couldn’t just scratch the idea out of Ivy’s head with a few swift claw swipes – satisfying though it might be to try.  They weren’t friends to begin with, and everything she’d heard about Ivy lately ruffled her fur.  Nevertheless, she knew she had to at least attempt a reasonable, non-hissing, non-scratching appeal to a reasonable, non-psychotic equal before proceeding to anything more extreme that might actually work. 

     “Mind if I sit?” Selina asked.

     “Please.  Since there’s no longer a question of surprise, what do you think?”

     “Um,” Selina said.  “It looks very nice.”

     “Yes, well, we’ll see what the men think.  Naturally women such as ourselves are more appreciative of Nature’s beauty.”

     “You don’t think all this effort will be wasted on them?”

     “It probably will, but if I’ve got to be here every night, it should look a little like the parks I’m leaving behind.”

     Selina thought a “LITTLE" was an understatement.  So far it looked like it was going to be a cross between a Rainforest Cafe and one of those rides at Epcot Center where the little car moved past plants singing the praises of the American farmland.  “You’re giving up a lot,” she said casually.  “I hope it will be worth it.”

     “It will when it’s finished,” Ivy said.  Maybe a little too forcefully, Selina thought. 

     “I didn’t realize you had such a knack for paperwork,” Selina went on brightly, gesturing to the stacks on the desk.  “I guess you’ll be dealing with this every day from now on.”

     Ivy frowned.  She’d been telling herself that the work would be much easier once the renovations were completed, but even she couldn’t deny that her inbox would fill up again every night for months to come.  Years even, ugh.

     She had an inbox.  It nauseated her just thinking about it.

     “I mean,” Selina went on, "it seems like a fight broke out here every other night.  I can’t think how many times that chandelier had to be replaced.  I don’t know how Oswald managed it without having a stroke.”

     “I believe alcohol may have been involved,” Ivy said.

     “And of course there’s the customers when they’re NOT fighting.  Oswald always knew how to schmooze his regulars - well, at least he thought he did.  Pammy, seriously, are you prepared for the first time Harvey sits at a table and you need to make idle chit-chat?” Selina asked.

     She wrinkled her nose as she detected a few faint whiffs of lemon, with an underlying scent that was somehow heavier.  “Really, Selina,” Ivy said with a trace of hostility, "you’re sounding awfully negative.  Gaia’s Chosen can do anything she sets her mind to.  Anyway, why talk about the bar?  I’m here all the time.  Frankly, I’m sick of talking about the bar.”

     “If you’re already sick of talking about the bar, then maybe you should get out now,” Selina pointed out.

     The Lemon Pledge smell became a little more pronounced.  The other smell was there too, kind of like how a jungle might smell right after the rain.  “Why Selina,” Ivy said through her now false smile, "could our mutual friend Eddie have talked to our mutual friend Harvey, and could they have asked you to drop by to talk me out of opening up my nightclub?”

     “Fine, Let’s talk about something else then,” Selina said reasonably. She had chalked this mission up as a lost cause, but that didn’t allow one to pull a cat’s tail. “Mutual friends,” she declared, if that was the topic Ivy wanted, she would be happy to oblige.  “How’s Harley doing?”

    Ivy’s brow tightened and her smile slipped a little.  “She’s fine,” she said curtly.  “She’s not really up for visitors right now, though.”

     “You mean she’s still upset about Joker,” Selina said frankly.

     “Unlike everyone else,” Ivy sniffed.

     “Maybe you should have thought twice before you killed your best ‘gal pal’s’ boyfriend,” Selina suggested gently.

     “Ex-boyfriend,” Ivy hissed.  “And everybody knows it was Ra’s al-Ghul who ordered—" 

     “Cut the crap, Pammy,” Selina said, tired of Ivy’s attitude.  “Everyone says you filled the room with so much pheromones that the hairdo’s boys couldn’t have scratched their own chins without your orders.  You killed her Puddin, she’s angry with you, and now you’re inconveniencing everyone by screwing with Oswald’s place - not to mention screwing with Oswald himself!  Just something to do with your time until Harley forgives you, right?”

     “You don’t know anything about what happened that night!” Ivy screeched.  She stood up from her chair with such force that it rolled backwards and struck the wall.  She folded her arms and walked out from behind the desk, facing away from Selina.  “Or between me and Harley at Arkham!  You weren’t there!”

     “You’re right, I wasn’t,” Selina said, trying to ignore the lemon and the second, harder to identify scent.  The smell was becoming oppressive.  “But right now your body is telling me exactly what happened.  I don’t know if she’s 'up for visitors' or not, but she’s obviously not up for you.”

     Instead of turning on her with outraged denials, as Selina was expecting, Ivy remained motionless for a few moments.  Then her shoulders started shaking.

     Selina was startled to hear a quiet whimpering sound.  “Ivy?” she asked hesitantly.

     Ivy turned around, and Selina could see that her cheeks were already streaked with tears.  “Oh, Selina,” she wailed, "she’s still miserable over that disgusting creature, and I’m just making it worse!”

     Selina didn’t know how to respond to that.  Of all the reactions she’d expected from Ivy that night, sobbing had not been one of them.

     But Ivy interpreted Selina’s silence as an invitation for her to let it out.  “He’s finally dead and Harley should be able to move on now, but she won’t, she refuses to!  She’s like a flowering vine that grew around something she thought was an oak tree, but actually it was a tree all rotted out from the inside with shriveled roots … no, he wasn’t even a tree, he was a - a telephone pole!”

     This was becoming increasingly bizarre, Selina thought, but she just let Ivy continue.  Something useful might be learned from this, and besides, it was hard not feeling just a TINY bit sympathetic.  She was right that Joker was a worthless cad, she was right that Harley was better off without him, she was right that Harley really should have rushed to her friend the moment she was free.  Ivy really had been a friend to her always.  What was Harley thinking turning her back on a friend like Ivy for a —

     “A telephone pole!” Ivy affirmed.  “A foul construct of man masquerading as a tree, taken from the body of some tall, noble tree somewhere - well, anyway, he was worthless, but Harley never realized that, and she let herself grow all coiled around him.  And now that they finally cut down that miserable pole, Harley doesn’t know how to grow on her own, and she’s lost and confused and she won’t let me help her!”  She choked on her tears.  “And I don’t even know how!”

     “There, there,” Selina said.  She wasn’t sure how it happened, but a moment ago she’d been sitting in a chair, and now she was standing next to Ivy and rubbing her shoulder awkwardly.  “Harley will come around, I’m sure she’ll let you help her, Pammy.  How could she not, why anybody would with a friend like you waiting to take care of them.”

     “But it’s because of me she’s even in that cold, horrible place!” Ivy sobbed.  “Letting them take her away was easier than having to comfort her, or even listen to her crying for that monster!  Now she’s different, Selina!  She’s sad and quiet and alone and those are her good days!  I’m a reason she has bad days!  I made her hurt herself!  I’m a terrible friend because I’m never going back as long as I think she might have another breakdown because of me.  So Harley’s trapped in that airless hole, and I’m trapped in here with no sun and no green and piles of papers, and I’ll make a mess of this place just like I did with Harley and everything else!  And my babies are lonely without me!”

     At this point Ivy actually leaned forward and put her face on Selina’s shoulder, getting the leather damp.  Not only did Selina not care, but she put her arm around Ivy.  “Now don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said soothingly.  “Harley’s very upset right now, but she’ll get over the Joker’s death eventually, and I know you’ll be there when it happens to help her move on.  You were there every other time that bastard threw her out, weren’t you?”

     “I guess,” Ivy mumbled.

     “And you don’t mess up everything.  I’m sure the new Lounge is going to be beautiful.  Nature’s beauty, right?  Like only we women can appreciate?  Only you could make this place so …so lovely, and flowery and green as you’re planning.  In fact, I messed up, Pamela.  As a sister Rogue of equal standing, I should have been more supportive of your efforts here.  Really, what you’re doing here is a great thing.”

     Neither Ivy nor Selina felt the least bit surprised by Selina’s response.  Ivy just raised her head a little.  “Really?” she asked hopefully.  “You think I can do this?”

     “I’m sure of it,” Selina said with certainty.  She still felt bad though, for causing Ivy’s heartwrenching flood of tears when she should have done the opposite.  Searching for another way to cheer her up, her eyes traveled downward and picked up on Ivy’s shoes.  “Ooo, Jimmy Choo’s?” 

     Ivy looked down.  “Um, yes, I think so,” she said, inspecting her green shoes.

     “Do you remember if they had any in black?  I’ve been dying for a pair like those.”

     “I - I think so.”

     “You know what?  This argument is silly,” Selina announced.  “I shouldn’t have started it.  To make it up to you, how about next time you’re free, we go shoe shopping together, and maybe I can find those shoes in my color?”

     Ivy blinked.  She was finally starting to notice that Selina’s behavior had become VERY unusual.  But then, bawling like an infant was unusual for her too.  And it WAS nice that Selina seemed to have realized the error of her thinking.  “I suppose, all right.”

     “Well, I’d better go,” Selina said.  “Like you said, you do still have piles of papers to go through.  Besides, you look tired.  Try getting some sleep, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

     “Soon, maybe,” Ivy sighed, looking at her desk.

     Selina slipped out of Ivy’s office.  It was nice of Pammy to be forgiving, she thought.  It was ironic that Ivy was upset that she hadn’t been a good enough friend to Harley, and Selina had done the exact same thing to Ivy. 

     In the future she would try to be a better friend to Pammy.  Her opinion was very important to Selina.  Some people - mostly men, of course - didn’t appreciate the fact that Poison Ivy was the true queen of Gotham’s underworld.  She had so many qualities that Selina admired.  Besides her obvious taste in shoes and her dedication to the environment, Pammy always looked stunning.  Though some people wouldn’t believe it, sometimes Selina wished she could be a natural redhead too.  (Although even she thought “alabaster" was a bit of a stretch.)

     Plus she was intelligent and funny, almost like a cat, and she was a longstanding respected member of the top rung of the Gotham underworld.  Not to mention she was a great conversationalist …

     Selina stopped not ten yards from the Iceberg Lounge and put a hand to her head.  Poison Ivy was a great WHAT?!  

     Five minutes later Ivy was back in her chair, facing away from her desk and still thinking about what just happened.  She’d been an absolute wreck a little while ago, but Ivy admitted that there were some things she’d tried to deny since seeing Harley.  At least she felt better now that she’d let it out.  And Selina had been surprisingly nice about it.

     She also felt more confident about the success of the Rydbergii, even though the secret was out.  The element of surprise was gone, and those silly men were already marshalling support against her plans.  Smart of them to enlist Selina, although it could never have worked, even if Selina hadn’t proven so unexpectedly open to reason. 

     Ivy wiped her eyes again, and suddenly found herself looking forward to that shoe shopping trip Selina had promised.  She would need something nice for the grand reopening.

     That was her last thought before she was unceremoniously dumped out of her chair from behind.  She fell heavily onto the floor, then found herself lifted up straight as a feminine arm wrapped tightly across her neck.  Ivy gasped as her eyes turned first to the right and saw claws.

     “Tell me, Pammy,” Selina murmured into her ear.  “Tell me why I don’t seem to have any memory of the past five minutes.  I wasn’t planning on using the claws tonight, but now I think it might do me some good after all.”

     To be continued …