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Summer swimming lessons with benefits at Larson's beach.
"Well... not exclusively." He turned his head to let her kiss him. "I think you can do a lot of good in the world, dear. We can do a lot of good, together. In fact-I hate to bring up business on our wedding-but I've been thinking about what we can do, all three of us, moving forward. After all, you can't just sit around Wayne Manor eating cereal all day."
"We can't?" Harley asked, sounding horrified.
"Not all day," Bruce replied. "Harleen, I know you were stripped of your license, and even someone as powerful as I am can't convince your peers to let you work again. But Gotham does have a thriving film industry, and a lot of pictures could use a consultant."
"You want me to be in pictures!" Harley cried brightly.
"Of course! You'd be a joy to work with. And you could advise them on psychology, medicine, the underworld, Arkham Asylum-I can see hundreds of films benefiting from your hard-won expertise."
"I wanna meet Hugh Jackman! I wanna meet Hugh Jackman!"
Bruce reached across Ivy to give Harley's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll see what I can do. And Pam, Wayne Enterprises' biochemical division could use a woman of your talents. I can't just hand you a job, now, but I can get you an interview with Lucius Fox a week from Tuesday."
She eyed him ruefully. "I could see myself doing that."
"To say nothing of speaking on behalf of environmentalist causes and rehabilitation efforts. You two could be models of good publicity. With your handsome, debonair husband at your side, of course."
"You know what that means, Red? Parties! Free food!"
Bruce chuckled good-naturedly. And suddenly, Ivy felt sandwiched between two people on an entirely different wavelength from her.
The sooner Wayne was dead, the better.
As requested, Bruce pulled up to the front steps to find Alfred waiting with a tidy stack of suitcases. After telling the girls he'd just be a minute, he hurried up the stairs to wish Alfred off.
Alfred, as could be expected, was not in the best spirits for a vacation. "Are you quite sure about this, sir?"
Bruce rolled his shoulders. "Not a hundred percent, no. But I can't keep throwing these women in Arkham time and time again, letting their mental condition deteriorate each time. It's time for a game-changer. If Selina can be brought back from the brink, maybe-"
"And is it necessary to... expose yourself as much as you've done? I could stay a few days."
"The first few days will be the worst." Bruce shook his head. "I don't want you in the line of fire. Besides, you could use a vacation."
"Dearly so, sir. As does Dr. Thompkins. And San Francisco boasts both a splendidly reviewed revival of Shakespeare's history plays and a long-overdue tour of Master Drake's new residence. I'm quite eager to finally be introduced to his friends in the Titans." A long-suffering sigh, as it usually did, signified that Alfred had acquiesced to his employer's wishes. "I have prepared several meals that simply need to be heated up; they're waiting in the refrigerator. And tonight's dish is in the slow cooker. I warn you-it's vegan, in deference to Ms. Isley's wishes. And there is canned soup in the pantry, the names of several quality restaurants by the phone, all of whom deliver-"
"I think I can manage," Bruce said.
Alfred's withering look conveyed how much he believed that. "Also, Master Grayson has left some frozen pizzas in the freezer. If all else fails. Now," and Alfred lowered his voice significantly, "may I ask one last time whether you're sure this is a wise course of action, if your customary death wish has escalated into a decision to go out 'with a bang,' as it were?"
Bruce had a wan smile that Alfred thought only he and a select few had ever seen. "Oh, they're absolutely going to try to kill me. I'm just not going to let them." Sliding his smartphone a few inches from his pocket, he displayed the screen to Alfred. "Barbara's heading them off at the pass."
That did not do much to quell Alfred's worry. "Very good, sir. Will there be anything else?"
"Just one more thing.