Alrighty, this is the last chapter before the Joker comes! Woot! But this is a very important chapter because Julia gets some major character development at the beginning...and it will be very significant a little later in the story.
Also, even though the Joker isn't in this chapter in the flesh...there might be a surprise for you guys at the end... ;D
Enjoy!
Disclaimer:
Julia Brighton belongs to me :)
The Plays: The Actor's Nightmare, The Funeral Parlor, and Medea belong to Christoper Durang
I swallowed down the nervousness that had been creeping up my throat continually as I applied eye shadow that perfectly matched my dress. I'd always been like this, fearing the unknown. It was the same exact fear I had felt before starting my first day of high school and college. Nightmares plagued my sleep with scenarios that ended badly, like when I dreamt I was late for my first job interview because I had gotten lost. Thankfully, none of them ever came true, but it was enough to keep me on edge the whole day.
In my most recent dream, the other cast members treated me like I was in high school again. Back then, my classmates would hardly speak to me. I only existed when my lines became a cue to those who spoke next.
I was invisible.
Jackie was always there for moral support when I called frequently, in tears. She told me that they were more than likely jealous of my talent, to which I would scoff, always underestimating my ability.
I had been perpetually and painfully shy all my life. Only when someone got to know me and I them would I let down my defenses. The walls making up the façade I had constructed from an early age had to be demolished.
Sometimes, I questioned why I kept doing this to myself. And I answered the same way every time: it's a trust issue. Letting someone into my heart was risky. What if they hurt me? Could I survive the pain?
I held my father accountable for this. When he was married to Mom, he was hardly ever home. And when the divorce became finalized (I was two) I didn't see him again until age eleven. Sure, there was the occasional phone call on my birthday and Christmas, but I always felt that the voice on the other end was a mysterious stranger.
Finally, after many years of wondering why my father never came to see me, I had the courage to ask him to come down and visit during spring break. He agreed. I was ecstatic; I would be meeting my father for the first time face to face. But I had gotten more than I bargained for. He decided to bring along his current and sixth wife, Sheryl. I believe they had just gotten married, for they had nothing but eyes for each other, exchanging passionate kisses often. It felt like I was living the expression "two's company, three's a crowd".
And for some reason I could never explain, I was in unrelenting dread that he was going to kidnap me. Maybe it was because I was always so close to Mom and I didn't want to be taken from her. I would never breathe calmly until I was back home and they drove off to the hotel. Yet, after this three day visit, the ensuing phone calls became more frequent. Two years later, it was my turn to pay a visit.
If the first one had been bad, the second was a nightmare. I was immutably homesick and my father allowed me to call Mom whenever I needed to. However, on my last night there, he yelled at me after I talked to Mom for no more than fifteen minutes. We walked back the hotel, my father fuming and I sobbing. I truly think the only reason he apologized was because he received concerned stares from fellow pedestrians. It was like I was an embarrassment to him.
We said goodbye on a bitter note the next day, Sheryl firmly keeping up with the silent treatment she began the night before. But for some reason, the phone calls continued, much to my aggravation. The conversations were tedious and repetitive. They were like reruns of a boring sitcom that was bound and determined to earn high ratings even though its two leading stars had lost the enthusiasm that never truly existed.
Then, a few months after my eighteenth birthday, I made a decision. I explained to him that we both needed to work on our relationship because I didn't know who he was, and he most certainly didn't know the real me. I had expected my father to understand, to say, "You're right, Julia. You haven't had a father in your life, let's start again".
I had never been more incorrect in my entire life. Instead of taking responsibility for his actions, he blamed me for our superficial relationship. He failed to understand that it's not the child's job to establish a relationship with their parents. He had the choice to still be there in his daughter's life, but he didn't. I had enough courage to ask him why he never came down to visit me when I was little, why I had to be the one to initiate everything. He never did answer my question, even though I told him repeatedly, "I am eighteen years old. I am now a woman. I have the right to know".
But my father was very stubborn; he kept placing the blame on me. It seemed as though he was a teenager and I an adult. So I made a decision, I needed to break off contact with my father for a few years. When I told him, he called me immature and said I was doing this because I wasn't getting my way. To which I said, "You're right, I'm not getting my way and I should be".
I explained to him that we needed to end the phone calls, to write no more letters, to no giving gifts for Christmas and birthdays. I told him I would call him when I was twenty two, since we both needed to be mature adults when we tried for a relationship again.
Even though I had said goodbye, my father didn't say any kind of farewell. But we kept our compromise of no communication for all those years. Now halfway through my roaring twenties, I know I broke the promise of contacting him when I graduated from college. I didn't feel the need to have a father then, I was a young adult taking care of myself. College was my home away from home family. And the family I had back in my city was perfect and loving in every way.
I was not even sure if my father was still alive. If so, I supposed he wasn't too heartbroken by my continued renouncement of our connection. I was one less obligation to deal with.
I pushed back an irritable side bang that didn't seem to want to stay in place. I don't know why I thought of my father on this particular day, the separation hadn't affected me for many years.
Taking in my appearance in the full length mirror, I smoothed out undetectable wrinkles and reassured myself over and over.
It is not going to be like high school, Julia. The director said I will be working with very nice people. No high school cliques to worry about, it's going to be just like graduate school. They will be performers who have a love for acting and are not just seeking fame, fortune, or an ego-boost.
I nodded firmly, covering my dress with a long, black overcoat when I heard the beeping horn of a taxi. The air was frigid and the wind was fierce, much to my chagrin. I somehow managed to run to the cab without twisting my ankle on high heels that I rarely wore and got in the backseat, thankful the heat was on full blast.
The ride to the restaurant was quiet, the only words spoken were by the cab driver, inquiring in bored tone my destination, and I answering. I was wringing my hands in my lap, causing my fingers to go slightly numb. To distract myself from my uneasiness, I wondered vaguely what Gotham was like in the spring. Would it be more of the same, or would the citizens of Gotham be friendlier, not so suspicious all the time? Is it even possible for the cold weather to actually be a cause for their behavior? Winter would be over in a few months so I guessed I could wait and see. That is, unless I moved back home.
My nebulous thoughts evaporated when we pulled up to a very exquisite restaurant, Chez Isabelle. I handed the driver a twenty and slid out of the car, not really caring about getting change back. When I walked in, I felt pleasant, warm air begin to surround my body but the chill under my coat remained.
My breath was taken away by the elegant design of this establishment. The walls that made up the lobby were paneled and had an intricate molding pattern. Next to plush loveseats were numerous live plants that gave off a heavenly fragrance. As I walked across the wooden floor to a podium that sat between two columns, I gazed up at the beautiful glass chandelier that took up most of the ceiling. Everything about this place reminded me of buildings in the French Riviera, flawless and elegant.
"Bonsoir, Madame," greeted the host when I reached him. "Do you have a reservation?"
"Yes, sir. It should be under Melia Garber." I was slightly intimidated by the crispness of his tuxedo and his perfectly styled hair.
"Madame Garber," He pursed his lips as his finger trailed down the list of names. "Ah oui, party of nine. If you would follow me, I will take you to the private room where you will be dining." With a well-practiced step, he led me up spiral stairs and into a spacious room with a large, round table.
"Would you like me to take your coat, Madame?" he asked with a slight bow in his stance.
"Not quite yet, thank you," I said, still slightly chilly from the winter weather.
"As you wish," and with that, he made his way to a chair and pulled it out for me and pushed it in ever so carefully when I was seated. "Your waiter will be with you momentarily." With his experience flowing about the room, he exited with a quiet close of the double doors.
I sat there in the silence, half of me relieved that no one was there just yet and the other half wishing I could have someone to talk to. I didn't think I was that early, but not even the director was there yet. Being punctual is always appreciated, but being the first to arrive is slightly awkward.
It wasn't long however that I gave a small start when the doors opened unexpectedly. There stood a petite woman in her mid-forties, her pale blonde hair curling softly just above her neck.
"Mrs. Garber," I smiled as I rose from my seat and met her halfway with a warm handshake. "It's nice to see you again."
"Please Julia, call me Melia," she smiled sweetly, giving me a brief hug that made me feel welcome. "I am absolutely thrilled that you came to Gotham to participate in our show. Did you have any trouble moving in?"
I had this answer prepared. "Everything went very smoothly," I lied confidently. "No problems what so ever." I didn't feel the need to tell her about the misfortune that occurred during my first two days. There was no need to have someone feeling sorry for me.
We both took our places at the table, Melia setting a purse I didn't notice before on the floor. "So, you're right on time." She smiled at the pink that began splotching its way across my face. "That's alright, it means you're reliable and that I can count on you. That is one of the best qualities an actor can have."
Before I could respond, the doors opened, revealing the host escorting a woman around my age into the room. Melia jumped up and gave her an affectionate embrace. "Collette, I'm so happy to see you. Julia, I would like you to meet Collette Laguzza. She was one of my best students when I taught high school."
The woman turned red-faced at her former teacher's praise. "Hi, it's nice to meet you," she said in a thick Gotham City accent. "You're from Virginia, right? The one who will play the Deus ex Machina in Medea?"
As I was about to reply, Melia stopped the two of us. "Now girls, let's save that for when the rest of the cast gets here, alright?" The two of us smiled at each other and made our way to the chairs, Collette choosing a place next to me.
She was actually really easy to talk to and she did her best to make me feel comfortable. It took a little while, but I eventually began to relax and slowly slid into the conversation with ease. We questioned each other on where we went to school while we were waiting for the others to arrive.
Soon enough, a tall woman with black hair and a short, middle age man entered the room and greeted our kind hostess. When they took their places at the table, they gave us a quick grin and went on with their conversation. Then came a quiet blonde woman with oval glasses who took a seat next to Collette and eventually joined us in our discussion on our theatre professors we had in the past.
During the endless chatter, I indistinctly heard someone exclaim, "Corrine!" and I turned my head slightly to see a woman with short brown hair and interesting eyes greet Melia. They were narrowed, but she didn't look too unpleasant. It was very hard to explain, she looked almost bored but enthusiastic at the same time. I perceived a slight ego circling her aura, but she didn't seem too bad.
It had been five or so minutes when I could sense eyes on me. Without turning my head, I glanced at the source that caused my skin to prickle slightly. Until now, I hadn't noticed the final two men joining us. They both sat on opposite sides of the girl named Corrine, one talking animatedly to her. The other, however, was staring right at me. He smiled when he saw that I had noticed him, his enticing blue eyes sparkling flirtatiously. I focused back on Collette and took one of my hands, caressing one finger gently, a nervous habit I had recently developed.
After we were poured magnificent wine and served bread that seemed to melt in my mouth, Melia called us to attention. "Welcome everyone! First off, I would like to congratulate you all for being fortunate enough to join our cast in the three skits we will be performing. As you know, I am Melia Garber. I would like to start off by going around the table and having you introduce yourselves so we can all get better acquainted. And if you would, also tell us what characters you play. Let's start with you, Kevin," she concluded, turning to the man seated on her right. I breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, thankful I wouldn't be going first, as I was to Melia's left.
The man attempted to sit a little taller in his chair without much success. "Hello, everybody. My name is Kevin Wulff and I will be playing George Spelvin in The Actor's Nightmare." He seemed to have a faded Canadian accent and I could tell instantly he would be a lot of fun to act with on stage by his enthused personality.
Sitting next to Kevin was the tall, raven haired woman who told us to call her Kathleen Elkins and mentioned she would be Susan in the Funeral Parlor and a chorus member in Medea.
My heart skipped a beat when it was the blue-eyed mans turn. "How are you guys doing? I'm Richie Silberblatt and I'm going to play Marcus in the Funeral Parlor and the messenger in Medea." He seemed so laidback and casual. I could tell he was still staring at me but I determinedly looked at my lap, continuing to stroke my finger.
Next was the woman with the narrowed eyes. "I'm Corrine Chappelear and I'm thrilled to be playing Sarah Siddons in The Actor's Nightmare." I found this somewhat strange. She said she was thrilled, her eyes however observed us with much stultification. She added quickly, "I also play a chorus member in Medea." Her confidence gushed out before us overwhelmingly. I thought it was quite obvious she was popular amongst the men, but why wasn't the man named Richie Silberblatt staring at her instead of me?
We were halfway there. To Corrine's right was a thin man who introduced himself as Trey MacLeod. He informed us he would be portraying Henry Irving from Nightmare and Jason in Medea by accentuating his words with vibrant hand motions.
The blonde girl, Anna Montgomery, pushed up her glasses and told us that she would be the third and final chorus member.
I could feel my mouth begin to dry so I attempted to moisten it by taking sips from my water goblet. I barely registered it was Collette's turn until she spoke.
"Well, I'm Collette Laguzza and yes that is my real name. I didn't change it from something that was plain and boring to an exotic title when I was legally an adult." This caused all of us, even me, to chuckle. She concluded modestly that she would be playing the title role in Medea.
I took a final swallow before addressing my fellow cast members. "Hello. My name is Julia Brighton." I paused, my mind going blank for a moment. "Um…I'll be Dame Ellen Terry in The Actor's Nightmare and the Deus ex Machina in Medea."
Corrine Chappelear was the first to speak. "Oh, you're the one from Virginia, right? I heard the Machina was type casted."
Before I could respond, Melia spoke for me. "That's right. You see," She placed her elbows on the table as she leaned forward, as if she were telling us a secret. "When I was reading Medea, I instantly knew I wanted someone from the south to play the Deus ex Machina." Everyone gazed at me before turning back to Melia. "Why? Well personally, I think southern people can sound very sweet and bubbly. Did you notice she wasn't from the Deep South? Her accent has just a hint of a southern flair without causing her to sound unintelligent."
Even though I'd spoken to Melia on the phone plenty of times, I was still shocked by her straightforwardness. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, even if it meant causing someone discomfort.
"So, I traveled down to Virginia in search of the perfect Machina. I'll admit, I was getting very discouraged by all of these women sounding, well quite frankly, like rednecks. But then, this sweet, little woman walked into the room. And just look at her won't you? Doesn't she look positively innocent?"
I could feel every bit of my body quickly fill with boiling heat, but I pulled the coat tighter around myself. I decided to become preoccupied by studying a painting that was directly in front of me in an attempt to ignore the dissecting stares from my coworkers.
"Sorry, but what exactly is a Deus ex Machina?" Surprised, I snapped my head toward the inquisitor, despite the fact that it was actually blue-eyed, Richie Silberblatt. He was focused on Melia and it seemed as though he was trying to direct the attention away from me.
"Well in theatre terms, the Deus ex Machina means "god from the machinery"." Collette was actually the one who ended up speaking. She sat up in her chair a little straighter, as if she were a college student ready to impress the class and professor by her vast intelligence. "So in this case, the Machina is a person who is lowered by stage machinery in order to help the protagonist resolve a difficult situation. A guardian angel, if you will."
Melia nodded her head vigorously, "That's why you were always one of my favorite students, Collette. Not only are you talented, you are very knowledgeable."
As soon as the words left her, waiters appeared into the room carrying silver dishes that contained our meals. Melia had encouraged us to order whatever we liked since the Gotham Theatre would be paying for it.
I took a bite of my chicken cordon bleu and chewed it appreciatively, savoring its delectable taste. It was then I realized my coat made my arms slightly stiff, causing me to have a little trouble maneuvering the utensils. I shrugged it off and was about to drape it over my chair when I heard Corrine emit a startled scream and the sound of broken glass.
Looking up, I saw everyone was gazing wide-eyed at my dress. Trey didn't seem aware of his shattered goblet and the deep, red wine flowing over the delicate table cloth. Kathleen was taking a long gulp from her water glass and I suspected from her nonstop coughing that she was trying to rid bits of food that were stuck in her throat. Richie stared at me, almost as if he couldn't believe his eyes. I noticed that even Collette was scooting her chair ever so slightly away from me, not looking too pleased with the seating arrangements all of the sudden.
"What the hell do you think you're wearing?" Kevin actually screeched, looking very afraid.
I looked down at my plum purple dress, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.
Corrine snarled at me, "Do you support a murdering madman or something?"
I didn't understand what was going on. Was this some cruel prank they decided to play since I wasn't from around here? Once more, Melia came to my rescue.
"Everyone, calm down right now. Julia, put your coat back on."
I obeyed and the coat was on me in half a second. As I finished buttoning up, the host dashed in.
"Is everything all right?" He gasped, his usual indifferent expression faltering into startled-ness.
Melia breathed a small sigh, giggling slightly. "I'm so sorry, sir. One of my actresses thought she saw a cockroach and everyone panicked. But, it turned out to be nothing." She looked very convincing; it was enough for the host to replace Trey's wine and clean up the table before leaving us.
Turning to me, Melia asked quietly, "Julia, what made you decide to wear purple tonight?"
I felt so confused; I didn't understand what the big deal was.
"Um…well purple has always been my favorite color. It rebuilds my confidence and I feel that I can accomplish anything when I wear it." I wasn't sure if this answer would suffice, especially since Corrine was now sending me a death glare.
Melia was looking at me with pity and I could detect a sense of understanding in her eyes. "You haven't watched the news since you've moved here, have you? Or read a newspaper?"
I shook my head. "I usually do but my TV won't be hooked up until tomorrow and honestly, I've been too busy fixing up my apartment to even think about purchasing a newspaper."
I still couldn't see what wearing purple had to do with all of this fear everyone was sending out.
Melia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Since you've just moved here and you didn't know any better, I'm going to ask everyone to forgive you. This isn't your fault; I should have explained to you before you even came to Gotham.
You know very well about the crime that has infested this city. Well, there is one who is making his way to the top. He started off with little things, robbing banks so he could come into the spotlight. We all thought he would go away eventually, after he had his fun. But he keeps coming back, leaving behind bloodshed in his wake. He kills people for his own sick amusement. And everyone is soaking up the terror he spills.
He calls himself the Joker. This is because he always leaves behind a joker playing card at every crime scene. He also wears the same costume: a purple overcoat with matching pants. So everyone mutually agreed to forgo the color purple, along with green because he also wears a green vest underneath the coat."
When Melia finished, I was at a complete loss for words. How could I have been so ignorant? I never would have worn the dress if I had known. Why didn't I just pick up a stupid newspaper when I was at the grocery store the previous night?
This man, the Joker, instills so much trepidation into this city his two choice colors have been shunned. Corrine referred to him as a madman. I found myself wanting to know more about this supposed lunatic, this information not completely satisfying me. But I didn't want to push it.
I swallowed down the lump that was building in my throat before speaking. "I am really sorry. I honestly would not have worn this if I wasn't so oblivious to what was going on in this city. All I can say is that I was too distracted with moving in to clearly take in my surroundings, which isn't a good excuse for what I have done. But I can promise you this, as soon as I get back to my apartment, I am going to put all of my purple outfits in the back of my closet and not wear them because I do not want to offend anyone else while I am residing in Gotham."
Not really sure if my apology would be accepted, I felt relieved nonetheless. I was at peace with myself for clearing this up. It was an honest mistake, even if it wasn't inevitable.
The angry glares were slowly disappearing and were replaced by uncertainty. I think they believed me, but they were feeling kind of bad for their unpleasant outburst. Then an arm managed to reach across the table towards me. It was Richie Silberblatt, his beautiful, blue topaz eyes causing the world to go still for just a moment. I touched his warm, soft hand and took it away quickly, glad I had not felt the shock of electricity I expected to experience. Everyone took it as their cue to show me their restored faith. Most held out their own hands while Collette gave me a quick hug. These gestures were small, but they made me feel so much better. I was determined to prove myself to them; I wasn't going to be ignorant any longer.
Melia was now combing through her purse until she pulled out a sheet of paper and placed it in the middle of the table. It was the advertisement for our performances called "An Afternoon of Scenes". Below each of the play's titles was an illustration depicting a scene.
"What can you tell me about this poster?" Melia questioned softly. After moments of gazing, Anna was the one who spoke up.
"It looks kind of depressing despite the fact they are comedies. I'm guessing that's supposed to be George Spelvin from The Actor's Nightmare on the left. He looks scared and confused, but not in a funny way as one might expect after reading the play. In the center is The Funeral Parlor with Susan in front of a casket crying. Notice how Marcus isn't pictured with her, being humorous in an attempt to make her feel better. Then there is Medea wearing an Ancient Greek mask, looking tragic. That's the way Euripides interpreted her thousands of years ago."
Melia nodded gravely. She was impressed by Anna's answer but she looked as though she wished with all her heart that it was incorrect. "That's right. I've attempted to make our plays look cheerless for a reason." She cleared her throat and looked like she was blinking away tears before she continued.
"Believe it or not, there was a time Gotham truly was a wonderful place to live. It was when Thomas Wayne was still alive. I don't know how to explain it, but after Thomas and his wife's murder, things started taking a turn for the worse.
"He truly loved this city, Thomas. He was never selfish; he always gave back to the people without wanting anything in return. I think all of us thought his son Bruce would follow in his father's footsteps but…"
I narrowed my eyes at the name. Now Bruce Wayne was someone I'd heard of multiple times. A guy version of Paris Hilton: An arrogant, no talent socialite. It was a disgrace to the name of Wayne for this man to be so unlike his father.
My ranting thoughts ceased when Melia continues. "Fortunately for Gotham, Batman has come in our time of need."
Again, this was another name I was familiar with. Mostly I heard about him from Melia herself. She would gush about how wonderful he was whenever we'd talk on the phone.
Personally, I thought he sounded kind of strange. All that I had gathered was he wore black and dressed like a bat…It was like Gotham had its own personal superhero to protect it.
"There are those who don't trust him, but I think it's because they are still living in fear. This is an unexpected change, but this one man is there looking out for us. He wants Gotham to be a better place and I've decided to follow his example."
Looking around the table, I saw I wasn't the only one who looked confused. We gazed at each other before turning back to Melia.
"My plan is to give Gotham a laugh it hasn't had for a very long time. We advertise our shows as melancholy. But we secretly let word out that we are performing comedies. I hope that soon everyone in Gotham will hear about the shows from somebody and so they'll come and have a good time. But if there is anyone who believes this is too risky, you will not be forced into this production. All that I ask is that you not mention the plan to anyone."
This was my moment. I could stand up, leave and never be heard from again if I wanted to…
No. I wasn't going to desert Melia like this. She counted on us and I wasn't about to let her down.
All of us were silent, transfixed by Melia's bravery. We were taking a chance by going behind the backs of Gotham's most wanted and doing this. But it was so apparent Melia loved this city. She wanted to help in any way she could. And I admired her for that.
We all got ready to leave after we finished dinner and drank some more wine. Everyone came up to me, welcoming me to the city and told me they would see me tomorrow. They were being kind and courteous again, much to my relief. Corrine even approached me and gave me a quick hug.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she whispered, looking slightly guilty. "It's just that…he murdered my sister when he robbed a bank. I was told she was being helped by the teller when he and his men came in. He shot her…just because she was in his way…" Corrine was trying to fight back her emotions, so I let her go with my condolences and a promise that I would see her when we would have our read through tomorrow.
I was outside and in search of a cab when Richie Silberblatt staggered up to me.
"Do you not have a car, Julia?" He asked, looking like he could lose his footing any second now. It was then I could smell the wine coming in hot breaths near my face.
"It's in the shop at the moment," I answered standoffishly. I wasn't trying to be rude, but I didn't feel like talking to him when it was so obvious he had too much to drink.
But he didn't give up so easily. "My brother took mine out of town. He won't be back until next week so I'm going to have to get cabs to take me wherever I wanna go. There aren't too many out tonight, let's share one."
Before I could protest, he shot his arm out wildly at the only cab driving down the street. When it pulled up to us, he held the door open for me. I hesitated for a moment before sliding in, not really having a choice.
"Sooo…where am I takin' the uh…luv-er-lee couple this eve-nin'?" The driver had a cold look in his dark eyes and sneered at us with a nasally voice that sent shivers down my spine.
"We aren't a couple," I muttered before looking back at Richie. He gestured for me to give my address before him. However, we would be dropping him off first since he lived closer to the restaurant than I did. As soon as we started to drive off, Richie turned to me with a huge grin.
"So, tonight was very interesting wasn't it? I mean, you wearing purple and all that."
Why did he feel the need to bring this up again? I noticed that the driver gazed up at me with interest. "Well like I said before, it was an accident and I wouldn't have done it if I knew about the Joker in the first place."
Richie threw his arms up, "Don't worry, Julia, I'm not mad at you. And the rest of the cast knows you didn't do it on purpose."
"Well then why won't you drop it?" I raised my voice considerably, jumping down his throat. There was a strange noise coming from the front seat. It was the cab driver with his fist in his mouth, trying to stifle high-pitched giggles. I did my best to ignore both of them by looking out the window. The tall buildings and condos descended in size, signaling the exit from the rich section of Gotham.
Richie Silberblatt couldn't seem to take a hint. "Do you want to know something funny about the Joker?"
I regarded him skeptically, wondering what could possibly be hilarious about a man who kills people for fun.
"He wears makeup!" He roared with laughter, slapping his knee with such energetic force that I wouldn't have been surprised if it started to bruise.
"You mean like stage makeup?" I asked, not even cracking a smile.
"Well, he smothers his face with this cheap, pasty white cream. And then he puts on red lipstick that's all over his mouth. He also has black circles around his eyes. The freak probably puts on manscara or guyliner for Christ's sake!" Tears were now beginning to stream down Richie's face, but I still couldn't find anything humorous about this. When I glanced up at the review mirror, I noticed the driver's inky eyes were narrowed and he was staring at me. It was almost as if he were waiting to see what kind of reaction I would give. I found myself thankful that I couldn't see his face. His eyes were frightening enough.
"Why the hell aren't you laughing, Julia? This is some funny shit!" He was beginning to turn red in the face and I secretly hoped he would pass out soon.
"Can we talk about something else?" I asked wearily, becoming increasingly tired of all this non-stop gossiping about the Joker.
Richie thought for a moment before looking at me strangely cross-eyed, "So, do you date anybody?"
I whirled my head at breakneck speed. "I- I what?!" I shrieked, at a complete loss for words.
He started to look angry, huffing like a rodeo bull. "Why am I even asking? You're bound to have a boyfriend."
Why did I answer him? Why the hell did I answer him? "I haven't dated anybody for a little while now," I hissed, hating that he was invading into my personal life.
"Really?!" He honestly looked flabbergasted by my answer. "I find that very hard to believe. You are quite attractive!"
I was spluttering incoherent noises, completely perturbed by the fact he was hitting on me. The driver even erupted into giggles; acting like a small child by the way he was hitting his hand on the steering wheel.
He's drunk. Richie's drunk I told myself over and over again. He probably won't remember any of this by tomorrow. I started stroking my finger again, trying to give myself comfort by this ordeal.
Finally, after trying to ignore Richie's slurred ramblings, we reached his one story house. He didn't seem to understand what was going on but he tried to grip the door handle. Rolling my eyes impatiently, I knew he wouldn't make it inside without some help, and the driver wasn't offering any kind of assistance.
Somehow, I managed to grip Richie's arm and throw it over my shoulder. In his drunken stupor, he weighed me down and it wasn't long before I collapsed on the sidewalk, scraping my legs painfully. For some reason, the driver found all of this extremely amusing. He was beginning to hyperventilate and shook uncontrollably with his laughing fits.
By the time I entered the house and dropped Richie onto his couch, he was out like a light. Cursing to myself, I closed the door quietly and approached the waiting cab. I really didn't want to be in this particular vehicle anymore, but there were no other taxies in sight.
When I plopped myself into the seat, I slammed the door, causing the glass to rattle violently. Oh thank God it didn't shatter!
"Sorry," I murmured. That was all I would need, having to pay for the window to be replaced because my petulant mood.
I had expected to be chastised for my violent behavior, but all that emitted from the cab driver's mouth was obnoxious sniggering. Surprise, surprise.
"Tsk, Tss-kuh. That lil temper of yours is just rearin' to go, ain't it?" I found the way he spoke kind of interesting. He added unneeded syllables and would pause between words, almost as if he was trying to find the exact thing to say. And I wondered if he was mocking my southern accent by dropping the g's. Or maybe that was just normal for him.
"Yeah, well I think you would be pretty upset too if somebody you just met tonight got drunk and philandered with you nonstop," I explained quietly. He seemed unsatisfied with my answer, so he pressed me further.
"Ooh, was it a…hmm. Blind date?" He threw the words at me venomously, as if they had left a bad taste in his mouth.
"No, we're in three plays that will be performed in a month and a half." I don't know why I felt the need to explain these things. I could have just said no and that would be it. "Here," I said, handing him a mini postcard with the same illustration as the advertisement from the stack Melia gave each of us. She wanted as many people as possible to see this play, so she encouraged us to hand them out to friends and neighbors. I figured mine would collect dust unless I had gotten to know the other residents in my apartment building, which wasn't a very good chance. "If you don't have to work one of those days, feel free to come and see it."
He looked at the little postcard with disgust before throwing me the same expression. With one hand, he crumpled it up into a tiny ball before tossing it back at me, hitting me square in the face. I shook my head and flicked it onto the floor. Let him clean it up.
I closed my tired eyes and leaned my head back. I just wanted this night to be over. When we pulled up to the apartments, I handed him exact change, ticked that I had to pay for Richie's ride home as well.
Despite his rudeness, I thanked him anyway. "Have a nice night," I said, having absolutely no idea why I sent him well wishes. He grunted, not entirely pleased with my gratitude.
Even when I was walking up the stairs, I could still hear the taxi's engine and I could feel those dark eyes boring into my back. Letting my instincts take the lead, I walked up to the fourth floor and went down the hall. I hid in the shadows until I heard the cab pulling away and taking off down the street.
I slowly made my way back down the stairs to my second floor apartment. I was probably being paranoid, but I just didn't have a good feeling about that guy. As soon as I locked myself in, I pressed my body against the wood of the door.
I was angry with myself more than anything. It was my own fault I came here to this city. If I hadn't begged him to go rent the movie that I desperately needed to see, he wouldn't have died. I would still be home in Virginia, living my life happily and carefree.
Could things in Gotham possibly get any worse?
A/N: In case you guys are wondering what those three plays are like, I suggest you go on youtube.
The Funeral Parlor: Type in "Carol Burnett and Robin Williams -The Funeral". It is sooo funny. There are two parts to it. The first part follows the script closely. The second part is just Robin Williams showing off his improvisational skills.
The Actor's Nightmare: Just type in as is and watch whatever video you'd like, I guess. I really haven't seen one that has really good acting and good quality. But if you find one, let me know! :)
Medea: Type in "Medea by Christopher Durang" and it's the first video. I didn't really care for it, but you get the jist of it.
Seriously though, these are really funny plays. If they are ever playing where you live, I highly recommend seeing them.
Thank you for reading! Oh, and did you get the surprise I left for you guys...? ;D
