Whenever I went to a party I saw the same old things.

There was that girl making out with that guy in the corner, although they'd never talked before. At least three couples would be leading one another either into the bathroom or up the stairs. A ton of kids would congest the hallway, just talking about unimportant things and drinking amber liquid from those clear plastic cups. And there would be a bunch of guys (and maybe one or two girls) lounging on the couches with a bong or a few buds, a thick, intoxicating cloud of smoke encircling their joyously high faces. Outside you could tell there was a party within because of all the lights, and maybe five or six kids hanging around the lawn and front door. There would certainly be a lot of cars.

The party Brent pulled up to was completely unexpected to me. I wouldn't have guessed a thing. First: it wasn't at someone's old two-story home while the hosting teens parents were gone. This house was a triple-decker. Instead of going to the right of my driveway, to go out into the rest of suburbia, Brent had pulled to the left, going up the road that led straight onto the bigger more luxurious homes, and we parked out front of probably one of the most expensive looking mansions, one of those "no-play" looking places, all glass and cold, streamlined metal. It had to be a super rich kids place.

Second: there weren't many cars, or any people loitering about the front, or loud music blasting out from the windows. It had me thinking if this was even a party at all.

Brent made his way to the front door, and once it swung open, the light and music stunned me into a state of numbness. Now this was a party. It was way more high-end then any I'd ever been to before, but it looked like one hell of a place to be.

Instead of potheads lounging away on lumpy sofas, there were rigid, gaunt teenagers sitting around a simple (but expensive looking) glass table, a few miscellaneous cards and thin, powdery white lines resting on the shining surface of it. And couples didn't bother to find secrete spots, they were practically doing it out in the public, but there was so much touching and grinding and kissing everywhere that is was barely noticeable amongst the crowd.

When we passed a sliding-glass door I peered out; the backyard was even more chaotic. I could see the young DJ surrounded by giant speakers at a corner of the concrete patio, a little ways away from the giant pool at the center. Only a few people swam around in the pale-blue water, tinted yellow by the lights within. Most of the people were just around the edges, half-naked, cups raised in the air as they swayed to the noise.

Already I got that numb feeling from the party, as if nothing was really real. Everything was sharper and I could see the grit of it all mixed in with the glamour, I couldn't even feel my hands anymore, no matter how hard I dug my nails into them. Worse feelings were obvious in the others around: pupils dilated, eyelids droopy, limbs weak; it was like watching the unrated version of a nightclub, the colors and drinks no longer alluring, no longer enticing; only the dark side remained. And by then you were too drunk—you were in too deep—to notice a thing.

I follow closely to Brent, people quickly moving out of his way as he seemingly floated through the crowd. We found our way to the kitchen, where he opened the giant, steel fridge; and from the cold he quickly produced two bottles of beer, as if he knew exactly where everything was. He popped them open before handing me one and taking a huge gulp of his.

"Want to take a dip in the pool?" he asked after a satisfied "ah".

I smiled while taking a drink, "Your make-up will run if we did."

Brent laughed, "True, so true."

Then there was that silence. Not awkward or tense, but a pleasant pause; an intermission of conversation, that we both understood and appreciated. We let one another to our own thoughts, small smiles ever present on our faces. I would think about him, the things he said and did that made me smile. I wonder what he would think about?

Brent broke the silence first, "Come with me, I want to show you something." He gave me his hand, and without a pause I took it. It wasn't romantic right? This wasn't dating right? He was just being friendly. We weren't together…right?

Heading up to the roof of the place, I half expected to encounter an elevator. But there were just plain, plush-carpet covered stairs.

Out on the deck the wind was chilly and relaxing, I felt on top of the world. The party music but a faint noise in the distance, and those city lights…from here they were breathtaking, wavering yellow specks against the purple smog and blue-black. And the sky! I'd never seen so many stars before, had never seen the moon so full and bright as it was right at this moment. They winked at me, those stars, and I felt like if I just reached out I could snatch the moon from his dark bed. But no, I think I'll keep him there, just so I can keep staring at him…

I glance at Brent as I think of this. And he catches me.

"It's gorgeous," I smile quickly, to cover up my gawking, "I've never seen anything like it before."

"I'm glad you like it. I thought you would." He pulls up two chairs to the railing, close to one another, and motions for me to sit. He moves even closer to me once we've sat. Then we just sit drinking; watching the sky and the city lights glow.

After a while he says, "Hey Alexis, I was wondering about something."

"Hmn?" comes my response.

"About your mom."

"What about her?" I say it slowly, so I don't choke on my words.

"Is it true? About how she died?"

I need to clear my throat before, "Yeah."

"Is that the reason you look at the Joker like you're going to kill him? And when he's with Harley you look all disgusted."

"Yeah." I do my best to keep my deep shuddering breaths quiet, to keep the tears at bay. I can't cry in front of Brent.

"He used to talk about her, about you and your sister too. He doesn't want you to see it, but he remembers her a lot. I think—Alexis?" he stops mid-sentence, and I can feel his eyes on the back of my head. But I wouldn't turn around, not so long as the tears are coming.

Not while the memory of my mom was newly afresh in my mind.

"Just let it out." His words are now a sweet, soft whisper in my ear; soothing but exciting as his breath tickles my cold skin. "It's okay to cry in front of me." I feel strong arms stretch around me.

His words just make me choke as I try to stop my whimpering. It just made me hurt more. My eyes pained, my throat burned, my nose was sore and my head was starting to go numb. Why wouldn't he stop talking? And just kiss me instead.

"Alexis, you can tell me anything. Please, just let it out."

And it did come out, all of my words at once in a huge rush. Full of forced words and tearful cries, that slowly dissipated as I talked.

I told him all about how my mom had fallen in love with the Joker at first glance and went out to be with him, how she worked with him for years until that night…when Batman had busted into their warehouse hide-out. And in an attempt to save that goddamned clown, my mom fell into a vat of their very own laughing-poison. And no one even helped her…they just left her there until the police showed up.

"It's like what the news said, but with a bit more gore then led on, I suppose, because we saw her body…and that smile…" I shuddered as I spoke.

At the end of it my body had stopped it's trembling and I found myself in Brent's lap, curled up in his arms.

He sat petting my head, just listening. "Yeah, he was a little messed up after that."

I scoffed, "Sure."

"No, really. Why would I lie?"

I had nothing to say to that, so instead I asked, "If you worked with him so long, why don't I remember ever seeing you?"

"We weren't allowed near you guys. I remember that rule. But I didn't know it was you back then, until I looked it up."

Back then… He made it sound like it happened a century ago.

"Why couldn't you come near us? Was there a reason?"

"The clown was never very specific with those kinds of things, but I think he was just trying to protect you all, I think he really did care."

"Protect us? From what? You? You're harmless." I say it without really thinking; if I had paused for a moment I might have remembered his story; might have not said it.

But Brent just laughs, "Yeah, about as harmless as you Ace."

Those words should have stung, but all I was thinking of was how he'd used my actual name up until then. It sent my lip quivering into a smile, I wouldn't mine being with Brent. But how could I tell him how I felt, it was weird ever since the ride with Harley…Hmn.

Maybe I could kiss him…and blame it on the alcohol…

I grin like Joker at the idea.