Part III: Jaded
Chas pulled the old taxi up to the curb in front of the Mableton and Wellesley Law office, switching off the ignition and unbuckling his seatbelt.
"Oh, no, kid, you're staying in the car," John held upa hand as he unbuckled his own belt and opened the passenger-side door.
"But…" Chas gave John a deflated-pity expression, but John shook his head.
"It's just politics, anyway. Read a book," John dumped one of the books from the dashboard onto Chas's lap and shut the door. Chas glanced down at it, reading the sideways-title ironically: Guide to Angels and other Heavenly Creatures. He laid the book back on the dashboard, leaned back, turned on the radio, and waited for John to finish with his business.
John walked briskly into the office, checking his wristwatch: 2:59 pm. The blonde sitting at the front desk let out an indignant gasp as he strode past her, and pushed through the thick oak door without a knock or warning. He was not surprised to find three people already seated in the room—presumably, the lawyer and reader of the will, and the two people, aside from himself, the aforementioned will affected: his younger sister and his uncle. He hadn't seen his sister since he'd moved out when he was eighteen and she was a newborn, and he hadn't seen his uncle at all, except briefly at his sixth birthday party. His family wasn't particularly…close. John seated himself in the remaining chair facing a large desk, and waved his hand in a 'proceed' motion. Adrienne Mableton raised her eyebrows at the presumptuous newcomer, "John Constantine, I presume?"
"Yes," John replied curtly. Adrienne peered at him for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to make of the situation, but ended up deciding against further questioning and continued with the reading. John stared mutely out the window as the reading continued, not even sparing a glance at either of his relations. Thoughts of Angela flickered through his mind until he was broken from his reverie by the voice of Counselor Mableton.
"Mr. Constantine? John, Constantine?"
"Huh—what?" John snapped out of his thoughts, "Sorry, what was that?" Mentally, he wondered when he'd ever gotten so distracted before.
He glanced around the room. Adrienne peered at him expectantly, the girl sitting next to him—Jade, rather—was leaning back, with her eyes closed, tapping an unconscious rhythm on the armrest of her chair, and his uncle—Michael—kept his stony gaze on the floor, though he looked about to say something.
"Mr. Constantine, will you be taking your sister into your custody?"
John stared stoically at the lawyer, "No. I don't have time or money for a teenager."
"So, she will be taken into the custody of Mr. Michael Constantine. He's already agreed, so we just need you to sign a couple of forms."
"Yeah, sure," John took the black pen Adrienne held out to him, and put it to the paper when he felt a cold gust of air wash over him. He glanced up quickly, but Adrienne, Michael, and Jade were unmoved, "A bit cold in here, isn't it?"
Adrienne gave him an incredulous stare he assumed meant something along the lines of what-the-fuck-we're-in-LA-and-it's-almost-June, but reached up to turn the thermostat, nonetheless. John shrugged, and started to loop the pen across the paper when another gust of cold hit him, this time, strong enough for him to feel where it was coming from…and he was almost certain it was coming from somewhere over his right shoulder. He turned to Jade, who was sitting on his right side. She was still drumming her fingers, eyes closed. He looked at his arm. Goosebumps. He looked at hers. She was wearing a tight black tank top with cracked silver gothic scripting across the chest. It rode up slightly, allowing a glimpse of her silver bellybutton ring in the shape of the Sagittarius zodiac symbol—an arrow. Her skin was smooth and flawless—no goose bumps. If he wasn't mistaken, she hadn't even felt the blast.
Jade felt his eyes on her. Slowly, she raised her head from where it had been tentatively resting on the back of the chair—damn, and she had almost been asleep, too—and opened dark-lashed brown eyes. She saw her own piercing brown eyes staring back at her. John's narrowed, as if he were trying to solve an enigma. Well, she certainly wasn't one. Seventeen, tragically orphaned—not that she hadn't been on her way to a parentless existence before that—and meeting her older brother for the first time. She watched his brow crinkle in a flash of confusion, before it pulled back to its normal state—apparently; confusion was not something one should see on the face of John Constantine. Whatever. She thought to herself, Fuck this. She didn't need anyone, she'd gotten to that point by now, and she was perfectly comfortable on her own. But, loathe as she was to admit it, she had to walk out of this office in the custody of someone—she didn't have to stay in that custody, necessarily—and she'd decided before John had even walked into the room that she wasn't going anywhere with her supposed 'uncle'. There was something uncomfortable about him—something dark and uncomfortable—there was something…not comfortable about John, but at least a balanced indifference. She could live with that, for as long as she had to. This, hopefully, wouldn't be more than forty-eight hours.
John watched as his sister slowly opened her eyes, and almost imperceptibly flicked the irises to a point behind him. If he'd blinked, or even focused on her face, he wouldn't have noticed it. But he was John Constantine, and he prided himself on calculating observation. He shifted in his seat, until he was facing the sheaf of papers again, his signature half-scrawled on the top page. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Michael Constantine methodically flipped a coin in the air—catching it, turning it over, and flipping it up again.
John shuffled the papers, and re-capped the pen, "On second thought, maybe I will take custody of her. Could use someone around the place, need some help, anyway." He muttered, more to himself and Jade than anyone. A small half-smile quirked his upper lip as he saw what he had been looking for—a flash of fluorescent green slithered over the damn half-breed's irises, and Michael gripped the coin hard in his hand.
Adrienne smiled, "That's wonderful, Mr. Constantine. Well, that's all that needed immediate settling; I still need to wade through some ambiguous bits of the will to properly assess the distribution of assets, so I'll need to get back to you on that. A recent phone number would be helpful…?"
John scribbled the bowling alley number across the top sheet quickly, as Michael cleared his throat, "Does John have the proper accommodations and monetary assets necessary to give Jade a…proper home?" His voice was strained, but thickly slick, as oil sliding over glass.
John was halfway to the door, and didn't bother to turn around, "Jade." He nodded out the window, where the taxi sat, idling, as Chas appeared to be speaking to himself in the mirror.
Jade raised one eyebrow at the command, but picked up a slashed brown leather suitcase and ratty-looking pet carrier, whose inhabitant yowled unceremoniously as it was disturbed. John's and Michael's heads both jerked in its direction, and John coughed, "You have a…cat?"
"Isis." Jade said tersely, "Though I don't know why some people—" her eyes flickered toward Adrienne, "—Insist upon her being put in such inhumane conditions. Problem?"
John shrugged, "Love cats."
Jade opened the metal door of the cage, and a black cat with one blue and one green eye sleeked out, jumping into her waiting arms. The cat crawled up to where it was resting on her shoulder, and hissed in Michael's direction. Michael studiously avoided the subtle assault, but gripped his coin harder than before.
John strode out the door, Jade in tow. She left the rusty pet carrier in Adrienne's office. Michael gritted his teeth, but said nothing.
"…Kramer, asshole. ASSHOLE. Asshole. ASS—"
"Chas!"
"—Yo!"
"Pop the trunk. Start the car."
Chas blinked at the brightness of the outside world, through the passenger window where John was currently speaking to him. He reached down for the trunk release and glanced over John's shoulder and saw an attractive girl walking around to the trunk with a suitcase in tow. And a black cat curled around her neck like her necklace.
"Who's the girl, John? She's kind of cute—"
John held up a warning hand, "Sister."
Chas blinked, remembering the letter. He couldn't see any resemblance—aside from them both being tall and slender, with dark hair and eyes, that is. John was hardened, jaded, and, in general, an asshole. This girl looked…well, not so much. She looked like she had a nice smile, one that she might even use often—
"FUCK!" Jade slammed the trunk shut, but the cat around her neck didn't move, and walked around to the side of the car, pulling something out of her pocket. Both John's and Chas's eyes were on her as she pushed a cigarette through her lips and extracted a silver lighter from her pocket. It took her a couple of tries, but she finally lit the cigarette, took a long drag, and breathed out, looking considerably more relaxed.
"Your sister." Chas said flatly, nodding to himself.
It was a statement, not a question, nor the beginning of anything more complex. Jade yanked open a back door and dumped herself in the back seat of the car. John rolled his eyes and cuffed him over the back of the head, "Drive." Chas turned off the radio, pushing the car into neutral as John twisted in his seat, one long arm reaching back and plucking the cigarette from his sister's lips. Jade protested, quite loudly, and in quite atrocious French. Chas muttered something to himself, and John scrutinized the cigarette. Chas muttered another something and reached over, yanking the cigarette from John's hands and tossing it out his still-open window.
Brother and sister looked at him, so Chas shrugged, "Smoking kills."
"Like you would know," Jade mumbled under her breath, amidst the colorful string of French, Greek, and Latin curse words she had been emitting—John's sister, indeed, Chas thought. Jade pulled the pack out of her pocket, reaching for another one when John grabbed it and threw it, as well, out the window.
"Actually, he wouldn't, but trust me—the warning on the box? It's not a lie." John popped a piece of gum in his mouth and stared out the window. Chas let his foot ease not-so-gently onto the gas pedal, this is going to be so much fun, he thought to himself.