Just before they headed out, Celine finally settled on a pair of red shorts to compliment her white blouse that was speckled all over with black dots.
Joker took the liberty to offer his unprompted opinion on the ensemble.
"I ah like looking at your legs, don't get a guy wrong," he mentioned with crossed arms, leaning against her entryway. "But wouldn't a skirt be more … mmm... convenient?"
Her brows furrowed. She glanced down at her outfit, patting it with a bit of confusion. She thought the fire engine red and snowy white made her look bold. Important. Like the young professional she was.
Granted, her family hardly cared what she wore to these outings; it very much was a casual affair. But she wanted to put effort into her get-up this time around. Whether to give the impression she had her life together more than it felt like or to distract a little from Joker's scars, she wasn't entirely sure.
"Convenient?" she repeated. "How so? And I'm not really a … skirt person."
"Skirts have ah easier access."
It took a few seconds to dawn on her.
"Already?" she asked, half in amazement, half in slight exasperation.
Her pussy was still slightly sore, and maybe just a little bit oversensitive. This last bout had taken a lot out of her, and Joker hadn't even been all that rough with her. In fact, he'd seemed keener on learning her responses to certain ministrations all the while keeping her pinned to the ground via her wrists.
She was beginning to suspect he got off on pleasuring her, specifically while she was helpless to resist. Her body liked this just fine, but her mind sometimes cramped up with panic letting him have such absolute control over her. She longed to trust him, but it was... easier said than done.
This time around, he had been particularly interested in how she reacted to his cock sliding back and forth over her clitoris. The immediacy with which she'd gotten wet was both impressive and a major boost to his ego.
"No, not now," he reassured. "Might ah break my dick off inside you at this rate."
"That is... a lovely, lovely image. Thank you for that, Jack."
His smirk was every bit as devious as him.
"Wouldn't be so bad, you can have it for those lonely, lonely nights without me." He pushed off the entrance and strutted into the room. "Not that I plan on letting there be many."
She threw up her arms like a crossing guard. The look in his eyes spelled danger, primarily for her clothes. And his movements were quickly becoming panther-like as he circled her with arms clasped behind his back.
"Don't even think about it," she warned.
His eyes gleamed.
"Already am."
She kept a finger pointed at him, knowing this would do little to deter him should he choose to pounce.
Mercifully, he kept his distance, seemingly content to keep her on edge psychologically and not sexually.
As aforementioned, skirts really weren't her thing, and the only one she'd ever owned had long ago been donated to a thrift store with everything else she'd outgrown.
But Joker sort of had a point. Their rendezvous were wildly unpredictable, and though she didn't anticipate having sex again until they returned from the cookout, she wouldn't put it past Joker to get handsy with her if circumstances favored him. As of recent, they really seemed to be.
That she was choosing to dress for sexual convenience made her wonder if she wasn't becoming a little too receptive to his influences.
It's not like he's trying to convince me to hurt someone or destroy something. I mean... it is a little weird I'm considering switching outfits so getting frisky is easier, but... maybe this is just a part of being in a relationship? A... readjustment of priorities. Not that we are in one. Well, not an agreed upon one anyway.
Before Celine knew it, she was rummaging through her mom's closet.
Upon finding a loose-fitted black skirt, she patted the material until it was free of any clinging dust.
"How about it?" she asked, showing it to him.
His scars twitched.
"Mm, maybe four hundred years ago it'da been popular. With the uh pilgrims."
She arched a brow and restudied the skirt. It ended just past the ankles.
"Not every skirt has to be provocative," she defended, clutching it to her. "Mom didn't like to get ogled at when she went around town, she got enough of it as a waitress."
That he was so offended by the modest length of the skirt amused her. She couldn't pass up on the opportunity to tease him a little.
"Unless," she mentioned, biting her lip and peeking up at him through her lashes, "you want every man in a half mile radius staring at my sweet, petite little legs. Thinking about how tightly they'd wrap around their waist; how soft my thighs would be to the touch."
His nostrils flared.
"Fine," was his low response. "Wear the pilgrim skirt."
She nearly laughed, but caught it at the last second.
This was so unbelievably... normal. Him helping her choose an outfit, and actually having an opinion on what flattered her. It may have been self-serving at its core, but it was also reminiscent of conversations she knew couples had with one another.
She threw on the skirt, side-eyed herself in a nearby mirror and smiled.
There was a period during her teenage years where she wanted to know everything there was to know about her real father. To the point that she dismissed at times just how touchy of a subject it was for her mom.
Her mom admitted that most of her facial features – eye color, bone structure, hair color – she'd inherited from her dad, who was of Scandinavian descent. But everything else – height, size, voice – were courtesy of Nora.
Staring at herself in the mirror, her mom's skirt hugging her waist and Celine truly felt like a carbon copy of her. It was nice, feeling this close to her, if not a little bittersweet. Especially on a day like today, where family was set to gather and mingle. Nora's absence was more pronounced than usual.
Joker made eye contact with her in the mirror. It was becoming eerie how easily he was able to read her. Was he just well-practiced now? Was she letting him see, unconsciously dropping her guard? Or was it a result of their connection?
Whatever it was, he opted to redirect her focus. Which she silently appreciated.
"Ready?"
Her mouth curled into a half grin. She brought her hands together like the Puritan Joker accused her of being, straightened her spine, and offered him a dainty bow.
"Goody Harlow has not seen her family in nary a fortnight," she answered with a mild English accent. "She so very much looks forward to frolicking joyfully in the green summer air ah-gayn."
Joker was unsuccessfully battling back a smile. Which instantly lifted her mood. She loved making him laugh just as much as she enjoyed leaving him grasping for a coherent sentence.
"And uh-." He licked his lips. "-does Goody Harlow recall who among her kin doth practice the black craft? What's the uh saying? A witch burning a day keeps the Devil away."
His willingness to play along with her was just one of the reasons she was coming to lo- ahem like him.
"Perhaps it is I who practices the craft," she answered, tilting her head. "For the Devil is with me now, and no amount of witches burned would see him parted from my side."
He pursed his lips and wandered toward her. When he stopped directly behind her, she inhaled sharply. Her tummy felt as if she'd just taken a dive off a cliff.
Joker watched her closely before leaning into her ear and whispering.
"You're good."
His compliment made her want to bury her face in a pillow and squeal. Who said her evenings with the Cheekbones weren't paying off?
"Really, really good," he continued, leaning his scarred cheek impossibly close to the shell of her ear. "We're gonna have to try some of that out... mmm... later."
She glanced up at him. He was entirely serious. And though he was doing a good job for once actually keeping his hands to himself, she couldn't deny wanting them all over.
Drown. Me. In. A. Tub. Of. Ice. Is lust hitting anywhere and at any time, normal?
"A-alright," she stuttered out.
He gave her a final scan before turning and strolling out of the room; whistling along the way.
She patted her cheeks a few times, willing away the red that had bled in. Her eyes made contact with her reflection. She blinked until all semblance of desire faded from her eyes.
Once satisfied with who was staring back, she made a quick pit stop at the stereo she'd brought in and took out the cassette tape inside.
Celine's Mix '99
She thumbed the masking tape. If she recalled right, they'd not gotten all the way through it. And creating this mix was such a flickering memory that it'd be like listening to a stranger's favorite songs. Except, she was that stranger.
I don't think my tastes have strayed too far from what I grew up on. A little more instrumental and ambience heavy, but nothing that's too incompatible... I don't think anyway.
Her fingers tightened on the cassette. She was out of the house a few seconds later.
Joker was already in the passenger seat by the time she opened the door. He was eying her closely, but she didn't think much of it. Joker watching her without saying a word was becoming a frequent activity for him.
Her brows came together upon relaxing in her seat. Something felt... off.
She fiddled around with the chair lever at her side. It was reclined just a few inches back than she normally had it.
Must've knocked it accidentally.
She started up the ignition and glanced at Joker. He continued staring, face void of any emotion. It sometimes unnerved her when he so seamlessly turned off all emotions. But it was a skill he'd acquired, she had to remind herself. Not who he was as a person.
Her radio was quietly blaring some Mozart and it wasn't until she looked at the station that suspicion crept up her spine.
Swallowing, she loosened her fingers from the steering wheel.
"Did you take my car out?"
He picked at a non-existent piece of lint on his knee.
"Mm, yeah."
She nodded.
"When?"
He shrugged.
"Last night? Couple nights ago? Can't ah recall exactly."
Biting her lip, she turned to him. He met her questioning gaze unblinkingly.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He shrugged.
"You were out cold and I ah didn't feel like disturbing you. Sorta slipped my mind."
She nodded once. He couldn't be blamed, not really. She'd even offered to let him have it on the day of her mushroom trip.
But she didn't buy that it slipped his mind to tell her. From the moment she sat down he'd been studying her to see if she would notice. That he'd made the effort to return her seat to the appropriate distance from the pedal but slipped up on the chair angle and radio station struck her as deliberately sneaky behavior.
Is this something worth getting worked up about? So, he took my car without telling me... it's not like I forbade him from doing so.
She stared ahead, not really looking at anything in particular.
It's the going behind my back. Not being upfront. Which... might be asking for a lot from someone like Joker, who does what he wants when he wants to. Why would he answer to me? He has no reason to.
This thought process was giving her a minor headache. She took a deep breath in and a deeper breath out.
"Went for a joy ride or-?"
She let the question hang in the air and began backing out towards the garage before steering them onto the driveway.
He didn't answer for a couple of minutes. It made her imagination run wild with worst-case scenarios. If he wasn't out letting loose some pent-up energy on back roads, then what was he doing so late with her car?
"Mm, relaaaaax," he tried to soothe, sounding more condescending than anything. "Coming up here with you wasn't part of the plan. I ah didn't exactly have all my... vacation essentials."
She digested the words.
"So... you had one of your men bring you your things?"
All the numerous knives he'd claimed to have hidden around her house made a whole lot more sense. It also made her a little nervous that that many knives were considered "essential" to him, but she had to remember who was in her passenger seat.
I didn't think I'd be this bad about it. I think maybe...now that I met a man beyond Joker, I've become... greedy for his presence. Greed blinds if you're not self-aware about it.
"Mhm," he confirmed nonchalantly, throwing an arm around her headrest. "They dropped off my things in Bangor, I ah drove up to get them."
Her eyes flicked to the fuel gauge. Remarkably, it was nearly at where she last left it. Which meant he'd at least put some gas in her tank. Though, with all the driving they had to do today it would benefit to have her car full.
"Just-." She palmed her steering wheel, veering onto the last dirt road before it all became paved. "-tell me... next time you want to use it. Or, try to remember to the next day if I'm asleep. I ah... it would just put me at ease knowing where it's at."
"Don't trust me to get it back in one piece?"
He asked this testily, like he was gearing up for a fight. She took her time responding. A fight was the last thing she wanted.
"Jack." She briefly met his eyes. "I like knowing where my things are. There's nothing more to it than that. If the roles were reversed and I took your car out without you knowing, I can guarantee you would lose your shit."
His mouth clamped shut. She was spot on and he knew it.
"That's all," she finished. "I'm um, glad you were able to get your essentials."
Her commitment to diplomacy made him grumble a few choice words under his breath. He cracked his neck once and sighed.
There was a steadily growing tension that Celine longed to banish. It wasn't healthy to let that be a staple of their relationship. Maybe when it was former hostage vs homicidal clown, the tension would have been normal. But they were...well, she was anyway, attempting to mold something better between them, something... healthier. The only tension welcome was the kind that made them strip out of their clothes.
She remembered her cassette and slipped it into the tape slot.
Ahhh, okay. It's coming back to me.
Her lips twitched as she recalled belting "No Rain" yesterday like it was nobody's business. And it was nobody's business... hearing her... sing. Hearing her ra-
"Oh god."
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Upon opening them, she had Joker's undivided attention.
"I rapped to you from my trip journal, didn't I?"
His smirk made her want to sink into the ground.
"Oh yes. Yes, that was... that was something... special."
She tried to recall his reaction to it, but her brain immediately fast-forwarded to Joker convincing her to go swimming.
That swim... gods, that had been something too. It didn't hit until now just how long they'd been out there. And just how... careful Joker had been, ensuring her bandaged hand didn't get soaked.
"Let me know if I have things right," she recollected. "You started a fire; I played my mixtape. Then... I laughed. A lot. I came down a little, smoked some more, rapped from the journal, and then we... swam. And then... I told you we were soulmates when we were back on the beach."
"Mm, almost," he said, stroking a scar. "You're ah forgetting your little uh... switcheroo. Went all... mmm... feral on me for a moment. Said some … crazy things.'
Her eyes widened. She had virtually no memory of what he was talking about, but she knew he was right. An image flashed through her mind of naked, dancing bodies on the shoreline. And then she'd ended up crying into his shoulder, and he'd made some sort of threat that made her stop.
Exhaling, she bit her lip.
"What all did I say?"
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him shift ever so slightly in his seat. A thumb tapped a few times against his knee.
"Nothing worth repeating," he answered casually. "You were fucked outta your mind, sorta lost track of what you were saying."
She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt he was lying. Both about not remembering what she said, and about his reaction to it. There was a knife. He'd been holding a knife at some point, in her direction. She just couldn't place the timing of it. She knew night had fallen, but not in what linear series of events him pulling one on her happened. If she had to wager a guess, it was after her "switcheroo". Why else would this weigh on her so heavily if it wasn't important?
For the time being, she decided to let this go. Joker clearly wasn't comfortable divulging what was said, and she didn't feel like pissing him off.
Will it always be like this? Being on the receiving end of his mood swings. Saving up energy to exclusively deal with them. Disarming the bomb, for the time being, over and over and over-.
She grimaced. Thinking so negatively wasn't helping. Yes, it sucked having to sometimes tip toe with her choice of words, but they were only just beginning to know each other on a level beyond the last couple of months. The last couple of months by comparison seemed unreal.
And Joker... he had a lot of baggage to unpack. It was sometimes easy to forget this, or that she chose to take that baggage on. She couldn't just cherry pick the good parts of him, she had to accept it all. Or rather, learn how to better co-exist with the parts of him influenced by mania, bloodlust, and malice.
Why do romance novels always ignore this part of a relationship? The actual struggle when two people enter something wildly magnetic like guppies out of water? Well, probably because no one would ever want to read about the struggles. They want to get to the good stuff. The sexy stuff. The stuff that reconfirms love is the most powerful force imaginable, and worth pursuing.
She hadn't considered this until now. It was a given this was all new to Joker, but she hadn't considered how new this would be to her as well. Maybe she felt the need to give the impression that she knew what she was getting them into to disguise the fact that... she absolutely did not.
Never had she been this attracted to someone on all fronts- mentally, physically, sexually, spiritually. Never had she actually been in a relationship. Never had she the chance to explore what turned her on, beyond her imagination and fantasies anyway. Never had she had such an intense individual like her, want her, desire her. Never had she had a... soulmate.
It was okay to not know, to be uncertain. It was okay to find aspects of their relationship with one another, difficult. If either of them had chosen to take the easy route in life, she doubted they would have ever encountered one another. This wasn't meant to be... easy. But often, these were the experiences that turned out the most rewarding.
And there was a reward, or rather something to look forward to. They were cosmically bound. They had a companion in one another that so few ever have the privilege of finding.
That is something. I lose focus of it, especially when our emotions get the better of us. Maybe when we get back, I'll meditate for a little bit. Regroup, recenter. I know I've reached the point where I care too much about Jack to not make an effort. And... in his own way, I know he is making one too. It might not be at the same pace as me, or as obvious, but I've more than enough examples showcasing it.
Her cassette tape had gone silent for a few seconds. Just as she threw it a glance, the next song's catchy guitar riff invaded the car.
She couldn't help but tap her thumbs along with the rhythm of "Here Comes Your Man" by the Pixies. What a memory this song unlocked. Crammed inside of Anthony's station wagon with the rest of her friend group, lying to each of their parents about where they'd be, and driving all the way to Boston to catch one of the last concerts the Pixies held before disbanding. Anthony had been just shy a couple months of getting his driver's license, but already drove like a seasoned motorist.
That being said, it was a miracle they'd not gotten pulled over. Someone at the concert managed to hook them up with a few joints, and they'd smoked at least two of them on the drive home.
She smiled. They had all been so damn stupid, convinced they were invincible. And if that didn't sometimes just make for the best memories.
On that note, I better call Lisa to confirm a time. And Anthony to make sure he won't be bringing any hard feelings with him.
She debated asking Joker for his phone. But, it didn't sit well with her, him having access to all of her friend's phone numbers. Anthony's especially. In fact, it didn't sit well with her that he was her only method of communication. That she had to rely on him to talk to other people.
Is that why he cut my landline?
She risked a peek at him. Unnerved as she was to admit it, this answer made a whole lot of sense. What made less sense is why he felt the need to exert this type of control over her. What did he think would happen if she had access to her friends, her family. And, hadn't she proven that he was important to her? That their unusual pairing was not something she was going to turn her back on?
Joker was busy studying his environment with slow, calculated breaths. His fingers were drumming against his knee.
She followed suit, losing herself to the thick white pine trees on either side of the road, the scattered clouds on an otherwise blue sky, and the hints of ocean able to be glimpsed if you looked just right.
Foo Fighter's "Learning to Fly" had just begun when she made the turn left, away from the ocean, and onto the road leading them into the center of town just a few miles ahead.
Calgary Cliff was, by in large, a quintessential, quaint New England town. Nearly all of the businesses and most of the neighborhoods were in walking distance of each other; all centered around the cobblestoned town square where a tall, Gothic-inspired clock went off three times a day- 9am, noon, and 6pm.
Pine and beech trees heavily surrounded the town and within them sat a slew of winding roads – both paved and unpaved – sprawling mainly east and south.
As most coastal towns in Maine go, fishing heavily influenced the town's economy. It too was a hot spot for summer tourism. Calgary Cliff, in particular, was an attractive destination because of its proximity to the Acadia National Park. No hotels had yet been constructed, but the town was abundant in B&B's. Which only lent itself to the storybook aesthetic of the town. There was no shortage of Victorian and Bungalow-style houses.
"Why are there so many people?"
Joker didn't bother masking his displeasure, glaring at the sidewalks and square bustling with mainly children and families.
"If I remember correctly," she answered, pausing at an intersection and waving a few people across, "the farmer's market just finished up. Its open every Monday morning for a few hours, until mid-August I think."
He looked at her with a befuddled expression.
"Farmer's market?"
She was tempted to giggle, but thought better of it. If memory served right, while on the mushroom trip she had snuck a peek at his upbringing. Or rather, the location of it. Much, much more industrial than where he was now.
"Kind of like a flea market," she explained. "The local farmers and gardeners set up stations in the square and sell what they've grown. Plus, there's bakers and artists too, selling food and handmade crafts, or blankets they've quilted or crocheted. Sometimes there's music. Just a way to get people out and about and help the locals make some money during peak season."
"And uh I take it we're smack dab in the middle of it?"
"Peak season?" she asked. "Yep. In fact, I think in about a week or so they're having the annual Maritime Festival. Most of that happens down by the docks, but they decorate the whole town in honor of it."
"You uh like this festival?"
She snorted and shook her head, veering onto a side street that was considerably less crowded.
"Since we were teenagers, it was always an excuse for my friends and I to get drunk. They uh set up beer tents by the docks after a certain time of night, and you just had to wait an hour, hour and a half tops, before the people running it were too drunk to care if you were of drinking age. I mean, don't get me wrong, if you looked thirteen, you weren't going to get served. But from age sixteen and onwards, none of us had a problem getting wasted."
Joker considered her with a tilt of the head, slowly stroking one of his scars.
"Not surprised you developed an alcohol addiction."
She jolted a little internally at hearing this. But she also recognized he voiced it not as an accusation, but more of an observation. Like a puzzle had fit into place that helped better detail her life's story.
"Depression and insecurity paved the way to alcoholism," she corrected. "But you are right, in hindsight, having such open access to alcohol at a young age probably didn't help. It's just that... when summer ends here and everyone goes home and a lot of the fun, touristy businesses close up... well, there's not much to do. My teenage years consisted of driving around, hanging out and drinking or smoking, hitting up the paintball or arcade rink, or when all this got to be repetitive, doing dumb shit like toilet papering houses or stealing farmer's cows and relocating them to other farms."
Joker's snort was deafening.
"You stole cows?"
She giggled a little at his amusement.
"My friend Nathan grew up on a farm, and he'd herd cattle with his dad each morning before school. He knew how to get their attention, and more importantly, give them direction. He also knew all the local gossip. Which farmers didn't get along, who was in a bidding war for a new parcel of land. When our group got bored doing the same old same old, we'd stir the shit. Create drama. Relocate the cows of farmers we knew didn't get along, onto the others farm, and then watch the shitshow go down as they accused each other of theft. Livestock are invaluable to this community, especially when it gets to be winter. We once were so successful that an argument devolved into a pitchfork fight."
His lips were wobbling from barely restrained laughter.
"Pitchforks? Why?"
"It's what was nearest to them," she answered with a shrug. "Though, we cooled it a little after Farmer Howard ended up in the ER with a punctured lung."
His boisterous cackle made her jump. As a result, she swerved a little.
"Ooo hoo hoo," he chortled, "I'da fit right in with you and your friends. I uh liked stirring the shit too at that age. Mm, maybe more high-stakes than stealing farmer's cows, but you work with what you're given. A for creativity, I can imagine it's just as boring during the winter as you described. I don't know what I woulda done without all that... external stimulation."
It was an odd paradox, she noted. That he could dislike people so much, but enjoy the city-lifestyle. The point of a city was to house people. She wondered how he would fare in an empty one.
She crept to a halt at a stoplight. They were in a part of town with significantly less people, though the sidewalks were still being used by the occasional pedestrian. Her eyes landed on a sign staked into the ground.
"No fucking way."
The sign was in a navy blue, with white and red lettering. It read:
Vote Beth Barnes
for Mayor
A win for me is a win for you.
She gawked at the sign, not noticing right away that the light had turned green.
"What?" Joker demanded, leaning over her to locate the source of her interest.
"I-." She shook her head and returned her attention to the street. "-she is someone I... went to school with. Had no idea what she was up to, but I guess she's... she's..."
A sloppy, unbridled laugh coursed out of her. Her eyes briefly shut as her whole body shook.
Joker didn't appear to like not being in on the joke. He poked her hard in the ribs.
"Ow!" she griped, shielding her side.
"Don't leave a clown in the dark," he groused. "Why's that sign so funny?"
She expelled the last of her laughter through a series of deep exhales.
"She uh... we didn't get along. Her and me, her friend group and mine. We actually got into a pretty crazy prank war in high school. Didn't begin that way, but she always liked to escalate things so much more than they needed to be. And I... being a couple grades below her and unwilling to listen to mom's advice about taking the high road, would meet her blow for blow. There was an incident..."
She swallowed, grimacing a little.
"Let's just say I almost had charges pressed against me. Only reason I didn't is because it couldn't definitively be proven that I'd done it. And my friends – the ones who weren't there – gave me a solid alibi."
His eyes widened. She didn't think she'd ever caught him so off guard before. Well, minus the spontaneous tickling in the middle of their knife spar.
Licking his lips, he re-examined her from head to toe. A low, drawn-out whistle came out of him.
"My, my, little Cece was quite the hellraiser. What uh- what'd you do to her? Won't say a peep, scout's honor."
He dutifully lifted a hand.
Her smile was sheepish.
"I'm not proud of it," she admitted. "I let her get to me and... after a little bit of liquid courage, I did something to her car. That's what I'm going to leave it at. I don't want to dredge up the past, not the bad parts of it anyway. I'm not who I was anymore, and I have to give her the same benefit of the doubt."
He rolled his eyes.
"Booooring."
He then feigned a yawn, palm patting his mouth a few times.
His reaction nearly convinced her to dish out the details, but she changed her mind at the last second. The past was in the past, that aspect of it anyway. She'd had a lot of fun times as a teenager, but a lot of stupid moments too. This could be acknowledged without bringing the exact specifics to the surface.
Not that Joker wouldn't get a hoot out of it, or even think ill of her. The man had convinced a mentally unwell man to burn down the house of his psychologist. At age 14. What she'd done would be meager in comparison.
Maybe another time. I'll have to ask everyone tomorrow whether Beth's campaign has been successful. She's always had leadership qualities, I'll give her that, I just never thought... well, she wanted out of this town so badly she went all the way to California on the first scholarship that was offered. Seeing her back here, planting her roots... she must have had a change of heart.
They were nearing one of the roads that wound into the woods. But before that sat a gas station at the corner of an intersection. By now the streets had thinned out, and the only traffic was either rumbling motorcycles or a shiny, luxury brand car that most likely belonged to the wealthier tourists with vacation homes in the area.
She pulled into the station and parked by the pump closest to the doors.
"Did you want anything inside?"
It felt customary to ask at this point. When they were traveling like this inside her car, he felt like a road trip buddy. Who didn't want to accommodate their buddy?
"No," he answered stiffly, digging around in his pocket. "But ah- use this."
He handed her a familiar credit card.
"That's not necessary," she tried to say, recognizing it as the one he paid their groceries with. "I've got this."
His gaze narrowed.
"Take it."
"Jack-."
"Take it, Cece," he repeated, voice deepening. "I've got money to burn, and then some. Consider this a... stipulation of our... soulmanship. Call me old-fashioned, it speaks to a man's... chivalrous nature when he can uh provide for his woman."
"I-." Her brows drew together. "-soulmanship?"
He shrugged.
"This thing between us isn't exactly normal, is it? Whadda ya call a relationship like ours?"
"Unhealthy?"
"Well, yeah. Not a day goes by that I don't think of-."
"-killing me, yes, I'm aware."
He smirked.
"This isn't a relationship," he said, index finger wagging between the two of them. "It's a...soulmanship. What that is, couldn't tell ya. Only know that it can't be defined. And I prefer something that doesn't... limit us."
Oddly enough, she quite liked this term, and his definition of it. A relationship that couldn't be defined by normal rituals. But it ran deep, soul-deep. Hence that being the foundation of the word.
"Soulmanship," she repeated, tasting it. "Okay. I- but you're not paying for everything. You're my... partner in this soulmanship, not my sugar daddy."
He pursed his lips, mischief creeping into his eyes.
"Why can't I be both?"
She opened her mouth, and immediately closed it. He misinterpreted this as a victory and shoved the card into her hand.
"Run along," he told her.
She nodded dumbly and got out of the car.
Not to be an ungrateful first-world asshole, but what is it about me that attracts men with deep pockets? God, that sounds bad. Men want to spend money on me, oh the horror!
This wouldn't be the last time they disagreed on purchases, that much she knew. But for the time being, she would accept his generosity. It was clearly important for him to make sure she was provided for, maybe for the reason he claimed – chivalry – or maybe as another means of exerting some control over her. She hoped it was the former, but wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be the latter.
Inside the station she was saw a familiar face at the register.
"Hank?" she asked.
He was marking up cigarette packs with a price gun, but lifted his head upon hearing his name.
"Well golly god damn," he called, lips peeling back into a grin. "Never thought I'd see your face around here again. How the hell are you, Cece?"
She returned his grin and closed the distance to the counter. There were three others inside the station, one man by a circular potato chip stand, discretely eying the porn magazines on the shelf nearby, and two other, older men bullshitting with one another near the lottery machine just further down by the counter.
"I'm good, Hank, I'm good," she said. "And what do you mean? I'm here at least once a summer."
He shook his head.
"Know that, town likes to talk when their most famous export stops by," he teased. "Congratulations with the app, by the way."
She blushed a little.
"Thank you, that's very kind."
Though they had a decade in age between them, Hank had been a reoccurring figure throughout her and her mom's lives. Uncle Lucien had taken him on as an apprentice soon out of high school, and they were often completing projects around town, as well as on their beach house. He was a common presence around her household, until she went off to college; teasing and joking with her like an unofficial older brother would a younger sister.
She'd not seen him since her mom had gotten sick.
"Heard you were kidnapped," he said, reclaiming her attention. "By a real freak down in Gotham. It made the local paper. Well, sorta. Page nine, about a paragraph."
Celine chuckled. Only a paragraph? On page nine? Well, beggars can't be choosers.
"Yeah." She rubbed the back of her neck, hyperaware that her former kidnapper was sitting in her car, and that she was about to use his credit card to pay for gas. "Wouldn't recommend it. But Batman saved me, so it had a happy ending."
His eyes grew wide. This comment too gained the attention of the two men by the lottery.
"Batman?" Hank repeated. "The Batman?"
I guess his reputation is a little more widespread than Joker's. Which is... good. The less people that can make the connection to who is in my car, the better.
"The very same. Nice guy, bulky as hell, a little dry on the humor."
Yet again, she wished her and Bruce's friendship wasn't as strained as it was. She'd love to have him here with her, receiving compliments by unsuspecting admirers.
"Did he beat the piss out of that- what's the name- Jokey? Pokey?"
She giggled.
"Joker," she clarified. "And no, I'm afraid it wasn't as exciting as that. A simple rescue mission."
She waved a hand through the air a couple times.
"Enough about me, how've you been?"
Hank spent a few minutes catching her up on what he'd been up to. He still occasionally helped out Lu on projects, but mostly spent his time working here (after having bought the station from its former owner) and single parenting a twelve-year-old daughter. He showed Celine a photo of her (Louise was the name), beaming as he did so.
"Amazing softball player," he praised, studying the picture. "Quick on her feet, moves on instinct, she's a natural shortstop. I uh enrolled her in public schools down in Ellsworth just so she had the opportunity to develop. They got their summer league going on right now. Calgary's school team here is just... kids having fun. Down there, she'll grow, and even maybe get a shot at a scholarship. First year was a little hectic commuting there each morning, and then again in the afternoon, and then all over for her games. But it's worth it."
Listening to Hank gush about his daughter made her smile lopsidedly. He seemed to be bursting with... pride, purpose. Louise was the light of his life, and he was a young man again talking about her.
Her heart swelled, happy to see her friend so, well, happy.
Before she could get carried away by another conversation – it had transitioned to the MLB season, with the two gentlemen nearby joining in – she paid for the gas. Joker was no doubt antsy about her prolonged absence.
"I am telling you-," one of the men insisted, shaking a finger through the air "-I saw him, clear as day. He was walking past Cathmandu's just yesterday with a camera around his neck."
His buddy shook his head.
"Your vision's about as reliable as Stevie Wonder's," he chastised. "It's nothing more than hysteria, I blame that Evelyn Moseby for starting the rumor, getting everyone riled up. When you're looking for someone or something, you're bound to find it in everyone and everything."
She couldn't help but tune back into the conversation, turning to the men.
"Who did you see?"
His buddy went to interrupt him, but the man smacked his shoulder before he could.
"Stephen King," he stated confidently. "Just yesterday, by Cathmandu's. Don't know if he went in there for a drink or what, but I'm willing to bet every dollar I got it was him."
His buddy glanced down at the recently scratched scratch-off on the counter.
"Judging by what you just lost, I'm betting it ain't much."
This prompted a shared laugh between he and Hank.
"He might be on to something," she couldn't help but defend, throwing the slightly crestfallen man a comforting smile. "My friend Trina is certain she saw him. She's not a liar, or easily deceived by the senses."
A brief, contemplative silence overtook the station.
"Well," the man's buddy announced, taking off his hat to reveal a sweaty bald patch beneath, "if we ever get a confirmed, on camera King sighting, I'll eat my god damned hat."
They all laughed at this, until a firm clearing of the throat interrupted their gaiety.
She knew without having to look, or without him having to say anything.
"Well, I gotta take off," she told Hank. "My friend and I are heading up to Leo's for a quick bite, then off to Lu's after that. Um, speaking of- I don't have my phone on me, but I want to keep up with you and Louise. Do you mind if I get your number from Lu?"
Hank's ears might have been listening, but his gaze was glued to the man looming at the entrance. As were everyone else's.
"Hank?"
He shook his head and met her eyes, unable to fully mask his surprise.
"I ah- yep, yep, that's fine. It's uh good seeing you again, Cece. And good to have you back."
She smiled, and was relieved to see it ease him a little.
Look past the scars! she wanted to yell at them, but didn't. This was the reality of bringing Joker home with her. He would be gawked at. Not everyone had Uncle Lu's poker face. Or her understanding of why people self-harmed.
"Good to be back. I'll see you 'round."
She threw him a wave, offered the men a nod, and walked to the door.
Joker held it open for her, gaze burning into the trio by the counter. His mouth was tight, his expression blank. She almost felt a physical chill simply walking past him.
He followed her out, but she didn't get far before Joker slipped an arm around her back, tugged her into him, cupped her face, and planted a long, steamy kiss on her. It was so unexpected and not entirely unwelcome that she didn't realize right away his eyes were fully open, staring expectantly back at the gas station. Specifically, the individuals watching them through the window.
She noticed only when she pulled back for air. Her head swung between him and the slacked-jawed men.
"You can't just kiss me anytime someone holds my attention for more than five minutes."
His scars twitched. He peered down at her.
"It was eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds," he rasped, brushing some hair out of her face. "And I just wanted to make sure you ah didn't take my card and skedaddle. Who knows, you coulda been a gold-digger in disguise."
She crossed her arms and arched a brow.
Joker mimicked the movements, unable to keep down a bubbling smirk.
"Firstly, I'd target Bruce before I targeted you."
This remark seemed to put him out slightly.
"Secondly, I'm here to catch up. Which means engaging in conversation for more than two seconds. Please, find it in yourself to respect that. Otherwise, this isn't going to be enjoyable for you. I want you to enjoy yourself."
He sobered up and grumbled a little under his breath.
"You have me for the next four and a half days," she reminded. "My family and friends don't get that luxury."
His jaw tightened up. He seemed like he wanted to blurt the first thing that entered his mind, but thought better of it.
She was a little disappointed he didn't. She suspected it would better explain why sharing her attention with others bothered him so much.
"I'm starving," was all he ended up responding with.
"Let's... get going then," she answered.
I can slowly start to feel myself relearning the rhythm of this story, and who these characters are. Yee-haw. Happy New Years, folks. I hope your 2022 is going good thus far, and only continues to get better.