Lucien's property line began just as they turned onto the first of two unpaved roads leading to the house. They'd been driving through heavy woodland for quite some time now, and only when they passed into what was Lu's acreage did they begin to detect the plethora of colorful birdhouses and feeders scattered throughout the trees.
Her Aunt Dolores was an avid birdwatcher, and often spent half the day in the woods equipped with binoculars, a notetaking journal, and camera. Sometimes, Lucien joined her, sometimes she'd get together with a girlfriend from the local birdwatcher's society, but usually, she spent her time alone.
"November," she had once told Celine, who decided to join her on a summer outing, "is the best month for watching. You have to bundle up, of course, but it's when they're all migrating south. It's when the elusive ones come out of hiding."
As was the case with the woods near her house, carefully developed trails were prominent on Lu's property. They wove through a variety of vegetation – pine, beech and oak trees, tall grass, bushes, creeks, ponds, and even a small little meadow. At least five miles were at any of their family's disposal. If there was anything Lu loved more than engineering the trails, it was letting people enjoy them.
Joker was busy surveying his surroundings. If he was curious about anything, he didn't let on.
The silence was broken only when they turned onto the last dirt road and approached an open snow gate welcoming them through. The house was still quite a ways up the road, but young people liked to joyride on the back roads and quite often it led to lost or intoxicated drivers turning around in Lu's driveway. He wasn't a big fan of that, especially late at night. Hence the gate's presence.
She slowed down, as the edge of the gate was a little closer to the road than she'd have liked. Because of this, they were able to clearly read the aluminum sign posted to it.
Do You Believe in the Afterlife?
Trespass Here and Find Out
Now Lu wasn't one to easily resort to violence, but she'd thought it funny when she'd read it in a gift shop some years ago. She knew it'd be to Lu's humor, and true to form, he got a hearty chuckle out of it.
"Mm, tasteful sign."
She smiled crookedly, delighted to hear the amusement coloring his tone.
"I got it for him from that shop in south Gotham... The Tourist Trap?"
"Mm, I like that one. They uh got nice gag gifts. Might've walked away with a rubber chicken from there... or two."
She cocked a brow.
"Rubber chicken? Dare I ask?"
His smirk gave way for a lopsided grin. He shifted in his seat and patted his knee a few times.
"Mob bosses can be so... stingy with what you're allowed to bring to a meeting. No guns, no knives, no wired bomb vests heh heh... So, what you gotta do is get creative. Ya bring a rubber chicken with you. What're they gonna do? Part a clown with his chicken? That's like taking away a blind man's walking stick!"
She couldn't help but mirror his grin.
"Now, the trick-." His index finger swung in a crescent motion. "-is making a little incision on the back of the neck, and stuffing the chicken with what you need just in case talks break down. And that rubber... dunno where Vinny gets his product delivered from, but it's a heavy, durable rubber. Means you can get away with stuffing some hefty things in there. My ah personal favorite is a brick. They never see that one coming until I WHAP! crack 'em over the head."
Her mouth popped open. The images his words conjured made her marvel at his ingenuity. It reminded her too that they'd had a conversation in the woods yesterday about whether he got nervous meeting with mob bosses. This was a prime example of why his answer had been no. Anything could be fashioned into a weapon.
She found herself eyeing the interior of her car, wondering what could serve a dual purpose.
"Heads up."
All humor evaporated from Joker's voice.
She shot him a glance. His eyes were glued to the side mirror of his door. Both hands were flexing on his lap.
Her gaze flew to the rearview mirror.
A bright yellow Porsche was quickly gaining ground on them. She was going 50, the sports car behind them was easily tearing up the road at least 20 miles faster.
"Oh, god damn it," she griped, double-checking that her seatbelt was on tight. "You're going to want to hang on."
Celine pressed her foot down on the pedal ever so carefully. Her baby might have been reliable, but its speedy Gonzalez days were long behind it.
The needle on her speedometer slowly began to ascend. One of Joker's legs was bouncing something fierce; his eyes still fixed on their new backroad companion.
"You know them?" was his only question.
"I do," she answered, fingers tightening on the wheel as her baby flirted with 70 mph.
Just as she broke 70, the person trailing them shifted gears. A loud cranking noise tore through the summer air; wheels dislodging all dirt and sediment in their path. The Porsche advanced to just a couple feet's distance from her bumper and offered a few honks.
Gritting her teeth, Celine pushed a little harder onto the pedal as a thumb worked on rolling her window down. As soon as there was enough space, she shot out an arm and threw up her middle finger.
A returning series of honks had her grinning like a mad woman. Up ahead, trees finally gave way to open plains and only a hundred yards away stood Lu's house.
Just when she thought she finally had it in the bag, the Porsche briefly slowed before shifting gears again and swerving around her. For a couple seconds they were flying down the road at the same speed.
But alas, her baby's engine simply couldn't compete with the horsepower it was up against.
All too soon, the Porsche zoomed ahead; leaving them both in the dust.
"Ugh!"
It wasn't the most attractive sound that had ever left her mouth, but very little else felt as appropriate. Begrudgingly, she lifted her foot off the pedal and released a sigh.
When the dust finally settled, they were pulling up to the designated parking area near Lu's work shed. The owner of the yellow Porsche was just getting out.
She glanced at Joker, nearly forgetting he was in the car.
He was squinting back at her, brows tucked together.
"You okay?" she asked.
A swift nod was her only response.
The longer he's around me, the more he's beginning to realize I'm just as nutty as he is. It remains to be seen whether this is good or bad.
There were seven cars already parked, and she intentionally chose a spot as far from the Porsche as possible. Once the engine was turned off, she found Joker's gaze again.
"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
The response put her on edge a little. His facial expression wasn't exactly the most... welcoming.
His eyes suddenly swiveled behind her. She turned and groaned at the incoming figure.
Let the gloating commence in 3- 2-
"Jack," she advised, "you're about to meet my cousin, Marc. Lu has three sons; this is the youngest. Just be... he's kind of... well, you'll see for yourself."
He didn't respond, nor make any move to get out of the car. Which meant she'd have to play battering ram to the first conversation.
Here goes everything. Quite literally.
Celine got out and threw a hand over her eyes. The other pushed the door shut behind her.
Marc bounded over, arms teeming with barely restrained excitement.
He was just three years younger than her, and only a few inches taller. Straw-blonde hair was gelled and styled into a quaff, and light, vibrant blue eyes were sparkling with a mixture of mirth and triumph.
"Four years!" he yelled, arms shooting into the air. "That's four years straight I've whipped your ass!"
She offered him a sarcastic round of applause as he reached her car.
"Oh, well done," she said. "Only took you sixty grand to get there."
"Sixty grand well spent," he returned, gaze landing on her Oldsmobile. "Meanwhile... god, I can't believe that old clunker is still kicking. You've gotta see about upgrading, it's just depressing beating you now."
She crossed her arms.
"What a burden it is to be you."
His grin widened. He reached out a hand and softly gave her shoulder a punch.
"Good to see you, Cece. Sore loser and all."
She rolled her eyes before spreading her arms. He followed suit and pulled her into a tight hug.
"It really is," he said, quieter. "You had me... nervous."
She knew he was referencing her kidnapping. And her heart melted at the sincerity in his tone.
Marc tended to operate in one of two modes – semi-tolerable know-it-all or semi-tolerable wisecracker. It spoke to his love for her that he could spare a few seconds to be serious.
"That makes the both of us," she admitted with a strained chuckle, pulling back from him. "How've you been?"
He shoved both hands into his khakis and shrugged.
"Busy. Not sure if I told you, but I picked up a pretty high-profile government client. I guess the US military's been wanting to open up a new naval base overseas... some island off the Horn of Africa. They liked how effective the shipping center I designed in Annapolis was. But truth be told, it's been one headache after another. I send them a blueprint; they return with a list of additions. I work their additions in, they don't like the positioning of the main building. It's been nearly two months of back and forth, with almost little to no progress. The money's - Jesus – the money's unreal. It's probably the only reason I haven't told them to get bent."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I've become a bitch boy, haven't I?"
"You're meeting some of the qualifications," she teased. "Sorry they've been such aggravating clients. I'm... well, kind of surprised you said yes. I take it they're not aware of your political opinions?"
"Cece, when that first check came in, I stopped being aware of my political opinions." He sighed. "That's bad, isn't it. Tell me that's bad."
"It's-." She bit her lip. "-tricky. Besides the money, I take it you're thinking about the opportunities further down the line."
"Without question," he answered. "I see this through until the end and I could probably get a job anywhere in the world. Who'd say no to that accomplishment on a resume?"
"Very few."
"So why do I feel like such shit?"
"Because your work isn't aligning with your morals?"
He groaned.
"Yeah."
He kicked at the dirt beneath him.
"Mom and Dad are proud I landed the job. That's a whole other thing, telling them my heart's not it."
"Marc," she said, meeting his gaze, "what they care about most is your happiness. Sappy as that sounds, it's the truth. If you're doing something your heart's not in, they'd tell you the same thing I'm telling you. Find another project that gets you pumped up again. You've been wanting to scale back a little, right? Try your hand at designing residential homes? Nothings stopping you other than you."
He was quiet, shaking his head.
"Ouch. Not so subtle with those truth bombs."
"You don't pay attention to subtlety," she reminded.
"That's true."
A smile crept back onto his face.
"Enough about me... a little birdy told me you're finally a taken woman."
He looked expectantly at her car.
"When do I get to meet the mentally unsound guy?"
She crossed her arms again.
"Would this birdy's name happen to be Lucien?"
He laughed.
"Mom actually told me. God, you'd think you won the lottery or something. She was just over the moon."
She sighed, dropping her pose.
As if on cue, the passenger door opened. Marc's gaze instantly shot to the figure getting out. Celine wanted to turn and look as well, but her palms were suddenly sweaty, and her heart was skipping out of rhythm.
This is going to go well. It will, I can't afford for it not to.
The thought wasn't particularly reassuring, but whatever else threatened to come to mind, vanished as soon as Joker appeared beside her.
No one spoke for almost a full minute. Marc busied himself with sizing Joker up, doing little to mask his surprise upon what he found. She'd not been lying; subtlety was not a naturally acquired trait of his.
But the surprise was just that – pure, unfiltered surprise. There wasn't any repulsion or fear. A bit of mild anxiety, perhaps, but nothing that immediately warranted the atmosphere to turn hostile.
"I-." He searched for the proper words before lifting his hand. "-hey, man. I'm Marc. You must be... Jack, right?"
She risked a peek at Joker. His mouth was thinned out in a line, his gaze dead, and he made no effort to shake the hand outstretched toward him.
Marvelous start. Universe, send a gamma ray beam our way, PLEASE.
Clearing her throat, she shifted over so she and Joker were a little closer together.
"This is Jack," she confirmed. "Um, he's a war veteran. We met after he reached out to me about Oz. Sorta hit it off from there."
Marc tilted his head. He finally seemed to get the hint and lowered his hand.
"Jack," he repeated. "This is Jack."
She swallowed hard.
"Yeah."
His nod was slow. Both eyes widened.
"Oh, holy shit. I uh I'm sorry if you heard me trashing my bosses. I have nothing against- well, I do... but not you, you're just a cog in the machine. You don't do the oiling."
Joker arched a brow. He too was sizing Marc up, but in a much less obvious way.
"It's fine," he finally spoke, voice coming out a low rasp. "Trash them all you like."
For the first time ever, she witnessed Marc blush a little. Dolores must've neglected the little detail about "Jack" being a veteran.
"It's not that I think the military should be disassembled," he blurted, seemingly unable to halt the onslaught of words queuing up in his throat. "Just that... well, the money the military gets could better be spent elsewhere. I mean... you don't pump that much money into the armed forces unless you've pissed a lot of people off."
The corner of Joker's mouth briefly twitched.
"I don't disagree," was his simple response.
Marc nodded, sighing with relief.
"It's uh nice meeting you, Jack." He glanced behind him. "I'm gonna go inside, have a victory beer. Are you guys spending the night too?"
"Probably not this time," she answered. "I went soul searching yesterday. Kind of made a mess, and lost my phone. I need to tidy the house up a little."
His nod was understanding.
Marc was fairly straight edge when it came to drugs. Beer was more his vice, and he'd become a bit of a snob since immersing himself in his local microbrewery culture. But he never judged her for partaking in what she did, and long ago she'd made up a code word. Anytime she tripped on magic mushrooms, it would be referred to as "soul searching". Just a convenient way to discuss tripping without tipping anybody off.
"Gotcha. Have fun?"
"Ran into mom's door-." She pointed at her slightly bent nose, then gestured to her right. "-chasing after Jack. Also, fell off the treehouse steps. It was a... clumsy day."
He looked at Joker.
"What'd you do to make Cece chase after you?"
"Nothing," Joker answered. "She came at me, unprovoked. I'm lucky to be alive."
She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the side. He didn't respond to the jab, but did meet her eyes; the faintest trace of mischief swimming in them.
"Yeah, Cece can be a loose cannon when she's fired up. You are lucky to be alive."
"You can both eat my ass."
Joker pursed his lips while Marc released a loud laugh.
"I'm pretty sure that's Jack's job," he followed up. "Oh god, why did I say that?"
He shook his head.
"Well, I'll see you both inside."
With that, he made his way to the porch.
The aftermath of relief was so intense it flooded her entire body. She slumped against her car for a few seconds, working on evening out her breathing.
"That went well," she said after a moment. "You did good."
He wasn't too impressed with this comment.
"Do I get a gold star for being a good boy?"
Yep, definitely not impressed. Upon replaying her words, she realized how patronizing it might have sounded. Like she was rewarding a child for doing the bare minimum.
"Sorry," she amended. "You just... surprised me is all with how casual you can be."
He accepted the apology without too much of a fuss.
"Might not think much of people, Cece, but I generally know how to conduct myself around them." He smirked a little. "Also helps that your cousin's got the spine of a limp noodle. These are the easiest types of people to influence. The con of course is they'll turn on you soon as another master barks their order louder. Thankfully, very few can bark louder than me."
"Marc is not-."
Her counterargument fizzled before it could ignite. Joker, regrettably, was pretty close to the truth. Marc was armed with many opinions, but all too often lacked the nerve to act on them. His job being the sole exception to that.
She knew this, Marc probably knew this as he himself made the "bitch boy" comment, and within just a couple of minutes, Joker knew this.
Still, it wasn't fun hearing him point it out. Where Marc lacked in some aspects of his character, he made up for in others.
"You were saying?"
She shook her head.
"He has a lot of good qualities too," she redirected. "He's a brilliant, brilliant architect. You should look up some of the buildings he's designed, he's not only inventive but resourceful. You guys might... have more in common than you think."
"Mm, doubt it."
A quiet sigh escaped her.
"Okay," she said more to herself. "I can't force you to want to know him."
Joker must've sensed this was rhetorical. He, thankfully, remained silent.
"Let's get to it then."
She pushed off her car and started toward the house. Joker followed suit.
Ever since she could remember, Celine looked forward to visiting Uncle Lucien's property. As a child, the sprawling woods had been the biggest draw. She and Marc would spend hours inventing games and setting off on adventures or trying their hand at fishing from one of the two ponds.
As she grew older, it was the house itself she learned to appreciate.
It stood as a two-story farmhouse; doused in a creamy white color that reminded her of homemade frosting. The roof peaked twice in perfect symmetry with a black-stained wood serving as trimming around all the windows.
Everything about the front of the house was constructed with family in mind, from the massive wrap-around porch to the four rocking chairs positioned on either side of the door to the blocky, wooden beams supporting the porch roof, ideal for taking prom photos beside. She almost couldn't believe hers had been snapped here well over a decade ago.
The porch was also a love letter to Lucien's resourcefulness. Two separate wind chimes hung from the farmer's porch, one constructed out of former work tools and the other out of seashells from the coast. On the lefthand side sat a varnished table he'd woodworked out of a downed oak tree. Near the stairs and against the house were at least eight galvanized metal buckets presently containing an array of petunias and marigolds. Two former lanterns served as the outside light fixtures, one nestled on each side of the heavy mahogany door.
Before taking her first step, Celine peeked back at Joker. His attention had strayed to a small, rusty wagon sitting beside a row of well-trimmed bushes. It currently supported two buckets of purple petunias.
"Lu likes to repurpose whatever he can," she informed, smiling a little. "He doesn't throw things out unless absolutely necessary."
She could tell he wanted to say something, but elected not to at the last second. Intuition hinted that he was reluctantly... impressed.
If he didn't leave such a bad first impression on Lu, I could see them teaching each other a thing or two.
Joker continued his perusal of the porch. To her relief, there was more inquisitiveness present in his gaze than distrust. It meant a lot to her, she realized, for him to feel welcome here. No corner of the house was without a little bit of love.
"Your grandparents live through the Depression?"
She blinked, not expecting that question.
"I- yeah. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged.
"It explains all this."
She re-examined everything through this perspective.
"Betting they instilled the importance of not letting a single thing go to waste," he continued, eyes landing on her. "Couple that with all the rationing during the second world war and it uh looks like those lessons stuck."
It embarrassed her a little that he was able to make this observation so easily. She'd assumed because Lu had been working all throughout her life on projects, that it was something he had a passion for doing. It never occurred to her that this was instilled in him rather than organically developed over time.
Maybe it's both.
"I think you might be right," she found herself admitting. "You're welcome to ask him."
His lips dipped into a frown.
Well, that's a no. I've gotta stop trying to force this. The goal is to survive the next few hours. If Jack learns to enjoy himself along the way, well, that'll be an added bonus.
"You did accept Lu's invitation," she reminded. "Do you want to bow out while you still have the chance?"
The glare he shot her could melt steel.
She shrugged it off. Rather she offer the choice than make him feel as if he'd been backed into a corner.
The door handle was cool beneath her balmy skin. She momentarily basked in the sensation with eyes closed, before pressing down and pushing the door open.
Instantly, they were assaulted by a gust of scents. Freshly proofed bread, pan-sizzled garlic and onions, mozzarella-melted noodles, a faint whiff of baked apples, and a warm pollutant of vanilla.
Smell triggered memory; and Celine wasn't spared this response. She recollected summers past: the giddiness that often accompanied these cookouts, the hospitality from the people who made her feel safest, the bloated if not altogether cramped belly she wobbled away with. It all invigorated her with a renewed sense of confidence.
They stepped into a medium-sized mudroom with a screen door up ahead. During winter months, this area was essential. Shaking off the snow, throwing off damp gear, putting away boots.
It was pretty bare currently, save for a corner of the room with Lu's work shoes, a bag of plant fertilizer, and a wall suspending an assortment of landscaping equipment.
Some laughter rang out, though it was muffled by the time it reached them. She ventured on ahead, Joker trailing closely behind.
Through the screen door sat a corridor, its pearly gray walls recently re-painted and decorated with a conservative helping of family pictures dating as far back as the turn of the 20th century. Two doors stood on the left – one leading to a bathroom, the other a coat closet. To the right was a door containing Lu's study.
The summer after her app had launched, they'd celebrated in this room with a shared Cuban cigar. She... hadn't been a fan. At first, the cigar had been rich, smooth. All too soon, however, she'd gotten a very unpleasant nicotine buzz that ushered in the dizzies. Marc too, after picking up his first major client post-college, had gotten the cigar treatment as well as a sampling of some finely-aged whiskey.
They continued their trek; the noises ahead growing louder.
At the end of the corridor the house expanded into an open concept kitchen-living area. Long ago, walls had cleanly separated the rooms, but sometime in the last ten years Lu had been bitten by the contemporary bug. Walls were gradually knocked down in favor of a more uniform living plan. It was this section of the house that the upstairs, master bedroom, bathroom, and screened-in back porch all sprawled from.
From the sounds of it, there were at least three voices in the kitchen. Her Aunt D was one of them, Marc was another, and the third sounded like Aunt June.
She paused a few feet from the entryway, mentally preparing herself. Her mind was frustratingly blank, content with abandoning her in the hour she needed it most.
She jumped upon feeling a hand abruptly bunch the back of her blouse up into a tight fist. Slowly, she risked a peek over her shoulder.
Joker loomed above her, stiff as a board. A tic kept nipping at his jaw, and if she had to venture a guess, he was thinking twice about her offer to leave while they still had the chance. It had less to do with nerves, she thought, and more to do with the unfamiliarity of the situation. Were this Gotham, he'd stroll in as if he owned the place, be it a mob den, police station, or Arkham hospital.
This was so out of the realm of what he was used to that she knew he was having trouble figuring out everything from what facial expression to wear to how to posture his body to how close he wanted to be to her. Well, that last one had just become apparent. She would be attached to him until he no longer felt the need to be.
She was okay with that. If this is what he needed to collect himself and adapt, it was a small price to pay.
"Ready?" she whispered.
His eyes found hers. She tried to relay some comfort his way via a half smile, but she might as well have done so to a brick wall. With a quiet exhale, she stepped into the room.
"Oh! There they are!"
Aunt Dolores was the first to spot them; one hand gripped on to a spatula, the other turning the island stovetop down to a simmer. She set the spatula on the counter and ambled toward them.
Marc was seated by the island, watching them with a bottle of Heineken at his lips. Aunt June was waving away some steam with an oven mitt from a casserole dish.
"Hi, Auntie," Celine greeted. "It's so good to see you again."
Aunt Dolores scooped her into a hug, beaming from ear to ear. They rocked back and forth for a few seconds.
Her aunt stood at least half a foot taller, with long, wispy gray hair tied back in a floral-patterned ribbon. Her frame was thick and sturdy, which meant that when she hugged you, you truly felt embraced in the safest way possible. Soft, amber eyes almost always expressed her true thoughts and laugh lines were prominent near the corners of her eyes. She was a woman who liked to laugh and encouraged others to do the same whenever possible.
"How was the drive?" she asked, rubbing her back a few times. "Did you enjoy your meal at Leo's?"
"Drive was good." She met Marc's gaze, who shot her a satisfied smirk. "And Leo's was... whelming."
Dolores pulled back, studying her face.
"That's what I hear," she answered. "That Leo's has been on a bit of a spiral. You hate to see it in such a state."
Celine nodded.
"It's not what it used to be."
The woman's eyes abruptly dropped to her hand.
"My goodness, is that from the mugging Lu mentioned?"
She tried not to shift in place. In hindsight, Joker's suggestion had been a well-executed one; offered as they'd been dressing post-third sexual romp.
"Might ah wanna beef up the bandaging so it doesn't pull so much focus to your pinky. Ya study it long enough and you're gonna notice it's gone."
It wasn't ideal, letting him further bandage up the wound. She'd not yet fully acclimated to the sight of bulky white nor to the tightness. But he had a very good point. It wouldn't do to arouse any unneeded concerns.
"Yeah," she agreed. "It's not as bad as it looks though, just broken is all. Shouldn't take too long to heal back up."
The explanation coupled with her optimistic tone slowly but surely did its job.
Aunt Dolores's gaze shifted to the body to her right.
"And hello there, dear," she welcomed, scooping Joker into the same tight hug. "How are you?"
He instantly went stiff, eyes widening. Both arms hung awkwardly around the body pressing into his.
Sensing his discomfort, Dolores quickly unwound herself from him.
"I'm so sorry, it's an awful force of habit." Her smile didn't dim once upon absorbing Joker's face. "It's just nice to finally meet a... friend of Celine's."
She knew right away Lu had had a discussion with everyone that arrived prior to Marc; Joker's scars being the primary topic. She suspected he withheld personal opinion, and focused instead on giving them a gentle heads up so as to avoid any adverse reactions. It was the only explanation for why neither Aunt Dolores nor Aunt June's gazes lingered long on his cheeks.
Joker cleared his throat, unsure where to look.
"Good going, mom," Marc joked after a few seconds of silence, "not even a minute here and you've reminded Cece why she doesn't bring boyfriends over."
"And your excuse is exactly what, young man?" Aunt June returned. "We're gonna be in the ground before you settle down."
Marc blushed, hiding his reply with another sip of beer.
"Aunt D, Aunt June." She figured it was best to rip the band aid off sooner than later. "This is my friend, Jack. He-"
Held me hostage, stalked me, snuck into my car, and now we're...here.
"-I guess we're-?"
She glanced at him. The story kept flip flopping. Sometimes he referred to her as his wife, sometimes he considered her repugnant (as was in the case of King, albeit briefly). It was his turn now to choose a label for them.
He met her gaze, and must've glimpsed something within it that inspired some ease. The corner of a lip shot upward. The hand on the back of her blouse slowly released her, creeping instead up to the shoulder furthest from him.
"You uh folks believe in soulmates?"
No one said a word.
"'Cos I didn't," he continued. "'Till I met Cece."
Her eyes slammed shut. Upon opening them again, she threw him her most unimpressed glare. Joker's returning wink was oh so subtle.
Aunt D released a soft "aww" while Aunt June murmured "that's very sweet."
"Soulmates?" Marc exclaimed. "Cece, don't you gotta have a soul for it to have a mate?"
Joker just barely suppressed a giggle. It dawned on her a couple seconds later. Nearly verbatim, it was his reaction to her telling him they were bonded on a spiritual level when they'd been on the beach.
"Marc," Dolores reprimanded. "That was uncalled for."
He tucked his shoulders in, staring sheepishly at the floor.
She turned back to them, gaze ping-ponging between them. A dazed grin swept over her lips.
"What a special thing, to find the one meant for you. Oh, you'll have to tell us all about it, won't you?"
Before Celine could respond, Joker answered.
"Looking forward to it."
The frying pan sizzled, regaining Dolores's attention. She hustled back to it.
"You're both welcome to have a drink," she offered. "We've got lemonade, tea, coffee, sodas, beer, something stronger if you'd like- I- are you much a drinker, Jack?"
"No," was his low reply, hand dropping to rest on her back. "Don't ah like having my senses impaired."
"The men in this family oughta take lessons from you," she teased with a chuckle. "Please help yourselves then. And don't mind me, I gotta get moving on these dishes."
Joker's gaze swung to Aunt June. She seemed a little startled. Despite Lu's heads up, she couldn't help but examine his scars.
Joker chose that moment to lap at them in such a casual manner that it came off as natural. Celine knew better. He did so with the intent to inject just a little bit of unease into her. June, however, wasn't one to wear emotions on her sleeve. If she was bothered, she didn't let on.
"I ah had some of your cider," he told her. "Scrumptious."
He patted his tummy once to emphasize this.
Aunt June was much more muted in character than Dolores; a woman of fewer words as opposed to her husband who generally led conversations. She was on the shorter end and hadn't yet gone fully gray, shoulder-length hair a mixture of silver and light brown. Whereas Dolores donned a dress with an apron wrapped around her waist, June took comfort in blue jeans, a white tank top, and flannel shirt. Out of everyone in the room, she was the last person you wanted to arm wrestle against. Running a farm for over a decade had rewarded her with well-muscled biceps and toned thighs. She and Uncle Lu were quite possibly some of the hardest workers Celine knew, and shared too the same hard-working tan.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," June accepted, unflinching beneath Joker's stare. "There's more in the refrigerator if you'd like. I'd be happy to send you back to Gotham with a few gallons."
"We'd like that a lot," she answered. "Thank you. And thank you for all the food you sent over. I don't know that we'll finish it all by the end of the week."
"No need to worry about that," she assured. "Layla was thinking of spending a couple weeks at the house with Nelson and the kids. Whatever you don't eat up, I'm sure she'll find use for."
Nodding, she glanced at Joker.
"Um, I guess I should break down the family tree?"
"Mm, go for it."
She was a little dazed at how seamlessly he'd integrated himself into this kitchen. The man knew how to put on an act, that much was obvious.
And it was an act. A well-adopted one. If she looked just a little further into his eyes, she could see a tinge of cynicism. It was funny to him, behaving like this. So at odds with who he actually was. It was funny that he was getting away with it too.
"You've met Marc." Her eyes fell to the man in question. "Lu and D have two other sons. Eli and Jimmy."
"Jimmy's sorry he couldn't make it," Dolores input, adding some vegetables into a steaming pot. "He's driving cargo up to Montana right now. They should be slowing down a little after Labor Day."
"He's a trucker," Celine explained. "He hauls fuel all over the country. And Eli's a tax accountant. He uh co-owns a firm with his wife, Rita.".
"She's expecting again. They're hoping to get a baby shower in early September before all the kids' sports start up again."
Despite Dolores's comment, Joker's gaze remained on her. It was like everything that wasn't coming directly from her mouth was background noise to him.
It hit her why with unprecedented force. She was essentially listing off everyone she held dear. He wasn't listening as a genuinely interested party, he was gathering intel.
This revelation must have showed on her face because Joker smirked a little.
"Go on."
Inhaling shakily, she continued. It'd raise a lot more questions if she were to suddenly stop. This whole charade might unravel.
"I told you Marc's an architect," she said. "Aunt June has two daughters. Layla and Lauren. Layla works as a clerk in this county's main office and her husband Nelson is the local pediatrician. Um, you said she might use the beach house after us?"
"Give the kids a change of scenery," June explained. "They've been glued to the television all summer. It'll hopefully help get them more active, being on the water."
Celine nodded.
I am going to have to do a deep clean of the place. And figure out what the hell to tell Layla about the stab marks on the kitchen wall.
She cleared her throat.
"Um, Lauren has a factory job in Higginsville. She helps assemble aircraft parts for delivery."
"Got a raise recently," June added. "Had to pester them for it, but she got it."
"Oh, that's good to hear," came Dolores's response.
"Uncle Reed doesn't have any kids, but he does have three cats and two dogs. Which he loves like they're his kids. And oh... I've got another unofficial aunt. Um, she started out as a customer at the diner. Her and mom hit it off and ever since then, their family has practically been ours. Her name's Vivian, her husband's Eugene, and she's got a daughter around my age living in Paris named Miranda. Miranda models full-time."
Marc snorted.
"Is that what we've decided to call it?"
Dolores threw her son a pointed look.
"The woman is an adult. Even if I don't necessarily agree with some of her... career choices, she has all the right to make them. She's family too, Marc. I won't have you shaming one of our own, not in my presence."
Joker cocked a brow, finally tearing his gaze away. Marc ended up the recipient of his stare.
"We uh not like models much?"
Marc abruptly looked at his beer bottle as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Dolores elected not to speak, and June glanced out a window.
"She's posed for a couple adult magazines," Celine said, sensing no one felt comfortable enough broaching the subject. "It's been, used to be... a polarizing topic. She does other work too, modeling clothes and handbags. Successfully enough to live in one of the most expensive cities in the world. But um Aunt D is right; she is a grown woman. It's a little backwards to judge her for a career choice that isn't ours to make, and is in demand for, particularly in Europe where they're not as uptight about nudity."
She wished the sudden interest claiming Joker's face didn't bother her as much as it did. Didn't make her stomach feel as if someone twisted it out like a wet cloth.
"Seems a bit close minded, don't ya think?"
Joker shot this question at Marc. He in turn opened his mouth, but seemed to lack the courage to support his viewpoint.
"I mean- who're we to tell women how to be women, hm? So, she likes to strut her goods, who doesn't? Not like she's gunning strangers down or launching bazooka shells at civilians like some...some crazy person."
Marc's blush reignited, which she suspected was part of Joker's intention. Both Dolores and June – in varying ways – showered Joker with appreciative looks. That was another part. Gaining their trust a little, easing any suspicion.
What she was sure was unintended was that twisting feeling evolving into an uncontained blaze in her chest. Further fueling that blaze was the knowledge of just how beautiful Miranda was.
Vivian was second-generation Italian, and those genes had been passed along to her daughter, who was blessed with silky long black hair, thick, perfectly sculpted eyebrows, a gorgeous olive complexion that darkened with ease under the sun, and simultaneously had both a slender frame and a shapely backend. To boot, she was tall, and when she wore heels, if she didn't catch the eye of every man in the room, a few strides would do the trick.
Okay, so, maybe I'm a little... jealous. And paranoid he's going to look her up soon as he gets the chance.
She didn't care for this feeling. It invaded slowly, grew in strength quickly, and left her with a distinct lack of control over her own emotions. Like rabies surging through the veins.
I have to sit with this feeling, even if I don't want to. And... I really don't want to.
"Are you alright, dear?"
Blinking, Celine glanced up. Everyone was staring at her.
"Yeah." She smiled maybe a little too forcefully. "I- Jack's right. She could be doing some truly appalling things." The irony wasn't lost on her that Joker had listed his own misdeeds. "And I'm sure if we searched through Marc's browser history, he'd be a little less keen to judge."
In light of this comment, Marc's face made the full transition into a tomato. And so rampant was Joker's delight that the hand resting on her back dropped to her bottom and offered it a hefty squeeze.
She jumped a little, releasing a high-pitched squeak. Joker removed his hand and looked at her in a mockery of concern.
"You alright, Cece?"
Shooting daggers at him, she nodded like he hadn't just felt her up in front of her family.
Well, if anything that serves as a nice reconfirmation of who he has eyes for. Or rather, hands.
"Um." She cleared her throat and faced her aunts. "Jack and I are going to head outside, say hi to everyone. Does Lu need help setting up targets?"
"Oh no, he and Marty took care of it," Dolores said. "They were waiting on you and Reed. I guess he and Frank are running a little late, they should be here soon. Now, don't you go telling them how you and Jack met, not until I'm out there. I want to know how you little soulbirds came to find each other. And please take something to drink with you."
Before she could respond, Joker spoke.
"Mm, soulbirds," he mused, hand returning to her opposite shoulder. "You like that as much as I do, bunny?"
She experienced Marc's plight wholeheartedly in that moment. No one was safe from Joker's desire to embarrass.
"I-." Her smile was wobbly. "Yeah, I suppose."
He leaned in and grazed his nose a couple times against her jawline before resting his lips right by her ear.
"Can't wait," he murmured, scar tickling her cheek, "to stick my cock in your greedy little pussy again. And this time, we're going at my pace, so ah don't anticipate using your legs much after. Maybe later, I'll take you up on your offer and eat that plump little ass of yours... lap and tongue and finger and squeeze at it until you're creamin' like a waterfall all over my face."
Nonchalantly, he leaned back and smiled.
"Ready when you are."
She tried to speak, but choked on the words. Both the back of her neck and panties were instantly damp.
He-that- motherfucker.
Joker was otherwise cool and unbothered, save for his eyes. A bit of mania had seeped in, growing wilder the longer it took her to assemble a reply.
She blew out a deep breath and nodded.
"Drinks. O-outside."
That was to the extent of all she could presently say. Joker rolled his shoulders back and wound an arm around her lower back.
Dolores's attention was on seasoning a dish, June was gulping back some lemonade, and Marc buried himself in his cell phone screen, doing his best to pretend he didn't exist.
All of them were nonethewiser, which was both very good and very, very bad.