Chapter 3! Enjoy!

One day, two weeks before the movie was set to be released, a letter came for Jessica in the mail. She immediately recognized the signature scrawl upon it and excitedly took it to her room to open. She had long since learned to keep her doings from her parents, who knew that the game was contacting her but didn't know what it was asking her to do. It was doubtful they'd approve.

Sitting on her bed, legs crossed, Jessica slipped a finger under the flap of the envelope and ripped away an opening. Reaching in, the first thing she withdrew was a note, followed by—her heart leaped out of her chest—a plane ticket; a plane ticket for the sixteenth, all the way to Chicago, Illinois.

She made a noise of jubilation and quickly read the note, which told her that she was coming to Chicago to "meet the Joker" (she assumed this meant "see the movie"). Her hotel room, transportations and food, as well as an itinerary for her stay, were all taken care of. She would leave her home on July sixteenth and arrive in Chicago at 2 o'clock that afternoon. Someone would be waiting there with a car and she would be driven to a hotel where she would be able to meet and become acquainted with the rest of the Lucky Twenty. Then, at a time and date which would later be disclosed, she would have the opportunity to meet the Joker and collect her reward for being loyal to him as of yet.

The note said nothing about coming home, but she figured that would be discussed later.

She talked it over with her parents, who agreed to letting her leave, asked the rest of the men about it on the message board (they all said they had received the note and planned to come) and, finally, called Billy.

"Hello?" His voice was warm, young and slightly hoarse.

She had imagined him to sound this way from the very beginning and liked the way he spoke immediately. He'd given her his number a week or two ago, but as of yet she had not had an excuse to contact him. This new turn of events, however, made her want to share her excitement with someone in a real live conversation.

"Hey Billy," she said. "It's Jessica. You know? From the internet?"

"Jess?" Billy asked, a smile in his voice. "Wow. It's great to finally hear your voice. What's up?"

She blushed at his mild flirtation but decided not to say anything.

"Did you get the letter?"

He immediately knew what she was talking about.

"Yeah, and the ticket. You going?"

"Of course! How could I pass this up?"

Billy laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Me too," he said. "So I'll see you there?"

"Oh yeah," she replied, chuckling. "I'm so excited! I can't even tell you."

"I can hear that," Billy laughed.

They talked for a while longer, about nothing in particular. They contemplated on what their prize would be and what meeting the Joker meant and if they'd see the movie before its release date and what else they'd do in Chicago.

Jessica hung up the phone that night energized and jazzed and completely unable to fall asleep.

On July sixteenth, Jessica boarded a plane to Chicago. The ticket was coach, and her parents joked that it was disappointing she hadn't received one in First Class.

"Isn't this Joker guy supposed to be rich, being a criminal and all?" her dad had said, looking at the slip of paper on their way to drop her off at the airport. He gave her a look of mock-disapproval. "I don't want you hanging around him if he doesn't treat you right."

The plane ride was as uneventful as most. Relatively early in the flight, Jessica's head nodded and fell back, and she was rendered unconscious.

"We have now arrived at our destination. Thank you for flying Southwest Airlines and have a safe and pleasant journey."

Jess jolted awake as the loud voice echoed over the intercom, scrambling to unbuckle her belt and return her seat to an upright position as the rest of the passengers began to bustle by in their haste to remove themselves from the aircraft. She stood, smoothing out her wrinkled black t-shirt and adjusting her soft denim jeans, scratching her knee where the skin showed through the hole in the pants. She yawned hugely, looking out the window to the scene on the tarmac.

The sky was a cloudy grey, windy and wet, and it delivered a burst of cool air, unseasonable for this time of year, as she left the plane. She walked swiftly with her carry-on to the luggage drop, nervously biting her lip. The note had said somebody would be there to pick her up, but that ever-present stab of paranoia asked what would happen if she was forgotten? How much would that totally suck?

She collected her suitcase (large, as she wasn't sure how long she'd be staying) and stopped in the bathroom to make sure her light hair was okay and put more eyeliner on her large brown eyes. Her face was fine, she supposed, if a little pale--she was very nervous--but there was no helping the color at this point.

Gathering her courage, she left the bathroom and walked slowly down the rows of gates to the entrance of the airport, looking around widely for anyone with a sign that bore her name.

And there he stood, at the end of the long hallway: a tall, very broad man in a cheap blue suit with a balding head, sunglasses, and a five o'clock shadow. He held two signs, both with names written boldly in that same red chicken scratch from the letters she'd been receiving. One sign read "Jessica Anderson;" the other, "Billy Marsh."

"Billy?" Jessica said aloud, picking up her pace as she hurried toward the sign, her heart thumping.

Were she and Billy, from opposite ends of the country, scheduled to arrive here at the same time? That was almost too good to believe. She'd have a friend in this, to share this.

Around this time, she noticed someone on the other side of the hallway picking up his pace and hurrying as fast as her, and with just as much purpose, towards the assumed driver with the signs. She looked over and caught a glimpse of a willowy young man of average height, with a sharp, narrow face and a short, shaggy mop of light brown hair, tinged with a hint of red. He glanced over at her but no there was no hint that he recognized her; instead he gave her a roguish grin, almost flirtatious, and turned his attention back to the sign man.

This was obviously him.

Billy got there first. Jessica watched as he introduced himself and the driver nodded and put down his sign. His face stayed serious, almost grim, and she heard him remark as she drew up close to them that now they just had to wait for the girl.

"That's me!" Jessica said, stopping just behind Billy, who turned around, a huge grin spreading his features.

He was really very good looking, she was pleased to note, like the lead singer of some Indy rock band. That was his style, anyway, and his almost-feminine-yet-still-masculine facial structure complimented that. His green eyes sparkled as he came forward and gave her an unprecedented, familiar hug.

"I was wondering if the pretty girl I was racing was you!" he said, breaking away. Jessica grinned and looked down, tucking her light hair behind her ear.

"You Miss Anderson?" the driver demanded gruffly, his voice slightly slurred by what sounded like a New York accent. She nodded and he motioned to the sliding glass doors out of the building. "You two come with me then," he said, and unceremoniously ushered them outside to where a big black van waited.

Billy cast a nervous glance at Jessica when they saw the car and she shrugged, not knowing what to do. It looked so scary, so criminal. Was this all part of the charade?

"Come on," the driver ordered, pushing Jess's back lightly in an attempt her hurry her. Billy grabbed her arm and gave it an empowering squeeze and together they climbed in to the back of the van.