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59. The Way
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Disclaimer: Thank you to all you readers and reviewers out there! My immense love to you all for your dedication! I apologize for this, but there is some drug use in this chapter. I am sorry to those of you who dislike the drug use of the characters in this story—I hope this does not offend you. I do not do drugs, but I am reading the book "Candy" by Luke Davies, which the movie "Candy" is based on, with Heath Ledger. There is a lot of great stuff in that book and in that movie—but both are based on drugs. There is nothing in this chapter that is from either the movie or the book, but there is a drug of choice from both in this chapter. Again, I am sorry if this offends you, but I feel it is necessary for the character development as well as the plot. For those of you who don't care either way—enjoy!
Almost the instant the song ended and the Joker's body was no longer pressed up against mine, my mind raced back to Bruce and Pixie sitting at the table just beyond the dance floor. There was nothing that could hide the distress that plagued my face in that moment. The Joker took notice to the twisted way my lips met each other and the angst raging inside my eyes.
"Another dance?" he asked, trying to pull me from my new found emotion. I shook my head and pulled my arm from his.
"No—not right now…I…I can't think of dancing," I said loudly to him over the blaring music. He pursed his lips tightly together and glanced about the dance floor. I had almost forgotten that he and I didn't know each other at the moment. I caught on to his anxious dodge about the room and followed his nervous eyes.
"I'm Giada! Nice to meet you," I called to him over the music. His lips curled into a grin.
"Joker…in case you couldn't tell," he responded, licking his lips and raising his eyebrows suggestively. I chuckled with him, but quickly lost it as I glanced away from the dance floor and up to the table. Bruce and Pixie were hidden behind other guests, but I knew they were there. The Joker followed my eyes with his and reached out to me. His firm gloved hand turned my shoulders so that I face him.
"How about a drink?" he asked, pouting out his lips and widening his eyes.
"Sure," I agreed. He led me from the dance floor to the bar where he ordered us two shots of tequila each. I looked down at the tequila and then back up at him. I was going to need a lot more than tequila to get me through this evening.
"Got anything stronger than that?" I asked.
"What do you want? Whiskey? Everclear?" The Joker asked, almost irritated by my lack of interest in the tequila. He knew tequila was my favorite shot, but I think he was just annoyed with my rejection.
"No, tequila is fine. I love tequila. I just…really need to get fucked up tonight," I paused, remembering I had to pretend I just met him, "You see, Joker, I had a real shitty day at work—I work over at Arkham Asylum and I just found out my best friend is seeing…a…person who should really be a patient in Arkham," I hinted to him at why I was in such a foul mood. His eyes immediately scanned the crowd of people on the dance floor and then up to the people sitting at tables and over sized couches. I turned around to see the view we had of the club from the bar, but Bruce and Pixie were still hidden behind others.
"Forget it," I said as I turned back to him. I took the shot of tequila and downed it. The Joker returned his gazed back to me and took his shot of tequila. We then took our second shot, clanked glasses and shot them back without hesitation.
"Now…for that…something stronger?" He asked, winking at me. I peered up at him quizzically, confused at what he was thinking. He obviously knew about Bruce and Pixie and my horrid mood—but what did he have in mind for me? What could be 'something stronger'? Maybe a quickie in the bathroom. I hoped. His purple hand took a light hold of my wrist and led me away from the bar and all the way to the back of the club near the bathrooms.
"Wait…right here," he instructed me and a slight smirk. I nodded in agreement and he slipped away from me. I stood against the wall next to the ladies' room and scanned the club yet again. This time, I was able to see Bruce and Pixie sitting at a table off in a secluded corner of the lounge. My heart sank as I saw them hunched over the small table, their faces nearly touching. There was no way he could possibly be in love with her. There was no way he could ever pretend something like that either—he hated her and as Batman, it would just be horribly unethical of him to fall in love with her—not to mention that as his best friend, he should never even consider dating her out of principle—she was my official arch nemesis. I paused at that thought. The Joker was Bruce's arch nemesis. I was with the Joker and Bruce supported me. He mildly supported me, but he did support me. Oh God, was I going to have to support Bruce in a relationship with Pixie Dust?!
The thought was much too difficult to endure in the moment. I forced myself to graze my eyes over to their table—just at the exact wrong moment. They leaned in and kissed each other. I wanted to vomit. It was the worst feeling imaginable—almost as bad as when I found out the Joker had once loved her. It was almost as bad as when I found out she was possibly carrying his baby. But this—this was my best friend. This was Batman—falling for this wench. Batman was falling. Who would save the hero after he's fallen? Would I have to save him? Would I have to support his sick and twisted romance with a woman I despised?
I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of that club. And where the fuck was the Joker? He ran off somewhere to get who-knows-what and left me in the line of fire with Mr. Fallen Hero and Ms. I'm-A-Pregnant-Whore.
"Giada—this way," the Joker grabbed my shoulder out of nowhere. I jumped, startled by his surprise entrance.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, forcing my eyes to meet his.
"Back here," he said in a low voice and led me around a corner from the bathrooms and into a small dark hallway. At the end of the hallway was a door. The Joker jiggled the door knob a couple of times broke into the room. Without glancing twice behind us, we stumbled into the dark room and closed the door behind us. There was a dim glow coming from the outside street lights that lit up most of the room. It looked like some kind of office. I guessed this must be where the Penguin conducts most of his business during the club's off hours. The Joker switched on a dim desk lamp and removed a couple of things from his pockets.
"What's all of that?" I asked, gliding over to the desk where he stood shuffling through his things.
"Your 'something stronger'. It's to…you know, help…ease…the pain," he explained, removing a spoon and a bag of white powder. My heart fell. He had drugs.
"You want me to do drugs with you?! This is NOT what I had in mind! You said the cocaine was the last and only time we'd ever do drugs! I will NOT partake in this!" I exclaimed, suddenly enraged by the display of white powder on the desk.
The Joker spun around and stared hard into my eyes. Licking his lips, he approached me slowly, "You said you wanted something stronger. I'm not going to advocate drug use as a…means of…forgetting, but I will advocate for the…" he averted his eyes from mine and grinned, "way I can make you forget…if you just, try it,"
I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. It sounded like he wanted me to use the drugs to forget about how shitty I felt about Bruce and Pixie—but that he would also help. I was curious about how he would help me—not how the drugs would help me. I knew the drugs couldn't possibly help me—but a part of me needed to know how he would help me. In that moment, it was necessary for me to learn how he could make me forget.
"What is it?" I asked, glancing down at the desk behind him. He turned around and meandered back to the desk and held up the packet.
"This?" he asked, jiggling it between his index finger and thumb. I nodded my head.
"Heroin," he responded, placing it back onto the desk. Heroin?! There was NO way I could try heroin. If it was cocaine, MAYBE I'd have given it a shot…or a snort, rather…but I knew I could get over that stuff now. Heroin?! Heroin is the most addictive substance out there! Heroin withdrawal is the worst kind of withdrawal out there. Oh, I was fucked.
"Heroin?!" I shrieked, then covered my hands over my mouth. I hadn't meant for my inner exclamation to make its way out loudly. "There is no way I can try heroin! Are you nuts?! That is the worst kind of withdrawal—and it's so addictive!"
"This is the one and only time I will ever allow us to…use it," the Joker explained carefully as he removed the syringes from his pocket. They were new, both in plastic packaging.
"But why heroin!? And where did you get it? Who did you buy it from?" I asked, feeling horribly dejected.
"Heroin—because you've never tried it. And where? Come on, Giada! Are you that crazy? Do you know where you are? This is a drug lord's haven! As for who…well…you could look out there at all of the little…innocent…people in the lounge…and any one of them would be a good answer. Except…Bruce Wayne—I don't feel he'd sell me any…heroin," the Joker licked his lips and stared intensely at me.
"I can't get addicted to drugs again—you know that!" I hissed back at him.
"You can't become addicted from one use," the Joker urged, "but it you really…refuse…I'll just be a minute," he turned to the table and opened one of the syringes. He placed it carefully onto the plastic bag and then removed his purple overcoat.
"You're really going to shoot up on heroin?" I asked, almost in disbelief. I was partially hurt by his actions—I didn't want him to be stoned on dope while I was suffering with Bruce and Pixie still at the club. What was even worse, the Joker knew I wanted nothing to do with drugs—he knew I was terrified of addiction because I had been addicted to cocaine. There he was, rolling up the sleeves on his button down shirt, holding the syringe now between his teeth. The red from his lips was smeared on the syringe.
Once his sleeves were rolled up, he removed the syringe from his mouth and placed it back onto the plastic bag, "I don't get addicted, Giada—you know that. I was just simply adhering to your request for something stronger—it was a…long shot…but I figured I'd take it. I'm not going to let it go to waste," he explained as he emptied the little bag of heroin into the spoon. Part of me felt bad…guilty even…for saying I wanted something stronger to get me through the evening. He went and bought only what he could interpret as something stronger—well, he was right—heroin was something stronger than tequila! I couldn't really fault him for that. He went and spent a decent buck on this heroin too—all in an attempt at fulfilling my request for something stronger.
I sighed and frowned. I had to do it with him. The guilt was overbearing.
"What do I do?" I asked finally, holding out my arm and looking at it for possible veins. He looked up at me and grinned. He had just dropped some water into the spoon to dissolve the heroin.
"Well, I'll suck up the heroin into these…syringes…then we…shoot up," he smirked again at me.
"Okay, that's great and all, but I don't know how to 'shoot up'. I mean, I guess I do if it's like taking someone's blood or giving them a shot, right?" I asked, moving closer to him, observing all that he did in preparation.
"Exactly," he replied, licking his lips and taking his syringe into his hand. With one hand, he sucked up some of the heroin into the needle and then placed it back down onto the plastic bag.
"Hold this," he handed me the spoon and then opened the second syringe bag. With one quick motion, he sucked up the remaining heroin into the second syringe and then handed it to me. I slowly placed the spoon down onto one of the plastic bags and watched him as he rolled up the sleeve on his left arm so that it was above his bicep. The tightness of the rolled sleeve on his upper bicep helped pop up some of the veins in his arm. I was mesmerized, not by his ability to shoot up, but by the size of his bulging bicep. It caught me off guard—and left me slightly wet in my pants. Whoops!
Before I could even realize it, he had pushed the plunger down and the heroin was ejected into his vein. He removed the needle and placed it onto the bag with the spoon.
"Aughhh," he sighed and shook his head, "Your turn, my lovely little Italian princess" he giggled as the drug kicked in. The darkness of his eyes was overwhelming as his pupils shrank into little pinpricks.
"I'm too nervous! I don't think I can give myself a shot—can you do it for me?" I asked, my heart rate increasing with each breath. He grinned seductively at me and slid to me effortlessly. He stood close behind me with his arms wrapped around me and softly took the needle from my hands. Placing it carefully into his right hand, he held my left arm with his left hand and held the syringe in his right hand as his arm wrapped itself across my body.
"Ready?" he whispered in a low voice into my ear. His breath sent chills down my back. I was eager to be where he was. The warmth of his body pressed up against mine was the perfect distraction as the needle slid into my arm and into the vein. He pushed the plunger in and sent the heroin surging into my blood stream. He removed the needle as quickly as it had entered me and tossed it onto the desk. In exactly 5 seconds, I felt what he felt 20 seconds before me.
"Whoa," I sighed as the rush hit me. He started kissing my neck and running his hands all over my body. I turned myself around in his arms and made my lips meet his. The feeling of his lips on mine was completely euphoric—like nothing I'd ever experienced. I was craving him in so many ways. I needed his lips to glide across mine and I needed his body pressed against mine and I needed him inside me.
"I need you," I whispered to him, "I'm so wet,"
At this confirmation, within seconds, my clothes were on the floor, as were his, and he had me bent over the desk. Sex on heroin was like a never ending orgasm—and when orgasm actually came, it was like a fireworks explosion all over my body.
After having sex in about five different positions, the Joker and I sprawled out on the office floor, naked, breathing slowly; our interlocked fingers being our only connection.
"I told you…the way I can make you…forget…is well worth it," he breathed slowly, his voice low.
"You were right…you're always right," I agreed lethargically as a smile slowly slid across my lips.
"Ohhh Giada…you're just too…much…fun," he sighed, sprawling himself out on the floor even more.
"Hey, do you remember how you told me…once…that I make you…dizzy? Is this feeling what you mean?" I asked, unable to speak at a reasonable rate. The Joker and I were to be stoned for the next few hours—lethargic, drowsy, low heart rate and slow breathing. It was relaxing, but getting kind of annoying. I liked life a bit faster than this—especially being an ex-cocaine addict, where life was always in the fast lane.
"Something like that—dizzy in the sense…you give me this…euphoric feeling. I feel…like this…when I'm with you—and when I'm not on heroin," he explained, turning his head towards me, hoping to catch a glimpse of my eyes.
"So this is what it feels like," I sighed, too dazed to really hear what he was saying.
"Giada—do you understand it? You should—you already know how to feel," the Joker stated.
"Yes—but now I know what it is like for you when you feel things…it feels like this," I giggled, glad to have the relaxed euphoric feeling spread through my body.
"It's not so much…the feeling—it's more of the…way…I feel when I'm with you, Giada. It's…the way," he tried to explain.
"Just tell me you love me, please!" I suddenly shouted, rolling over on my stomach. The Joker was silent. All was silent. All was black.