All That Jazz

That was how I woke up this morning. Book in hand, lamp blazing, and my body splayed across the entire bed. I groaned as I stretched, my muscles aching. I pulled on some clothes; an old pair of jeans with the knees ripped out, a dark purple long sleeved shirt, and I tugged a black spaghetti strap tank top I’d spray painted ‘Riot!’ on over it. I pulled the sleeves up to my elbows and brushed my hair into a ponytail before I headed downstairs for food.

“There’s a sight for sore eyes.” The Joker greeted me with a plate full of French toast.

“Merci.” I took the plate and sat down at the head of the table. “These are fantastic.” I said, chewing on my first bite.

“Thank you, there was a show on Food Network this morning, and I couldn’t sleep.” The Joker said freely, not looking up from his paper.

“Oh no.” I said. The Joker looked up at me, an alarmed look on his face.

“What?”

“You told me something about yourself. Is the world coming to an end? Should I run for cover?”

“I’ll show you something about myself.” The Joker muttered, returning to the newspaper in front of him.

“What was that?” I asked, trying to make him flustered.

“I said, I’d tell you more if you promised to stick around.” He got up and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a mug for coffee. I stared at him, a bite of chewed French toast stuck in my throat. I swallowed it as a thought popped in my head.

“What are you saying; that you want to be in a relationship with me?” I asked cautiously.

“I never said that.” The Joker objected, leaning on the kitchen counter facing me.

“You don’t have to! Your eyes say everything for you. Did I mention they look human today?” And I can’t stop looking at them?

“Oh well thank you, I actually tried today.” The Joker rolled his eyes, reaching for the coffeepot and pouring himself a mug.

“So are you gonna tell me or not?” I put down my fork, glaring at him.

“Tell you what? I think all the recent excitement has made you wacky.” He said before taking a drink. I knew he meant me getting acclimated to his line of work. I’d met my darker half, and she rejoiced in the chaos she caused by The Joker’s side.

“How you feel about me? That ring any bells?” I asked, gesturing my hand through the air.

“There’s nothing to tell! God, you are becoming worse than me!” He placed his coffee mug on the counter so he didn’t spill it.

“Well, then I’ll just pack my things and leave. It’s obvious I’m just wasting my time, and I have a life to get back to anyway.” I left the kitchen and headed upstairs to my room.

“Aww, do you have to leave? You just got here!” he came into my room just as I pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed.

“Look, it’s been surprisingly fun working with you. I feel like I’m the only person that knows you, yet I really don’t because you can’t answer even the simplest questions about yourself. So tell me, or I’m leaving.” Just tell me how you feel about me! I don’t want to leave. I forced myself to start placing things in my duffel bag.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” The Joker asked, taking the bag from me.

“Tough potatoes. Talk or I walk.” Just say something. Anything. Maybe then I can get some sleep at night. I grabbed the bag and continued stuffing clothes in it before zipping it shut.

“Tough potatoes? Who sold you that one?” He asked as I walked past him into the hallway.

“Some Amish chick.” I called over my shoulder as I walked down the stairs.

“I’d get my money back.”

“Walking out the door here!” I sighed and headed for the front door, bag in hand. I had opened the door and started to walk out when The Joker yelled something from behind me on the stairs.

“What?” I called back, turning to face the stairs. The Joker walked down the stairs to stand in front of me.

“The other day you asked me what my favorite color is. Now you know; it’s green. Are you still leaving?” The Joker crossed his arms.

“Why green?” I pressed, getting a sneaky feeling, like he was trying to pull a fast one on me. I kicked the door shut with my foot.

“I’m not answering that. You’ll have to threaten to leave me again.”

“Leave you?” Is he trying to tell me something? “There is no us, what are you talking about?” Are you saying you want to be with me?

“I didn’t say leave me, what are you talking about? Is there anything you’d like to tell me, like how you feel about me for example?”

“Why is green your favorite color?” I dodged the question. This is about him telling me how he feels, not the other way around.

“Because that’s the color of your eyes, ok?” The Joker yelled. My heart bounced at his words. “Listen, dollface, I’ve tried to keep my distance, I tried to scare you like I do everyone else, but you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. I don’t seem to scare you, and that made me think. With everything I tried that failed to scare you or make you beg for your life, I became more and more interested in you. I love looking at your eyes, but to be honest, I’m afraid to because I know I’ll never be able to stop!” The Joker yelled. “There, are you happy now?”

“I don’t know what to say…” I wonder where this will go? Would he be willing to try for a real relationship? I felt like my thoughts were stuck in place, like pipes that were clogged up.

“What, you wanna know more?” The Joker asked. “Fine. I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.” His hands found my hips and pulled me close.

“Well, guess what, I don’t want to kiss you!” My brain sludge finally unclogged and I pushed him away.

“Then why the fuck would you ask me?!” The Joker yelled. “God, you are one of the most confusing people in this world!”

“Because I don’t want to kiss The Joker. I want to kiss the man who became The Joker.”

“Well tough potatoes, princess!” The Joker stalked off, mumbling to himself. I let out an aggravated scream and practically ran to my room.

“You’re such an asshole!” I yelled down the hall before slamming the door.

“And you’re still shouting! Why can’t I tune you out? It’s like you yell on this nagging little frequency that digs underneath my skin and makes me crazy!” The Joker’s voice vibrated through the walls.

“You’re already crazy! And F.Y.I., you’re shouting too!” Jazmyne screeched. Her door opened to show The Joker leaning against the door frame.

“Just curious, how did you ever make a living singing on the streets, when all I hear is…“ The Joker cleared his throat. “Blah blah blah!” he said in a high squeaky voice.

“I’ll have you know that I make a great living singing on street corners. Because these;“ Jazmyne pointed to her throat. “-are worth a fortune. Do you have any idea how much money was spent developing these?”

“No, but…how long have you had those clothes?” The Joker crossed the room to stand next to her, looking down into her bag.

“A few years. I can’t really afford new clothes that often. I spend most of my money on rent and food.” Jazmyne started unpacking her bag, walking around The Joker.

“Well, if it would make you shout less, you can go shopping tomorrow. But you have to buy at least one thing that I pick out.”

“Within reason. And you’ve already bought me a closet full of dresses.” I didn’t want to spend all of his money.

“Yes, but those are for errands. Tomorrow you can buy whatever you want.”

“Trying to make people jealous?” I asked, smiling at the thought of The Joker showing me off.

“Hey, if I look this good, then you should too.” The Joker swept his hand through his hair.

“You are so full of it.” I laughed. I was rewarded with a cheesy smile as he walked out, going God knows where. After I put my clothes back up, I returned to my now cold French toast and finished eating it. The man knew how to cook.

What to do with the day? I thought about calling my friends, but I didn’t think The Joker would like that.

“Hey Clown Boy!” I called up the stairs. I loved that I was the only person who could get away with calling The Joker that. Anyone else who called him that ended up dead on the spot.

“What, Jazz?” he called back.

“I’m bored!” I heard him grumble and make his way to the top of the stairs. “Got any paints?” I asked.

“Feel free to look.” He said and disappeared. Jerk.

Needless to say, I spent a better half of the morning scouring the house for paint. I had no luck with paint, but I managed to find a blank sketchbook and some pencils in a drawer in the study.

When The Joker found me, I was sitting on a window seat in the sun room, sketching the sun beams and dust particles floating before my eyes. I’d already made several sketches of the harbor with the bridge over it, the waves, a seagull as it swooped past the window, and the papers littered the floor around me.

“Have you been there all day?” he asked, resting his hands on his hips and looking down at my artwork. “Wow, very nice. You didn’t mention you were an artist.”

“I figured you already knew.” I said plainly, finishing the sketch and closing the book. “What time is it?” I asked, stretching out.

“It’s almost four, dollface.” He offered me his hand. I grabbed it and as I stood he twirled me around as if we were waltzing.

“You know how to dance?”’ I asked, surprised he was being so gentle.

“Well enough.” He admitted. He walked away to the stereo and pushed a button. The sounds of Frank Sinatra filled the room as he walked back to me and offered me his hand again. With a smile, I took his hand and spun into him, putting my back to his chest. His arm wrapped around my hips and I turned to face him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Well enough my butt.” I said looking up at him as we danced around the living room.

“It’s a very nice butt.” He smiled when I glared at him.

“I’m surprised you listen to Frank.” I said, choosing to ignore the comment.

“I don’t.” The Joker said simply as he twirled me again. I looked at him for a second, confused. “I was bored, and he was on your iPod.”

“So now you’re snooping through my things?” I asked as he dipped me.

“I was curious.” He admitted; putting me back on my feet as the song ended.

“Did you like what you found?”

“It was very interesting, trying to imagine what music you listened to when and why.” He smiled as another song started, one of my favorites. “Care to dance again?”

“I don’t know; can you handle a faster one?” I asked, laughing.

“I’ll try.” He said as he grabbed my hand again.

I spent about an hour trying to teach The Joker how to do one dance, but he got frustrated and left to run an errand a little while ago. I guess dancing isn’t one of his strong points. But then again, who needs dancing when you can terrorize an entire city with one knife?





AN: Sorry it took me a while! I have more of the story already written, I'm just filling in the gaps, so please be patient with me! If you would like to contact me with questions about this story, you can either post said questions in a review or email me at piratechic13@yahoo.com. Thanks for your support!