All That Jazz

Her worn sneakers cut a staccato rhythm on the chipped pavement as she made her way down the backstreets of Harlem. Neighbors called back and forth and the sputter of cars could be heard from a distance. Stoops were crowded with teens drinking and smoking who knew what. A spattering of porch lights caught her attention and pulled her in a million different directions.
“Yo, Jazz!” a voice called from a darkened stoop. She turned to face the voice, searching for a sign of life. A young man stepped out into the street, wearing faded sneakers and a pair of ripped Levi’s. He strode toward her, his hand outstretched to grasp hers.
“Hey; hey! Derek! How’s it hangin’?” She grabbed his hand in the usual way, and wrapped her arm around his shoulder in a half-hug.
“S’all good. We got a block party comin’ up next month. Mama said she expects to see you there.” Derek scolded playfully.
“Aight, I’ll be there.” She nodded in farewell and turned to walk away.
“Hey, how was the gig?” Derek called as he returned to his stoop.
“Good. Made about 200.” She called back and rounded a corner, away from her friend.
“G’on, girl! You gon’ be famous one day. Hey, you be careful, girl! Word on the street is The Joker’s in town.” Derek yelled, his voice echoing off the buildings.
“Yeah, yeah.” She muttered under her breath. I guess I should hurry home. Since she’d left her childhood home at 15, she’d been a street performer. Singing late into the night on crowded streets and making enough cash to rent a decent apartment uptown near the Brooklyn Bridge. After a few years she’d saved enough money to buy a car. She was happy, making a living on her own terms and by her own rules. She’d left the car at home tonight, opting instead to take the subway across town and walk the ten blocks to where she was performing tonight. She was almost home, walking down the back alleys to her apartment when gunshots and screams rang out, and she quickened her pace. The cops would be out in a few minutes, and that was never pleasant. They took runaways seriously, even years after they’d run away. She tried to dodge them as much as possible. She heard several sets of rapid footfalls coming her way, and she froze, unsure of what to do. She knew most of the people who walked the streets, and no one held a grudge against her. She was safe at home on the streets of New York City. She stood still another moment, listening to the sounds around her. Before she could move again, she was knocked to the ground by a running brick wall. Her head bounced on the rough pavement, and her vision blurred. She could hardly believe her eyes when she saw the cloudy face of The Joker looming over her.
“Why so serious?” he cooed as he pulled her body up to his. She groaned; her head hurt like hell.
“Hey, a play toy.” Laughed a man in the background. The Joker raised his AK-47 and shot the man without taking his eyes off of her.
“Get the van.” He ordered quietly. When none of his henchman moved, he barked, “Now!” She was vaguely aware of shadows moving out of her line of sight. All she could focus on was The Joker, who moved a hand to cradle her head.
“You’ve got a nasty lump there, dollface. I’m sorry I ran into you.” He said softly. She heard the words, but couldn’t remember what they meant. “Oh fine, you caught me. I really don’t care. I just wish you were more…conscious!” The Joker cackled, and her fuzzy brain instantly gave in to fear. She writhed and groaned, desperate to get away. “Now see, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.” The Joker thumped her on the head and she collapsed against him. He crouched slightly to lift her up bridal style, just as the van screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley. The Joker climbed in and a henchman slid the door closed behind him. The tires screamed and bitter smoke filled the air as they rocketed down the street.
~~~~
She was surrounded by white light. Am I dead? Cautiously, she opened her heavy eyelids to find herself in a hospital bed. What the hell? How did I get here? Footsteps sounded in the hallway and a nurse popped into the room.
“Good morning, girly! How’d you sleep?” the nurse asked happily as she opened the curtains. Stunningly bright sunshine broke through my grogginess.
“Ugh.” Was all I could force out of my dry mouth.
“That bad, huh? Girl, be thankin’ your lucky stars you’re in here. You almost died last night.” The nurse stood at my bedside now, checking the monitors I was hooked up to.
“How did I get here?” I scratched out. My throat was so dry I swear I’d swallowed sandpaper.
“Don’t you know, baby?” She paused, gauging my reaction. “The Joker showed up with you in his arms, demanded a room and left as quick as that! Ain’t that somethin’!” The nurse, whose nametag read Elle in fuzzy letters, softly patted my arm.
“I don’t remember that.”
“Well, ‘course not, honey, you were out cold!” Elle looked at me sympathetically. “Did he hurt you?” she asked quietly.
“He ran into me.” I said, the floodgates of my memory opened and the annoying fuzz between my ears went away. “I fell back and…my head hit the ground. I think I even bounced a little.” Elle looked at me with nothing short of motherly concern. “He picked me up and all I could see was his face, all that makeup. He said something and I heard what he said, but I didn’t understand him. Then…he shot somebody and the shadows…I guess they were his henchmen, went somewhere, and then it was just me and him. He was almost gentle with me. And then I woke up here.”
~~~~
The cops stared at me as I retold my tale for the third time that day. First I’d told Elle, then my doctor, and then he called the police, who had to ask me a million questions about The Joker. Like I know what’s in his head. I don’t wanna know. Apparently the bastard knocked me out when I already had a concussion from my head jumping rope with the concrete. But why would he go to the trouble to bring me here? He could have kept me and watched me die. I’ve heard he likes to watch people suffer.
My doctor decided to keep me in the hospital for a while. He prescribed antidepressants and anti-anxiety pills for me, convinced I would have lasting psychological trauma from my run-in with the psycho clown. For two weeks my life returned to normal, as much as possible given I was laying in a hospital bed with no one to talk to besides Elle. Thank Atum I’d had money saved up in case something like this happened.
~~~~
By the time I reached my building, it was almost dark. I walked up the bright stairwell to the third floor and made my way down the silent hallway. I let myself into my dimly lit apartment and headed straight to the answering machine. Pushing the button, I walked to my bed and set down my hospital bag.
“One new message.” The machine beeped and the tape started to play. I opened my bag, pulling out the stuffed moose Elle had bought me in the hospital’s gift shop.
“Hey, there dollface, just wanted to make sure you made it home safely. There are some crazy people on the streets.” My blood froze as The Joker’s voice flooded my quiet apartment. “Try not to hit your head on any more concrete, ok?” The Joker laughed eerily and hung up. I shivered from head to toe, glancing uneasily around the apartment. How did he find my number? My bra gave me a particularly vicious poke as I bent over to erase the creepy message. With a growl, I reached into the torture device and fished around to find the offender. My fingers came upon a smooth material that wasn’t my bra or my skin. Pulling it out, I discovered it was a playing card. What the hell? How did this get here? Turning it over, I noticed that it was a joker card, with typed words next to the joker. Oh my god, he put this here! How did he get in my shirt? What did he do while he had me? I read the words typed on the card and my heart leapt in my throat. ‘Catch you later, dollface.’