SAL MARONI HAD ALWAYS BEEN THERE FOR STEPHANIE CARMICHAEL, EVEN WHEN SHE DIDN'T WANT HIM AROUND.
But then again, it wasn't like they had much of a choice. The two were half-siblings, and family meant the world to Sal. Although they were 15 years apart and Stephanie was born from his mother's one-night stand with a hitman in Marino's mafia, he had convinced Big Marino to keep her within the mafia walls. Sal himself took care of her.
She owed him, but now it seemed Sal wanted that favor cashed in.
The two half-siblings stood in front of a backdoor. Sal had on his grey fedora and matching suit. Stephanie wore clothes a little more casually; she had on jeans and a mint green top with spaghetti straps that fluttered in the wind.
"This is extremely suspicious," Stephanie told him.
"I never said it was clean."
"Clearly. You wanna tell me why we're in an alley in broad daylight?"
Sal rolled his eyes in response.
"Aren't you supposed to do shady business where no one can see it?"
"Do you ever stop asking questions?" He inquired, glaring at Stephanie with a familiar annoyed expression.
"Where are you taking me?" She pressed.
"Good riddance. Now I know why Mom wanted just one kid," Sal grumbled.
"Yeah. But she reconsidered after having you."
Sal laughed and then suddenly turned somber as he looked at the restaurant.
"What?" Stephanie asked.
"Just thinking. Do you still like Chinese food?"
She gave him a look, as if to say "really?".
"Great. Ladies first," Sal grinned mockingly, waving his half-sister in.
"Maroni!" A man with shoulder length black hair exclaimed in a thick European accent. When he saw Stephanie instead of Sal, he frowned. "The hell is this...?"
"Relax, Chenchen. She's with me."
"Stephanie," offered the caramel-haired beauty. She shook his hand firmly, making it a point to look this Chenchen in the eyes.
I'm not scared of you.
"I thought we keep this downlow?" Chenchen asked Sal, giving Stephanie a smile that was more threatening than welcoming.
"Uh, I don't mean to impose. Sal and I can come back any—"
"I not talking to you," Chenchen interjected.
Stephanie recoiled as if she had been slapped, too stunned to think of a comeback. Her eyes darted to the exit on her left. If Sal's friends were this rude to his sister, what kind of people were they? Maybe she could still leave.
As if he had read her mind, Sal threw an arm around Stephanie's shoulders and locked her in place. "This is on the downlow. We're family."
"If you can even call us that," Stephanie snorted. At best, they were a dysfunctional pair of siblings. "Where's the food? I'm hungry."
"Just a second, kid. Go grab yourself a seat."
She turned left but a heavy hand stopped her.
"Ow," She said under her breath as Chenchen tightened his hold on her arm and dragged her to the kitchen.
"Not in open, genius." He snapped. "In there."
"Are you serious?" She asked. "Let go of me!"
Chenchen didn't let go, and Sal didn't stop him.
Instead, her brother walked forward and pulled out a foldable chair for her.
Chenchen forcefully sat Stephanie down. When he stepped out of her personal space and took his distinct scent of liquor and cigar, the putrid smell of the kitchen slapped Stephanie in the face.
"Oh my god," She gagged.
"Did you kill someone and hide their body here?" Sal questioned Chenchen, scrunching his face up.
"Maybe," Chenchen replied, leaving the Maroni siblings to ponder if he was serious or not.
"Sally, what are you doing? And more importantly, why am I here?"
Sal didn't answer.
Thirty minutes later, Stephanie received her answer in the form of twenty men. All were dressed in some sort of fancy wear. They settled down in their seats at two buff men carried a TV into the room.
Sal strode in and slid Stephanie a takeout box of crab fried rice, ignoring her attempts to get answers.
So much for our bonding time.
"Who's he?" Stephanie mumbled and nodded to the TV screen, opening the box and wielding her chopsticks like a pro.
"Lau. He's helping with the family fortune."
"I wasn't aware we had a family fortune."
"Well, now you are."
Everyone settled in their seats. Each gang of criminals stuck to their groups. Stephanie recognized some from the mugshots they plastered over the news, but most of the men were nameless.
"Gentlemen, please. As you're all aware, one of our deposits was stolen. A relatively small amount: 68 million. "
Stephanie choked on her rice, prompting Sal to thump her on the back and hand her a glass of water. Under the table, she quietly fumbled with her phone and pressed record. Whatever shady business Sal had just roped her into, Stephanie could make a story of it.
If she didn't die first.
"Who's stupid enough to steal from us?" À mon boss in a purple suit roared down the row.
"That's Gambol," Sal said before Stephanie could ask. He adjusted his grip on the table and leaned forward, anticipating Lau's answer like everyone else.
"I'm told the man who arranged the heist calls himself Joker."
The Joker?
"Who the hell is that?"
"Two-bit whack-job wears a cheap purple suit and make-up," Sal said scathingly. "He's not the problem- he's a nobody. The problem is our money being tracked by the cops."
Stephanie stared at her half-brother in disbelief. She couldn't help but internally groan at her sheer naïvety. Sal hadn't given up the Mafia life. He never would.
So if he isn't here to cut ties with his past, what is he here for?
"Thanks to Mr. Maroni 'a well-placed sources we know that police have indeed identified our banks using marked bills and are planning to seize your funds today."
"You promised safe, clean money launder," Chenchen said.
"With the investigation ongoing, none of you can risk hanging on to your own proceeds. And since the enthusiastic new D.A. has put all my competitors out of business, I'm your only option."
"So what are you proposing?" Sal asked.
"Moving all deposits to one secure location. Not a bank."
Gambol frowned, "Where, then?"
"Obviously, no one can know but me. If the police were to gain leverage over one of you everyone's money would be at stake."
Bullshit.
"Sounds like a con to me," Stephanie spoke up suddenly. Every head turned toward her.
"And who are you?" Lau inquired sneeringly.
"Watch your tone. That's my sister you're talking to," Sal growled. "She's gonna be taking over the family business soon so you might want to watch yourself."
"I can speak for myself," Stephanie snapped. To Sal, she glared. "And no, I am not becoming the next Maroni mob boss. I have nothing to do with this."
"My name is Stephanie Carmichael," She raised her voice, hoping it carried over to all those around the table. "And I don't appreciate your tone, Mr. Lau."
"This isn't Model United Nations, sweetheart. This is business. You either toughen up or walk away."
Stephanie bit back some colorful curse words. "What's stopping the police from getting to you?" She angled her phone closer to the TV, cautious not to expose it.
"As the money is moved, I go to Hong Kong. Far from Dent's jurisdiction. And the Chinese will not extradite one of their own."
"He'll go after you," Stephanie retorted. "The Batman."
A slow laugh echoed in the kitchen. The low cackle made the pots and pans tremble, as if the tremor of his low voice made them shiver and shake in terror. The men around the table, were no different, despite how much false bravado made them puff their chests out. The mobster with a purple coat, Gambol, griped the table until his knuckles turned white. Chenchen lip rolled up into a vicious sneer. His cronies shifted in their seat, preparing to follow their leader into battle if necessary.
Beside Stephanie, Sal tensed. A frown was beginning to form on his lined face and if Stephanie didn't know better she would say he looked scared.
But Sal Maroni wasn't scared of anything. When they were teenagers, Stephanie was comforted by this fact. Not matter how horrible or intimidating her boyfriends were when they were piss drunk, Sal was always the bigger, scarier, and louder guy. Maybe that said more about Stephanie's taste in men than it did about Sal's fearlessness.
The laughing intruder swung the door open. The first thing she saw was heavy black boots; they scraped against the floor instead of stomping like they were most likely made to do. It was like he couldn't be bothered to walk properly. Stephanie's eyes traveled up the muscles of his legs that were exaggerated by the purple trousers that hugged his lower half and to the matching overcoat.
Fear slid down her spin as she finally looked at his face. Lime green hair. Sweaty clown makeup. Awful awful scars.
His eyes snapped to her.
"My, my, my. What's a-happenin' here? Maroni, you never said you had-a smokin' sissy!"
When Stephanie and Sal stayed silent, he moved on. "But this fell-ah?" He pointed to the TV and waved to Lau. "Tells worse jokes than-uh me, and I thought I had them bad jokes."
"Give me one reason I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off," threatened Gambol.
The Joker pulled out a freshly sharpened pencil and brandished it for everyone to see.
"How bout-a magic trick?"
Suddenly, he slammed the pencil on the table and left it upright.
"I'll make-a this pencil disappear. You-ah...you watchin', smokin'?"
The Joker was talking to her.
"Mhmm," She managed. His attention burned her skin. It was wrong. Sordid. Animalistic.
Yet, a small part of Stephanie liked the way the Joker chose to look at her out of all the people in the room.
Gambol grew frustrated. He nodded and then one of his lackey's stood up and strode over, ill intent clear on his face.
But the Joker was ready. He sidestepped and slammed the bodyguard's head on the table. To the crazy man's credit, the pencil did disappear.
"Magic!" Joker giggled. "And by the way-uh, the suit wasn't cheap. You should know. You bought it."
Gambol stood up, eager to wring his hands around the Joker's neck. Surprisingly Chechen stopped him.
"Sit," ordered Chenchen. "I wanna hear proposition."
Joker nodded his thanks and licked his lips. No, Stephanie corrected herself; he licked his scars.
"A year ago these-uh cops and lawyers wouldn't dare-tah cross any of ya. What happened? Did your balls drop off? See, a guy like me—"
"—A freak," Gambol chuckled.
The Joker's jaw tightened, "A-a guy like me . . . I know why you ' re holding your little group therapy session in broad-ah daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at nighttt. Batman. He's shown Gotham your true...colors. And Dent's just-ah the beginning."
Stephanie slid her phone above the table, so the camera could capture Joker's uninhibited spiel.
This would make for a brilliant story. Her fingers itched at the thought of writing it out. She could already see the headline:
CRAZY CLOWN CHALLENGES THE BATMAN.
Or even : GOTHAM'S ELITE CRIMINALS REDUCED TO NOTHING.
"And as for his so-called plan — the Batman....he has no jurisdiction. He'll-uh find him and make him squeal."
Joker smiled at Lau through the TV screen. "I can tell-uh the squealers everyyy time."
"What you propose?" said Chenchen in his thick accent.
"It's simple. Kill the Batman."
Jeers and laughter of mockery erupted from the criminals around the table. Stephanie stayed silent and watched as the smile on the Joker's face grew sharper.
"If it's so easy why haven't you done it already?" Sal crowed, amusement in his question. With just one look, it was clear her brother underestimated the Joker. Stephanie knew better than to do that.
The clown huffed, "Like my mother used tah tell me — if you're good at something, never do it for free."
"How much you want?" Chenchen roared, humoring him.
"Half."
More laughter. Some people were hunched over in their chairs, clutching at their stomach as tears rolled down their face. Sal's chest shook with silent chuckles.
The joker looked unbothered. "You don't deal with this now, soon-uh Gambol won't even be able-ta get a nickel for his grandma—"
"—Enough from the clown," insisted Gambol, who stood up and prepared to remove the insane criminal frown their meeting himself.
In a blink of an eye, Stephanie was yanked out of her chair. Her back hit a hard chest, and suddenly the room was no longer filled with laughter.
The Joker smelled of gasoline and wickedness. His arms were surprisingly strong; he wrapped one around her neck and held it at a strange angle. Then, the Joker adjusted his stance and dug something in Stephanie's back — a kitchen knife perhaps.
She refused to appear afraid but her heart was beating a million miles per hour. With the silence of the room, Stephanie thought everyone could hear how hard it pounded against her ribcage.
His dark eyes stared down at her, the luminescents turning them a startling gold around the edges. They would have been utterly beautiful if not for the cruel light that danced within their depths. And his smile could have brought the entire world down to its knees if it hadn't been ruined and scarred so rakishly.
"Let's not blow this out of all proportion," The Joker said, gesturing to the something she couldn't see.
"The crazy bastard has bombs!" Sal roared but he didn't move any closer. He sat on his chair and gave the Joker a hard glare.
"You think you can steal from us and just walk away? I'm putting the word out- 5 hundred grand for this clown dead. A million alive, so I get to teach him some manners, first."
"Let the girl go," Chenchen said, piping up. "She innocent."
"Are you sure about that?" The Joker smirked. His hands danced over her collarbone and tugged at the phone she had clamped to her chest. Stephanie ignored the way her heart sped up.
"A bunch of elite criminals and you don't even know when this smokin' lil' doll's got her nose sniffing through ya business." He showed them the phone which had been recording everything.
"Sorry, toots. This ain't personal," said the Joker before slamming the phone down on Stephanie's head. Glass from the screen pierced the side of her face and brought about pinpricks of pain. The Joker slammed the broken phone again and laughed as she squirmed in his grip.
"Alright stop, you made you point," Sal stood up, walking forward.
"Stay where you are!" He yelled. To the throng of mobs, he said, "Lettt me know when ya change your minds."
And then the Joker rammed the knife straight into her side and pushed Stephanie into Sal's arms.
"I'll be collecting on that," The Joker mumbled. He stumbled to the door, never facing away from Stephanie and the criminals. His finger was on the grenade, prepared to pull and blow the entire restaurant and the street to pieces if any one dared stop him.
No one did.
"Steph, are you okay?"
Stephanie released a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. She slowly slid the knife out from the space between her arm and her torso. The Joker had stuck it in a precise angle without nicking a quarter of an inch of her skin. Although she was unscathed, the area tingled from the cool steel, and she swore she could feel liquid running down her sides.
But there was no blood.
Stephanie was fine. For now.
"Don't ever call me again," She sneered, ripping her arm away from her brother's grasp. "I don't want this life. Never did. Stop dragging me into your problems and thinking I give a damn about you or them."
The head of the Marino mob looked hurt but his voice was stone cold, "Then don't let me catch you lurking around here. We'll forget about the video since it's destroyed. You try anything like that again and I'll—"
"What? Kill me?" Stephanie chuckled darkly. "Stop trying to be your father, Sal. You don't scare me."
"What happened to my one chance?" He asked.
She shoved her way out the door and didn't look back. "You blew it!"
The Joker's insane laugh followed her all the way home.