Mean 51
I like boys with strong convictions,
And convicts with perfect diction,
Underdogs with good intentions.
-- "So Nice, So Smart," Kimya Dawson
.: Behind Kelly's :.
She grinned when she saw him and trotted over, her strides long and easy. It had been three days since she'd heard from him, right outside her bedroom window, and Amalia was relieved to see that Jake didn't look too worse for the wear. He was his normal self, tall and strong, standing there in his dark blue jeans, black untucked dress shirt, and motorcycle boots. He looked tired, but then again, Jake always looked tired to those that cared enough to see it.
"What are you doing back here?" She tossed her hair out of her face and ran into him, closing her eyes when she felt his arms come to wrap around her. "Don't you want to go inside? Get something to eat?"
Jake shook his head and reached out to his left, plucking a large, folded up brown bag up off a crate. "Got our breakfast right here."
She didn't need to look inside to know that he'd gotten her an apple cinnamon muffin, a half glass of orange juice, a cinnamon crunch bagel, and French Vanilla coffee. It was what she usually had whenever they met for breakfast at the little diner.
Amalia leaned into him again and Jake rested his chin on her head before he reluctantly let her pull away.
"So, uh, what'd you tell your dad?"
"Told him I was hanging out with CeeCee and a couple of the others," she smiled, looping her arm through his. "What do you need me for?"
Jake shifted his weight from one foot to the other and decided this whole thing would be a lot less awkward if they had things to nibble and sip. He handed her the muffin and the orange juice and selected just the coffee for himself. Amalia broke off a piece of the muffin and walked with him down the docks toward Elm Street.
"I've, uh, been trying to find a place to live."
She looked at him with concern. "Where are you staying now? If you need-"
"With Cameron."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Jake shuffled his feet. "He wouldn't let me stay anywhere else. Said he didn't want me off by myself somewhere."
"Hm." Amalia let her hand graze his arm. "Sounds like Cameron."
"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "I can't really decide."
"On a new place?"
"Yeah."
She considered this slowly, carefully. "Well, do you have any kind of general idea? Do you want a new place, just on the market? Do you want to design one yourself and have it built? Do you want another one in the historic district? You really liked the first one you bought back when you and Morgan were trying to stick it to Mayor Floyd. What do you think?"
Jake shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I just…want a new place."
Amalia was used to his vague answers, used to those moments when even Jake didn't know what he wanted. "Ooookay. Um, but where do I fit in with this?"
"I want you to pick it for me."
She almost choked on her orange juice. "Me? What? You're kidding, right?"
"Why would I be kidding?"
"Because – Because," she sputtered, "I'd be picking the place where you lived."
"So?"
"You'd have to live there."
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Yeah, that'd be the idea."
Amalia let out a little huff. "Jake, I'd be picking the place where you lived. Your home."
"So?" he asked again, rolling his shoulders. "I trust you. Just pick something for me."
"But I don't know what kind of place you'd like," she pointed out. "Like I said before – new style? Just on the market? Historic? Brownstone? To say nothing of the different styles."
She began to tick them off on her fingers as Jake rolled his eyes. "Colonial, Georgian, Federal, Greek Revival, Neoclassical, Eclectic-"
He turned so he was facing her and stopped her, putting his large hand over hers. "Amalia. Stop. It doesn't matter to me. Just pick someplace and don't tell me about its history. I don't want to know anything about it, when it was built, who lived there, why they left, nothing. I just want a new place – I just want to live there. And I want you to pick it."
"But-"
"Just ask yourself where you'd be comfortable living," he suggested with a little shrug. "Someplace that you could see yourself being. Someplace you like enough to call it home. Go with that one."
She pursed her lips together and tapped her red nails on the coffee cup he'd just handed her. "…Okay. I'll try to find something you like."
Jake had to laugh at that and shook his head. "I'll like anything you pick out. So pick out something that you like. Okay?"
Amalia nibbled on her lip and nodded. "Okay."
.: Cameron's Apartment :.
A half-eaten Danish from Kelly's was congealing on his coffee table. Cameron walked in, saw it, wrinkled his nose, and promptly began to look around for his brother.
"Jake?" He set his backpack down on the floor and kicked off his shoes, quickly checking the kitchen and main room but didn't see him. "Jake!"
Before he could even think about it, his eyes went straight to his wet bar. But all the bottles and glasses were in order and didn't look like they'd been used, with the exception of a half-empty water bottle that sat on top of his stereo.
Personally, Cameron didn't get it. Jake was one of the neatest guys he knew, almost meticulously so. He couldn't leave his stuff lying around on principle – it was an occupational hazard, after all. While he'd been staying with their mother, he was very good about locking all of his papers and his gun away in drawers, sometimes even under false bottoms in those drawers, where he knew Elizabeth couldn't find them. His penthouse at Oceanside Towers was similarly immaculate. He used it mainly for meeting with associates for sensitive meetings that couldn't be held at restaurants and the like, and had every reason to keep his things locked away and all surfaces clean.
But now that he'd been staying with him for a half a week, Cameron was starting to see what Jake was really like. He was still just as good about keeping what few papers he had with him out of sight, joking that he didn't want Cameron to start out searching for his medical notes and end up having to testify in front of a grand jury, and his gun never left his person. While Cameron didn't inquire about it, he felt that his brother was reluctant to leave his weapon anywhere in the apartment, as if doing so would taint the place. And though it wasn't necessary, Cameron appreciated the sentiment.
"JAKE!"
The bathroom door opened and his brother stepped out, frowning curiously at him. "What? Can't a guy take a leak without all this hollering? What do you want?"
"Nothing," he feigned, flashing him a teasing grin. When they were teenagers, Jake used to spend a good amount of time in the bathroom with his hair gel and Cameron had taken to staging all sorts of fake-outs to get him to come out. "Did you eat all my food or is there actually something I can have for lunch?"
Jake smiled ruefully. "…I ordered in. Should be here any minute."
"Thank God." Cameron flopped down on the couch and rested his feet on the coffee table, waving for Jake to get that damn pastry out of his way. "Starving."
"Why aren't you eating at the hospital?"
"…Moll's making me boycott."
This was the first Jake had heard of this. "Boycott the caf? Why?"
"Their food's loaded with trans fats," Cameron admitted. "Now that California's passed the law outlawing that stuff, New York's next on the list. The bill's being considered by the Senate right now. Morgan probably knows about it. Anyway, everyone in support of it is boycotting places that use that stuff. So Moll says the cafeteria is verboten from here on out until that bill passes or until they make significant changes to their menu and practices."
He stretched out on the couch, burrowing deeper into the cushions. "Now, as a doctor, I guess I see the point. Trans fats are awful for the body. California had the right idea. But now I have to find food elsewhere and – why do you keep looking at your watch?"
Jake was saved from answering by the doorbell that chimed just then. He walked over to the door and let in Molly, who flashed her boyfriend a smile and promptly set up her laptop on his coffee table. The delivery man had also arrived and Jake paid him and brought in the food.
"Turkey," he muttered, passing the sandwich to Molly, "chili for you, and mine. Moll, did you get that stuff taken care of?"
"Did it this morning," she chirped. "Transferred all the funds and got rid of the trail. I figured it was easier to do it with one more laundering firm, so I set up another foundation and-"
Jake tipped his head toward Cameron, who was rolling his eyes. "Easy. Give me the specifics later. The Boy Scout's ears are burning."
"Fuck you."
Molly laughed at them and continued to click away on her computer. "Boy Scout's ears can burn for just a sec longer because I have to ask – the thing's on for tonight, right? Solid?"
Jake nodded, knowing she was referring to the hit on a small-time rival that was proving to be much more trouble than he was worth. Carmine Bassurto wouldn't be making it through the night. "Yeah, Chase is handling it personally. It'll go off without a hitch."
She nodded without making eye contact. "Great. Another thing. You said before that you wanted a final run-through of physical properties in this state so you could decide which to keep, which to renovate, and which to put on the market. You want to do that sooner or later? Give me a timeframe to work with so that I can rework my schedule."
"…Let's do it sooner rather than later," Jake finally replied, tearing a large bite from his sandwich. "I want to get that taken care of. Oh, and when we liquidate – transfer those funds immediately to the same account you used this morning, okay?"
"Noted," Molly nodded. "I'll comb through the database and some of Spinelli's files and put together a list of all the properties we own. You want the safe houses that Sonny and Jason set up, too, right? They're part of this?"
Jake nodded. "I want us both to know exactly what properties we have and where. No more guess work, no more surprises. And when it's set, I want you heading out with me to inspect the properties. Chase and Penn, too. We'll take Morgan if he feels like it – that'll shut his dad up about me excluding him from shit."
"I'll make sure they all know when I'm ready," she promised. "I'll take care of it."
"And I want a clean up crew with us, too," Jake added. "The last safe house I dropped into had a dead body decaying in the closet. How Sonny survived, being so sloppy, I'll never know. Have a crew on call when we sweep, in case something unwanted turns up."
"Got it."
"You're getting rid of some of the safe houses?" Cameron licked his spoon clean. "Couldn't you conceivably save one of them and live there?"
Jake made a face. "I'm not going to do that."
"You gotten around to finding a place to stay? Not that I'm telling you to get out – you can stay here as long as you like if you stop leaving food all over the place."
"…I've got someone on it."
Molly giggled at that, drawing a glare from Jake and a curious look from Cameron.
"What was that about?" The young doctor looked back and forth between his girlfriend and brother. "Well?"
"Nothing."
"He told Amalia to pick a place for him," Molly grinned, sticking her tongue out when Jake scowled at her. "She's been combing through real estate listings for the past three days and meeting with realtors and such. El-oh-el."
Cameron winced visibly when she LOL-ed, but knew better than to say anything about it. It was just Molly's typical speech pattern. He was just lucky that she did it only when she was around friends and the men she worked with and not in public or at any of the hospital-related functions he dragged her to.
"You're making Amalia pick out your place?"
Jake scowled again at his grin, glancing at his buzzing phone before flipping it off and tossing it onto the couch. "Shut up."
"Who was that?" Cameron squirmed and glanced at the phone, then his brother, whose expression remained troubled. "Mom?"
"Mom."
"Ah." He scraped together another spoonful of chili, choosing not to comment.
Molly, however, wasn't as intuitive about the situation as Cameron and didn't really know that much about it, so her curiosity remained intact. "Have you talked to her at all since…?"
Jake shook his head. "Nope."
"Are you going to?"
He stared at his sandwich, feeling Cameron's eyes on him. The past week had been a difficult one, one of the most difficult he could remember. He was used to seeing his mother every day, to spending a couple nights a week under her roof, to always having her nearby to fuss and hover over him and make sure he was eating right. This past week, his contact with her had been limited and somewhat strained. He'd seen her once at Kelly's when he was getting breakfast for himself and Amalia the day he'd asked her to take over his house-hunting responsibilities, and had quickly picked up his order and ducked out the back. She'd called him a couple times and he'd either genuinely missed the call due to business or let it go to voicemail.
He knew that Cameron wondered if he'd ever lash out at their mother like he did Jason. And honestly, Jake doubted it. Ever since he'd been a child, he had a real problem raising his voice to his mother and found that he just couldn't do it. It was probably because of all the times he'd hidden on the stairs or on the landing (despite how Cameron tried to drag him to the safety of their bedrooms) listening to Lucky yelling at Elizabeth. He never wanted to be one of those men that insulted her like that, that demeaned her and belittled her abilities.
His mother made very, very stupid choices when it came to the men in her life. Supremely stupid choices. And Jake knew he had to accept that there was nothing he could do to change that. He was used to being able to change things that didn't suit him, and found it difficult to cope with the fact that sometimes, that just wasn't possible. He couldn't go back in time and prevent his mother from making her stupid, stupid choices, just like he couldn't go back in time and shake some sense into his father.
The fact that they suffered for their choices didn't mean anything to him. They made those choices, and what was more, they made those choices for him, wrongfully assuming they were doing what he would have wanted, what would have been best for him. What would have been best for Jake was to have had his father with him, so he really couldn't care about how much they suffered due to the mess they and they alone had created. Cameron and Mal both pointed out that his apathy to their suffering was probably because no one had suffered more than Jake himself had.
He knew that his lashing out hurt Jason. Jason was a quiet man that didn't broadcast his feelings and even hid his anger. Jake wasn't like that at all, especially not where his father was concerned. He had absolutely no qualms about letting Jason have it whenever the older man made the mistake of making a particularly loaded remark. That sort of behavior hurt Jason, and there was a small part of Jake that still delighted in the fact that he had that power over him.
But his mother…he knew the silence killed her. Not having him around to talk to, to laugh with, not being able to run her hand through his hair…that silence and lack of contact was devastating for her. And it wasn't intentional on his part, this torture he was no doubt exacting. Jake didn't want to torture his mother. He didn't want her to be devastated because of him, any more than she had been since he joined up with Morgan.
All it was was that he just couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't go back to acting like things were just fine between them, that he was still her little boy and that she was still the largest part of his life. She wasn't. He had his business to run, he had his new name to grow into, he had so many new opportunities that demanded his attention, so many other people that demanded his investment. And what self-respecting mob boss was still a mama's boy?
Jake had to admit, he was still a little worried about how his mother would handle this. He wasn't handling it all that well, either, being distanced from her, truly distanced, for the first time in his life. But when Elizabeth felt that either of her boys was in danger, she fell back into old patterns and made stupid choices. When they were kids and Anthony Zacchara started to get too close, and a reporter had accosted her outside of Kelly's about Jake's paternity, Elizabeth lied and said that he was Lucky's and what was more, the two of them were planning to get back together. The lie hadn't accomplished much of anything, really, because Anthony Zacchara was far too smart for that, but it had caused a lot of confusion for Elizabeth, Lucky, Sam McCall, Jason, and even Cameron, who heard about it on TV and asked if they were all going to be a family again.
Jake just hoped that there would be no more stupid choices on either of their parts. He had his life to lead, he had his choices to make, and he couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone when his mother called and fall back into his old patterns. Nothing would ever change how much he loved Elizabeth; he just didn't know that he could ever go back to blindly trusting her the way he did before to always have his best interests at heart. Because he'd realized that at times, what his mother thought to be his best interest was not at all what Jake thought to be the same.
He sighed heavily and set his sandwich down, not very hungry anymore.
"I don't know, Moll."
.: Oceanside Towers, Penthouse 2 :.
Morgan sent off the email to his brother and switched his phone to the other ear. "Yeah, I've still got the list of all the historic properties in town. You want the ones owned by the banks, only? What for?"
He listened for a long moment and finally cracked a grin. "He asked you to pick out his place?"
Her answer made him laugh quite hard, and Morgan couldn't stop grinning at her naiveté. "What do you mean? Come on, Amalia, why do you think Jake asked you to pick out a house for him? Someplace that you liked, someplace you wouldn't mind living?"
He was still grinning as she sputtered out a reply on the other end. "You're an idiot."
The computer screen refreshed automatically, alerting him to a new message, and Morgan opened it and quickly skimmed it while she squawked. He switched the phone to the other ear, a sometimes compulsive habit of his, and scoffed while he typed.
"Oh, forget it. If you can't figure it out on your own, I'm sure as hell not going to tell you. What, you want him to attack me? Forget it. I thought you girls were supposed to be smart about this shit. No, I won't tell you what shit. Figure it out yourself. God."
Another message to his colleague in Manhattan was sent, and Morgan was still smirking. "Forget it. I'll send you the list of places now, okay? Remember, pick some place you like, ok- Hello? Fuck all."
Rolling his eyes, he set his phone down on the table and searched his files for the list she wanted. Within seconds it was found, attached, and on its merry way, and that was when his phone rang again.
"I can't believe this is my fucking day off, too," Morgan grumbled, reaching for it. "What?"
It was one of the officers that Jake and Morgan had on their payroll. "Mister Corinthos, you need to get down to the PCPD immediately."
"Paul?" He frowned and lowered the lid on his laptop halfway. "What's going on? What is this?"
"Your uncle was just hauled in, cuffed and everything, on suspicion of the Bassurto murder. The Commish is on the war path."
Morgan had already shut his computer and was looking around for his keys. "Is Diane on her way?"
"She's in the middle of a deposition for one of her other clients at the hospital," the officer explained. "Meanwhile, Jason's sitting there, cuffed to the Lieutenant's desk. I just walked in to start my shift and saw him, thought I'd call you to come down and get him out of here."
"Thanks, Paul." He slipped his keys into his pocket and stepped into his shoes, pulling his suit jacket from the closet. "I'm on my way."
"And one more thing…"
Morgan was already halfway out the door. "Yeah?"
"Mister Webber already found out. He's here now."
Morgan closed his eyes briefly and pulled the door shut with a loud slam. "Jesus Christ."
.: Port Charles Police Department :.
"I want him out of those cuffs – now!"
Jason actually winced when Jake bellowed. Damn, that boy had a set of lungs.
Lucky Spencer, however, wasn't impressed. "He stays where he is, and you can get out unless you want me to charge you with hindering a police investigation."
"What investigation?" Jake resisted the urge to kick over the chair that Lucky had started leaning against. A trip to the floor probably would not go over well. "You obtained a measly warrant, searched his place and found nothing, and brought him in anyway. Unless he's being formally charged with something, I want him out of those cuffs."
Jason shifted uneasily, adjusting his wrists in the metal links. "Jake-"
His son glared at him over his shoulder to stay out of this, which would have amused Jason terribly if he didn't feel so awkward, having to sit out this argument that revolved around him.
"We know that Jason's involved in the murder of Carmine Bassurto," Lucky hissed. "Our intelligence reveals-"
"Your intelligence has the perceptive capabilities of a Clydesdale. They couldn't deduce their way out of a fucking paper bag."
"Young man, I've had it with your-"
Jake wasn't backing down, and Jason didn't know what to make of it. "Either charge him with something or let him go!"
The two men stared at each other, dead-locked, as the other officers in the room tried not to stare. Jason adjusted his wrist awkwardly, wincing when the metal clinked and once again drew Jake's attention. His son scowled at the offending cuffs and turned back to Lucky, his eyes hard and cold.
"Are you uncuffing him yourself, or am I going to have to do it for you?"
Simply put, Jake hated the sight of his father in cuffs. He hated it as much as he would have hated the sight of his mother in cuffs – and according to rumors, she had been in cuffs at least once thanks to Jason. It was fine if he wanted to hassle Jason and take him to task, but Jake would be damned if he let anyone else do it for him.
Not that he'd ever admit to that.
Lucky Spencer wasn't biting. "You have no power here. This doesn't even concern you."
"Yes, it does," he hissed back. "If this is how you treat Jason after you find nothing in his home to indicate evidence of any wrongdoing, what's to stop you from doing that to me or anyone else in this town? Huh? Forget evidence – all you need is a well-placed vendetta to jerk off to, Commissioner."
Lucky gritted his teeth and stood to his full height. "Why don't you go on home, son?"
"Jake!"
Every muscle in his body had tensed as Jason saw his son lunge at Lucky, and he only relaxed slightly when Jake backed off at the sound of his name. Still snarling, he glared daggers at Lucky as one of the lieutenants came to stand between them.
"Come here." Jason closed his eyes and let out an impatient huff. "Come here, Jake."
Reluctantly, and still seething, Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and drew closer as Lucky continued to smirk at him. "What do you want?"
Jason let out a slow, calming breath and met his gaze directly. "Don't let him get a rise out of you. It's what he wants so that he can push you to do something you regret, or say something you regret, so he can use it against you. Trust me."
He adjusted his wrists awkwardly and managed a small, sheepish smile. "I've been here enough to know."
Jake grumbled something under his breath and straightened to his full height, looking down only when Jason cleared his throat.
"Don't – Don't let him use the fact that he's your…your father against you," he said slowly. "He's used it against the rest of us often enough."
His lips curled into an unforgiving grimace as Jake turned on his heel. "He's not my father."
Lucky looked up with feigned bland surprise as Jake walked over to him again, looking far more composed. "Did the pep talk work?"
"Better than any of the ones you ever gave…or would have given if you could have been bothered to be around," Jake smiled, looking every bit the snake Jason knew he could be.
The Commissioner's eyes darkened. "What do you want?"
"You said I had no power here." Jake slipped his hands into his pockets, aware that he was now the subject of attention for the entire room. "You might be right. I have no power within these four walls. I'm just another citizen, another person you're sworn to serve and protect."
Lucky's eyes narrowed. "Yeah?"
He leaned closer. "But I never forget who I am outside these walls. I'm Jake Webber. And don't you forget that, either. If I want to, I can make things very, very difficult for you, Commissioner. And I can do it all legally, too."
Lucky slammed the file he held onto the desk, his expression stormy. "You think you can just walk in here and start throwing around threats? Do you have any idea-"
"Whoa, whoa." Jake held up his hands with a smile and actually backed down a step. "I don't recall making any threats, Commissioner. Certainly none against you. All I did was state the facts. The burden of interpretation falls on you, not me."
He snarled audibly, and his narrowed eyes practically threw off sparks. "You know what's changed about you since you became a gangster?"
"Alleged," Jake corrected as he pretended to consider the question. "As for the rest of it…well, I've found that I don't enjoy 'The Boondock Saints' nearly as much as I used to. Pretty grim movie, really."
Lucky rolled his eyes. "You've started to think that you're somebody, that you have all the answers, that just because you have some cash, you've got all the power. Let me tell you something: you will always be Jake Webber, your mother's son. Money doesn't buy class, and it only buys the illusion of respect. I've taken down plenty of guys that thought they had it all, that thought they were at the top of their game, but in the end it meant nothing because they were the same two-bit scum they ever were and all their supposed friends would have thought nothing of gunning them down-"
"Hey!" Jason jerked at the cuffs when he tried to stand and winced when the metal rubbed against bone. "What the fuck's the matter with you?"
Jake discreetly held out a hand, lifting just his fingers, letting him know it was fine. Without breaking Lucky's stare, he eased closer, as grim as ever.
"You want me to tell you how I've really changed since I grew out of being two-bit scum, as you put it?"
Lucky closed his eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it-"
"I've changed because I've met the right people," Jake interrupted coldly. "Because I let the right people get to know me. Because I let the right people owe me favors that I can call on at any time."
Lucky said nothing, and Jake's tight, low voice cut through the tense silence. "Do you know who I had dinner with last night? The mayor."
"Garrett Floyd?" Lucky scoffed. "So what?"
"-Of New York, not Port Charles," Jake sneered, chiding his stupidity. "All I have to do is place one phone call to him and he'll have you out cleaning parking meters."
He turned slightly and pointed at his father. "So are you going to uncuff him or not? Think carefully."
"But do make it quick," came a voice from the other side of the room, and Lucky turned around to see Morgan Corinthos stroll into the PCPD. "Because if I have cause to believe that you're holding my client without formally charging him, this will get ugly."
Lucky glared at the younger man. "Since when is he your client?"
"Since I announced him as such," Morgan volleyed back. He set his briefcase on the desk and arched a brow at him. "Well, Commissioner? What say we make this whole mess go away? I'd hate for tomorrow's headlines to paint an unflattering picture of you in any way."
Jake smiled, thinking of the men in the press that they had on their payroll, and knew that Lucky was down for the count. Apparently, his pseudo-father knew it, too, and after a long moment, tersely ordered one of his officers forward to uncuff Jason.
Once the cuffs were off, Jason got up and straightened to his full height, rubbing his wrists as he looked back and forth between the two boys. Only Jake met his gaze; Morgan was occupied elsewhere.
"And another thing," he said, looking sternly at Lucky. "Don't think I won't slam you with harassment charges just because you're my mother's cousin. You pull this shit again, it'll be your ass on the line. Got me?"
Jake ignored the verbal sparring the two of them were engaged in and watched Jason rub his wrists. He felt like he should say something, especially with the way his father was watching him. He felt like he should apologize. Hell, he wanted to apologize – for his outburst on the docks the week before, nothing else. And apologizing to Jason wasn't that big a deal. He'd apologized to him before, that time he'd admired his bike outside Kelly's. It could be done.
But in the end, and after a long moment spent just looking at him, Jake slowly turned on his heel and walked out of the police department.
