Chapter 6
Good Lord, a hot shower has never felt this good in my life. Jack leaned her head back, letting the spray of water hit just above her forehead. She stood there for a while, just letting the water run over her. She sighed and thought about the bag sitting next to the shower stall. She rolled back the door and dug through it, staring at the can of shaving cream in her hands, turning it over and over. A glance at the door, and the top came off. It smelled okay, she supposed. Not too girly. Now, mom complained about pressing too hard, so I guess I shouldn't do that. How the hell do you see your own armpit anyway? She rolled her eyes. This is ridiculous. Just hack the shit off and pray you don't catch the skin. And even if you do, it'll heal. The lack of tickle felt weird. On to the legs. Jesus Christ, that's a lot of leg. She glanced at the door again. If Riddick walked in right now… Back to the task at hand. She got through that with no major arteries severed. A speckling of red spots where she nicked herself, but nothing to worry about, she supposed.
Okay, shampoo. I've done this before. Jasmine and Aloe, whatever the fuck that is. It's green, that's all that matters. It had a slightly fruity smell, and not too flowery, either. She could live with it. Conditioner. Read directions, 'cause this has to be tricky. 'Leave on for one to three minutes. She glanced at the door again and then stared at the ceiling. There's a big difference between one minute and three minutes. She shook her head. It's a fucking shower, Jack. That step was survived.
Washcloth, soap. This is normal. Liquid, different smell from generic soap, but soap all the same. No big deal. Lather and rinse, and she was done. With a towel wrapped around her, she reached out and cleared the fog from the mirror. She kept forgetting they had a fan – something her apartment lacked. She glanced at the package containing the tweezers, and then looked back up at her reflection. What was it mom said? Just clean, don't shape? What the hell's the difference? She leaned closer to the mirror. I guess that means just yank the strays and leave the patches? Eh, what the hell? She had to bite her lip to keep from yelling. God damn… that thing should come with a warning label. She shook her head and continued. Well, once you start and keep it going for a while, it doesn't seem that bad, I guess. Pain is good, right? She hadn't decided yet what she wanted to do with her hair, so she just left it.
Now comes the tricky part. Dodging Big Evil. Shit. She cracked the door open and then swore, letting it close before she whirled around to pick up the evidence of her adventure. It all went in a bag, tucked under her arm, and the door was cracked again. She heard him clanging around in the kitchen.
"You about done, Jack? I reek."
"I know," she called, darting across the hall. Just a few more steps to my room. "I can smell you from here."
"Yeah, whatever. Are you done yet?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"What took you so long?" Does he ever shut up?
"Just relaxed for a while."
"Feel better?"
"A little," she lied. Hell, she felt like a whole different person, and that might not be such a good thing after all. "You might want to wait a few minutes, let the water heat up again."
"Shit. I knew I should have gotten in there first." FUCK! Something she'd not considered. He'd smell everything she just did to herself.
"Sorry." In the doorway and behind the wall. He'd have to go into her room to see her. She knew him better than that. The shower turned on again. Okay, what to wear? Shock him with the whole shebang, or just see if he notices this? She decided on the latter, pulling on her new cargos, and a button down work shirt. A bag caught her eye, and she stared at it, suddenly regretting the purchase. Damn that woman. She reached in and pulled out the contraption. Hell, she was a girl and the thing was still confusing. At least with the wraps, she knew what end was which. She heard the shower cut off and decided. Eh. Fuck it. We'll just stick with this. She lifted her shirt up and bound herself, then snatched the bra off her bed and threw it back in the bag. Those bags – the ones with all the girl stuff – would be shoved to the back of her closet.
"Is that jasmine?" She stopped mid stride, mentally beating herself. This was such a dumb idea.
"Yeah, I kinda liked it. Thought I'd try it." She shrugged, walking past him into the kitchen. She felt his eyes on her and stopped a shudder, pulling open the fridge and rummaging through. "Where'd you hide my green juice this time?"
"Second shelf in the back." She nodded and reached for it. "I like it, by the way." She stood up, raising her eyebrow. God damn, it feels naked up there, she thought. "The jasmine. It's nice." She couldn't prevent the slight smile from touching her lips.
"Thanks." She popped the cap off her juice and took a swig.
"You missed one."
"Missed one what?" Another swig.
"Eyebrow hair," he said, not looking up at her. Green spray, but it kept her from choking. Her face flushed, her cheeks burning. She reached for a towel silently, wiping up the juice she just spit out. "Probably looked blond in the mirror." She shook her head, tossing the towel back into the sink. She'd rinse it later. She heaved a sigh and made her exit. He glanced up at the door she slunk out of and smiled, a slight shake of the head.
She flopped onto the bed, not sure if she should be surprised he noticed or embarrassed that he did. You missed one. Shit. She rolled over onto her side, staring at the wall, clutching her pillow tightly to her chest. What the fuck was I thinking? She sighed. What a waste of money. Good thing I didn't go for the whole deal. She just lay there, staring at the wall, wishing hair grew back a lot faster than it did. She rubbed her forehead, the recently plucked portion tender. Hell, it was probably red as a tomato. And you expected him not to notice? Christ. She shook her head, and then felt him looking at her.
He was leaned against the doorframe, a soft expression on his face, just watching her. She sighed, but didn't turn to him, so he walked across the floor and sat on her bed. She felt it give, and closed her eyes.
"What prompted the change?" he asked quietly.
"Temporary insanity." His chuckle didn't make her feel any better. "Just because I don't have a door doesn't mean you can just come in here whenever you feel like it." His smile faded.
"Why temporary insanity?" She shook her head.
"A dumb idea spawned from a wicked old lady in a department store."
"She knew, huh?" No answer was all the answer he needed. He sighed and shifted onto his back, his hands folded behind his head.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was small and timid. He looked over at the back of her head.
"Don't be." She snickered. "Why should you be, Jack?"
"It was a dumb idea."
"I don't think it was." Silence.
"Is there some product out there that makes hair grow back faster?" she asked after a while. He smiled.
"Spray-on." He was rewarded with a laugh.
"I don't think that would work," she said.
"You're probably right." More silence. Finally, she turned to her other side to look at him, her pillow still clutched closely.
"I'm so stupid sometimes," she whispered. He shook his head, reaching out to smooth her hair. His thumb trailed over her swollen, reddened eyebrow, and she winced.
"That had to hurt." She nodded. "It's red."
"Yeah, well, when you pull a bunch of hairs out, it's bound to be," she sighed. She shook her head and buried her face in her pillow, letting out a groan. "So dumb," the pillow muffled. She laughed into the pillow and then picked her head up, grinning at Riddick. "I told the guy at the store the tweezers were for picking metal splinters out." Riddick smiled. "He believed me."
"Did you lie in every store?" Her smile fell.
"Yeah, but not to every person in the store." He nodded and reached out again, playing with a lock of hair. "That stupid old lady." She sighed and dropped her head to the pillow.
"She was just trying to help." She shrugged, playing with the frayed edge of her pillowcase.
"Lot more money on that chip than I expected," she admitted, changing the subject.
"I told you I'd pay you twice what you were making before, plus commissions," Riddick reminded her.
"That was just a few days though." He nodded. "What are we shipping, anyway?"
"Don't ask what you don't want to know," Riddick sighed.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want an answer." His eyes met hers, and he seemed to be deciding whether or not to tell her. "The truth, Riddick."
"Depends. Sometimes it's weapons, sometimes stolen shit, just depends on the job," he admitted. She nodded. He took a breath and let it out slowly. "C'mere," he said, scooting closer to her. She tensed up as his arm went around her head, forcing her to lift it and let him settle it under her. His fingers trailed a line up and down her spine, and she had to consciously prevent herself from arching into his side. "There's nothing wrong with you, Jack," he said quietly.
"I never said there was." He glanced down at the top of her head, resting on his shoulder.
"You seem like you regret this little change."
"It's not little to me," she countered.
"What, new shampoo and some missing eyebrow hairs?" She sighed.
"And shaving cream and a razor." He pulled back to look at her, and then settled his chin on the top of her head.
"Really." She nodded reluctantly. "Interesting." His fingers continued their trail on her back. "Cut yourself?"
"Like no other." He chuckled, making her eyes fuzz as her head bounced. "I didn't exactly have a teacher, you know." She felt him nod against her. He took a deep breath, leaning his nose a little closer to her hair. "Smell good?" He smiled.
"Actually, yeah." He sniffed again, this time more obviously. "I like it."
"Me too."
"All of it." She was quiet for a while. "Whatever makes you happy, Jack."
"Hmm?"
"I said, 'whatever makes you happy'." She shrugged. "If you want to go back to being the old Jack, it's okay. And if you want to take this new Jack somewhere, that's okay too, wherever you take it." She stilled, and he glanced down at her. This kind of small talk wasn't something he was used to.
"So now I need your permission?"
"No, I'm saying you don't," he corrected. She sniffed, and he looked down at her. She was rubbing an eyebrow. He hooked a finger in her thumb and pulled her hand away from her face. "Don't want to touch while it's still pissed off," he explained, still holding her fingers in hers. She let him play with her fingers but didn't play back, so he stopped, still holding her fingers, but letting their hands drop to his stomach. "Five days, starjumping time," he said quietly. "Two left." Her eyes closed. His voice sounded funny with her ear pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his breathing rhythmic. All so calming. She managed an "mm-hmm," but nothing more, and he didn't know how to take that. He didn't know how to take anything anymore. "You know what?"
"Hmm?"
"This is just as new to me as it is to you," he admitted slowly. She shrugged, inadvertently pressing closer to him. God, he's warm. "More than you'll ever know." So sleepy.
"Hmm." Softer than I expected too. She sighed lightly. Kinda like a pillow. The powdered-sugar package pillows. Firm, not poofy.
"I wouldn't miss this for the world," he whispered.
"Mm." She relaxed against him completely, and he reveled in the weight on his side. It was new, but comfortable, which was weird for him. He looked down at her. Her breathing was even and deep, her eyelids had drooped closed, and every now and then, her foot would twitch, popping her ankle. His lips pressed against her forehead. Guess I won't be getting back to installing that diagnostics program for a while.