A/N: This chapter was written from Lisa's point of view. Just stating the obvious.
Summary: Lisa deals with an ornery customer, again and again. (Basically, customer service at its worst.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Eye. If I did, I'm certain I'd be able to write them as well as the screenwriter, or show them as well as Wes Craven. I can only aspire to be like them.
Lisa Reisert sealed her fate the moment she swore that the incident on the flight wouldn't rule her life. While the sentiment was noble, she only managed the exact opposite of her intentions. She indulged in a different sort of paranoia, intent to keep looking forward.
Sure, Lisa wanted to look over her shoulder, wanted to see if Jackson was lurking. She knew quite well he was physically locked up, but for all intents and purposes, he might as well have been breathing down her neck. The young woman tried so hard to stifle any avoidant impulse related to the Red Eye flight, that almost every action she took ended up relating to that very incident.
At first, Lisa avoided small things, like the corner cafe. Then she managed to convince herself that her actions were foolish, and forced herself to plop down at the bar. She didn't, however indulge in a seabreeze, she opted for a cosmo. Jackson had called the drink boring, and that's what she aimed for. Dull Lisa Reisert, doing her best impression of a fly on the wall.
She would return home after that, collapsing onto the couch with a novel. Some nights she would fall asleep in that very spot, only to wake up hours later, thrashing blindly to escape a dream specter with Jackson's face.
Night terrors, often caused by trauma. She'd already been acquainted with the term earlier in her life.
It was one of those very nights that Lisa managed to let Jackson's hold on her grow. She sat in the kitchen at three a.m., pondering whether to make scrambled eggs, or her latest traditional night food; macaroni and cheese out of the box. Glaring into her fridge, a dark look on her face, she made a split second decision, snatching a few eggs out of the carton almost guiltily.
Lisa figured her fear of him had dictated her actions for too long. It was going to stop. She rebelled against those fears, much like a teenager pushing the boundaries a parent had set down, trying to bring her life back to the state of normality she'd enjoyed before the crash. She made sure to have the grapefruit seabreeze the next visit to the corner cafe.
This little bit of rebellion forced her to focus more on Jackson's words than ever before. She would deal with persnickety customers and hear his voice whispering in her ear.
"Great job, Leese.", he whispered sardonically, "Must be the stress management training? Well, it's really paying off."
Lisa wondered if most people heard their tormentor's voice in their head. Perhaps she should visit a shrink the next time she had the day off?
Instead, she read another self-help book. "Thinking when you should be acting will only make your head hurt. I'm not making it up, Leese, it's all right here."
It turned out the stress management courses he had praised simply weren't working well enough. Lisa had a breakdown at work the next day, after she'd helped a man that had eyes that matched Jackson's. He had approached the desk, and she had frozen like a hare, attempting to convince herself that it wasn't Jackson in disguise. Jackson didn't wear glasses. This man didn't seem to have a puncture wound marring the skin on his throat. At least she couldn't see a scar, not with the tie the man wore. She gave him his room card, smiling weakly before retreating into the back office, where no one would see her. Cynthia followed, not even bothering to hide her anxiety. Lisa waved off the questions that her friend asked, with little explanation.
No, that wasn't Jackson. Yes, he was locked up.
Unfortunately, Cynthia needed better answers than that. She uttered the words Lisa dreaded the most. "I think you need some time off." Lisa protested. Time off so suddenly simply wasn't normal, and normal was the new watchword. Didn't Cynthia know this? Her friend was quite aware of Lisa's resolve, and equally aware of the fact that she didn't have the clearance to force Lisa to take the vacation. She did have leverage as a friend, which she used without hesitating. Finally, Lisa acquiesced, agreeing to go home for a 'few days'.
No more, no less.
Lisa knew that that this would've been the perfect time for Jackson to strike, if he wasn't already in jail somewhere. The days passed uneventfully, and on the final night of her vacation, she went out on a date with a charming young businessman. It went well enough, considering, but she just couldn't warm up to him. Dates made her nervous nowadays. It wasn't that she didn't like people. She was a people-person, she always enjoyed helping them.
She just didn't trust them.
The next day she returned to the proverbial 'daily grind',and to Cynthia's gentle riffing. She was too picky when it came to men, apparently. Lisa felt that she was simply cautious. She figured it would take a while before she'd be ready to date. She noted again the possibility of seeing a psychologist.
Instead, of making an appointment, she opted to take the front desk. One of the newer employees approached her sheepishly. Lisa couldn't remember his name, but then again the turnover rate had been just shy of crazy since part of the hotel had exploded. She flashed the young man an encouraging smile, and he continued on. "The customer in room 372 wants to speak with the manager. Something about the service here." Alarms went off in her head. It sounded like a pretty tough customer. He showed her the report and her heart froze when she saw the customer's name. It was the man with Jackson's eyes. She told him she would take care of it. She kept her word too, even if it was only because she designated Cynthia to do the job for her.
Her friend returned about ten minutes later, looking perplexed. "What was that all about?" Lisa knew the question well. It seemed to be replacing the infamous 'Are you Okay?' as of late. She nodded, "Yeah, just didn't want to deal with that one customer." She half-expected to be sent home again. Instead, Cynthia just smiled at her, "It's allright. We'll just get other people to deal with it." She leaned in whispering conspiratorially, "He was pretty creepy, if you ask me. Those eyes and everything?"
Suddenly, the new employee from before was hovering near them, eager to tell them something new. Another smile of encouragement from Lisa, and the words were rolling off his tongue, jumbled together almost incoherently, "Guy from 372 again. Says he wants to see the real manager." He came up for air, gasping as if he'd been holding his breath while waiting, "He looks pretty pissed."
Well, it looked like there was no wriggle room with this situation. Straightening her shirt, she walked out to the counter, where the young man with the eerie eyes waited. He was resting his weight on the counter ever-so-slightly, drumming his fingers on the flat surface of the front desk. The rookie employee was right. He didn't look pleased in the slightest. She approached, beaming at him, "Hello, I'm Lisa Reisert, manager of the Lux Atlantic. Is there anything I can help
you with, sir?"
He simply glanced in her direction, eyes narrowed to slits. "Yes, Ms. Reisert. I was going to commend you on the service here at the hotel," he continued on,adopting a lofty tone, "but after that little employee mix-up, I think my original opinion was erroneous." She smiled apologetically, ready to fire back one of her pre-concocted excuses, but he stopped her even before she opened her mouth. "Now, you can't possibly expect me to believe that the young woman you sent out earlier had any managerial experience. She practically had the term 'counter monkey' written all over her, right down to the nervous lilt in her voice. I ask that whatever excuse you provide next doesn't further insult my intelligence." .
Lisa should've known that he'd be a tough customer. She forced herself to remember the old adage 'The customer is always right', a phrase that she practically lived by last year. "I'm sorry, sir," she replied,somewhat sheepishly, "Cynthia often covers my duties when I'm dealing with another crisis." That was the truth, at least. Not entirely the truth, but not really a lie either. It was the fuzzy middle ground that she'd become more accustomed to over the past few months.
"And I suppose you were dealing with some other crisis? Did they run out of donuts at the continental breakfast?" She could've sworn he was sneering at the last statement. She had to resist the urge to inform him that the scenario he brought up could actually be considered a crisis in a hotel. Dealing with the parents of the sugar-less children could be harrowing at times.
It was also interesting to note that Lisa had never actually been subjected to what one usually refers to as a 'piercing stare' in works of literature. This man couldn't possibly be Jackson, even at his worst the assassination manager had never managed to utilize his eyes in such a frightening way. Lisa could almost swear he could read her mind. Whatever he seemed to see there appeased him. He leaned back, the tension dispersing as he did so. Lisa flashed him another small smile, "Well, if you need anything else, feel free to find me." She said, confidence returning to her voice.
He nodded, ever so slightly. "I certainly will, now that I know what you look like. Have a nice day, Ms. Reisert." He turned to leave then, the conversation suddenly cut short.
She replied, as was proper, even if it was to the man's back. She had the feeling that she probably wouldn't be seeing a shrink anytime in the future. If they could read people as well as that man had, she wouldn't find the experience enjoyable or enlightening. She'd find it frightening.
Lisa felt as if she should be frightened at the moment, but she shoved the feeling to the side. She wouldn't have let one irritable customer spoil her day a year ago, she wouldn't let it spoil her day now. She was in control of her life. She'd moved on from the events of the flight. If she ever met Rippner again, she wanted to tell him that. Let him know that all he'd done hadn't affected her.
And if he'd been watching her in some impossible way, he would be able to ascertain the same thing.
Lisa was in control, and she wasn't lying to herself about it.
However, the dark part of her mind, the one that had a tendency to adopt Jackson's voice said something quite different. It reminded her that something wasn't really a lie if you believed it.
A/n: Allright, sorry for the delay, but I managed to get sick with some unidentified disease floating about my campus. (Doesn't happen often, trust me. The me actually succumbing to it, I mean.) As a result, I was delayed with everything (chapter, review replies, pm replies, you name it!). I'm very sorry for that.
Also, in case you haven't noticed, I had a bit of trouble getting Leese's voice down. For whatever reason, she's harder for me to write. Thank you to those that offered insight on the girl. (I'm also making assumptions about her post-movie characterization. It seemed feasible in my mind, but well... you all need to meet my mind sometime. It's definitely not normal.) Funny thing is, I had no problem writing the ornery customer. Heh.
I'll try to get a new chapter up within the week, hopefully next time with shorter authors notes. (Sorry!) Again, any feedback, whether positive or negative will help my poor writing skills. Along with that note, I think I need to put up a 'Desperately seeking beta' sign. Because my eyes (and spell check) combined still aren't formidable enough to catch every error. Which is quite sad on my part. Heh!