Author's Note: I have a strange feeling that since it was shown at the end of the season finale that the fifty thousand dollar black mail note will play a huge role in the next season so I decided to write one fan fiction that focuses a lot on that note. This story is more about Jude's problems instead of focusing on Tom's family or problems. Please R&R. Smiles. Angel422.
The alley was dark when I entered it, and I felt cold chills like small, frantic spiders crawling along my skin trying to devour me—trying to consume what little courage I had left. This was my fault—my problem. I had created this situation only because I had acted like an idiotic child—letting 'him' break me down to a simpering dunce when 'he' hadn't even seemed to be affected by the separation himself as if everything had all been a fluke—an act. My number one hit 'White Lines' now haunted me. Well, the hell with that. I was not a glass. I was not going to let myself be broken.
"Did you bring the money, Harrison?" A deep, male voice asked from behind me. I turned around to see him standing there—arms crossed across his chest in the universal gesture of defiance. I quirked a brow up at him before throwing him a pink duffel bag—watching it skid along the ground with a small, half smile. Yeah, pink. I was allowed some irony in this situation, right?
"Do you feel like a man yet? Terrorizing women just says so much about your overall level of testosterone." I said vehemently as he shook his head in amusement.
"You're not bitter are you, Jude?" He asked on a laugh as I felt the nausea of disgust rise along my intestines like a bad joy ride at an amusement park. I was just so angry. We stared at each other a minute as if we were both waiting for the other to make the next move.
"You've got the money. Just go. Please." I uttered finally as I started to back up out of the alley—using the shadows as protection as I moved. He just laughed at my haughty movements. He wasn't a big guy—wasn't much taller than Jamie to tell the truth, but greed can make people almost insane and that gives them remarkable strength.
"I don't know, Harrison. Fifty thousand just seems like such a tawdry amount now that you've finally climbed to the top of the feeding chain. I can't even walk into a music store without hearing your name whispered somewhere. The royalties flowing in must be amazing." He retorted as I stopped in mid-stride to stare at him in disbelief. I coughed as I threw him a scathing glare.
"Do you even know what it took to get that amount there out without it being noticed? Those aren't pennies in that bag, you moron. That's a pretty hefty chunk of change. There's no way I can do that again without getting caught if I already haven't been. At least with fifty thousand, I can laugh it off as teenage angst and say I bought a new platinum embossed guitar or something. Give me a break." I argued incessantly as the guy laughed. His eyes glinted as he suddenly stepped into the glow being put off by a nearby streetlamp. The glint made me shiver.
"I'm not saying I want more money from you, Harrison. No, I'm thinking that it will be much more profitable selling you back to the studio for something way more than fifty thousand dollars." He stated simply as I just stood there in horror. There's no way he was getting at what I thought he was getting at. I laughed suddenly.
"That's absurd." I remarked bitingly as he began to approach me slowly. I backed up until my back met brick and then I turned to run.
"That wouldn't be wise, Harrison. I'm sure you've taken physics. You do realize that a bullet travels much faster than the human legs right?" He asked as I froze before slowly turning around—finding myself immediately face to face with the shiny barrel of a pistol. This wasn't happening. He wasn't being serious. He smiled.
"Fame changes the rules of the game. You ought to know that better than anyone, Jude Harrison. It's just a shame you didn't tell anyone else about this little meeting before today because now, I have leverage." He retorted before motioning with the gun for me to follow him. I grimly conceded. And he was wrong. I had told someone about the meeting. I had left a message to a man stuck right now in Montana—closing up some family legal mess before heading back to Toronto. He had called Darius to let him know he was returning soon. He had never returned any of my messages, but still I had felt compelled to leave the most important message of my life right now on his cell phone. Huh, says a lot for me, right? What an idiot. Or maybe I had left the message on his phone because I had hoped he wouldn't find it. Maybe I didn't care about my own welfare as much as I used to before mom and Tom left, before the house was sold, before Jamie became an elusive figment in my life because of Patsy. All I had left was my music and music can only take you so far without outside emotion—without the love that keeps the music from being empty. And you can only sing so many angry songs before people stop listening. I followed behind Barry throughout the dank space without argument—without so much as a misplaced twitching muscle wondering if the light that represented a missed call was still blinking on Tommy's phone—wondering if he'd ever find it—wondering why I even cared.
Tommy…
Tommy sat on the flight back to Toronto—staring at the blinking message light on his phone before dialing his voice mail, cursing when he couldn't get enough signal to listen to the messages. He switched to text message instead and started reading the texts he had missed over the past two months. One in particular caught his attention, and he felt his spine stiffen at its unspoken implication. Been blackmailed—meeting with guy tonight to pay him off on pictures. Gotta go, Jude. Tom looked at the date and time on the message and cursed again. It was for the night before. What was she talking about? What happened? Should he be worried? Of course, he was worried. The flight seemed endless now as he stared at his watch. He needed to get to Toronto. If only he were Super man. He could use the ability to fly right now. Instead, he just stared out the window—suddenly afraid of what he'd find when he landed back in Canada and returned to G Majors.
