I am sooo sorry for the long time between updates! I know this is sort of short; I just wanted to get it up. Please don't hate me! Things (in the story and in the updates) will speed up once I get out of school!
Chapter 10
Jackson slowly and reluctantly climbed into the white van in front of him. "Come on," grumped an impatient voice behind him, followed by a jab in the back.
"Oh, shut the fuck up, Faber," Jackson said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Man, you've gone soft," Carl Faber, second-manager in chief and old 'friend' to Jackson Montgomery, said indignantly. "Why did you have to pull that 'killing everybody' act? You know you snuffed Jacobs?"
Jackson rested his head against the inside wall of the van. It was oddly empty, except for a driver's seat, transmission box, and another large box that looked to be a toolkit in the back. Jackson glanced out the window as Carl climbed into the driver's seat. Carl was a big, burly man, with close-cropped hair that made him look slightly like a thumb. Really, Jackson couldn't stand him. He had never had friends or anything remotely resembling them. He hadn't needed them or wanted them then, and he didn't now, either.
"I don't give a fuck about Jacobs," Jackson said loudly as the van rumbled to life. "I don't give a fuck about anything. I hate this."
"Man, stop saying that," Carl winced. "You brought this on yourself. You're the one that botched a job and didn't even bother to make up for it."
"Make up for it?" Jackson laughed loudly and unnaturally. "Make up for it? Who the fuck are you kidding, Faber? Like they wouldn't have killed me or something? God," Jackson wrapped his hands around the back of his neck and tried not to hit his head as the van bumped over a pothole.
"Would you stop saying that?" Carl said uncomfortably.
"Fuck," Jackson said loudly. Carl twitched. Jackson laughed again and Carl's neck tensed. "You know what?"
"Not really," Carl said nervously.
"I think I've--" Suddenly, a loud crackle interrupted Jackson. The red light on the transmission box blinked rapidly as a voice crackled out from it.
"Watch it, Rippner," sang the voice mockingly.
"Montgomery," corrected Jackson.
There was a delicate pause from the box. And then, "Look, you finish this job, then you're done. We'll find somebody else."
"Bullshit. If you were going to find someone else, you would've by now. Tell me," Jackson paused. "Tell me why you went to all the trouble to get me back and working for you. And tell me why you've fired most of your employees and moved our company down from one of the largest in the country to the smallest. And tell me--"
"Jackson, Jackson," The voice hissed and a bit of Jackson's anger began to ebb to fear. "That's quite a lot of questions. Questions that really make no difference to you or your… ah… mission. Now, if you would like to get through this alive, and if you would like your pretty little girlfriend's heart to continue beating, I would shut up. You--"
Jackson kicked out at the transmission box and it gave a dull click and the red light faded out. He sat very still and stared out the window. Carl coughed quietly in the front seat. "As I was saying… You killed Jacobs and…"
"And as I was saying, I don't care that I killed Jacobs! It was either his life or—Oh my God," Jackson inhaled sharply. "I killed Jacobs. What is going on around here?"
"We've been under a new boss ever since," Carl said dully. "None of us have even seen him. And we're all stuck here. He's already killed everyone that tried to leave." A muscle stiffened in Jackson's neck and Carl watched it in the rearview mirror. "He's turned the entire company into his own personal vendetta, I think. We don't even have customers anymore!" Carl sounded scandalized. Jackson closed his eyes.
"This is insane," he said softly. The van rounded a bend in the road and the now broken transmission box slid against the wall of the van.
Carl tried to laugh loudly and the sound was fake, and Jackson chewed the inside of his lip because he could hear the fear behind it. Fear reverberated through the car and wrapped its suffocating tentacles around Jackson's throat, and vividly he knew what it was like to be forced to do something against your will. Wasn't it ironic, he thought dryly. Wasn't it ironic that he was experiencing the exact same thing that he had put Lisa through when they very first met?
He was working for a company that wasn't even a company anymore. He was being forced to kill someone, work for a job that he had quit, and if he didn't, his life would be stolen and Lisa's as well. He was under the same threats that he had put on everyone else.
Lisa yanked off her heels and rubbed her already sore feet. Seven-thirty and she was already on her fifth cup of coffee. That couldn't be a good sign. Cynthia ran past her and Lisa watched with an amused expression as she juggled her pager and laptop. Just a week ago, Cynthia had been promoted to Head of Conference Management, which basically meant that now that a VIP was here she got to deal with his every want and need. Lisa, as Front Office Manager, found herself stuck behind the reception desk and envied Cynthia's escape. The phone rang loudly and Lisa winced.
"Luxe Atlantic, this is Lisa."
"Hi I need to—Lisa? Lisa Reisart?"
There was only one person with that voice. That voice she silently still ached for and yet never wanted to hear again.
"Lisa…" Jackson whispered. Lisa slammed down the phone. She stared at it, her hands shaking. That had not just happened. She had imagined it. A woman came hurriedly up to the desk with two fighting children and a teenage boy in tow and Lisa distracted herself with pasting on a smile and giving them their rooms. She was halfway through telling them how to get to the pool from their rooms when the phone rang again. Without a thought, she lifted it up and set it back down again. The woman gave her a surprised look.
"The phones…" Lisa said sweetly. "This one hasn't been working properly lately. Lots of wrong numbers."
The woman left and, seeing the lobby empty of customers—for the moment—Lisa sank down onto the ground behind the desk. More coffee. That was what she needed. More—the phone rang again.
"Luxe Atlantic, this is Lisa," her voice was a whisper.
"I need to reserve room 613," said a gruff voice. Lisa sighed with relief and disappointment. "Is that available?"
"Let me check," she scrolled through rooms on her computer. This could prove to be a bit of a problem, she had wanted to keep that entire hall free for the Secretary of State… Oh wait, 613 was around the corner. That would have to work. "Yes, it's free. What days will you be staying?"
"Today until--" There was a loud shuffling from the other end of the phone.
"Hello?"
"I'm sorry," the man said shortly. "Until Friday. Three days. Under the name--" There was a loud clunk and Lisa heard a muffled shout. "Fiper!" Shouted the man. Lisa blinked but typed the name into the computer. Just once, she would like to have a conversation over the phone with someone normal. "Thank you!" Shouted the man and Lisa slowly set the phone down to more bumps and clunks. The phone was almost to the set when shouting was heard from it. Cautiously Lisa lifted it to her ear again.
"—don't want you risking my ass, too! Stay away from her!" Carl shouted.
"I don't care about your ass, Faber! Give me the damn phone! LISA!" Jackson shouted at the phone. "LISA! Don't hang up!" With a terrific tug, he pulled the battered cell phone from Carl and crawled to the back of the van. Carl swore but continued driving.
"Are you there? Lisa?"
"Who is this?" Her voice was cautious.
"Jackson! Please, Lisa, just listen to me, I--"
Memories came rushing back and with them, pain. She slammed the phone down and stared unseeingly in front of her. She had just reserved a room for Jackson Montgomery.
Lisa was feeling-less. To escape from the pain, she resorted to accepting it, and from accepting it, came hopeless bitterness. Her finger lingered over the 'Cancel Reservation' button but something stopped her. Wasn't this ironic? She wanted to laugh with the irony. She forcefully jerked her hand away and stared at the computer screen. Well, this was it. She was bound to run into Jackson again sooner or later, Lisa thought bitterly. Why keep running from the inevitable? And then, maybe they would see each other again, and she could move on. I've got to move on, Lisa's brain repeated. I've got to stop being so stupid. I meant nothing and I won't—won't—won't waste my time. I've just got to move on…
