AN: This chapter is kind of short, but the next one will be longer, promise:-) It's also a little rough. Oh, and readers are allowed to smack Shella with the Frying Pan of Death(tm). I'll just look the other way. turns back and begins whistling
Jack climbed sleepily out of bed, padding out of her room and downstairs, heading for the kitchen. It had been a rough night sleep-wise and she looked it, hair tousled and eyes drooping. And upon entering the kitchen she immediately got the sinking suspicion that her day wasn't going to be any better.
"Shella, when you say that we need get rid of Jack it makes me feel ashamed. I feel that you need to respect my promise to take her in until she turns eighteen," Riddick said carefully, with a tone that was extremely calm and psychiatrist-like.
Shella was on a mad rampage going about making breakfast, which from the smell Jack guessed was going to be overcooked pancakes. She stalked about the kitchen like a bat out of hell, and yet somehow everything remained spotless and clean. Jack could only shake her head in wonder. How did the woman do it? This proved it, she really was a witch.
Burn her at the stake! Stretch and quarter her! Put rocks on her chest until she suffocates! Do all of the above at the same time! Yeah, I wish. If only this were Salem.
"Listen Rick, I don't know how you got the notion in your head that you owe that little tramp, but you're being a total and complete idiot right now. Just trust me will you? I do the thinking around here, remember?" she half-shouted at the man sitting at her kitchen table.
"Now Shelly, don't forget that when we argue we need to use 'I' statements. Otherwise we're just bound to say something we'll regret later. I feel..."
"I don't think she gives a flying fuck how you feel Ricky," Jack interjected, trying to rub the tension headache out of her forehead as she crossed the room and sat down across from him.
"What have I told you about swearing in my house young lady!" Shella roared upon noticing Jack had entered the room.
Jack turned to cast a disinterested look her way, letting the moment stretch out. "Huh," she finally said, before turning to look up at the ceiling and then back down at the table's surface, studying it hard.
When Jack didn't respond to her question, Shella stopped flying around like a whirlwind and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping one foot impatiently.
"Well?" she demanded.
Jack glanced up again as though slightly startled. "Oh, I was just wondering when you were going to put the pole in the table."
"What pole?" Shella asked coolly.
Jack shrugged. "You know. The pole you're going to swing around on and practice various uncouth stunts and sexually suggestive positions in the near proximity of, all while seductively stripping your clothes off for money. Oh wait, I'm sorry, you must be a retired stripper now. Tell me Shell, what exactly is it that retired strippers do with their spare time?" she asked, feigning extreme interest, her chin propped up on both hands.
Shella smirked evilly, but it wasn't hard to see the barely contained rage she was trying to hide beneath it. Slowly she approached where Jack was sitting, menace present even in the way she carried herself. Shella placed a hand on the table's wooden surface, getting right up in Jack's face. Her expression turned cold. Her face became stone-like with her anger and Jack couldn't help but think that Shelly was really quite ugly when she got angry.
"Listen up little girl, this is my home, that is my man, and there isn't a single thing in the universe you can do to take any of it away from me. We clear?"
Jack smirked, successfully hiding her own anger with pure ego. She had far better control mechanisms than this woman, and that meant she was the stronger of the two, she had the power here. Leaning forward slightly she cocked an eyebrow, never flinching in the face of the woman's hard stare. "Get bent bitch, cause Jack B. Badd is here to stay. You want it, you fight for it, and you fight hard. Cause if you give me an inch I'll take a yard, you give me a yard I'll take everything you've got. And you'd better believe I will."
"Not going to happen," Shella hissed, her eyes narrowing almost into snake-like slits.
Jack didn't even bat an eye. She was determined to win this stare down. "We'll see 'Shelly'. Now get me my God damn breakfast before it catches on fire."
After a tense moment Shella backed off, going over to the stove and angrily putting a short stack of pancakes on a plate. She banged it down on the table in front of Jack, who studied the blackened blueberry concoction. Funny how the berries were all grouped together instead of spread evenly throughout the batter. They almost were in the right places to be eyes and a badly smashed nose.
Jack looked up at her re-sworn enemy with a pleasant expression on her face. "On second thought, never mind. I simply can't bear to eat anything with a face! Well, I'd better get going, I want to explore the town a little before the rest of my stuff gets here this afternoon," she quickly announced, jumping up and making an exit just as the real explosion came to pass. On Riddick's head this time, not hers.
Well, ya kinda had it coming Big Evil, so I don't feel too sorry for ya. Serves ya right for not standing up for yourself.
Jack felt better now that the first battle had come and gone. That had been the one she'd feared the most. After all, she'd never been very good at playing the vicious games women sometimes became involved in. But already that morning she'd stood on the level with Shella, and her opponent had blinked first. It was a sure sign of weakness and now that Jack could smell blood in the water she was going to go after it with everything she had. The war had officially started, the lines had been drawn.
The prize for the winner? Riddick. All of it came down to Riddick. The only question left in Jack's mind was whether or not he was worth it anymore.
