Jackson eased open the café door and pulled up a stool at the counter. His eyes never left Lisa's solitary figure at the tiny table.
She was the perfect image of a dramatic, standoffish café writer. Drink at her side, pen in hand, hunched over a small notepad. Only Jackson would know this as completely abnormal for her.
He was outlandishly confused, something he rarely admitted to. He was desperate to know what she was writing. Poetry? A letter? Taxes? Who knew.
Whenever Lisa came to the café, she had only one quick drink and left, no words to anyone except the bartender. It was pointless, Jackson realized. Why come to a bar if not to socialize or get wasted?
But tonight was different. Within an hour of her arrival she'd downed three drinks. Her eyes were glazed over and the notebook had been pocketed half a drink ago. But the men.
They'd begun coming as soon as she'd sat down. She'd stiffly acknowledged them in her usual manner, with a tight smile and a quiet response. Then they would begrudgingly leave. Every girl that Jackson knew, every single one, whenever they became inebriated they'd lighten up or at least dance a bit. But Lisa didn't. She just sat and drank, like she was...drinking away memories.
She made what could have been a fatal mistake a while later which took Jackson several minutes to notice. She tripped off to the restroom and left her drink unattended.
Jackson wasn't a girl. He hadn't taken Sex Ed, and he didn't have a mother to tell him these things. But as an assassin he knew that one of the worst things a woman could do was to leave her drink alone. But then..didn't every girl know that?
He saw the man sidling away from her table but didn't put two and two together. It wasn't until Lisa began walking out of the café (Jackson, obviously, a safe distance behind) that the same man began following her.
Lisa turned onto an alleyway on the way to the parking lot and leaned against the wall, seemingly dizzy. She pressed a weak hand to her head as Jackson stopped walking, hiding himself behind the corner as the man stepped out from behind a row of cars.
It hit him then, like a sack of potatoes. After that sickening realization it didn't take long for Jack to act.
Jackson ran out as Lisa turned and collapsed to the ground. It happened so beautifully it was almost as if it was choreographed. His fist collided sharply with the side of the man's head, making a sickening crunch. Oops, there goes the skull. He didn't have three years of training for nothing, after all. Several yells and a Ka-Bar later, the man was dead. Now to take care of poor, intoxicated Lisa.
Jackson grunted as he lifted her against his chest. Geez, she was heavy. Her eyelids fluttered and she unceremoniously wrapped her arms around the stranger's neck.
He prayed she didn't remember "Mick Jackson" from two hours previous. He didn't think that she did, however, in her drunken state, and didn't put much in store for her remembering this night either. Maybe he could-no. She would definitely remember that.
Jackson gently set her in the backseat of his car and shut the door as quietly as possible. He didn't want to wake her. Conversationmemories.
Unfortunately the muffled slam stirred her.
"Who are you?" she moaned quietly as he buckled his seatbelt. Jackson froze.
"A friend," he answered after a long pause. The answer must have satisfied her as she said nothing. He turned on the car and began driving.
A ways down she spoke again.
"It was my fault," she said to no one. As if in a dream. "Daddy asked me over. But I was mad at him. So I said no. And I didn't have groceries for my lunch so I went to Publix to buy some. And then in the parking lot..." she was sobbing now, in her sleep. Jackson frowned and chewed his lip. Was she dreaming? Was this her fiction...or reality?He finally pulled the car up in front of her house and lifted her out. Again she warmed to him as he stepped into the house. He knew where her hidden key was. Lisa was always forgetting it and by default she alerted him to the hiding place in the potted fern.
Once in her bedroom he laid her down in the bed and managed to pull the comforter to her chest. He took one look at her tearstained and delusional face before he turned to the door and began to leave. Her small voice stopped him.
"Wait," she whispered. "Don't leave me. Please. He'll come back."
The man from the bar? Jackson inferred as much. He paused, his hand sliding from the doorframe. It couldn't hurt. Whoever he was to her, an angel or a hallucination..she needed him. And he'd never been needed before.
Jackson moved back to her bedside and brushed a curl from her face.
"Sh," he soothed her. "I'll stay." At least until she fell asleep. He told himself it was out of necessity. For the first hour at least she was exceptionally subject to vomiting and if she was on her back she'd choke. He needed to keep an eye on her.
As she began dozing he eased himself off the side of the bed and moved into her bathroom.
"Advil, ibuprofen, Equate..." Jackson cursed as he sifted through the tampons and deodorant. Finally at the back of her medicine drawer he found a small bottle of painkillers. He shook out two and set them on her bedside table along with a glass of water. She'd need them when she awoke. And after all, she'd probably just think she put them there.
Next he pulled a cool washcloth and placed it on her head. She smiled in her sleep and he fought back a genuine smile and tiptoed out to her living room.
It was immaculately clean, almost sickeningly so. Her house wasn't large by any means, but decorated so chic and plainly that it made it seem so. Her movies and books and cds were lined up in an organized fashion on a rack. He curiously pawed through them, making sure not to knock them over. Lisa would have a fit.
Lisa would have a fit. Sounded like an old married couple, or something.
He froze and shook the thought away as he glanced at movie titles. 28 Days Later. Batman Begins. Hey, that guy kind of looked like him...too skinny though. Never mind. Ew. Girly man, there...OH GOD. His eye caught the title of another with the same actor. Breakfast on Pluto. Good God, was he wearing...lipstick? Jackson quickly pushed the movie back into place and repressed a shudder.
The cds were just as shocking. He'd expected bhangra or Celtic music, maybe she'd get a little daring and be a Carrie Underwood kind of gal if he was lucky. But no. It was rock. All rock. The Beatles, Flogging Molly, Franz Ferdinand, Kings of Leon...wow. Scary.
Jackson raised an eyebrow and turned away from the shelves. He needed to get away from this before he had a heart attack. Funny how he'd already stalked her for four weeks and didn't know this. Maybe he needed more time.
Or maybe...wanted more time. Lisa was the first target that he hadn't been bored watching. Funny thing was, she had the most boring schedule. Jackson turned suddenly to return to her room and his elbow connected with a vase. It crashed to the floor and he winced, his ears perking for a sound of movement in the bedroom. After roughly five minutes of waiting he bent over and began cleaning up the broken pieces. Damn. shiite. Damnshiiteshiite. Oh well. Hopefully she'd think she'd done it herself. Or her cat. Where was the son of a bitch tiger anyway?
Jackson scraped up the pieces and dumped them in the garbage, covering them with paper. Couldn't let her see them, at least.
"Sh. Just don't tell her," Christina giggled as the ten year old boy sheepishly tied the garbage bag.
"We'll get in trouble! I don't want to get yelled at!"
"Jack, sweetie, I'll take the blame," she said, bravely puffing out her chest. He giggled and heaved the heavy Hefty bag over his shoulder. It was so heavy it knocked the small child over. Christina gasped and ran to his side, peering into his face.
"You okay, Jackson?"
"Yeah," he giggled. "I fell."
"Obviously." The laughs never stopped. They laughed until their chests heaved, until they had tears of joy running down their faces. Jackson took one long look at Christina as she chuckled and felt a sense of comfort. Love. Elation. Christina was his only friend. The only person that was nice to him.
The door was thrown open and the principal walked in, her five chins quivering menacingly. She eyed a piece of pottery on the floor, one the dynamic duo had missed. Jackson froze, his laugh cut short. He darted away from the doorway as she grabbed him up by his collar and sent a walloping blow to his head. As his ears began ringing he heard only glimpses of her angry screams.
"...third time..."
"...bad influence..."
"...unacceptable..."
"...punishment..."
And then some of Christina's.
"...not his fault..."
"...just a pot..."
"...mine not his..."
"...don't fire me..."
He'd hoped they wouldn't. When his bruises had subsided he discovered she'd only been demoted. Back to the lowly janitorial position. But at least she had a job.
It was then that things had changed. As trivial and repetitive that situation had been, it changed Jackson. He saw Christina less, but thought of her more. Three years, it was, before he was visited by the Company. Three years he had thought unrelentingly of Christina and her laugh. The last two years he'd spent a lot of time with her, though. But only he knew of that.
Jackson sighed. He'd be lying if he said he'd never had a girlfriend until he was sixteen. Christina couldn't be counted as that, after all...it was secret. But it was fun. Very fun indeed.
By a sharp cry from Lisa in the bedroom he snapped his attention into focus. Time to check on baby...
She was sobbing, her breaths ragged and harsh. Jackson frowned and sat down on the bed next to her.
"...all...all my fault...I'm a whore..."
Jackson shushed her and rubbed a comforting circular pattern on her back. Her breathing began to return to normal but the tears still came. Finally, with a sigh, he subconsciously laid down next to her, pulling the comforter over his body, and pulled her into his arms. She curled up against him and he placed his head gently on hers..
"Sh...sh...it's okay. I'm here."
"You're here...thank...thank you..." she began muttering as she drifted back to sleep. He caught only one more word until he himself fell asleep. "My savior."
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He awoke near the early morning hours and cursed as he quietly removed Lisa's hand from his chest. Dammnit, what had they done? They hadn't...done...that, but he'd spent the whole night here. And she wasn't drunk anymore. In fact, she was very much aware and would most likely be waking up soon. Jackson eased himself quickly out of bed and ran outside to his car, making sure to lock the door behind him. He didn't breathe again until he was back in his car, slouched down in case she looked out the window. Phew.
And that was his one-night stand with Lisa Reisert.