The Job: Chapter 5

Opening the door showed about what I would expect for a place Jess was shacked up in. Several paintings that looked like they belonged in an art gallery hung from dirty stained walls. Fading or ripped wall paper was interspaced between them and various bits of furniture were adorned with empty soda cans, pizza boxes, and the occasional newspaper clipping.

Like the walls, Jess's furniture was a mixed bag of whatever caught their fancy. Dark finish end tables contrasted with a sofa that looked like something you'd see on a bad acid trip. A cheap gold painted lamp missing it's shade sat in one corner, and in the other one that looked like it was cast in real gold complete with a crystal shade stenciled in roses.

However, all my attention was on the cape sitting in a lazy boy in front of a monstrous TV playing what looked like a zombie themed first person shooter. Dressed in a pair of tight body shorts and a sports bra.

"Hang on a sec," Jess giggled evilly. The avatar on screen beating an undead girl in a bikini with an electric baseball bat. "I've been hunting for this bitch for over an hour."

I reared back, throwing the volatile card with all that I had. Flying across Jess's living room with the speed of a bullet, it collided with the center of the TV and exploded in a shower of sparks, glass, and electronics with enough force to throw Jess out of the chair.

"What the fuck, you crazy cajun cunt!?" Jess screamed rolling easily to a crouch. "I actually paid for that TV!"

"You knew!"

"You high?" Jess yelled back confused. "I thought I taught you to stay away from pedo-creepers in white van's giving away free candy."

"Hebert!" I hissed.

"Oh." Jess blinked. "Well, that would explain why you didn't answer my calls yesterday. How did it go?"

"How did it go?" I yelled. "That is what you have to say about this complete fuck up you dumped on me?"

"You know, your accent gets almost unintelligible when you're angry?" Jess casually noted. "And yeah, I'm curious. He your daddy or what?"

Trying to keep from losing any more of my control than I had, I whispered, "Why?"

"Why what?" Jess asked confused. "Why am I curious? I mean, fuck, this is like the cape version of Day's of Our Lives and shit. Why wouldn't I be curious?"

"Pic kee toi, Jess! Fee pue tan, you know what I meant," I bit back. "I get that you troll everyone. I get that's your thing, but why didn't you just tell me? Why the hell would you do something like this to me?"

Slowly standing Jess's face blanked. "What's the first thing I taught you when I took you in?"

"Everyone lies." I answered forcing myself not to press.

"No, what was the first thing, not the most important," Jess corrected.

"Everyone has a price to charge," I replied frowning. "And a price to pay. Nothing in this world is free."

"Those aren't just words, kid," Jess nodded. "That's a fucking fact. That was the first thing I taught you because that was the first true fact of life I learned myself."

"What?"

"In some ways, I envy you kid," Jess said. "You don't remember your trigger. The shit that led up to it. I fucking wish I could forget mine."

"And what the hell does that have to do with this sick joke you played on me?"

Jess shook her head. "What joke?"

"You knew Danny Hebert was looking for someone who looked just like me. The job to bring me here. The safe house right across the street from where he worked. You told me yourself years ago that there were no coincidences, Jess. You set this whole thing up!"

"Yeah, I did."

"Why?"

"Because he might actually be your dad," Jess answered. "That meant something to you a couple of years ago. I thought you would want to know."

"Then why didn't you just tell me!"

"Because nothing in this life is free," Jess answered immediately. Obviously getting frustrated with me. "If I told you I found someone who might be your dad and gave you his address what would you have done? I know what I would have done. I would have fucking laughed in your face before hitting you with my sledgehammer until you were a pile of quivering meat for trying to fuck with me."

"Jess? No I wouldn't have..."

"Then you're a fucking idiot," Jess's head shook again, narrowing eyes at me. "If I'd have given you this shit the first thing you should have done is throw it in my face like the bullshit lie it should have been. I set this up so that everyone got something out of it and if you happen to bump into him and decided to look into it, that was on you. That's how shit works."

I shook my head. I couldn't even articulate to myself how that didn't make any sense to me.

"My current boss had me doing a job that just happened to be the same area he was putting up his flyers. The only thing not right in the picture was your eyes. When I saw that I knew it was something you needed to know."

"So you fabricated a job to bring me here?" I asked unable to comprehend what Jess was trying to say.

"I didn't make up a fucking thing. Asshole did steal my parking spot so I was going to steal something of his anyways. I just figured that considering fuck nut happens to be some wealthy CEO doing it quieter would be better. Also more amusing, which it was. I snuck back and took pictures. The look on his face when he spotted the skylight was the funniest fucking thing I've ever seen."

"And the safe house?" I asked weakly trying to get the conversation back on track. At the moment there was nothing more I cared less about than Max Anders reactions to Jess stealing his piano.

"Well, you needed a place to stay after the job and I needed another safe house anyways," Jess shrugged. "Etiquette is always giving space to talent you import for work, you know that. If you guys didn't bump into each other there, I'd find a way to get you in the same area as he put up flyers. There's always jobs going everywhere in this city and that guy gets around. Never posts them in the same place twice. Surprised this city isn't wall papered in the damn things."

I bristled a little, annoyed. I'd come here with righteous fury, certain that I had every right to be pissed off, and now the only thing I could think to say was, "Thanks, I guess."

"Don't thank me, buy me a new TV. I want a bigger one. Something sexy with nice curves," Jess said, waving hands in a suggestive manner.

It took everything I had not to throw another card.

XxXGambitXxX

The sun was well on it's way into the sky when I arrived on the boardwalk. After leaving Jess's place I went to the safe house needing a quiet place to think. Sitting on the roof didn't give me any answers to the questions rolling through me and I eventually had to get away when I noticed Danny's car wasn't parked in the lot across the street.

I got plenty of looks dressed in my normal armor and new coat. Now and then someone would pull a cell phone but they quickly disappeared when I frowned at them. After a while, people stopped, or at least, they didn't let me see them doing it.

I guess capes didn't hang out around here like they did back home. Then again, I haven't been here at night yet, so I couldn't say they didn't. Still, the attention was distracting enough that I wasn't obsessing over the events of the last few days. Which in itself was a blessing, if still a bit irritating.

Passing a electronics stores with several big TV's on display, I instead approached a street vendor selling various touristy things. Brockton Bay post cards, shot glasses, typical stuff like that. I wasn't really paying attention much as I browsed and moved on before I was finished since my presence seemed to make the vendor nervous.

I missed Frenchmen Street. People didn't stare at me there.

Tired of the glances and whispers, I moved toward the water finding a bench to claim. So far the day was looking like it was going to be the nicest I'd experienced yet. Cloudless, sunny, and best yet, warmer. The wind wasn't bad. Enough to send little waves toward me and keep my hair from sitting still on my shoulders.

How was I supposed to deal with all this?

I'd just gotten everything going my way. Despite Jess's falling out with Amos, he wasn't bad to his tenants and didn't care who we were or what we did as long as we didn't blow up his stuff. Easy access to music, food, whatever I was in the mood for at the time. Amos kept a tight rein on his enforcers and for the first time in memory, I didn't have to worry about someone breaking into my place and stealing my or Penny's stuff.

And Penny was a great roommate. She didn't coddle me or worse, try to control me just because she was older than I was. Then again she was less mature than I was regardless that she was ten years older. She didn't bring her boyfriends to the apartment. Didn't make too much noise during the day, which was appreciated even if we were both night owls and were generally sleeping during that time.

It wasn't all good, I reasoned. While I had plenty of opportunities for work to pay rent, I also had my share of enemies there. Rat King was always sending his people after me or trying to interfere in my business. After that thing with Two Mauls there was the occasional retaliation strike. And the less said about local PD trying to pin me for crimes I didn't commit, the better. Lazy bastards.

It was different for those I actually had done, but they didn't know that. If they had something concrete, Drummer would have sent heroes after me long ago. Fishing was about all they could do. They knew it. I knew it. But, that was the game.

"Excuse me?"

Turning I found an older blond woman standing next to the bench I'd claimed. She was not exactly over weight but didn't look like she spent much -if any- time in the gym. Instead, she was a bit mousy, dressed in business attire, and stood several inches shorter than me, at least. Rectangle glasses covered a piercing set of intelligent blue eyes. Her hands clutched a small brown paper bag tightly when she noticed my eyes but other than that, didn't react.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" She asked which made me raise my eyebrow questioningly.

"W-would that be alright?"

There was an… apprehensive air about her. I knew instinctively that she was lying. There weren't many businesses near here so this would be a pretty long walk for lunch, no matter where she worked. But then, why approach me?

"There are other benches," I hesitantly stated.

"True, but I always sit here," the woman countered. "I love the view. But if you would rather..."

Sliding over to give her room, I shook my head. "Up to you."

She sat, taking a moment to settle herself to her satisfaction. Ignoring her I went back to watching the water.

"Would you like some?" She asked; offering me a carrot stick. In her hands was a small tupperware containing more, as well as celery and a few other veggies.

"Uh, thanks," I answered taking it.

"You're welcome," she said giving me an awkward smile.

"Do you normally do this? Sit next to random scary capes and offer them veggies?"

"Only when they are sitting on my bench during my lunch break."

"And how many times has that happened?"

"Counting this one?" she asked. "Once."

I couldn't help but chuckle which earned me a genuine smile from the woman sitting next to me.

"Catherine," she introduced herself. "Catherine Bower, for now anyways. What's your name? Cape name of course, I hear most are pretty particular about that stuff."

Still chuckling I took her hand. "Renée LeBeau. My friends call me Renée."

Catherine's eyes widened before she looked around quickly before she whispered, "You didn't have to do that, but thank you."

"It's nothing," I said shaking my head before shrugging. "I've never been big on the whole secret identity thing."

"Oh?"

"No. Maybe it's because it took me a long time to, well, most people don't react well to how my eyes look. It makes them uncomfortable but it's not exactly easy to hide something like that and it took a long time before I even knew how. Much less could afford it. So, I figure, why hide? I am what I am. If people don't like that, then we're not likely to be friends. Which is fine, as long as they can be civil about it. There are others who will not judge for such a thing."

"That's a mature way to look at it," Catherine said. "Reminds me a bit of New Wave's philosophy."

I nodded. I knew of them, but not enough to be sure of anything so didn't comment.

"Is that why you're here?" Catherine asked. "In Brockton Bay."

At my questioning look, she continued. "You don't sound like a brocktonite. Less non-rhoticity and cot–caught merger. More twang. I'd almost say french but that's not quite right, is it?"

"Parlez-vous français ?"

"Un peu. Suffisamment que je ne pense pas que je le charcute trop, mais ça fait quelques années que je n'ai pas pratiqué avec quelqu'un de fluent."

"It's not bad, but I'm not exactly an expert myself," I said, switching back to english. She was probably better than I was, but it was clear she was out of practice while my french was more suited to the back streets of New Orleans. "But you're right, I'm not from around here. I'm visiting from southern Louisiana."

"Oh?" Catherine asked. "What brings you to Brockton Bay, if you don't me asking. Business or pleasure?"

"Business," I answered after a few moments to consider it. Sighing as I turned back to the water, "But then things became...complicated."

"I'm...sorry? I guess," Catherine laughed self consciously. "Sorry, but I don't know what to say to that. Do things like this happen a lot in your line of work?"

"My line of work?" I hedged giving the woman a side glance.

"Being a cape," she clarified. "Does weird stuff happen a lot when capes are doing, whatever it is they do?"

I relaxed a little bit. Just a little as I started to understand what she meant. "Not like this. At least, I've never heard of anything like this happening to anyone."

"Of course, you don't have to give me any details," Catherine said. "But is this weird thing something you can just ignore? Pretend didn't happen?"

No.

I shook my head.

"Well, is it something you can beat up until it stops being weird?" Catherine asked, punching the air in front of her in a bad boxer's pose.

I was too busy laughing at the unexpected question to answer. Catherine joining me after a few moments, "What? Isn't that what capes normally do?"

Getting a hold myself, I shook my head, "Not my style, mon'amie."

"Fine. So you can't ignore it and you won't beat it up," Catherine dramatically huffed. I would have been more impressive is she wasn't still giggling when she did it. "Is there any direct way of resolving it?"

"That's the question," I muttered.

"Ah. So, it's not a matter of not understanding the situation, it's more that you don't like your options on how resolve it?"

"Not exactly, but something like that."

"Okay. Well then I guess it's a matter of resolution."

At my confused look, Catherine continued. "No matter how strange you might think your situation is, it's probably not as strange as you're making it out to be. Granted, I don't know what it is so I'm probably wrong, but it might help if you treat it as just another normal problem."

That made sense. I didn't exactly agree, but I nodded thinking about what she was saying. "It's a bit more complicated than that. I have a...question I think I need to have answered."

"But you don't like how to get that answer?" Catherine asked.

I shook my head. I didn't. "It's worse than that. Depending on the answer, it will likely change a great deal of my current...situation."

"Oh. So part of the problem is that you are afraid to rock the boat."

I nodded.

Catherine blew out a breath leaning back. Quite as she ate one of veggies. I sat quietly looking over the water.

"But you're going to."

It wasn't a question.

"I don't think I can not."

"Is the change that scary?"

"No, but I spent a great deal of time to get this far. To throw it away…"

"But is that what you are doing?" Catherine pressed. "Are you throwing away something, or are you just...changing things to something new?"

I sat silently.

"Maybe that's the problem," Catherine suggested. "Maybe you're looking at the situation from the wrong angle. Is there anyone else that is affected by this situation?"

"Yes."

"Maybe you should talk them," Catherine said. "Instead of trying to solve this by yourself, maybe you should include them. More minds are better than one. And if they are affected by the answer as much as you are, it wouldn't be right to cut them from the process."

That sobered me. She was right. This was a big thing and it affected Danny as much as it affected me. If he really was my father, this situation wasn't going away. If I wasn't his daughter then that too was a situation that wasn't just going to go away.

I nodded.

The rest of Catherine's lunch passed quietly as she seemed to sense I needed to think. I was grateful and when we parted, I thanked her. Her advice was surprisingly helpful and I now had a plan for what needed to happen.

Now, how to convince Danny to go along with it?

XxXGambitXxX

"This is a terrible idea."

"This is a great idea," I disagreed with a huge smile on my face.

"There is no way this is going to end in anything except tears," Danny mumbled. "And mangled bodies."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop being so dramatic."

"Keep your eyes on the road!"

Laughing, I shook my head, feeling the wind rush through my hair at sixty miles per hour through the poor seal on my side of the jeep. Sitting next to me Danny didn't laugh. Instead maintaining his death grip on the roll bar and door looking a deciding greenish, despite the fact my driving wasn't really that bad.

"How did I ever let you talk me into this?" He mumbled.

"It was surprisingly easy," I answered smirkingly. "It only took an hour. I honestly figured it would have taken at least three times that long to get you to see reason."

"That is not what I meant Taylor," Danny said.

"Renée."

Danny sighed, "Right. Renée. Sorry, I'll work on that."

I nodded gratefully. "To seriously answer your question, you agreed to come with me because this is the best way to get the answers we both want."

"I don't see how driving to southern Louisiana and getting lost in a swamp is going to get us any answers," Danny argued.

"Bayou," I corrected. "And I know exactly where we are going. I've been there before."

"We could have gotten a simple paternity test at a hospital in Brockton Bay. It would have taken all of thirty minutes."

"And taken weeks to get results back," I said not mentioning that it would also put me in a system I'd been avoiding like the plague. "This isn't a question I want stewing on my shoulders for weeks. Do you?"

"No, but why do we have to drive halfway across the country?"

"Because that is where Creole Bennie is," I answered.

"And we're driving there, why?"

"Because he'll know if we arrived in any way that generates a trail," I answered again. For the third time. "He's not what you could all a 'good guy' and if we leave a trail others can follow, he won't help us. He'll...do something else."

"Okay, fine," Danny said, but I knew better. He really didn't like that part of my plan. "But I'm still iffy on how you convinced me to let you drive."

"I'm a good driver."

"Not the point, Renée. You don't have a Driver's License!"

"Of course I have a Driver's License," I argued casually. "I bought one from a forger last year. I paid an outrageous amount so that it was as near perfect as it could be. It's also guaranteed to pass any inspection. Even someone running the actual ID. That cost extra, but so worth it."

"What… How can… Forger? What?"

"It's not polite to ask those kinds of questions from those kinds of people, Danny," I shrugged. "But I know he's the best in the state, and that was enough for me."

Before Danny could shout whatever it was he as about to shout next, my phone rang. "One second, Danny."

"Hands on the wheel!" Danny shouted as I pushed the button on my ear bud to answer the call.

"Bonjour."

"You stole my jeep!" Jess screamed loud enough that Danny turned to look at me in surprise.

"I did?" I asked barely holding back my giggle at her reaction.

"Where the fuck did you stash it? I'm late for work!"

"It's on the 95," I answered honestly.

"What the fuck is it doing on the goddamn 95?"

"Going south."

Pure silence only broken by the wind and occasional car passing faster than I was willing to drive. That was changed by Jess's hysterical laughter after several long moments.

"Oh you fucking bitch," Jess cursed fondly. "You better not fucking scratch the paint."

"Yes, because neon pink with purple flames is such a great paint job," I deadpanned getting an unexpected chuckle from Danny.

"Yes it is, and if you scratch the paint, I'll fucking hurt you. And you better fucking bring it back. I love that Jeep way more than I like you."

"Of that, chérie, I have no doubt."

Jess snorted. "Take care of yourself kid."

"You too, Jess. I'll see you when we get back."

"I'm not going to like Jess when I meet him. Am I?"

"No one likes Jess," I chuckled not disagreeing.. "Jess is an acquired taste. Like anchovies or sardines, but not as likeable."

"Oh God, please give me strength," Danny mumbled making me laugh.

"Don't worry Danny," I consoled him. Poorly I'd admit, but still. Wasn't it the thought that counted? That was how this stuff was supposed to go, right? "You're going to love the New Orleans nightlife. Whatever your vice, I can put you on the street or in a room to satisfy it. Music, food, drink, whatever. Just let me know."

"Just what every father wants to hear from his daughter," Danny chuckled weakly.

I smiled back trying to ignore the pained look that he probably didn't realize he was showing. Part of me hoped that Beenie would tell him I wasn't his daughter. Not because I didn't like Danny but because I did. So that he could cherish what memories he had of her, and not compare them to someone like me. It was quickly becoming obvious his Taylor and I were very different people.