Title: Shiver
Rating: M (To be safe—you never know!)
Summary: "Always expect the unexpected." A one night stand leaves Jack with some extra baggage.
Pairing(s): Jack/OC

Author's Note: Sorry for the random line in the middle or my story. That's what happens when inspiration strikes unexpectedly at "stupid 30 in the morning" while you're trying to not fall asleep so you can see Shia LaBeouf on the Tonight Show. Okay, enough with my babbling let's get this started.

Huge thanks go out to those who reviewed: CSIVInDieselAddict, Mart7, Iris Knotwise, LMA1986, spikeyhairgood, heartbreaker23, Dragon Rider Murtagh, Tatiana, and last but not least fluffly18.

Remember: I'm still looking for a beta reader!

Disclaimer:Oh, how repetitive. I bet you readers already know that I'm going to claim that I own nothing pertaining to Four Brothers.

Chapter Two
J. Mercer

"Audrey, a few nights ago you went to a Spares show. What were your thoughts on the band?" Her boss, Brody Douglas asked.

Audrey twiddled a ball-point pen in between her fingers. "Well, they classify themselves as Punk Rock, but their set last night was almost too 'poppy' to fit the genre. There were awkward attempts of reenacting cords from The Clash, and to their dismay, most of these attempts ended in flat cords. However, most didn't notice; I wouldn't exactly say that the crowd was there for the music. They only thing that The Spares have going for them is the striking front man, doing double duty of lead vocals and guitar. In a nutshell, most of the night was forgettable."

"Well, I disagree."

Audrey's eyes narrowed at the high pitched, abhorrent voice coming from her far left. Her hazel eyes fell on Charlee Evans, the self proclaimed music guru at Spin. Everything about her was stereotypical; she was the blonde with oversized, 'too filled with silicone' breasts, twigs for legs and mush for brains. Audrey thought about going brunette multiple times, but she felt it was her duty to prove that she broke the mold when it came to blondes.

"You disagree with what?" She questioned through gritted teeth.

"If the people were just there for the lead singer, then why were they moving to the beat of the music? And Punk Rock is known for having beats, but that doesn't mean its 'poppy'."

Audrey stared at her as she tried to figure out why she was still working there. But it wasn't till Brody spoke that she remembered why.

"Good…Charlee," He said, seemingly trying to convince himself that what he said was true. "It seems like you did a—thorough job…"

That's probably not the first time she's heard him say that. Audrey thought to herself. "Let's be honest here, The Spares delivered the set with no passion. It's as if they've been doing this for years, and they're already tired. After the brooding mid-tempo pacing, The Spares left a dark cloud over everyone's head. People go to shows to connect with musicians; to establish relationships through songs, not to receive an overwhelming feeling of misery due to the 'isn't life a bitch' lyrics."

Brody smiled and leaned back in his office chair. "That seems like pretty acidic statements Audrey. Maybe the band was having a bad night…"

She shrugged her shoulders disbelievingly. "Or maybe they really do suck."

A collective laugh broke out in the room. "Or maybe you need to see another show—but from a different perspective," Brody suggested and he grabbed an envelope out from his jacket pocket. Placing it on the table, he slid it over to Audrey who opened it inquisitively.

"What the hell is this?"

"Backstage passes to tonight's show. Your assignment is to not only evaluate the music but to evaluate the band. Give insight into their lives; give fans the opportunity to know them personally, not just through their music. Really dig deep Audrey; this assignment could set you up for your future with this company."

It felt as though Audrey had been there only yesterday. She had spoken to every band member; from Johnny's laid back, California lifestyle, to Dean's strong Southern roots, and finally to Chris's nautical upbringing on the beaches of Cape Cod. She only had one more person to talk to.

The smoke rising into the air created ersatz haze in the room. Girls swooned and threw varies articles of clothing at the up and coming band. His fingers played the last cord of the night and he flashed an immense grin at the crowd before turning and walking off stage. She sat waiting for the unavoidable confrontation between the two of them and order swiftly, "Martini on the rocks. Actually, make that two."

In a little over twenty minutes, Audrey was going her fourth Martini, the bar was completely empty excluding bartenders and faithful patrons, and J.Mercer was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Kev I'll see you tomorrow night!" A raspy voice shouted as they moved across the bar towards the door.

Audrey turned swiftly, drank the rest of her drink, and made her way over towards him. "Hey, you!"

The man stopped and his lips slightly parted as he met eyes with her. "Aubrey, right?" He asked with a pointed finger.

"It's Audrey," she grimaced. "I'm Audrey Clark from Spin Magazine and I need to ask you a few questions."

"Well, I'm Jack Mercer lead singer of the Spares---"

"Yeah, no shit. Listen, can we just get this started?"

Audrey was mentally kicking herself as the two became entangled once again. The route towards her room had become something that the two of them could do blindfolded. He lifted her on the bed with ease and the heat of desire filled the room quickly as their breathing quickened.

The faint sound of ripping cloth erupted through the room as Audrey felt Jack's muscles contract at her every touch. His lips, leaving her mouth for the first time that night, traveled down her neck, and downward towards her torso.

'This is going to be one hell of a night,' Audrey thought to herself as a soft groan escaped through her red, swollen lips.

Audrey awoke the next morning to another yellow post it note beside her. The pictures that hung evenly on the wall were now askew, and some were on the floor in a sea of clear glass. She sat up slowly and cringed at the soreness she felt throughout her entire body. Her eyes traveled all over her room, and she turned her head only to come face to face with a large dent in it.

Shaking her head she flung off the ivory sheets to her bed and saw a clear object fall to the floor. Furrowing her eyebrows, Audrey picked it up and went from being disgusted to terrified. Between her fingers was a condom---a broken condom.