Lisa sat on the couch, sipping at her mug of green tea. She had just finished a forty-five minute phone call with Cynthia, which, in her opinion, was forty-three minutes too long. What had started off as a "How are things?" quick call from Cynthia had evolved into a three-quarters of an hour conversation about the new guy at work (on whom Cynthia had quickly developed a crush), the renovations on the top floor, the car Cynthia was thinking about buying, the newest weight-loss diet to hit the Miami area, the forecast for this year's hurricane season, and finally, the utterance of Jackson's name. Lisa felt a thrill run through her veins when Cynthia mentioned him, as if they had broached a taboo subject, and an adrenaline-fed shudder ran along her spine.
"So ... any word on that Jackson creep?" Cynthia asked, her voice a mixture of disgust and taunt. "Haven't heard much about him since the trial."
Lisa chewed the inside of her lip, wondering how much to tell Cynthia. So far, no one else knew about Jackson's visits. "Oh ... you know ... things are pretty quiet around here. Nothing to report really." She didn't like lying to her friend, but the risks associated with involving Cynthia in anything relating to Jackson had to be high. Better to keep her in the dark, for the most part.
"You know, I always wondered - and please don't think I'm screwed up in the head when I say this, because I know it's going to sound that way - what he'd be like away from his job. You know?" Cynthia paused, which allowed Lisa to replay memories of Jackson waiting for her at the Tex-Mex. "Because when I saw him there in the courtroom, he seemed tame enough. And those eyes! God, Lisa, they were gorgeous! Did you see them!?!"
"Yeah, Cynth, I saw them alright," Lisa answered with a slight laugh. "They were what pulled me in, in the first place, they were just so ..."
"Blue!" both women exclaimed at once. Girlish laughter followed for a few seconds before Cynthia continued.
"But, you know what I mean? I just kept sitting there thinking, 'If I had a guy who looked and acted like the way he was acting in that courtroom, come up and ask me out, I'd say yes in a heartbeat,' and I'm wondering how awful of a person that makes me?" She paused again. "Wonder what he'd be like in bed?" she ventured.
"Cynthia!" Lisa gasped out.
"Oh, come on, Lisa! You're sick, not dead! Don't try acting like the blushing virgin! I know you've got hot, red, vixen blood running through those veins!" Lisa felt her cheeks flush. "Every female in that courtroom was undressing him with her eyes, and thinking how she could sneak him out past those security guards and manage to get him back to her bedroom!" Cynthia laughed. "Admittedly, myself included."
"Oh ... okay, okay!" Lisa ceded. "You know what, Cynth? You're right, okay? He's handsome, he's charming, he's got the eyes, and the cheekbones, and the smile, and he knows just what to say ..." She took a deep breath, feeling as if she had just admitted a scandalous secret. "But, he's got a lot underneath that, just waiting to come to the surface. And when it does," an involuntary shudder ran through her body, "he's not Prince Charming anymore. Believe me, I would know." She heard Cynthia taking a sip of something on the other line.
"But ... he can't be all that bad, Lisa. I mean, you were saying how nice he was at that little airport restaurant before you got on the plane, right? And how he helped you out in line, and how he was Mr. Charming when you guys were getting ready for takeoff ... There's gotta be something in there that's human about him."
Lisa nodded, not realizing that her counterpart wouldn't be able to see the gesture. "I think there is, Cynthia, I really do. But ... it's been hidden so deep, and for so long ... I don't think he knows it's there anymore. It's too black inside of his heart to know where to look, sometimes, I think. I wonder what he would've been like, though, if he had never started his profession of arranging people's deaths. Like ... would he even have been there at that airport that night? And if he was, would he have been the charmer that he was at that restaurant? You know, stuff like that."
"Sometimes, Lisa, the most comforting reality is surreality."
Lisa had been pondering their conversation since the call had ended. Was Jackson just a product of his environment? And, if so, would removing him from that environment return him to a state of what was considered to be normal social behavior? Or, what if the demons that lurked throughout Jackson's soul and flashed in his eyes were self-made? What if he was as inherently heartless as he seemed to be? Could he ever turn away from that for good? Or would the small rays of light that shone through every now and then, like when he was watching over her last night, be only small glimmers of hope that appeared randomly before being snuffed out by the blackness again?
"In political news, now, the presidential campaign trails are heating up, with-" Lisa flipped away from the local news station, landing on CNN Headline News. The current reporterd was doing piece on the global warming issue, which Lisa tuned out, sipping her tea again. Soon, they would be doing their story on the latest immigration bill to be presented on Capitol Hill, and she was eager to hear what news was coming from Washington.
"Thanks, Marcus. And now, we turn to a shocking discovery from the political ranks in Georgia. Earlier today, officials apprehended newly-elected State Representative Thom Delacroix. Delacroix was replacing ousted Democrat John Burrows, who had been charged in an illicit sex scandal, and was projected to win over the Georgian Democrats and Republicans alike. Now, in a report released only hours ago by the State Attorney's office, Representative Delacroix has been allegedly embezzeling money from state funds to put into his upcoming election-year campaign. An investigation of the Representative's office yielded nearly $90,000 in cash, bank receipts for an offshore account, and documents whose contents have yet to be released. As if that weren't enough, new evidence from Savannah suggests that Georgia's Republican govenor, Rodney Stelchek, appears to be involved as well. Officials working the investigation have not yet released any information concerning the governor's involvement in this case, only stating that he is being questioned by the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security. We'll bring you more information as we receive it.
And coming up in the next half hour, a homeowner in Denver claims she was scammed into purchasing homeowner's insurance from a fly-by-night insurance company. How can you avoid making the same mistake? Stay tuned for more information. And the battle concerning immigration legislation heats up as the Democrats and Republicans face off again today in Washington; we'll bring you more on that story after the break."
She set the remote down and stood from the couch, stretching slightly. Grabbing her tea, she made her way to the stairs on her way to grab her cordless phone from her bedroom. She froze when she saw a dark figure pass by her bedroom door.
"No sir, I'm not seeing anything of the sort up here. Anything she may have on the Keefe attempt isn't up on the second floor." Thankfully, the man's back was turned to her, and she used that advantage to sneak back through the hallway, grabbing her cell phone from the living room as she skittered past. Lisa quickly opened the door to the hallway closet and shimmied between the obstacles contained therein. Flipping open her phone, she suddenly realized that she had no idea who to call. She stared at the phone in horror, silently begging for a number, any number to pop into her head.
As the man upstairs continued talking, a number flashed through her mind. She dialed it quickly, not knowing who she was going to get on the other line. A few rings later, the line connected and a tired voice answered.
"Rippner." Lisa's breath hitched slightly. When did she ever have Jackson's number?
"Ja-" she paused, gulping and trying to calm her nerves, "Jackson?"
"Lisa?" His voice seemed to carry a note of concern. "Lisa, what are you doing? How did you get my cell number?"
"Jackson, where are you?" she hissed. She could hear the clicking of a turn signal on the other end of the line.
"Wha- uh ... I'm, I'm heading through the outskirts of downtown, towards my place." He began growing suspicious. "Why, what's going on, Leese?" The sound of his car revving momentarily muffled all other noises, and she paused before answering.
"I- I ... I don't know, there's a, uh-" she stopped, hearing heavy footsteps move away from the upstairs landing and down the hallway, towards one of the othe rooms, "there's a guy upstairs, Jackson, and I don't have a clue how he got in, but he's talking to someone about something about the Keefe job, and I don't know if he's got a- a, a gun, or-"
"Leese, calm down," Jackson soothed, nearly purring the words, "I can get to your place, from here, in a few minutes. Don't move, stay as quiet as possible, but stay on the phone with me for now, okay? Can you do that?" Lisa nodded.
"Lisa, did you hear me? Can you do that for me?"
"Yes! Yes, I can do that." She heard him turn off the radio.
"Where, in the house, are you at right now, Lisa?"
"Hallway closet, downstairs."
"Alright, good. Stay there, don't move till I come to get you, okay?"
"Alright."
"Okay, I'm going to hang up the phone now, but I'll be there in sec, okay?"
"Sure."
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After what seemed like an eternity, Lisa could sense someone moving around in her living room. Peering through the wooden slats in the door, she could see Jackson's familiar figure round the corner carefully. He paused, looking up at the second floor landing, before gliding over to the closet. He peered through the slats, seeing Lisa's horrified green eyes staring back. He put a finger to his lips, then motioned for her to come out as he pulled the door open quietly.
Lisa slid out of the closet, but stopped when she felt her pajama pants catch on something, hearing the object beginning to slide against the closet wall. Jackson made a surprised face as he quickly reached behind her and grabbed the offending object, steadying it as he gave a slight tug on her pants, freeing the material. He cast a sideways glance at her, his expression conveying everything. 'Close one.'
"Is he still up there?" he whispered. Lisa nodded as Jackson reached into the waist of his pants. "What does he look like, can you tell? Tall, short? Skinny, stocky? Anything?" Lisa felt her throat clench as he retrieved a gun from the back of his pants, clipping a magazine into it as quietly as possible. She shook her head no and took a cautious step backwards. He regarded her for a moment before cocking the gun and handing it to her, handle first. "Stay down here, don't make a sound. I'm going up. DO. NOT. ... come up after me, do you understand?"
Lisa shook her head and tried handing the gun back to him. "N-no, Jackson, I don't want this, I-" He closed her fingers around the handle, staring her straight in the eye, his gaze turning icy and causing a shudder to run along her spine.
"Lisa, take it. Like you said, we don't know if he's got a gun, so if he does, you're gonna need that." She shook her head again, tears stinging her eyes and threatening to spill over. "Yes, Lisa!" he hissed. "Now stay down here and be quiet. Tell me you understand." Lisa felt a sob beginning in her throat.
"No, Jackson, I don't wan-"
"Tell me ... you understand!" Lisa squeezed her eyes closed, feeling the tears falling down her cheeks and splashing onto her collarbones. "Leese ..."
"I understand," she mumbled finally. Jackson released her hand holding the gun and reached into his jacket, bringing out the KA-BAR he had used at her father's house. She remembered reading something on the internet about the KA-BAR being the knife that the United States Marines used at the ends of their rifles as their bayonnets. She suddenly wondered if the man standing guard outside of her father's house had any connections to the military. And if so, why would he have been involved in the plot to take out the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security?
"I want you to go into the bathroom down here, keep the light off, and hide behind the shower curtain, do you understand?" Lisa nodded. "When I finish taking care of everything, I'll let you know." Lisa started to nod, but stopped midway.
"Wait! Why are you the one going up there with him, and I'm the one with the gun?" The terrified look on her face caused a smirk to tug at the corner of Jackson's mouth.
"Because I'm the one who knows how to use a knife, and you're the one who knows how to use a gun. I've got the marks to prove it." The lighthearted note he ended on caused Lisa's mouth to twitch into a half-hearted smile. "Now, go." Lisa nodded and slinked into the bathroom at the end of the hallway, slipping behind the curtain. She peeked out one last time to check on Jackson. His back was turned to her, but as he rounded the stairs, he caught her gaze. Lisa bit her lip nervously, staring back. He gave her a wink.
Her cheeks blushing, Lisa yanked herself back into the relative safety of the shower. She was surprised to find that Jackson had managed to avoid the squeaky stair, as there was absolute silence. Again, seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly, and time seemed to have crawled to a stop.
Thump.
Lisa clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming in terror. Suddenly, all hell was breaking loose upstairs. She could hear shouts and yells as furniture skidded across the floor and objects fell and shattered on the ground. The footsteps and bangs continued for another five seconds before Lisa couldn't take any more.
"The hell with staying down here!" She ripped the shower curtain back and ran down the hallway, nearly slipping on the smooth hardwood floor as she came around the corner to the stairs. She took the steps two at a time, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.
"- all the same, poster boy, I'm the one with the gun. What's that movie line? 'Don't bring a knife to a gun fight', eh? Now ... I'm gonna finish what I came here to do, and you're gonna get your scrawny ass back downstairs and keep an eye on her while I find the Keefe info. Got it?"
Lisa pressed herself up against the wall, glad that she had an alcove that afforded her a few additional inches of concealed space.
"I already told you, she doesn't have any info on the Keefe plot!" Lisa could hear Jackson's labored breathing, and knew he had been injured in one form or another. "And it's pointless for me to go downstairs and babysit her when she's about as handy with a weapon as a five-year-old!" She bristled at his comment, but knew he had said it to try to lower the intruder's suspicions about her. All the same, the remark still stung, and she knew she'd have to get him back for it, later.
"She seemed able enough to put you out of commission for a while, Ripper-"
"Call me that again, and I'll give you a reason to equate me with Jack the Ripper!" Jackson growled angrily. "Now, get the fuck out of here, Henson! I warned you, when I was in Adams, about being anywhere near me-"
Lisa heard the intruder's gun cock as Jackson immediately fell silent. "And I told you ... you're on the bottom rung, pal. Scum under the rock. You ain't callin' the shots, anymore. You're going to do what I say, now. Understand?"
Lisa glided carefully down the hallway, keeping herself pressed as flat against the wall as she could, pointing the gun towards the floor. Gathering her courage, she quickly peeked into the room where the commotion was coming from, and saw the intruder blocking Jackson's exit. Thankfully, though, Jackson was facing the doorway, while his opponent was not. Using this to her advantage, Lisa spun around noiselessly and stood in the doorway. She noticed Jackson's acknowledgement and was grateful that he was sly enough to make his eye movements seem as natural as possible to prevent Henson from suspecting anything.
"Do you honestly think the boss is going to put you in charge of me, Henson? You, the idiot that ruined every single operation we had in Tanzania? You've got a lackluster history, Aaron, and for Sal to put you in charge of-"
"Shut. The fuck. Up. Now." Henson leveled the gun at Jackson's head. "I'm damn near ready to just get rid of you, right here and now, and spare the company and myself the trouble of dealing with you for another fucking minute!" he growled. "And maybe, just for a bonus, I'll fuck that Reisert bitch's brains out while you lay on the floor bleeding to-"
"I wouldn't fucking count on it," Lisa hissed, cocking her gun and pressing it against the nape of the man's neck. "Drop the gun, slowly, and kick it towards Jackson. Try anything and you'll be the one who's fucked." Her voice was venomously low and held no surmise of a bluff.
"Well, well, well ... if it ain't the notorious Lisa Reisert, come to pay us a visit." The man made no move to drop the gun, and from his slow, nearly indistinct movements, seemed to be ready to launch a surprise attack on her. To prove her seriousness, Lisa shifted her gun lightly, firing a shot through her window, causing the glass to shatter and making both males cringe. She pressed the muzzle back against Henson's neck again, hearing him hiss as the hot metal burned his skin.
"I wasn't joking. Drop the gun, and kick it towards Jackson, or next time, it'll be your skull exploding all over the place, not my upstairs window." She saw Jackson send her an appreciative smirk as Henson set the gun down, shoving it towards Jackson with his foot.
"You ever hear that song 'Crazy Bitch'? I'm damn close to thinking the song title was conceived with you in mind." Henson remarked to Lisa, while glaring at Jackson. It was Jackson who answered instead, as he picked up the gun and aimed it at Henson.
"If I've learned one thing about Leese, it's that you should never, under any circumstances, underestimate her." He glanced at Lisa, who seemed to have let go of her courage now that Jackson was at the helm again. "Go downstairs, Lisa." She blinked once, slowly, and opened her mouth to protest. The saddened, concerned look he gave her suddenly made her realize why he wanted her to go downstairs. He was looking out for her; he didn't want her to have to see anything messy. She lowered her gun and nodded before turning and leaving the room. When he could no longer hear her footsteps, he refocused his attention on Henson. "Now, where were we?"
"We were on the part where you threaten or shoot me. I haven't actually figured it out, yet," Henson sneered. Jackson's eyes narrowed.
"Hmm ... I haven't figured out which one I'm going to do yet, either. So, maybe it'd suit your personal interests to be as compliant as fucking possible!" he hissed. "Let's start at the most obvious end of the question spectrum and just work our way down the line, shall we? Why are you here?"
"Fuck you, Rip." Jackson shrugged and changed his aim.
"Fine, have it your way." The deafening report of the shot going off echoed throughout the house.
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Lisa had barely made it back to her couch when she heard the gun go off. A split second later, a heavy thump caused the dishes in her cabinets and the pictures on her walls to rattle. She gripped the gun Jackson had given her and sprinted back into the downstairs bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.
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Henson laid bleeding on the floor, a dark hole in his shoulder leaked the red-black wetness through his jacket and into a pool that was beginning to spread beneath him. He looked up at Jackson, who was very calmly opening the chamber of the gun and counting the rounds left in it.
"Now," Jackson began, his voice eerily quiet, "I have five rounds left in the gun. However," he reached into his jacket and produced another magazine, "I do happen to have a bit more ammo." He looked down at Henson, who was managing to look quite pissed off, in spite of the blood loss. "So, you're going to tell me why you're here, or we're going to find out how many times you can be shot before dying. Agreed?"
Henson growled and rolled his eyes. "Fuck you," he spat. Jackson sighed and cocked the gun. He fired another round into Henson's arm, causing Henson to scream in pain.
"Again, I have a lot ... more ... ammo ... I'm sure we can drag this out, but I'm not very patient when it comes to these things, and gunpowder makes my eyes and nose burn. So, if we could do this in a less messy, quicker fashion ... I'd be greatly appreciative," Jackson finished politely. Henson clenched his jaw and held his wounded arm.
"What's the matter, Rippner? Can't take the sight of a little blood?" Jackson rolled his eyes.
"God, you really don't pick up on these things very quickly, do ya?" he asked, cocking the gun and aiming for a leg.
"No! Wait!" Henson sputtered. Jackson hesitated, but held the gun steady.
"Got something you want to say, then?" he asked. Henson groaned in resignation.
"Orders came from Sal," he started, shifting uncomfortably. "The Keefe client was a high-roller, a cash cow. They weren't too fuckin' happy when they didn't see a return on their investment. Sal wanted to make sure that they don't take their money elsewhere, so he made them a deal." Jackson lowered the gun and squatted down next to Henson.
"Really? And who are these people that he's making a deal with, Henson?" He narrowed his eyes. "But, more importantly, what kind of a deal did he make? Specifics."
"Don't know the names of the clients. All I know is that they're foreign. They've got an interest in seeing America's foreign policy becoming lax in the next administration, for trafficking purposes."
"Trafficking of what?" Jackson asked, glancing down at the blood that was now pooled around Henson. Lisa was going to be pissed that her floor was ruined. Henson shook his head.
"I haven't heard. But I've got three guesses: humans, drugs, or weapons. Could be a mix of all three." He paused, blinking hard and coughing, trying to keep himself conscious.
"What was the deal?" Henson was breathing hard now, struggling to stay awake.
"Finish the Keefe job."
"So why didn't Sal just come straight to me, then?" Things were sounding a bit fishy for Jackson.
"Thought you were too involved with the Riesert bi-" he cut himself off when he saw Jackson's warning glare, "-too involved with Reisert."
"No one's ever heard of 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer,' these days, I take it," Jackson muttered. He looked back down at Henson with disdain. "I want in on the deal. I finish the Keefe job, and I'm out of the business. For good."
Henson had the balls to laugh. "Sure thing, Rippner. I'll let Sal know to add that to his own little 'Good Deeds to Accomplish Before I Die' list." Jackson suddenly knelt down and pressed the gun hard against Henson's forehead.
"Alright, the way I see it, you've got two options. Option A, I can put you out of your fucking misery right here and now with the next round in the chamber. Option B, I can let you go back to Sal and have you tell him that I want in on the deal. Which one sounds more appealing?"
Sighing, Henson looked at his wounds. "I'll take B." Jackson nodded and extended his hand, helping Henson up off the floor. Grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, he led him out of the room.
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When Jackson had finally gotten Henson back to his own car and watched him drive off, he allowed himself a few moments to think.
Sal was a shrewd businessman, but this surprised even Jackson. He entered the house, locking the front door behind him before leaning back against it. Sal had made a deal with foreign clients for the Keefe job, he had known that the moment he took it, but knew better than to ask questions. But once it was botched, he went back and tried to salvage it? That was something that even he didn't think Sal would do, and he had known Sal since he was just a teenager, when he was taken in by the company. The new deal that Sal had designed sounded awkward, but any opportunity he had to get out of the company quicker, Jackson was going to take it.
He suddenly realized how quiet it was. "Lisa?" Jackson called out. He looked through the living room, and in toward the kitchen. Everything seemed empty. He moved to the hallway and peered toward the bathroom, seeing that the door was shut. Jackson walked to the bathroom and rapped softly on the door three times. "Lisa, you in there?" He could hear heavy, staccato breathing.
Lisa didn't look up when Jackson opened the door. She was weakly clinging to the toilet, her forehead resting against her arm. Jackson could see that she was shaking slightly.
"Is he gone?" she asked faintly. Jackson nodded.
"Yeah, Leese. He's gone."
"Dead?" Jackson wasn't sure what answer she was looking for on that one.
"No. Not yet, anyway." He watched as Lisa sat up slightly, rubbing her hands across her face. Jackson eyed her carefully. "I gave him the option of going back and letting the boss know that I want out of the company. For good. No more little assignments to finish up, no more anything. Just ... out. Alive."
Lisa looked up at Jackson with a steady, studious gaze. Jackson felt unnerved by the look in her eyes, as if she was trying to find a glitch in his tone and demeanor. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she nodded. An awkward silence hung between them, both suddenly avoiding the other's gaze. Lisa moved and sat on the edge of the bathtub, while Jackson leaned heavily against the door frame. Lisa finally sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, clasping her hands at the back of her neck.
"You okay?" Jackson asked softly. Lisa nodded. "You su-" he didn't allow himself to finish the questioning verification, knowing that she hated it. Lisa laughed at the way he cut himself off.
"Yeah, I'm sure, Jackson." She looked up to see him giving her a sympathetic look, and felt herself chill under his gaze. She wasn't currently interested in being on the receiving end of anyone's pity, even if it was well-intentioned. Jackson glanced at his watch briefly. "You don't have to babysit me anymore, the Big Bad Wolf's gone."
The corner of Jackson's mouth turned up slightly, giving him a a very wolfish smile. "How can you be sure that the Big Bad Wolf isn't me?" Lisa rolled her eyes.
"Because you haven't eaten me yet." She heard Jackson make a slight choking noise and realized, with utter embarrassment, the horrible double meaning that her simple reply could have. Her face flushed and she dared a glance toward Jackson's face, it was a few shades redder and held an amused smile.
"Excuse me?" he asked tauntingly. Lisa shook her head and held her hands out in front of her pleadingly.
"No, no, no! That's not- I didn't mean it like that! I meant-" Jackson held up his hands, stopping her.
"I know what you meant," he laughed. "I just- it was too good of an opportunity to let it just pass. You walked right into that one." He checked his watch again as Lisa struggled to control the blush that had spread from her cheeks down to her neck. "We need to get moving soon, Leese. There's no telling when they'll be here. Come on." He pulled her into a standing position and led her back out into the hallway.
"Wait, what? 'Get moving'? Why? Move where? And who's 'they'?" Lisa sputtered.
"The rest of them. Go upstairs, get whatever you need that you can fit into one suitcase and your purse, and meet me back down here. Do it as quickly as you can." He pulled his keys out of his pants pocket and turned toward the front door.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Lisa, Henson's probably not the only one looking for info right now. You were lucky this time, he was only here for information on the Keefe case, not to make a hit. But where there's one, there'll be more. And I can't guarantee that they'll only be looking for information next time. They might be wanting to take you out, and I'm not meaning on a date, if you catch my drift." Lisa nodded slowly. "As far as I'm concerned, your house isn't safe for you anymore. Henson's already been in here, and it'll be easy for other agents to get in, too. If you plan on staying alive, especially after I gave Henson my ultimatum, you're going to have to move someplace safer."
"Jackson, I can't just up and move whenever I feel like it, I have a weakened immune system, I had to go out and get HEPA air filters, for shit's sake-"
"My place is sanitary, I assure you."
"Your place!?" Lisa squeaked, spinning around. Jackson held up his hands.
"It's either that, or quite possibly end up very, very dead." Lisa opened her mouth to protest, but couldn't come up with anything substantial. He was right, unfortunately. Jackson's employer most likely wouldn't be too thrilled with Jackson's ultimatum, or the fact that Lisa had screwed up another one of the plans, by ratting out Henson to Jackson. If anything, Jackson's place would be the last place they'd probably expect to find her.
"Okay," she finally mumbled, moving to the stairs.
"Ten minutes, Leese."
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Lisa stared out the window of Jackson's BMW as they pulled into the parking garage.
"I didn't know you lived in an apartment complex ..." Lisa mused. Jackson turned off the car and gathered his jacket and tie from the backseat.
"I don't. Not anymore, anyway. But this is where I park. I live closer to the beach. Grab your purse." Lisa unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door, grabbing the small tan bag at her feet. She moved to the trunk, but saw that Jackson was already closing it, her suitcase in hand. She reached for it, but he shook his head. "I've got it Leese, just follow me." Lisa suppressed a smile at Jackson's small, but noticed, display of chivalry and followed him through the parking garage.
They moved up the entrance ramp and out into the moonlight, waiting for cars to pass before crossing the street towards a small, open-air shopping plaza. Lisa took in the surroundings, noticing that the current environment reminded her of the Jacksonville Beach area. There was even an outdoor theater advertising Friday night's next showing of the latest "Now on DVD" movie.
They crossed through the shopping plaza toward a sandy path that led them to a boardwalk just past the dunes. Lisa followed Jackson's brisk pace down the boardwalk, which had an exit staircase that led to a quaint sidestreet. Judging by the look of the neighborhood, Lisa imagined the the majority of the residents were either snowbirds from the north, or retirees who lived year-round in the warm climate. She continued following him past front yards filled with sandy patches of grass, terra cotta-potted plants, and looming palms. One house with a newer VW bug parked in the driveway had an arbor loaded down with Chinese wisteria and passion vine, which caused Lisa to smile. It was nice to see a 'homey' touch to such a small space.
She looked up as she heard Jackson jingling his keys and saw that they had come up to a small, nondescript beach house, with a tiny front yard, and a wrought iron fence, complete with matching gate. The gate squeaked as Jackson opened it, letting Lisa pass through before shutting it behind them.
"This is where you live?" she asked. Jackson didn't answer as he walked up to the front door, set down her suitcase, and slid a key into a small box next to the door. The box clicked open, revealing a fingerprint scanner and keypad. She waited while he typed in the code, held all five fingers to the scanner, listened for a beep of confirmation, then said his name, followed by a string of numbers. Satisfied, the security system clicked. Jackson opened the glass storm door, slid a key into the lock, and opened the front door.
"Home sweet home, Lisa. For now, anyway." He picked up her suitcase and motioned for her to follow behind him. As Lisa entered the house, she realized that its appearance from the street was deceiving. Despite being small in width, the house opened up lengthwise to reveal a vast expanse of hardwood and tile floors, and Lisa could peer through several rooms to see a large set of windows in what must've been an all-seasons or living room.
A sudden jingling and clicking noise alerted Lisa to another presence in the room, and she shrieked as a behemoth of a dog made its way towards them. Seeing Lisa, the large black dog curled its lips and ran at her full-speed, barking and growling. She panicked and ducked behind Jackson, who grabbed the dog by its collar as it attempted to lunge for Lisa, and pulled it back.
"Titus, sit!" Jackson bellowed. As if a switch had been flipped, the dog ceased its growling, licked its lips, and sat compliantly next to Jackson.
"What the hell is that thing!?" Lisa shrieked, still shaking. The dog examined her with its head cocked to the side.
"Best damn guard dog I've ever had in my life. This," Jackson knelt down to rub the dog behind its huge ears, "is Titus. He's a Great Dane, like Marmaduke, if you've ever read the comic strip." He saw that Lisa was still standing a few feet away, wary to move any closer. Jackson gave a smirk. "Not afraid of dogs, I hope. Titus!" Jackson pointed to Lisa, and the dog advanced on her, causing Lisa to back against the wall. Jackson kept a firm grip on the dog's collar. "Don't worry, he's not going to hurt you, he just has to get to know who you are. Hold out your hand."
"So he can gnaw the damn thing down to the bone? Hell no!" Jackson grabbed her wrist, anyway. He pulled her up to Titus and held her hand, palm up, in front of the dog's muzzle. The dog sniffed her hand warily, then sniffed her feet and knees, before giving a satisfied huff and looking back to Jackson. Jackson let go of the dog's collar and the black beast moved into the hallway, and with a loud thump, sprawled out on the cool hardwood floor.
"Told you," Jackson said simply. He slid his keys back into his pocket moved into the kitchen, setting Lisa's suitcase next to a tiled breakfast nook. "If someone, somehow, disables my security system, they still have Titus to deal with. If my security system doesn't detect an intruder, Titus will."
"And what if he suddenly decides I'm an intruder?" Lisa asked, still feeling wary. Jackson shook his head.
"That's why I told you to hold your hand out to him. He'll know your scent now, when he moves through the house. He'll know you're supposed to be here. Anyone who's not, well, they won't have that luxury." He pulled his cell phone out and attached it to a charger on the counter. "Okay, first things first ... let's get you situated." He grabbed her suitcase and for what seemed the millionth time that evening, followed Jackson.
"I'm afraid I'm not much of a 'sleepover' type of guy, so there isn't really what you could call a 'guest room'. The majority of the house is either for my comfort, or for business." Lisa watched the pale walls of the hallway glide by and open up into dining area and living room, and past that, the all-seasons room. "Dining room's there, don't really have a need for it. Here's the living room. Got the basics ... TV/DVD/theater system, sectional couch, coffee table, chairs, the usual. This ..." he moved through the living room to the all-seasons room, which was sunk down a level, and had a panoramic view of the ocean, "is my room. Well, I mean, not that it's off-limits, just-" he looked back at Lisa, who nodded to affirm that she was listening, "I just really like this room." He looked back to the windows and smiled. "It's got a great view of the ocean. Not that I'm here to enjoy it much, but when I am ..." he trailed off, surveying the beachscape.
Lisa noticed the brick and copper firepit in the middle of the room, and how the layout seemed to be almost circular, to revolve around the firepit. A rounded stone seating area encircling the firepit held comfy-looking cushions in various shades of red, blue, green, and orange. Very tropical, she noted. The large windows weren't really windows at all, upon closer inspection. They were a series of doors which could be slid open to allow in the cool ocean breezes, and led out to a wooden terraced patio, and then to the beach.
"It's beautiful, I can see why you enjoy it," she responded politely. "You could have a good time in here."
Jackson smirked and blushed, scratching his neck sheepishly at a few rather embarrassing memories. "I have ... once or twice." Lisa bit her lip and guessed that Jackson 'entertained' a few female counterparts in the room. No. Disgusting. No way you should be thinking about that stuff, Lisa. Just- no. "Anyways ..."
He moved out of the room, and into another hallway. "There's a few other rooms. Pseudo-gym, here ..." he pointed into a room with a weight bench, a treadmill, and various other pieces of exercise equipment. "Pseudo-office, here. This room is off-limits, just so we're clear." Lisa nodded and continued down the hallway. "Okay, here's the tricky part, and I can tell you're not going to like this one bit. I can imagine the fit you're going to throw already." Lisa wasn't sure if he was talking more to himself or not. "This is the 'extra bedroom'. As you can see, it's not really a bedroom, more like ... a storage space. For now." Lisa peered into the room to see that it was filled with boxes and storage containers. "I've always had it on my to-do list to actually use it as a second bedroom, but, as I said before, not much of a 'sleepover' guy." Lisa raised an eyebrow.
"Not for an extended stay, anyway, am I right?" she asked with a smirk. Jackson nodded shamelessly.
"Yeah. Pretty much. My ... company ... usually preferred to just go ahead and share a room for the night."
"Head-to-feet, I'm sure," Lisa supplied sarcastically, referring to a more 'modest' sleeping arrangement. Jackson shrugged.
"Which is a wonderful segway into the situation at hand." He pointed into the final room, a white-walled bedroom, with an adjoining bathroom, and a large four-poster bed up against one wall. "This is the only bedroom. That is the only bed. Those are the only blankets. Hence, our situation." Lisa paled. Was he suggesting-?
"Y-you mean ...?" she motioned back and forth between the two of them.
"Yeah, unfortunately. Can we be adults about this and share the bed without throwing a temper tantrum, until we're able to remedy the situation?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest, then pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He looked like he was readying himself for a knock-out, drag-down fight.
Lisa opened her mouth a few times, horror seeping across her face. Finally, she took a deep breath. It's not like I have much of a choice, unless one of us sleeps on the sectional, sans blankets and pillows. "Okay." Jackson looked up questioningly.
"Did you j- ... did you just forego an argument and actually make a compromise with me?" he asked, lacing mock bewilderment into his voice, which became a good mixture with the real bewilderment.
"It's only temporary, like you said, right?"
"What? Oh." He had been so stunned at Lisa's willingness to share his bedroom that he almost forgot where he was. "Yeah. Just until I can get the second bedroom set up. You're okay with that?"
Lisa nodded. "Yeah. I'm trusting you not to try anything, though." She gave him a pointed glance, and he held up his hands innocently. "Alright." Jackson nodded and moved her suitcase into the room.
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An hour later, Lisa was showered, in her pajamas, and getting ready for her inaugural night in Jackson's house, more specifically, in Jackson's bed. She had lingered in the shower, trying to stall the inevitable. She had conditioned her hair twice, using up more of her Biolage than she really intended, shaved her legs and under her arms until she was sure there was probably only two layers of skin left in those areas, scrubbed herself down with her peach bodywash until the scent was undoubtedly fused into her skin, then shut the shower off. And that only used up twenty-five minutes, unfortunately. I'm going to have to learn to take slower showers, somehow, she had thought.
After stepping out of the tiled shower, she had rubbed lotion into her skin until she practically glowed, then towel-dried her hair until her auburn curls began reforming. Satisfied, she ran her brush through her hair, pulled it back into a messy bun, then began to brush her teeth. Then she flossed. Then used mouthwash. Then flossed again. And brushed. And used mouthwash for the second time, as well. Looking at the rounded clock on the wall, she saw she had only been in the bathroom for fifty minutes. So she sat there for the last ten, until the boredom and impending doom got to her, and she realized she couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer.
Jackson looked up from his book as Lisa stepped out of the bathroom. Lisa was instantly drawn to the pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses that framed Jackson's eyes. Very David Tennant-10th Doctor, she thought approvingly. Wait, why am I comparing him to a Sci-Fi/BBC character? She shook the thought from her mind. "Glasses?" she asked instead.
Jackson gave her a confused look before realizing the black frames at the corners of his vision. "Oh. Yeah. Um ..." he slipped them off and folded them carefully, setting them on the nightstand next to the bed, along with the book. "They're for reading; when I get headaches. I find it hard to read when I've got a headache, and the glasses help." He nodded to the book on the nightstand. "I was just ... I wanted to make sure the light was still on when you got out of the shower. I figured you aren't too comfortable with the surroundings yet, and I didn't want you to slam into any furniture, or ... or anything," he finished awkwardly. Lisa nodded.
"Yeah, um, thanks for that." She felt horrible for wasting so much time in the bathroom, now that she knew he was staying up for her benefit. "Sorry I took so long, I was just-"
"Avoiding it for as long as you possibly could?" he supplied. The look on her face gave her away. Jackson nodded and stared at his hands in his lap. "Believe me, same thing was going on, on this side of town." Lisa wondered if he always wore flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt to bed, or if he had put them on just to make her feel more at ease. Taking a deep breath, she crossed over to the opposite side of the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.
"Like you said, we're both adults-"
"And I'm going to be the perfect example of a gentlemen ... except I'm totally going to slide under all the covers, whether you're under all of them too, or not." Lisa surpressed a laugh and pulled her side of the covers back, sliding underneath them all, as Jackson slid the covers from underneath himself and did the same. "I'm a horrible footsie-player, so don't try starting any games in the middle of the night. My feet go subzero at night, if that's any incentive against starting up a game." Lisa laughed at his attempt to break the tension as he turned out the light. There was a few soft ruffling noises as they each situated themselves under the covers. After a few moments, the only noises to be heard were the sounds of the central air humming in the background, and Titus snoring in the entry hallway.
"Didn't realize how quiet everything gets," Lisa said softly, staring at the ceiling. From the corner of her eye, she could see Jackson lacing his fingers together and moving them behind his head. He, too, stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows and the small amounts of light dance across the flat surface, as the breeze outside ruffled the foliage. "I figured a house on the beach, you know ... you'd hear the ocean."
"Nah, not in this room. In the room with the firepit, yeah. Especially with the doors open." Lisa frowned, and Jackson seemed to consider the stupid remark. "Well, yeah, I guess that would make sense, what with the doors being open. Duh."
Lisa suddenly burst out laughing. "Did you just say 'duh'? Oh my God!" Jackson laughed next to her. "I don't think I've said that word since I was in college!"
"Okay, okay. Make fun of the always-professional manager, I get it." Lisa scoffed.
"Always professional? Please. You stopped being professional the moment you met me." Their laughter died uncomfortably. Lisa suddenly realized that she had said something wrong.
After a tense few momemts, "Goodnight, Lisa." She noticed the change in his tone. What she had said had unsettled him, somehow.
"Night, Jackson." She saw him turn onto his side, turning his back to her, and felt the slight tug of the sheets. She turned onto her side, as well, so that they were now facing away from each other. The sheets and blankets covering them pulled tight, and cool air rushed under the warm covers and settled into the two feet of empty space between them. She shivered, but settled for pulling the covers up to her neck.
Sighing, Lisa let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the room, slowly picking out figures and objects in the dark. A matching nightstand and lamp sat next to Lisa's side of the bed, to correspond with the set on Jackson's side. A full-length mirror sat in the corner of the room, directly across from her. It creeped her out a bit, for some reason, and she averted her eyes. A large walk-in closet took up the space at the end of the hall between Jackson's room and the second bedroom. At least, she guessed it was a walk-in closet. The door was closed, and she didn't exactly feel like tapping Jackson on the shoulder and asking what was behind Door Number Three.
A familiar jingling noise caused her eyes to flick to the door. Titus stood in the doorway, staring directly at her, his ears at attention. Slowly, he moved toward the bed, until his face was inches from hers. Lisa squeezed her eyes closed tightly and fought the urge to squeal in terror like a little girl.
"Go lay down, Titus," Jackson mumbled, sensing the dog's presence. Titus moved his head up, trying to peer over Lisa to see his master. Unsatisfied, the dog put one giant paw on the mattress and vaulted over Lisa, landing in the space between her and Jackson.
Lisa felt Titus suddenly throw himself down between them, and shove the covers back against the mattress, blocking the cold air.
"I didn't mean here," Jackson groaned. He turned and grabbed Titus gently by the scruff of the neck and pushed him off of the bed. "Go lay on your own bed, you horse." Titus groaned and moved to a dog cushion on the floor at the end of the bed and plopped down with a loud thump.
"Actually, he was blocking the cold air, there for a sec," Lisa mentioned. Jackson sighed and turned his head.
"You cold?" Lisa didn't move other than for a slight nod. She heard Jackson pause and turn to face her direction. "Don't go reading into this. And if you're uncomfortable with it, just, let me know, we'll figure something else out." She felt Jackson scoot closer to her, and she suddenly froze. He moved until he was nearly spooning her, leaving a few inches of space between them. Lisa was half-expecting an arm to go around her.
"No, that's fine, actually, it's better. Do you mind?" she hated the way her voice sounded at the moment.
"Wouldn't have done it if I did." She nearly jumped at his voice, so close to her. "If you're still cold, you can move closer."
Lisa debated it for a moment, and decided she might as well go all-out and mortify the hell out of herself, if she was going to get warm. Go big, or go home. Except ... I can't really go home right now, can I? With a final sigh, she moved back until she had closed the distance between them, and felt her back press firmly against Jackson.
"Jesus, Leese!" Jackson breathed. "I didn't think you'd seriously do it." Ass!, Lisa thought, I'm such an ass! Of course he wasn't being serious! She mumbled an apology and began to move away when she she felt his warm hand on her arm. "No, I didn't mean- you just surprised me, was all. I didn't mean for you to move. Stay, if you want." Jackson said softly, thinking he had hurt her feelings.
"No, if you don't want me to-" Lisa trailed off, realizing what an imposition she was being. She felt his hand circle her waist.
"That's not what I meant, Lisa. I was just surprised that you actually had the guts to move up against me." He pulled her against him and paused. "This is really inappropriate, isn't it?" he asked, referring to their positions. Lisa sighed and shoved her head down into her pillow.
"Inappropriate or not, it's a lot warmer than it was a few minutes ago. We're both adults, and as long as you don't cop a feel, I'm fine with it."
Jackson nodded behind her and let go of her waist, pulling the covers up again. Once he was finished, Lisa felt him hesitate.
"Jackson ...?" After a moment, he grumbled helplessly.
"I'm not exactly sure where to put my hand, now. There aren't too many appropriate options." Lisa moaned tiredly and grabbed his arm, pulling it around her waist again.
"Don't go reading into this," she quipped, stealing his words.
"Night, Lisa."
"G'night, Jackson."
Titus snored at the foot of the bed.
