Chapter Thirteen (Bottom)

She'd seen his Tweet, just as she'd started to actually worry more than just 'a little bit'. They had been going to fly up to Baltimore, Alex had been excited about a party she was throwing and Jax had said they'd be there. Missy had no idea about what to do for a costume, it had been years since she'd actually done that and she'd goofed off and taken a picture of her in a pair of glasses she'd found in his desk. Hey Boss, whatcha think, hot librarian?

She'd felt good seeing that little gold star light up as he favorited it, even without one of his usual flirty reflex comments. He'd taken off, something about 'the house' and wanting to get something for a costume. Missy was vaguely aware that he actually did own a house here in Miami – she'd never been, and after the first couple of times they'd been together he'd just started staying with her in the apartment. She meant to ask a few times about it, but honestly she was so wrapped up in getting their gym...wow, that...their hit her hard for a moment, off the ground and running and just being with him that each time that slipped away. Who could blame her for not caring about some house she'd never seen, when she was so busy with the man himself? What they did every night, she couldn't get enough of and that he felt the same way? She'd never felt like this. Loved, wanted, cherished... there weren't enough words to express it right.

Then that Tweet, about how he used to love Halloween and that awareness that they'd missed the flight wrapped up with the amount of time had hit her along with a healthy shot of ...it wasn't just adrenaline, or even fear...but something. Maybe a yearning? And she'd Tweeted back, asking him to call and she hated that it seemed like begging to her...but that emotion was coming together like a stone under her heart and her fingers nervously tapped the table next to her phone until she saw him reply that he'd call. She'd felt a hot sting in her eyes and she sniffled... what the fuck, get your shit together before he hears you being stupid! So Missy dabbed at her eyes with her fingertips and waited for him to call.

She'd gotten the address off some papers even as they talked and her voice had gotten so soft when she'd said, "wait for me, Boss. Just... hang on."

So Missy had grabbed his hoodie and slipped it on, and shaking fingers had tied the laces on her favorite shoes, she didn't bother to put on heavier sweats, the yoga pants would do... she grabbed up her phone and the keys before flying down the stairs and to the front door, calling a cab company as she stepped out and locked the door behind her. They'd promised to hurry if they could, considering it was Halloween night and she'd given them the address of the gas station a couple blocks down so she wouldn't have to just stand there or pace with nervous energy. They'd kept their word, just as she'd stepped into the security lights of the parking lot the cab pulled up and she exhaled a sigh as she slid inside and gave the address for the gated community and ignored the look the man gave her and the mutter in Cuban accented Spanish. She knew what he'd said, he'd seen her tattooed hands and her clothing and called her a cheap whore before pasting a fake smile on his face and turning the meter on.
Didn't matter. Nothing mattered right then, but getting to Jax. The ride seemed to take forever, but when they got there she checked the watch in the hoodie pocket and was surprised at how quick it had actually been. She paid in cash and ignored his remarks again, the words cutting at her with the fake cheer of his voice despite that and she glared a little as he pulled away. Missy faced that imposing gate and shivered, it wasn't really cold but there was a wind coming off the ocean that was and a chill seemed to settle right in her bones as she tapped in the code to open the gate. Her eyes were a little wide as she walked near the curb, she could have walked on the sidewalk but this just seemed... safer, which was weird but she didn't want to get too close to some of those perfectly manicured hedges. The houses were set back far enough from the street it wasn't likely that anyone living in them would see her and call the cops, at least. A rueful glance down at herself though and she wouldn't have been surprised if someone had.

The wind blew her hair back from her face just as she rounded the corner to the curve that led to where the house Jax owned sat and later, maybe she'd take a good look at it and be just as amazed as she should be at how pretty it was. But right then all she could focus on was his car in the driveway, she could see his silhouette sitting there and that stone under her heart flared up like hot lava. God I love him so much. She picked up her pace, that chilled feeling settling in and she stopped only when her hand touched the passenger door, praying it was unlocked because right then she needed to be in his lap, needed his warmth, but even more than that? She needed him to know she was still here, still going to be here, and still his. She couldn't have put it more coherently than that, no matter how important it actually was.



The video took a few moments to load, and when it did, it was mildly disappointing because it was another of those grainy cell phone videos with the ugly black bars running vertically down either side. At first there was nothing more than a fuzzed-out blob of blue on black before the camera jiggled slightly and then shifted to reveal the lower portion of a face. A square jaw was visible, peppered with stubble and indented with a cleft in the middle of the chin – pretty unmistakable. So was the rough chuckle that passed his lips, oozing with bitterness: pure Jackson.

"Happy fucking Halloween, dipshits – right up there with Merry fuckin' Christmas for Jax holiday sentiments, but you don't know that yet. Nah. And birthdays? Heh."

He broke off, shaking his head, letting out another caustic chuckle.

"Deep thoughts with Jax... been a while since I did that. Even longer since I did one of these fun little brain dropping sessions... we'll pretend we're in Portland at some hipster bookstore for the poetry jam. Why the fuck not? There's a lot of shit rattling around and I've gotta get it out of me or I'm gonna burn up. Incinerator man... runnin' really hot tonight. Heh."

One hand lifted up, rubbing over his jawline, scratching some phantom itch before he leaned back in the seat, letting his head loll back against the headrest.

"Fun story, I guess... the past creeps up like some punk garbage wrestler, waffles you with a chair and then you're on your ass, looking for that last drop in the bucket only to find the bottom rusted out ages ago. So suddenly there are blank spaces – I'm on some blackout binge – blank spaces on the map I used to have plotted out so carefully. It's..." he chuckled, his voice hoarse, "getting old's a wild trip, kids... and you don't want to end up like me, ripping off better artists in some pathetic cry for help. Talking about how there used to be a basic concept for the MONSTER named Jackson in some throwback shades of Bret Easton Ellis... talk about how on a long enough timeline in this business, everyone becomes either a cheap knockoff of Ledger's Joker or Tyler Durden – fuckin' watered down Palahniuk for the masses and you maggots gobble that shit up like I'm the second coming... sure they think it's because Kyra's riding my dick or I've got some sort of leverage over her head because the fucking Tinfoil Hat Society'd have you believe that a guy like me doesn't have it in him to back up words with actions. I'm a gold digger – that albatross was hung around my neck eons ago and you know what? I am. Oh you're fucking out of your mind if you think I'm doing this for the thrill of competition or whatever cutesy garbage gets spouted by the idiots these days. Nope. Gold is what I need because otherwise I'm nothing. I'm a broken has-been and there's no salve or special diet or extra reps I can do to fix that gaping hole inside me."

He grinned even though the words were starkly honest.

"Once upon a time V compared me to Narcissus, looking into these broken chicks I kept finding and marrying as if I was seeing some mirror into my own self. But it wasn't that. See, I was seeking out the broken ones because playing at fixing them made me feel better... made me feel like I had a purpose and he was right when he said Lyv was just another spiral off the Ryann situation – turned that into a clever little thing. Called it the Ryann Paradox when everything started to echo, when the deja vu started to circle back around and I convinced myself that it wasn't another example of insanity, trying to do the same thing over and over but expecting different results. Throw money at the problem. Throw some DNA around and give the bitch a baby because she actually came out and asked instead of forging signatures on adoption papers and poking holes in condoms like a goddamned crazy person. Do the depression hokey pokey and throw your whole self in there because God forbid you miss a fucking step in the dance – you don't ever want to miss a step because then they'll know the truth about how fucked up, how unequivocally broken you really are when the music stops playing and you stand there in front of the empty chair while they all scramble for their own seats."

His eyes were bluer than blue, bloodshot as he stared forward, shimmering with tears.

"And then there's one less chair and the music starts all over again, faster this time, they're bumping you harder but you have to keep up. Head and shoulders, knees and fucking toes... eyes... ears... keep your fucking mouth shut... nose. You move and you move and it gets a little harder until this is more some cry for help and what are you going to do with yourself? Call her name in the dark every time you fall? No. Impossible because she'll just get up on that roof and jump off and you'll be too wrapped up in whatever headfuck catastrophe you manufactured to even keep it from going down. You won't notice until it's quiet again. Too fucking quiet and then you'll be waiting for that little vibration... the little two-bit pulse of the phone in your pocket that always means she's throwing rocks at your window again, in little white boxes with orderly little words you like so much and fuck it. You lose. You lose, Bradley. Like always."


The scrape of her shoes on the paving stones roused Jackson from his stupor, the empty bottle falling off the seat beside him to the floor as he turned towards the door. Flinching slightly at the sight – he felt like the proverbial kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar an hour before dinnertime. He watched her pull open the door, battling between a sort of euphoric joy and guilt at being caught even though he wasn't doing anything wrong. Confusion won out, though because he wasn't really sure how much of the last two hours had been real and how much had been dreamed up while he'd been passed out. He definitely didn't remember calling, having already forgotten the conversation they'd had and her promise to come find him. "Missy? How..?"

That look. She'd been ready to say something, ask him what he needed to figure out so bad that he'd just sit here for so long. But that look, Missy stopped even though her lips had already parted. She got in the car and barely gave herself time to shut the door before she'd crawled over and settled into his lap, exhaling a hard sigh as she melted against him. Better. After a few moments she shivered a little, still trying to get that chill out of her and she'd figured out a little of what she had to say. "Hey Boss. Kind of needed you. So... here I am." He was warm, not that he didn't always run hot, and she pretended the tremble in her hands was all from the chill and not anything else. Certainly not anything else. "I'm ...right here." She shifted just a little, feeling something out of place, metallic and hard against her cheek.

He wrapped his arms around her, grateful that the vintage Torino had a bench seat because it was far less awkward. "I changed the flight to the morning. Cost extra... doesn't matter." He murmured that against her sweet-smelling hair, feeling like he needed to explain that he was still capable enough of taking care of things, even when time had been slipping through his fingers. Her weight against his chest and lap was more than welcome, making him forget about the tightness in his chest that had kick started this entire mess today. "I..." he licked his lips, closing his eyes and his voice came out strained over bottled emotion, "I'm glad you came."

Missy felt that sort of sting again just at his tone of voice, turning her face enough to sort of burrow into his shirt where she could take in that scent of his skin under the alcohol – not that it bothered her, but she just wanted it. She felt that cold on her skin between his shirt and her cheek, and drew back just a little so she could see what it was. And blinked, drawing in a soft huff of breath as she saw that ring she'd made him on its leather cord. Her hand trembled as she lifted it, the right one of course and she spared a moment to force those fingers steady before she brushed her fingertips over it gently. "Boss... Jax. Of course I did. It's sort of..." Missy paused, the tip of her tongue sweeping her lower lip to wet it before she continued. "Not going to say those stupid little questions like Cosmo tells girls to ask their guy when stuff happens. All ...prying and bullshit. Because that's not what matters." She nestled back against him, sighing again. "This matters. You matter."

He snorted softly, "fuckin' Cosmo. Any girl reads that garbage... doesn't belong in my bed." It was meant to sound like a joke, but there was too much bitterness undercutting it. "Found some stuff I wasn't lookin' for... stuff I guess she forgot about 'cause it was packed in a box with some other..." he paused, "see? No mindfuckery needed... no 'top ten ways to get your guy to confess his darkest secrets'. Just... fuckin' touch me and I'll tell you everything, Miss. Every goddamn fuckin' thing."

"Two-way street." Murmured against his shirt. "You know I promised you, to always tell the truth... so fucking stupid of me because all you have to do is just run those hands of yours over me and... couldn't lie to you even if I ever wanted to." She took a breath, counting in her head to stay level before she said the next thing that was already fighting to get out. "Is it...anything you need to keep? Because if it's not... I want to pitch it. Throw it in the ocean, set it on fire." She shivered again, and closed her eyes. "Sorry. But I can't help but be hateful to things that hurt you."

"Baby clothes... stupidest shit triggers. Guess yeah. Set it on fire might be fun. There's a pit in the backyard, actually." He shrugged, one shoulder twitching. "Just wanted to find my lab coat and scrub shirt. Was gonna be Dr. Feelgood... for... aw, fuck. Babe, I'm sorry we didn't go to the party."

"We'll do it together." Her voice muffled by his shirt, until she moved enough to look at him without breaking contact. "Well ...that's appropriate really." That tiny hint of a smirk, she couldn't help that little innuendo one bit but it faded fast. "It's not a huge deal, Boss. It's just not. She'll understand." Missy moved her arm so she could sort of wiggle her fingers down his side in a caress. "Besides, you're fine. You've got me. We don't need sorry."

A hint of a crooked smile was there on his lips as his eyes met hers and he couldn't keep the words in because of course she'd set the world back on its axis just by touching him. "Love you, babe. So goddamn much."

Missy closed her eyes a second, savoring the sound of those words in that voice of his. He might hate it, but she didn't. When she opened them she gave him a warmer smile. "Good...because I love you back, just as hard. Kinda...no, no kinda to it. I really do love you."

"You..." he swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, deciding not to say what he really wanted to in that moment. Instead he changed the subject, "you wanna just go back to the apartment?"

Missy hid a little yawn against his shirt, it was almost cute. "Maybe... unless you wanted to, maybe show me...?" A vague gesture at the house, she was curious now that she was actually near enough to see it. She shifted in his lap, wiggling a little to get more comfortable. "Doesn't matter though, as long as I'm with you."

"Show you?" He looked through the windshield at the house, at the lights that were already on because they were on a timer and that little wiggle in his lap was making thinking really difficult. "Yeah... might as well. If you wanna see it, I mean.... lots of closet space and two really huge showers." He tried for a smile but it didn't quite make it. "It'll be fine as long as I'm with you."

"Yeah... show me." She saw that expression, and the thing that went through her head was simple. I can help him, with this. Missy shifted in his lap, he'd tried for a smile and now she wanted it, leaning up just a little to kiss him, maybe a little harder than she intended but she couldn't help herself. When she drew back, she felt a little breathless and more than a little aware of how close she was to him. "Really huge showers, you say?"

"Mmmhmm," it was more a growl than any sort of communication, "you know how I like 'em, babe. Big enough for two... the master one has this nice little bench seat, too." His tone was warmer now, that gleam back in his eyes as he reached for the door handle on his side. "We should find out if it's the right height."

That sort of growl had her fingers curling in his shirt and she felt that sort of wave of tingles that he could bring up in her with just a look if he wanted. Missy had to close her eyes a moment, biting her lip before she opened them and nodded. "Yes. Oh my God yes. That. We should find out that."

"Fuck the tour. It can wait... 'til later or morning or whatever." His hands roamed down her back, that lascivious smirk back in full force on his lips. God, what a welcome distraction. "I gotta find the answer to that question... right now."