Kickass Anthology (29 page)

"I'm due to go on a mission in two days' time," Rio said, catching Jack's gaze with his own. "I would like you to back me up from here."

The sound that came from Jack's mouth could only be called a squeak. Usually, he would have blamed such a lapse in control on his breaking voice, but he was too stunned. His ears felt as if they were on fire and he had to grab the armrest of the chair to steady his suddenly unsteady legs.

"You want
me
to back you up?"

"Yes." Rio pushed him into the black leather seat. "Based on what I find, I'll need information or I may ask you to run interference – shut down systems, sabotage data streams… fun stuff, you know."

"But… but…," Jack couldn't marshal enough thoughts to form a rational argument. What if something went wrong? What if Rio needed data he couldn't find? What if he compromised Rio's mission? Could it put him in danger?

"Jack… breathe," Rio's voice said beside his ear. "This isn't a request. I thought it's something you might like to do. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, you don't have to…"

"Shut up." Jack's voice was stronger now, more confident. "I
want
to help," he declared. "And I'd have to be stupid to turn down a chance to work with that." He waved a hand at the wall of screens in a reverent gesture. "But what if I'm not good enough? What if…?"

"Jack. Remember what I've taught you. Fear keeps you on your toes. Trust keeps you alive. We have two days to work through anything I may need you to do. I think you'll make an excellent backup." Rio spun the chair and placed his hands on Jack's shoulders. "I trust you and I would like it very much if you watched my back," Rio said seriously and then he grinned and ran a hand through Jack's unruly spikes. "'cause you're somethin' else, Jack Horwood. An' they'll
never
see you comin'."

THE END

AUTHOR

Jackie Keswick
was born behind the Iron Curtain with itchy feet, a bent for rocks and a recurrent dream of stepping off a bus in the middle of nowhere to go home. She's worked in a hospital and as the only girl with 52 men on an oil rig. She's spent a winter in Moscow and a summer in Iceland and finally settled in the country of her dreams with a husband, a cat and a tandem.

Jackie's current obsession is a green-eyed hacker-turned-vigilante by the name of Jack Horwood. The first part of his story, Job Hunt, is going to be published by Dreamspinner Press and is due out in May 2015.

For questions and comments, not restricted to green-eyed hackers or recipes for traditional English food, you can look Jackie up in the usual places:

Twitter  https://twitter.com/JackieKeswick

FB  https://www.facebook.com/JackieKeswick

Website  http://www.jackiekeswick.com

ILLUSTRATOR

Tara Bluhm is a Pacific Northwest artist and a graduate of the Art Institute of Seattle. Enjoy browsing through her work at the following talent house page:

https://www.talenthouse.com/tarabluhm

A HOLIDAY HOMECOMING

Nancy Hartmann

“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place we can go as we are and not be questioned.”  Maya Angelou

BY THE time Jayson Abel started for home, he knew somehow that it was already too late.

It had been snowing steadily even before he left the bus station and started to walk through the downtown. He gathered his long hair in one hand and stuffed it down inside his jacket, pulled up the collar, adjusted the straps of his canvas backpack and leaned into the wind. The last few Christmas Eve shoppers hurried past on their way home and the incessant carols that poured from the loudspeakers along the streets faded to silence. He kept moving, head down, listening to his work boots squeak against the sparkly greeting card snow.

Jayson Abel could not have looked less like the heir to a billionaire’s business empire. His vagabond attire and three-day beard effectively hid the breathtakingly handsome man beneath. When he stood in one place long enough, women threw themselves at him, and not a few men as well. 

His various attractions included gray green eyes rimmed with luxurious black lashes and a mysterious glint of sadness. Prominent cheekbones, full lips and coppery skin. When he didn’t tie it in a ponytail, his straight, almost black hair hung to the middle of his back. At 5’10”, he wasn’t a tall man, but his lean muscled body had been sculpted by hundreds of miles of walking and thousands of hours of odd jobs – hard physical labor he’d taken to keep himself fed these past five years. And somehow, between work and wandering, he’d managed to finish and sell a novel about his odyssey. He called it Coming Home.

The wind cut through his coat, making him shiver. 

Standing outside the doors of Abel Enterprises’ art deco office tower, Jay had second thoughts.  Maybe it wasn’t the best time to surprise the Old Man. Maybe he should have called first. Maybe he should wait and call tomorrow. Or wait until after the holiday. There was a security guy in the lobby, he could ask.

As he hesitated, the revolving door turned and a man in an overcoat and a Russian-looking fur hat stepped out and ran smack into Jay.

The men did a little dance, each trying to keep his balance on the increasingly-slippery sidewalk while making sure the other guy didn’t fall. After a minute, they found their balance. The stranger reached out and brushed the snow off Jay’s shoulders.

“Wow. Sorry, man. I didn’t see you. Didn’t expect anyone out at this hour on Christmas Eve. “

“No, no. My fault. I wasn’t looking. “

“Are you meeting someone? Pretty much everyone’s gone home for Christmas. The place is empty except for the security guy. You didn’t have an appointment, did you?”

“No, I came to, uh, to surprise my father. He’s, uh, that Abel,” he said pointing to the  discreetly sized (or just discreet would work, too) brass plate next to the door that said Abel Enterprises.

The stranger took a step back and looked intently into Jay’s face. “Wait a minute. You must be Jayson Abel. You don’t remember me, do you?”

Jay stared back. Something fluttery started in his belly. “I think…I think maybe I do. You’re Shelly. You’re Sheldon Goldman.”

“That’s right. Your father’s PA. You do remember. How are you Jayson?  I don’t know if I’d have recognized you if you hadn’t said. You’ve changed since you used to hang around with me when you’d come down here with the boss. “

“Yeah. Well, it’s been a while. God, those were good times. I was just a kid then.” Jay studied the man carefully. An inch or two shorter than Jay, clumps of Goldman’s wiry brown hair poked out from under the Russian bear hat. There was no mistaking the sparkling sapphire eyes behind the tortoise-shell glasses, and the little gap between his two front teeth that always showed when he smiled, which he was doing now.

Jay stuck out his hand. “Damn, Shelly. It’s good to see you.”

Sheldon sandwiched Jay’s bare hand between his thick leather gloves. For an awkward moment they stood gazing at each other as the snow swirled around them. 

“You haven’t changed.  You look great.” Jay shook his head.  “Hey, remember how you used to let me play video games on your computer and order two desserts for lunch?” He laughed. “Highlights of my childhood. No kidding.”

At the same moment, they noticed they were still holding hands. Jay pulled his hand back, swiped at the snow in his hair, and shoved his hand in his pocket. For a moment, Jay caught a whiff of Shelly’s sandalwood aftershave. Still the same scent as always.  Wasn't it odd how a smell or taste  could remind you of something? 

Jay stared past Shelly into the lobby where the security man sat behind a desk, playing with an iPad. Gradually, his focus turned inward.
Oh my god, this was Shelly. His Shelly.
About the time he’d turned twelve, Jay had developed the biggest crush in the world on Shelly. He thought about him when he was awake. He dreamed about him when he slept, and woke up as often as not with sticky pajama bottoms and cold damp sheets, feeling ashamed, awkward and kind of good at the same time. Despite the cold wind blowing around them, Jay felt his face getting hot. He brushed the snow off his hair again, using the gesture to cover his discomfort.

Sheldon’s voice jerked him back to the present. ”What brings you here tonight, Jay?”

“It’s Christmas Eve. I thought maybe I should try to see him and patch things up before, you know, anything happened. You know, if it were possible. We didn’t exactly part under the best of circumstances. And he’s not getting any younger.  Anyway, I was sure he’d be here working late even on Christmas Eve. Especially on Christmas Eve.”

"Well, mostly you’d be right, but…oh god Jay, I’m sorry. He’s not here.”

“Sorry? For what?”

Sheldon looked down.

“Shel, look at me!”  Jay bent until he could look Shel in the eye. For the first time, Jay noticed that behind his glasses, Shelly’s eyes were red and hung with dark circles.

“Jay, he’s gone. Your … Mr. Abel is dead.”

Dead? Jay’s hand flew to his mouth. All at once, he couldn’t breathe. He began to sway. Sheldon reached out and put a hand on Jay’s arm.

Jay jerked free. “Fuck no!  You’re wrong. He can’t be. When? How? Let me in there. Let.  Me. Go.” He pushed against Sheldon, forcing his way to the door. It took all Sheldon had to keep Jay from breaking loose and pushing his way inside.

“Jay, no! Stop. The building is sealed; we can’t go in. And if you do get in, that guard in there will call the police. There’s nothing to see there anyway. “

“Shit, Sheldon. What the fuck? What happened?” Jay was yelling.

“Please try to calm down. We can’t talk about this here in the street. Please, let’s go to the coffee shop over there – it’s open till eleven. It’s warm and dry inside and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Jay nodded and stepped back. A reflex or a long forgotten habit, muscle memory or something,  Shel reached for Jay’s hand as if he were a little boy, but pulled back at the last second and put his hand on Jay’s back instead, steering him toward the lighted window on the next corner.  Sheldon’s touch felt good, solid. Jay slowed his step ever so slightly and leaned into it as they crossed the empty street.

Some things do not change. The coffee shop was as it had always been. Slices of pie and cake sat under plastic domes on a shelf. A worn Formica counter ran the length of the room, boxy chrome napkin holders, and a row of stools with pedestals and red vinyl seats you could sit on and spin around.

Jay set one spinning with his hand and watched it for a moment before he joined Sheldon in a booth by the window. They sat in silence looking out at the snow and the Abel building beyond.  They were the only customers in the place.

Sheldon took off his hat and his unruly hair stuck up at all angles. He removed his glasses and wiped the fog off the lenses with his handkerchief.

 “Coffee?” Asked the waitress, dropping menus on the table.

“Yes, thanks. Do you know what you want?” Jay sat mute, his eyes fixed on the snow.  Sheldon asked if they could have a minute.

“Jay…” He touched Jayson’s arm lightly, “Earth to Jayson.”

The waitress came back with the coffee.  Sheldon ordered grilled cheese on whole wheat. Jay shook his head. 

“C’mon, eat. Please. At least get something warm in you.”

Talk of food and the aroma of coffee made Jay’s stomach growl. He let out a mirthless chuckle. Betrayed by his own body. Without looking at the menu, he ordered a cup of cocoa and two pieces of cherry pie.  The thought of pie must have perked him up. “Can I get a scoop of vanilla with them?”

Jay studied Shelly’s face with half closed gray green eyes. The fluttery feeling returned even stronger and this time his groin tingled and his cock shifted in his jeans.

What the hell? Wait a minute! This was ludicrous.

He hadn’t seen Sheldon Goldman in five years. He had left as a boy and returned a stranger. But, shit, against his will, on some wordless level just below consciousness, his body remembered and responded. Dear god, this was his Shelly, his first crush, the fantasy lover of his lonely teenage nights. The guy who was assigned to babysit him whenever he came to the office.

He shifted in his seat, his face colored again. It took all of his will to hold the rushing tide of memories at bay. Jay took a deep breath. “Tell me what happened to the Old Man.”

Sheldon hesitated.

“Don’t worry.  It’s not like we were close or anything. You know we didn’t have the father-son thing.”  He took a napkin and started tearing it into little bits to cover the shaking of his hands.

“Maybe we should eat first,” Sheldon stalled.

“Now.” The word came out sharper than he’d intended. “Please.” He began to dismember another napkin.

The food arrived, and Sheldon took advantage of it to arrange his thoughts. Swallowing the last of his sandwich, he began. “He died on Monday.” Shel stirred his coffee. “There is no easy way to say this. The police ruled it a suicide.” He paused. Jay said nothing. 

“He went out the 26
th
floor window of his office. “

“Dear god.” Jay’s shoulders slumped forward and he covered his mouth with his hand like he might throw up. Sheldon half stood, ready to help him to the rest room if he needed it. At last Jay took a deep breath and looked up. “I’m okay. I’m okay. Go on.”

“There was no warning. No note. Nothing. Vince Megaro was there and saw it all but couldn’t get to him in time.”

“Megaro? Wasn’t he one of the accountants?”

Sheldon nodded. “Uh huh. He, uh, made vice president last spring.”

He looked at Sheldon and waited. “Where is he now?”

“Megaro? God only knows.”

“No,” he stopped. Would it kill him to say it? Now that it didn’t matter? Wasn’t it why he’d come after all? “Father.” It came out barely a whisper. “My Dad.”

“Oh, Jay. The funeral was yesterday. He wanted to be cremated. God, I’m so, so sorry.” Sheldon looked as if he were about to cry. Jay handed him a napkin and Shelly removed his glasses and swiped at his eyes.

Jay sighed and pushed the napkin scraps he’d made into a pile in the middle of the table.

“It’s okay. I don’t feel sorry. Not really.” He sighed. “I guess you could say we were strangers who happen -- happened to share the same last name.”

Shelly winced and kept his eyes fixed on Jay, seeing a shadow of the shy little boy who grew into a handsome teenager and then one day was gone.

Jay finished his pie. “Is there a hotel around here?”

“It’s Christmas Eve. They’re either full or closed. “

Fuck. “No room at the inn, huh?” He closed his eyes. The diner would be closing in an hour. A long cold night in the bus station loomed ahead.