Kickass Anthology (7 page)

When he finally made it into the vertical, the room wobbled and swayed around him and his stomach roiled in answer. Jack closed his eyes and wondered how he'd managed to go through this every morning for over three months. And more to the point... why?

No, scratch that. He knew why. Not that it had made a difference.

"Can you tolerate coffee?" Paul's voice was blissfully quiet, but more than a little hesitant as he asked.

"Tolerate it? I'm dead without," Jack rasped and forced his eyes open again. "Man, I love you!" he groaned when he saw the steaming mug the gangly brunet held out to him. He rested one hand on the back of the sofa to steady himself and took the mug with the other.

The coffee was hot, black and so sweet it needed a label beyond disgusting.

It was also the only thing that could cure his hangover, so Jack manfully forced it down his throat until he felt the heat spread through him and banish the wisps of cold that flashed over his skin and shivered through his bones.

"Right," he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly while trying to curve his lips into something resembling a smile. "Let's do this again. You were saying?"

"Declan's got a date for tonight. Big thing, apparently."

More warmth spread through Jack. This time, it was the soft, silky prickle of anticipation, laced with a hefty dose of glee. It bubbled through him like golden froth, banishing the last of the whisky's effects. Traps had been a passion of his since he'd set his first one aged twelve, and he looked forward to a spot of pure indulgence.

He grinned so wide his ears felt the stretch and wrapped an arm around Paul's shoulders. "You're still with us, right?"

"Yeah, sure," the lanky kid beamed. "If you think it will really work like you said."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Jack reassured. "It will work like a charm. Let me grab a shower and wake up Tom. Then you can help me set up. Since you're doing physics you know all about pulleys, right?"

"DO YOU really think he'll take the bait?" It was mid-afternoon and Paul's skinny frame trembled with excitement. They'd worked steadily for a few hours, combining wire, paint balls, ink and other arcane bits of household equipment into a cunning trap that Paul couldn't believe would ever be successful in stopping Declan Flanagan from helping himself to someone else's gear. Despite his misgivings he was full of hope, and with adrenaline painting bright red spots into his thin cheeks he looked like a half-finished mascot.

"You need clown shoes," Jack decided, brain turned off and mouth on autopilot while he juggled three screwdrivers and a knife to the beat coming from the stereo. "Or makeup. But not both."

Paul's face turned tomato red. He slapped his hands over his cheeks and cringed.

"That was a joke," Jack explained, voice kind. "They have those where you grew up, yeah?"

"Jackass."

Paul shoved him and Jack grinned. "You're not wrong. Now go ruin his knickers. This will be epic."

Paul left and Jack continued to string wires, humming along to Springsteen's special brand of hope, despair and defiance, and wondering what his captain would have to say could he see Jack now. Most likely he'd bring a bottle and join right in, the amber eyes bright with amusement and an impish grin on his face.

And wasn't that an image to warm a cold night?

By four o'clock they were ready and settled into Paul's car, parked just far enough down the road from their digs so Declan wouldn't spot them if he looked out the window.

Paul had done laundry as Flanagan had ordered him to. Shame really, that he'd confused the fabric conditioner with the laundry starch when washing the towels, shirts and underwear. Jack had inspected the results and declared the stiff-as-board boxer shorts and briefs a total hit, while Tom had whiled away the morning in the common room, irritating Declan Flanagan until the Irishman had threatened him with bodily harm.

The house was empty when Declan realised that someone had sabotaged his night out getting laid, but thanks to Jack installing monitors in Declan's rooms before he'd nailed the door shut, the three of them had an almost ringside seat to the explosion of curses that erupted from the top floor apartment.

"Oh my," Paul positively giggled, "my mother would stuff his head into a whole bucket of soap if she could hear him!"

Jack had heard worse, but he enjoyed the shocked look on Paul's face, as well as the flush a couple of nips of Dutch courage had painted into his cheeks. They were all three swigging from a bottle of sloe gin Tom had brought back from a field trip, waiting for the grand finale of Jack's plan.

"Don't worry, he's entirely too predictable," Jack soothed when Tom started to worry that Flanagan would ditch his date. "After last night's trouble, his ego needs stroking. And he'll primp and preen to get there. The fact that he can get one over on us will only add incentive."

"Well, I had planned to sleep in my bed tonight, so I hope you're right."

"Have some faith," Jack scoffed. With the trap active, there was now no way they could get into their apartment. Jack had had to climb out the window after he'd tightened the last wire, but if anything, this had fired him up even more.

He'd had no idea that he missed this so much. Almost as much as the hacking.

All of a sudden, running part-time assignments for Rio was no longer enough. Neither was research, however many fun moments it had. No. Jack needed the chase, the crusade, the reason to get out of bed in the morning.

"I need to get that fucking thesis out of my hair," he said suddenly. "Crap's boring me to death."

"Ditch it?" Tom suggested at the same moment Paul exclaimed, "But you've got barely started!"

"I've been working on it for a year. That's enough," Jack replied. "And ditching isn't on the cards. Captain would have my ass if I walked."

"Right," Tom said, sounding not at all convinced. "Then I'll buy you an alarm clock to remind you to sleep once in a while. And find a girl with big... er... assets to remind you to eat."

The plans Tom made for his survival sounded so horrendous that Jack opened his mouth for a scathing retort. The window of their apartment exploding outward and showering glass shards across the road stopped him in his tracks. Red and blue splashes spattered the grass under the window. Some even reached the pavement, staining the slabs like evidence of a macabre massacre.

"Yes!" Jack's satisfied exclamation was much quieter than Tom's and Paul's whoops of joy.

"Can we go see?" The young physics student was practically bouncing in the driver's seat.

"See?" Jack scoffed. "I'm filming this. And there's a printer I know in Clapham. We can have posters around the house by tomorrow evening. Flanagan will never again touch anything that doesn't have his name on it!"

"I never knew that bothered you so much," Tom said quietly as they piled out of the car and headed back in the direction of their apartment. "I didn't think he'd ever touched any of your stuff, either."

"He didn't," Jack replied, just as quietly. "But I told you how I grew up. Some things I see differently than most people. That's one of them."

They could hear the yelling from the foyer. The sight that greeted them when Jack threw open the door was one both Tom and Paul would remember for a very long time. Jack remembered instead when he'd caught his captain in the same trap, and thought that Gareth Flynn had made a much more enticing picture than Declan Flanagan ever would.

The Irishman hung upside down from the living room ceiling, covered in red and blue paint, yelling and swearing as if someone had set him on fire.

Granted, the wires were probably cutting into his ankles and having your arms stretched out to the sides wasn't comfortable, but when Jack had found Gareth, the man had already freed himself from half the constricting loops. He'd been laughing his head off in glee, too, and demanding Jack teach him how to set a trap like this.

While all Declan could do was hang there and complain.

"Man, am I glad he didn't touch my laptop." Jack watched as Flanagan's body rotated and swung. "Getting blood out of the floorboards is a bitch." He ignored Tom's incredulous stare, and the half-scared, half-indignant squeak that made it out of Declan's throat, and slung his arms around his co-conspirators' shoulders. "Let's go get a beer," he suggested.

"Hey! What about me?"

Jack's left eyebrow almost touched his hairline. "I don't drink with assholes," he smirked and continued walking, remembering a silver-haired man with amber eyes and an approving smile that meant the world to him. "I've been taught better than that."

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

IF THE SHOE FITS

Jade Crystal

“AGAIN? You got fired again?”

“No. I got laid off. Again.”

“What difference does that make? You’re still unemployed…
again
.”

“It makes a difference to potential employers. One scenario, it was out of my control, and the other, I probably fucked up.” Fin rifled long fingers through his thick hair, grunting as a passing pedestrian bumped his shoulder.
That’s all I need, to drop my phone and break it into a million pieces. Expensive piece of shit.
“Look, dude, I called you to commiserate, not to practice calling my mother.”

“Glad I’m not gonna be a part of that conversation. Bet she’ll be thrilled, huh?”

His best friend’s sarcasm was mirrored by his own feelings. He didn’t bother trying to hold back a derisive snort as he reached his building and took the stairs two at a time. “I can just hear her now. ‘I knew it would happen sooner or later. You can’t seem to do anything right, can you?’” he said, mimicking his mother’s shrill voice. “‘Finlay, honey, what good was all that time and money you spent on a college education if you don’t ever amount to anything? That degree is nothing but a waste of paper and ink.’”

“She’s not that bad.”

“Have you met my mother?”

A chuckle filled his ear. “Yeah. I’ll never forget that day. Sixth grade, right? It was when I decided you needed a friend instead of just a science project buddy.”

“Then at least she was good for something. I don’t know what I would have done without you all these years, Jay. You’ve been there for me every time I got knocked down,” Fin managed to say around the lump in his throat.
God, please don’t let my voice crack.

“Yeah, yeah, the feels – I gots ‘em.” His best friend’s laugh sounded tinny through the sketchy connection in the building. “I’ve stuck around for the last fifteen years. I can’t quit you now.”

“You’re so stupid,” Fin retorted with a grin as he struggled to make his key cooperate with the deadbolt.
And I love you for it. I can’t quit you either, even if I do feel like you’d be better off without the fuck-up that I am.

“You love it.”

The laugh that bubbled up through his chest and out of his mouth surprised Fin. Count on Jay to make him laugh,
really laugh
, for the first time all day. “I plead the Fifth.”

“You’re so predictable,” Jay replied with a tinny chuckle. “Dinner’s on me tonight. We’ll go out, eat too much, drink too much, reminisce about old times, laugh – ”

“Shit!”

“I’d kinda prefer that we not do
that
together, if you don’t mind.”

“Fuck me,” Fin muttered under his breath, dropping everything to the kitchen floor as an envelope with a large red “Eviction Notice” stamped on the front stuck out of the stack of mail.

“Well, um, if that’s what you really want, I guess I could help distract you with a good hard shag. But you’ll have to wait until I get off work. I still have several clients coming in today.”

“No, that’s not what I – ”
Back the fuck up! You mean all I had to do was ask?
“Wait – really? You would do that for me?” Fin asked, his voice cracking. Stunned didn’t begin to describe the level of his surprise.

“Sure. What’s a little sex between friends? I mean, it’s gotta be better than doing it with a stranger, right?”

“Oh, yeah, right.”
Because of course it’s just a casual fuck. No deeper meaning here.

Except that there would be something deeper and more meaningful for Fin. He had been in love with his best friend for at least the last decade. There was no way it could ever be just a casual hook-up for him. Fin groaned, leaning against the kitchen counter as the weight on his shoulders seemed to double in the span of a single breath.
I’m going to fuck up Jay’s life too.

Jay misinterpreted his groan. “I’m off in four hours. That’s not too long to wait, right?” When Fin didn’t respond immediately, Jay continued, “Grab a snack and come to the gym. You can work off some steam, and we can train together in between clients. Sauna, shower, dinner, drinks, then sex at my place. I don’t have any appointments until after lunch tomorrow, so we can sleep in, maybe cuddle. Cuddling is excellent stress relief. Fin?”

“I – I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I have to be out of my apartment by the end of the month,” he said in a monotone voice, staring blankly at the damning letter in his hand.
Through all the shit life has thrown at me, I’ve always managed to support myself. I’ve never been homeless before. I don’t even have a car to live in.

Jay’s long exhalation was barely audible. A moment later, he asked, “Would your mom help?”

The derisive snort was becoming reflexive. “Not likely. She said her job ended when I turned eighteen and moved out. If I needed a kidney and she was the only match, I still wouldn’t ask her for help.”

“Damn. Well, if you do ever need a kidney, I’ll be the first to go and get tested to see if I’m a match, for whatever it’s worth.”

“It’s worth the world right now, Jay.”

“You can hug me when you get here,” he said with a chuckle. “My new client just showed up, so I gotta go. I’ll be free in an hour. Your ass better be here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fin replied with a roll of his eyes, retrieving his gym bag as the hint of a smile crept back onto his face.

“SO HOW did you get fired this time?”

“Laid off!”

“Sorry, laid off. That’s what I meant.” Jay poked at Fin’s abs. “C’mon, man. They’re called crunches for a reason.”

“What’s with this sudden obsession with my belly?” Fin gasped as he tightened his abs and pushed himself to do the crunches properly.

“It needs work.”

Fin looked at Jay with wide eyes, pausing between crunches. Yes, Jay was a personal trainer with a damn near perfect physique. And yes, Fin was generally a slacker who put in the least amount of effort possible at the gym, but Jay had never been quite so blunt before. It was a painful blow after the day he’d had. Before he could form any words, Jay grinned.

“Don’t worry. I care about the whole package. You’re going to be sore
everywhere
by the time I’m done with you.”

The mischievous look on his face said it all. He’d meant it exactly the way it sounded. “You don’t offer such complete services to all of your clients, right?” Fin asked with a frown.

“Nope. Their happy endings are none of my business,” he answered, winking.

Glad to hear it.
Fin grunted as he rolled over and prepared to settle into a plank.
Still not sure how I feel about getting fucked by my best friend, but I definitely don’t want to give him any reason to reconsider his offer.

Pungent man-scent wafted through the air and caught in Fin’s nose as a group of sweaty guys left the ellipticals and walked them past them. Despite it being during regular business hours, there were quite a few members working out. A power sled loaded with weights made a
shhhhhh
sound as it was dragged several dozen yards across the floor. From one side of the facility where the benches and machines were located came the clanking of weights and the occasional grunt. Rhythmic
wooshing
sounded from the opposite side of the facility where a trainer instructed a new member in the proper form of the rowing machines. Another trainer oversaw a group doing squat tosses with medicine balls near a pile of atlas stones, kettlebells, sledgehammers, and giant tires. It was all so fascinating. People-watching was Fin’s favorite gym activity.

That particular activity didn’t accelerate his heart rate, unfortunately. He glanced up at the mirror covering the opposite wall to catch a glimpse of Jay’s face. There was not a single iota of pity in his expression.
He’s not going to give me a free pass on the planks. Bastard.
Fin hated planks with a red hot passion, but it was part of Jay’s familiar hellish workout. It was best to just get on with it without complaints, so he settled into his best imitation of a plank.

“Feel it in your core,” Jay said, his tone a bit more gentle than before. He pressed firmly on Fin’s tailbone until he was in the proper position. “That’s better. You’re doing great, Fin.”

“Thanks,” he grunted through gritted teeth, already struggling to hold position.

“You know, I thought a career in IT was a good choice for you. You’re like the Tech Whisperer. So are you going to tell me how you got – ”

“Not. Now.”

“Okay, I get it,” Jay laughed. Then Fin felt the firm push against his tailbone again. “Keep your ass down and your back straight. Sticking your ass up in the air during planks and pushups is cheating. But other times…”

“You’re. An. Ass.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is
tease
.”

The sound Fin made was some weird combination of a grunt, a growl, and a groan. Jay was a fucking tease. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying every second of it. At least Fin’s body was trying so hard not to keel over and die that it couldn’t spare any blood for his cock. Getting a hard-on while he was getting his plank on would be humiliating.
And Jay would just tell me to put it away and do the plank correctly.

The thought made Fin roll his eyes, and his ass started to rise as he lost his concentration. This time, the gentle pressure on his tailbone stayed for the duration of the exercise, making him feel as though he had to put in twice as much effort. It was a good thing; otherwise, he would have been thinking a little too hard about Jay’s hand so close to his ass.

Hard.
Fin groaned.

Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” started playing over the sound system. If Fin rolled his eyes any harder, they would roll right out of his head. “Really? Is that necessary?”

“No, but it is the boss’s favorite motivational song. If the boss ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”

“Motivational, my ass.”

“Speaking of, keep it down and your back parallel to the floor.”

An eternity passed before Jay finally moved his hand and announced, “Time’s up. You can relax for a couple minutes.”

“Oh, thank God,” Fin groaned as he dropped flat onto the mat. “How long was that? An hour?”

“You’re a funny guy. It was only sixty seconds.”

“No fucking way, man.”

“Yep. Don’t feel bad, Fin. We all have to start somewhere, right?”

“Start? We’ve been working out together forever!”

“You’ve been playing at working out forever. If you ever hope to achieve your goals, you need to get serious about it,” Jay stated bluntly, ruffling his friend’s hair as he got to his feet.

The words tumbled around in Fin’s head as he watched his best friend retrieve a water bottle from a nearby weight bench. Jay wasn’t one to mince words. He spoke his mind and didn’t think sugarcoating the truth helped anyone. It was one of those momentous sorts of moments for Fin.
Maybe it is time for some self-improvement. I don’t really have anything left to lose, right?

He took the water Jay offered him and drank as if he’d just crawled in from the desert. Once his thirst had been satisfied, he handed the bottle back and asked, “In what evil way do you plan to torture me next?”

“You can have a few more minutes,” Jay answered, bumping his shoulder against Fin’s as they sat side by side on the mat. “My next client should be here any minute. So what happened to get you fired – ” Fin glared at him “ – I mean, laid off this time?”

“The company was down-sizing, and the most recent hires got axed first. Me and three others – our entire department.”

“But I thought you were putting in for a promotion a few days ago.”

“I did. So did the others. There was only one opening. I swear the guy’s been sucking the supervisor’s dick since he was hired. That grinning piece of shit still has a job. The rest of us…not so much.”

“That sucks – and not in the good way,” Jay joked. When he got a glare in return instead of a chuckle, he cleared his throat. “Can you collect unemployment?”

“I dunno. Can I collect unemployment working after a job for less than three months? I was still on probation.”

“No idea.”

“Right, because you’ve never had to find out, living your charmed life.”

Fin gave his friend a side-eye, for a moment wanting to make Jay feel as miserable as he was. But only for a moment. The tension hung thick in the air between them, and Fin felt terrible for unloading his troubles on someone whose only crime was being his friend. W
hat are friends for, right? I hope.

“Charmed?” Jay snorted, then looked Fin over with a careful eye. He unfolded his long frame and rose to his feet, scrutiny replaced by a twinkling look. “Dish it out all you want, Fin. I can take it. I have the stamina.”

“I bet you do,” he replied, grinning, as he accepted Jay’s offer to lever him up off the floor.