smiling at her suggestively, but the other part of me still resents the fact that she up and left when I needed her most. So instead, I ignore the people sitting around me and secretly watch her; the way she picks up her pen and sets it down several times before finally writing something down, her finger skimming across some unseen words in some thick book. Everything about her is exactly the same. I didn’t expect it to hurt so much.
There hasn’t been time to think about Heather and what we had; whether it was real enough to miss or not. The sex was great, and maybe that’s what I miss, but I think it’s more than that. I think maybe it may have been all along and I was just too dense to see it or to allow myself to feel it. But in the months and now years since my parents’ death, feeling things has seemed to be the only thing I can do now. I’m different, and she’s not. I’ve changed, and she’s sitting there completely unaware of the better person I’ve become.
“Jackson, are you listening?”
Jackson . I snap my head back to the circle of people surrounding me, four pairs of eyes staring back at me patiently. What were they saying? What were we talking about? Clementine’s head starts to turn toward Heather, where I had been staring for god knows how long, and I know that I have to say something to bring her attention back to me, Jackson, and away from Heather, who knows Nathan.
I force a light chuckle and say, “Sorry guys. Zoned out for a sec. What were you saying?” I direct the question towards Casmir, who likes to be called Cas, and smile.
“We were talking about the post-riot party we’re planning, for whoever can make it. Which, if everything goes according to plan, will be all of us.”
I glance at Clementine, whose eyes are directed back towards the middle of our group, and breathe a small sigh of relief. Focusing on keeping my back turned toward Heather, I listen to the rest of the conversation; where the party is and what time and who will bring what. This’ll be the big party; the one where I’ll send a three letter text and watch, from a safe distance, as once again the people I’ve befriended are brought down. It didn’t take much convincing to get Chief to see why I shouldn’t be involved in the final show. If I’m simply not there to see it or to be blamed, maybe my newly acquired friends will think I just disappeared for my own good. I’ll never see them again regardless but at least this way my name is clean. Well, Jackson is at least.
Clementine and Casmir are brother and sister and son and daughter to the owners of Northwestern Meat, Inc., one of Miami’s biggest meat distributors. They also happen to be hardcore vegans. In their spare time, they like to organize secretly run riots, pilfer money from their unsuspecting asshole father, and throw parties where everyone gets so high off of LSD that they can’t differentiate between morning and night. They’re my targets. Anyone else who gets brought down along with them is just extra credit.
For some reason, maybe because it isn’t my first time and I knew what to expect, this mission hasn’t been as hard. It’s been easier to slip into a pretend life and keep things straight. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty when Clem slipped her hand into mine and looked up at me, her wild hair flying in the light breeze, and told me that she’s happy to have met me. “What are the odds?” she had said, a bright smile on her face and her insanely green eyes crinkled in happiness.
“Obviously pretty good,” I had told her and smiled back, all the while mentally punching myself. Chief wasn’t lying when he told me he was relying on my charm; it’s gotten me into the best possible positions on both of my missions.
It’s
There hasn’t been time to think about Heather and what we had; whether it was real enough to miss or not. The sex was great, and maybe that’s what I miss, but I think it’s more than that. I think maybe it may have been all along and I was just too dense to see it or to allow myself to feel it. But in the months and now years since my parents’ death, feeling things has seemed to be the only thing I can do now. I’m different, and she’s not. I’ve changed, and she’s sitting there completely unaware of the better person I’ve become.
“Jackson, are you listening?”
Jackson . I snap my head back to the circle of people surrounding me, four pairs of eyes staring back at me patiently. What were they saying? What were we talking about? Clementine’s head starts to turn toward Heather, where I had been staring for god knows how long, and I know that I have to say something to bring her attention back to me, Jackson, and away from Heather, who knows Nathan.
I force a light chuckle and say, “Sorry guys. Zoned out for a sec. What were you saying?” I direct the question towards Casmir, who likes to be called Cas, and smile.
“We were talking about the post-riot party we’re planning, for whoever can make it. Which, if everything goes according to plan, will be all of us.”
I glance at Clementine, whose eyes are directed back towards the middle of our group, and breathe a small sigh of relief. Focusing on keeping my back turned toward Heather, I listen to the rest of the conversation; where the party is and what time and who will bring what. This’ll be the big party; the one where I’ll send a three letter text and watch, from a safe distance, as once again the people I’ve befriended are brought down. It didn’t take much convincing to get Chief to see why I shouldn’t be involved in the final show. If I’m simply not there to see it or to be blamed, maybe my newly acquired friends will think I just disappeared for my own good. I’ll never see them again regardless but at least this way my name is clean. Well, Jackson is at least.
Clementine and Casmir are brother and sister and son and daughter to the owners of Northwestern Meat, Inc., one of Miami’s biggest meat distributors. They also happen to be hardcore vegans. In their spare time, they like to organize secretly run riots, pilfer money from their unsuspecting asshole father, and throw parties where everyone gets so high off of LSD that they can’t differentiate between morning and night. They’re my targets. Anyone else who gets brought down along with them is just extra credit.
For some reason, maybe because it isn’t my first time and I knew what to expect, this mission hasn’t been as hard. It’s been easier to slip into a pretend life and keep things straight. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty when Clem slipped her hand into mine and looked up at me, her wild hair flying in the light breeze, and told me that she’s happy to have met me. “What are the odds?” she had said, a bright smile on her face and her insanely green eyes crinkled in happiness.
“Obviously pretty good,” I had told her and smiled back, all the while mentally punching myself. Chief wasn’t lying when he told me he was relying on my charm; it’s gotten me into the best possible positions on both of my missions.
It’s
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