Jaq With a Q

by Jettie Woodruff

  “Well, no. I want someone to kill me.”

  My eyes glanced around the busy cubicles, sure I was being punked. “Who is this? Is this some sort of joke?”

  “Never mind. It’s obvious you’re the wrong guy.”

  “Yes, I’m sure this is a wrong number. Maybe you should— hello. Hello?” I looked down to my blinking phone just as I heard the beep, alerting me of the dead call. What the hell was that?

  Inconveniently, my boring job did little to keep me from thinking about the girl with the boy name. What did she mean by that? She wanted someone to kill her? Why? I checked my phone several times throughout the day, hoping maybe she sent a text or I missed another call, and then I wondered why. It wasn’t like anything would ever come of it anyway. I certainly wasn’t going to kill anyone, but for hidden reasons, I decided to check out the number. It wouldn’t hurt anything to find out a little bit about her.

  Unfortunately, my investigation was over before it ever started. The number was from some government funded agency, prepaid, and not registered under an actual name. I shook my head and turned my attention back to my data analysis, shaking off the senseless inquisitiveness for some crazy chick off her meds. Only it didn’t really work. My mind couldn’t stay off the thoughts. I knew with everything in me the girl was serious, but why? Why did I even care? That was the real question.

  Having my own distinct perspective on fun, I declined yet another gathering at a local club with peers I didn’t even talk to, let alone like.

  “Come on, Oliver. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  A thin smile and a quick glance toward Martin, the most annoying guy on the entire floor, and a definite no. “Thanks, I don’t really drink.”

  The arrogant idiot was still babbling when I walked out the doors, so ready to leave that building. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fathom one more day there. I would kill myself if I had to do it much longer. Of course, that reminded me of Jaq with a Q. As crazy and off the wall as it sounded, I knew the girl was dead serious. And once again, I pondered why.

  Rather than spending my normal time in solitude on personal monotonous projects, I did some digging; one of the perks of being a freak. There wasn’t a system one that I couldn’t hack if I wanted to. Obviously, I didn’t. I sure as hell didn’t want someone from the FBI knocking down my door, but I was pretty certain I’d be safe with some cellphone charity girl. I was double sure when I didn’t even have to try to get through their firewall, not that it mattered. A little bit of disappointment was actually felt. I hated easy. Still, even with an erudite system, I had developed the scale and sophistication to be able to crack even the most robust cyber-defenses. I could rob banks without guns easily, if I wanted to, of course.

  My eyes scanned data codes while my mind wandered to her. Her that I didn’t even know, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about. I sipped my hot tea while picking at a plate of udon noodles with soy sauce, trying to hear her in my mind. From the sound of her voice, I guessed her to be young, maybe early to mid-twenties.

  “Well, hello, Jaq Tarantino,” I whispered to myself as I pulled the name from the codes in less than a minute. Unsure of my own state of mind, I jotted the address down on a legal pad and pondered where to go next. 119 Dressler Street. Since I had no clue where that even was, taking a ride to see where she lived crossed my mind, but the logical part of my brain talked me out of it.

  With a loud groan from deep in my throat, I closed my laptop and flipped on a time and space documentary, forgetting all about Jaq with a Q. Done. Forgotten. Determined not to waste one more second on the useless nonsense, I thought about something else. Something even more dangerous, a quick vision of a blonde back home by the lake. I made that my last crazy thought as I dozed off, promising to let it go.

  A deep burning to know more kept my mind from wandering too far away from her. Needless to say, the urge was so strong I couldn’t quite get a handle on it. It was still there when I woke first thing in the morning. Deciding to get it out of my system, I did seek her out; I left an hour early for work just so I could drive by her house. Of course, I wouldn’t have known her had I seen her, but that didn’t keep me from driving over to her house the following day, right after work. I parked in front of a little market, right across from her building and waited. Waited for what and why was the question I couldn’t answer.

  I watched a group of girls jumping rope, chanting some catchy tune while going through the alphabet, a wife name for each letter. The neighborhood didn’t look too bad; a lot of graffiti, old buildings, and closed up shops. It wasn’t what I had expected for that part of the city, yet I was sure that part wasn’t more than a couple blocks away.

  “Hey, you need directions. I give ‘em to you for five bucks.”

  I turned a frown toward a kid, no more than ten or twelve years old with his hand out, a wide gap between his two front teeth. “Do you know Jaq Tarantino?”

  “Maybe. Whatcha wanna know for?”

  “She’s a friend.”

  “That girl ain’t cho friend. She ain’t gots no friends. That girl crazy in the head. Whacked.”

  “Why do you say that? What do you mean?”

  “She sat right down in the middle of the street and screamed. All because Binks try talking to her.”

  “Why?”

  “She crazy.”

  “What did Binks say to her?”

  The kid shrugged both shoulders, sputtering his lips with his reply. “Beats me. She pretty. He probably wants to make some money off her.”

  Even though I already knew the answer, I asked anyway, my frown never leaving my face. “How?”

  “How you think? Guys pay good money for pretty pussy, but not crazy pussy. Fuck that. Only tricks that girl be turning is in her head.”

  “When was that?”

  “Hey, I’m not saying anything else tills you pay up.”

  “I’ll pay you, just answer the question. When did that happen?”

  “Yesterday. Now pay up.”

  Retrieving two bills from my wallet, I gave him one. “Here’s five. I’ve got five more if you keep talking.”

  “I don’t know anything else. She never leaves her apartment. Only to go in the store there and that only be like two times since she come here.”

  “Does she get visitors?”

  “Not since she first came here. Shantel tole me she hugged that pole over there, begging the lady not to leave her here. Said it was a county car. Maybe she got loose from prison. Maybe she kill someone.”

  That thought lingered in my mind, the possibility real. Perhaps this wasn’t the first time she had contacted a hitman. “Anything else?”

  With an opened hand, he answered, “Nope.”

  “Where do you live?”

  His finger pointed toward an alley next to Jaq’s building. “Next street over, right across from this building.”

  “Do you know what side her apartment is on?”

  “No, but I can find out.”

  “You do that. I’m going to stop here again tomorrow. You keep an eye out for her and see if you can tie down a routine for me. Let me know the next time she goes to the store.”

  “That be costing you twenty, man. I ain’t sittin’ around all day waitin’ for some lunatic to come out of her house for no five bucks.”

  “Fine, I’ll give you twenty. See what you can find out, but don’t scare her.”

  “What’cha want wit her?”

  It wasn’t like I could truthfully answer that question. I didn’t even know. “I don’t want anything with her. Mind your own business. Are you in or not?”

  “Yeah, but you better not stiff me. You want some weed?”

  With brooding eyes, I hit the power button, rolling up the window and placing my car into drive. “No, I’ll see you right here tomorrow afternoon. What’s your name?”

  “Hooker.”

  “Great,” I sarcastically replied, my eyes rolling as I pulled away.

  My entire night was sp
ent researching Jaq with a Q, and I did find an IP address; unfortunately, it wasn’t hers. It belonged to her neighbor, but lucky for me, she did use it. She’d logged into it that afternoon, and of course, I had to find out what it was my new ghost friend searched the internet for. Her computer had some sort of weird firewall on it that took some time to get through, and once I did, I was sure Miss Tarantino was on a stolen laptop. Regina Bacon was no doubt missing hers. She did most of the searching from a different IP, her state-worker title explaining the strange firewall used.

  Jaq had taken over the computer role three months and two days before, and she searched like a professional hypochondriac. Everything from an infected hangnail to heart disease, to rare horrible cancers. Thoughts of things I shouldn’t have been thinking filled my mind. Nobody would miss her.

  “Jesus, Oliver. You’re losing your flipping mind,” I audibly said, the addiction coming before the poison. I closed my laptop with that and called it a night, trying like hell to keep my attention on the thought experiment on television. The quantum suicide theory that might explain why movies illustrate how reality actually works. To explain why that shouldn’t happen is impossible for a scientist. I got that, and I got Jaq, or at least I wanted to try anyway. That’s where my thoughts were as I dozed off, not quantum suicide.

  The next day at work was much the same, mundane, yet full of thoughts. And yes, I ended up back in her neighborhood, but I didn’t learn much. She hadn’t come out. Hooker, or Wallace, as I had learned from an angry mother screaming for him from a corner. Wallace told me all of her lights were on in her apartment the entire night, but the drapes were drawn. Same thing the next day, and the next. Searching every record, I could find for Jaq Tarantino did little for my investigation. She was like a ghost. Even the files I found on her in county records were vague. More than likely, they were in a folder, tucked away in some forgotten filing cabinet, not on a hard drive. Her self-diagnosis research and Hooker were my only tools, a punk ass kid from the Bronx and a skillful valetudinarian. That’s it.

  Twelve days. That’s how many days I drove over to the hood to pay my private investigator for nothing. There was a note taped to her door, informing her of her full mailbox. She would have to go to the post office to claim her mail. That’s what the kid said. Her lights came on just before dark and stayed on the entire night, her mail hadn’t been checked in days, and she hadn’t left her apartment. That worried me, and I didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like I could do anything, and the one thing I could do was wrong on so many levels, but it did cross my mind. A lot.

  It was finally that night, almost two weeks from the day she had called me, asking me to kill her that I made the call. I took a deep breath of air into my lungs and hit send just after dark.

  “Hello.”

  “Who is this? What do you want?”

  “It’s Oliver Benson.”

  Silence filled the space between us and I had to speak again, trying to soften my gravelly voice. “Jaq? Are you there?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I thought maybe you would like to talk.”

  “About the thing? You’ll do it?”

  “Maybe, but you have to talk to me first.”

  “About what?”

  “You, and why you want to do this.”

  “Because it’s better than living.”

  I asked because I genuinely wanted to know. “What are you afraid of?”

  An obvious snort was heard and then silence. Just when I was about to coax her again, she spoke in a frail, faint voice. “I’m afraid of everything.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Nobody knows why I’m like this and nobody cares.”

  “I care.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t even know me.”

  “Okay, talk to me, tell me about yourself..”

  “I should, and then you would know what a freak I am. You’ll be happy to get me off the same planet as you.”

  My nails dug into my scalp while I pondered what to say, my mind trying to put a face to the voice. I pictured her to be blonde and probably pale as a ghost, a pompous judgment based off her weak nature. “I don’t think you’re a freak. I think you’ve got a history that has shaped your life, and you think it’s the only way but it’s not. Let me help you.”

  “Why?”

  I stood and walked toward the sound of sirens, my eyes staring through the city lights in a daze like fashion. It would have been easier to explain had I understood it myself, but I didn’t, Not even a little. “I’m, I—.”

  “You want to do things to me. You want to hurt me.”

  “No, that’s not it at all. I’m a scientist with a very active mind, working an ordinary job, and it’s not working for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m—it’s like—I have something I’d like to try with you. To help you,” I quickly added, trying like hell not to sound like the oddity I felt.

  “So you want to make me a specimen?”

  “I mean, sort of.”

  “Like a drug study? I did that once when I was fifteen. It didn’t work.”

  “No, not man made drugs. I want to try something else. Something my father did years ago with a girl like you, similar background.”

  “Nobody has my background.”

  “This girl was kept in a cage for thirteen years. No contact with people. Ever.”

  “Why?”

  That got her attention, and I could tell she was more than intrigued. I might have even said she was on the hook, at least nibbling it. “He was what you might call a mad scientist. The point is, my father helped her. If you do a search on Styloid, you should be able to pull it up.”

  “I don’t have the internet.”

  I refrained from telling her to use her neighbor’s as she had been and talked about the lake instead, thoughts of the shambles it was probably in crossing my mind. It had been years since I had been back there, and I was one hundred percent sure, my brother, Silas hadn’t either. Who knew what I would find, what I was about to get myself into, but…I wanted it, I needed it, and she needed it. “I would like to take you away from the city. My childhood home. The lake is beautiful this time of year. Flowers are starting to bloom, the sun is warm, and the nights are full of twinkling stars. There are no people around. It would be you and me.”

  “I don’t believe you. You want to use me. You’re going to make me do things.”

  A deep breath filled my lungs and I reeled it in, my unpolished skills manifesting from out of nowhere. “Okay, okay. I get it. Will you at least talk to me? Maybe we can work up to that.”

  The stillness between us gave me a bit of hope. “I don’t have very many minutes.”

  “I’ll send you a phone.”

  “You don’t know where I live.”

  Again, I abstained from breaking the news that I indeed knew where she lived. “You can tell me, Jaq.”

  “But I won’t go to my mailbox. I can’t get it.”

  “It will come right to your door. Why can’t you go to your mailbox?”

  “I just can’t. I have to go. It’s time for my medicine.”

  “Wait, don’t go. I’ll hold on.”

  “I’ll run out of minutes.”

  “I’m going to send you a phone.”

  The quietness between us was a sure sign that she was thinking about it. “I don’t understand what this is all about. What if something bad happens?”

  “Then I will personally give you your wish.”

  “You’ll kill me?”

  My head shook back and forth, thinking about the alternative. “Yes.”

  “Promise?”

  I promised and tried again. “Will you go to Maine with me?”

  “Maine?”

  “Yes, that’s where the house is.”

  “No. I can’t.”

  Even with the disapproving words, I knew with everything in me that I would be back there…with her. “Okay, we’ll do t
his for as long as you need. I’ll send you a cell phone, and get your internet turned on. I need to be able to send you things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Simple things. Don’t worry about any of that. This isn’t a test. I really think I can help you, Jaq,” I assured her, or maybe it was my own selfish assurance as a stream of adrenaline pumped fiercely through my veins.

  “I won’t open the door.”

  “It’s okay. I will send a friend. He’s black, a young boy, maybe thirteen or so. His name is Wallace. It will only be him.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you have to lose, Jaq? Isn’t it worth a shot? Wouldn’t you like to be happy and not be afraid all the time?”

  “But, you don’t understand. You can’t help me. I’ve seen doctor after doctor, I’ve taken every drug out there. It doesn’t work for me.”

  “What do you take? What prescriptions are you on now?”

  “A lot.”

  Jaq wasn’t kidding. She was on five different prescriptions plus something for the constipation one of them caused, all for numerous ailments. I scribbled the names she read from the labels while she sounded out syllables like a first grader. She was more worried about running out than what they were for; even the two given as a placebo, one for her fuzzy head, and one for the nightmares. One of them was actually Obecalp, placebo spelled backward. Sure there was a reason, I didn’t disclose that information.”

  “I’ll send your medicine. Is there anything else you need?”

  The hesitation told me there was more. “No.”

  “It’s okay, Jaq. You can tell me. I’m here to help you. I will have my friend Wallace there tomorrow. If there’s anything you need, tell me.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  That statement was felt more than heard and it took me a second to respond. “I’ll send some food,”

  “Okay, can I go now?”

  “Yes, and make sure you open the door for Wallace.”

  “What if it’s someone else? What if I open the door for a bad guy?”

  “I’ll call you. I’ll tell you what he’s wearing and I’ll stay on the phone with you until the door is locked behind him.”