Vengeful Bounty

by Jillian Kidd

  The message may have sounded harsh, but at times people have to be harsh with my mother or she will let her snobbery rule over them. She was going to be angry with me; that was for sure. But I could handle that. I’d handled it all my life.

  When the sun started to go down, I made a quick trip to Dad’s office. As the paper grew closer to deadline, more butts filled the seats of computer chairs, and the air sang with the clickity click of keyboards.

  Jenny nearly ran into me as she left Dad’s office in a hurry to get back to her desk.

  “Mina!” she shrieked.

  “Hi, how’s it going?” I asked.

  She gave me a quick little hug. Then her face grew conspiratorial as she leaned in and whispered:

  “So how was the date?”

  “It went well,” I said. “We had a lot of fun.”

  “So are you two an item yet?”

  “No. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Gah!” She threw up her hands. “I’m supposed to be living vicariously through you. The least you can do for me is to kiss him and let me know if he’s as good as my bi-weekly fantasies about him are!”

  “Jenny!” I said, playfully covering her mouth with my hand. “Quit before you start drooling!”

  “Okay, okay!” She brushed past me. “I just don’t know how you manage to be at point-blank range with such a hottie and not have one dirty thought about him.”

  Oh, but didn’t I? Jackson had floated into my thoughts a time or two since we’d met up. The way he’d hovered over me, the strange new heat between us, the way his eyes sparkled like jewels. He hadn’t called since the dinner. Honestly, I didn’t expect him to. There were no expectations between us. That was what was so nice about it.

  Still.

  Fighting an inward battle of whether or not to tell Jenny that I might be slightly interested in Jackson out of simple curiosity, I was interrupted by Dad.

  “Mina, what are you doing here, darlin’?” he asked.

  He sat at his desk, which was covered in the usual mass of papers and printed photos. He waved for me to come in.

  “How’s the paper going, Dad?” I asked.

  “Oh, fine. This issue should be good. We got a nice interview with the mayor. Did you know he has a rare collection of masks from all around the world?”

  “Nope, didn’t know that. Interesting.”

  “I thought so.” He scribbled a note down on a Post-It and stuck it to a glossy photo of a football player. “What can I do for you, sweetie?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you’d be available to drive me to the airport Friday. I’ll be gone for about a week.”

  “Oh? Where you going?”

  “Oklahoma City. You’ve seen the ad about Daniel Martin?”

  “The Shark? Conned people by a false charity organization?”

  “That’s the one. There’s some new information out. I have some connections where he was last seen. I think I can nab him.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his moustache lifting as he smiled. Locking his hands behind his head, he all but beamed at me.

  “Think he’ll be your number twenty-five?” he asked.

  I nodded, suddenly overcome by a rush of emotion. It was because of Dad that I’d even become a bounty hunter. With his priceless education and training, as well as motivation and love, I’d gotten to the point were I was now.

  “I’m so proud of you, honey,” he said quietly.

  I was here. I was really here. I was about to make my last catch as a national bounty hunter, and would soon be let loose upon the world’s most notorious criminals. I blinked back the bit of moisture in my eyes.

  “So will you take me to the airport or not?” I asked, stuffing my emotions away with a good tough-girl act.

  He watched me for a long time. Words didn’t need to be spoken. He believed in me. He knew I’d do it. And for that, I was eternally grateful to my father. I knew I was lucky. Even if I only had one parent cheering me on and being my number one fan, it was more than a lot of people had. I would never forget it.

  “Well?” I asked, putting my hand on my hip. “It’s Friday afternoon. Will you?”

  He nodded, his wise eyes crinkling at the edges as his grin deepened.

  “You bet,” he said.

  14

  I crossed my fingers as I read the text message my brother had sent me. In a soft green font against black background, it read:

  Dinner went great. Can u believe it? Mom was nice 4 once. She even liked D’s necklace. Thx again. Ttyl!

  I sighed with relief and allowed myself a smug smile. Would Mom give me a dirty look when I saw her tomorrow night? Would she start an argument? Whatever happened, I’d go equipped for anything, which was what you had to do when preparing for a date with that woman.

  Life was good. My mother had accepted my brother’s new girlfriend. My dad was proud of me. Everything was falling into place for my next catch.

  For the first time in a while, I felt at peace with the world. I even forgot to worry about having that ugly Roberto dream before I went to sleep. And my dreams started out fine. But they didn’t stay that way.

  I was flying. Bounding off the ground with a leap and soaring into the air. The night was filled with stars, even colorful planets, fixed in a twilight sky of rainbow colors. I ricocheted off the thick oak trees, dancing in the air as a bird might.

  Then a deafening thunderclap sounded, and the sky went red. And I saw a figure in the distance. It was only a pin-prick, really, but I watched, in the red glow, as Roberto walked closer to me, his pointed teeth fixed in a wicked grin. His form grew larger and larger upon his approach until he was within grabbing distance. I couldn’t fly anymore, or even move. I floated to the ground, unable to control my legs that I so desperately wanted to carry me away in a sprint.

  He grabbed hold of my neck and squeezed, the pressure of it causing my ears to ring with the deafening pound of my heart. I tried to scream.

  *

  I sat up in bed with a start.

  Panting, I settled into reality, so thankful it was only a dream. But then I frowned, suddenly pissed off that I kept on having that stupid nightmare. That last one was number three.

  I looked at the bedside clock, and it read 2:10 a.m.

  Great.

  Too early to get up for the day. Too late to pay anyone a visit or call.

  Unless…

  My spirits lifted, and I quietly got out of bed, careful not to startle Rogue who had nestled underneath the covers with me. He poked his head out, and I petted him until he slipped back into peaceful sleep.

  I pulled my hair back into a messy twist and clipped it to the back of my head. Then I sat down at my Chess set.

  I reached over the pretty glass game pieces on my side and touched the smooth glass on the third row of squares. A list of names took turns lighting up across the black and white checkered pattern.

  Colt

  No, he was probably with his girlfriend.

  Dad

  No, he was probably busy.

  Bryan

  Nah.

  Phillip

  No, didn’t feel like bugging him.

  Hitomi

  No.

  Jackson

  My heart gave a surprising little flutter upon seeing his name. It had never done that before. Odd. But interesting. I smiled a little.

  Yes.

  I touched Jackson’s name, and it fizzled into nothingness. The empty seat across the board started flashing a little blue light. On and off. On and off. On and off. It was making the call, and if Jackson heard it on his end and wanted to play, his hologram would appear in the seat. After a minute or two of no response, the transmission would end.

  Please be awake, I thought.

  He was always up at weird hours, he’d explained once to me, whether he was out paying some club a visit for publicity, or doing a late-night radio interview, or writing his music. But he was typically a morning person, too. He didn’t need much sleep,
so he said. Life was too short to sleep it away. I’d told him he must be on crack. He’d laughed and said he’d tried it, but he wasn’t really the drugging type. “High on life” was how he explained it. And secretly, I was glad. I hoped he stayed the happy, healthy guy I knew for a long time and didn’t let the drug web, in which so many famous folks found themselves, trap him.

  I was about to give up and go clean the bathroom when his hologram appeared, as well as his hologram Chess pieces.

  He didn’t appear to have been dragged out of bed. His hair looked the usual perfectly arranged mess. He wore a black tank top and jeans, half a dozen necklaces draping down over his chest.

  “Hey, night owl,” he said. “What brings your hologram to my humble abode?”

  “Can’t sleep,” I said, pressing my lips, kind of wishing he were with me in the flesh.

  “Aww, you look all cute with your hair like that and all sleepy-eyed.” He laughed, the musical sound of it infecting my mood with delight. “Holy crap, you’re not wearing a bra, are you?”

  “Quit looking at my breasts!” I crossed my arms, aghast, and a little excited that his eyes had wandered there. “I’ll go put one on if you want, but I normally don’t sleep in one.”

  “Oh, man. I dated this girl for a while. I think her name was Monica. Or Monique. Something. Anyway, she’d sleep in full corset. I don’t know how she breathed.”

  “You and your women.”

  “I know. So you wanna play, huh?” He dramatically wove his fingers together and stretched them, popping the joints. “Just couldn’t wait to get your ass beat again?”

  “Right.” Already I was feeling better. “If I remember correctly, I won the last one. But you go ahead and go first.”

  “Fine, fine.” He moved knight’s pawn to B3 then lifted his lashes to look at me, flashing a tease of blue before focusing again on the game board. “So why can’t you sleep?”

  I looked over my pieces, trying to decide where to start. “That Roberto dream, for one. And I guess I’m just excited about my next job. I think I have found someone I can track down without too much trouble.” I decided on knight to F6. “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

  Without wasting a second, he moved bishop to A3. “Well, I’m sorry you had that dream. I wish I could wipe your little mind clear of all nightmares.”

  I debated telling him about being chased by those two men after our date, but I didn’t want to worry him. He had enough on his plate. I made another move.

  “Well, thanks. I wish you could, too,” I said.

  Then something sweet and lovely trickled into my ears.

  “Is that Debussy?” I asked, barely making out the magical piano tune.

  “Yeah,” Jackson said. “‘Reverie.’ I’m trying to learn it.”

  I nearly choked. Jackson? The pop star? Playing Debussy?

  There was that melodious laugh again.

  “You look so surprised!” he said, lifting his hand away from the piece he moved. “You knew I liked classical music. It’s one of the things we have in common.”

  “Well, I knew that, but I didn’t have any idea you played! Are you any good?”

  He shrugged, trying to stifle a large smile into a miniscule one. “I think I’m okay.”

  “What else do you play? Oh—wait. Where did you move?” I scanned the board. “I didn’t see you—”

  “The pawn. Over there.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “And the answer to your question is I also play drums, and I can find my way around on a guitar. My mom made me take viola lessons in school. I could probably still play ‘Happy Birthday’ on that, but it’d be rough. You might need ear surgery afterwards.”

  “Huh.” I tried not to stare at him. I tried really hard not to wonder what else he’d been keeping from me that would possibly delight me. I tried not to imagine kissing him. “Well, that’s neat, Jackson.”

  I purposefully cooled my demeanor, stuffing the new, strange feelings deep back down inside so I wouldn’t say or do anything stupid to make things weird. The sound of the piano keys pulled at me to let my mind drift into a utopian land with vibrantly green hills and lush blue streams—blue like Jackson’s eyes.

  Stop it, I warned myself. Don’t be a dumb girl. He likes you for being the normal Mina, not this goofball.

  But still, I really, really liked the fact that he could play piano. I had in mind this image of pop stars dancing around and singing like hell, but nobody could notice because of the electronic distortion. Maybe Jackson’s voice was nice. Maybe I’d allow myself to maybe listen to one of his songs in the near future.

  “Your turn,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “So tell me something I don’t know about you,” he said, playfully drumming his fingers against the tippy tops of his Chess pieces. “Since you found out about my mad crazy viola skills.”

  “Well,” I said, racking my brain for something he might find interesting or fun. “I used to have a pet frog. His name was Douglas.”

  “Really!” Jackson sat up straight, his eyebrows raised. “That’s my middle name! How funny!”

  “That is pretty funny,” I said, all at once reminiscing about the smooth green tree frog I’d kept in a humid tank. “He was really cute. I used to talk to him all the time, as if he could understand me. You know that old fairy tale about a frog turning into a prince?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “I thought that one day he’d turn into a prince and be my boyfriend.” I laughed at myself. “I was only like nine. He died, and we had a funeral. Dad wore a robe and everything to conduct the ceremony. Even mom showed up, though she just stood there, buffing her nails. Colt laid him to rest and gave me a hug. I was torn up at the time, but looking back, it’s really pretty funny.”

  “Aww. That’s sweet. Poor little Douglas. Hey, don’t hate me.”

  “For what?”

  He moved his queen and leaned back. “Checkmate.”

  “No way!”

  But after looking at his move, I was stuck. He had me no matter where I moved.

  He flashed a cocky grin and lifted his hands and eyes as if to say, Yes, I’m awesome—what are you going to do about it?

  “Nice job,” I said. “That was fast.”

  “I’m just that good. Play again?”

  I looked at the clock, which read, 2:45 a.m.

  “Are you sure you’re not busy?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Because I don’t want to be an annoyance.”

  “Not at all,” he said softly, giving me an under-look as he put his pieces back on their starting places. “I’m enjoying this.”

  My heart started pounding in my chest as I debated whether or not to voice what I suddenly wanted to say:

  Come over.

  But we had this rule. Even though we both knew where each other lived, we’d never been there. It wasn’t worth risking the paparazzi hounds. It was also a little more personal than we’d gone before. We were both very busy people.

  My pulse threatened to make me dizzy. My mouth grew dry. I knew why I wanted him over. I was curious. It’d been a long time since I’d had sex. I’d had offers (ahem, A.J. among other questionable prospects), but I hadn’t been in the mood, nor had I wanted to give myself to anyone but Damon. Things inside of me were changing, though. Maybe it was time. Maybe I needed it.

  I studied the smooth lines of his shoulders, bare in the fitted shirt he wore. The brush strokes of raven black hair next to his neck.

  Dangerous, that’s what all of this felt like. Dangerous and illicit.

  He’d been with a lot of women. A lot. Granted, he never seemed in love with them, but I wasn’t really trying to fall in love, just trying to be a normal, healthy woman that enjoyed life. But what if we went through with it, and he suddenly saw me like all the rest of his vain harem of groupie girls he’d slept with? My pride flared. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want that at all.

  If anyone made the first move
in that game, it would have to be Jackson. I refused to chase him, even by the mere hint of a rendezvous. It might horrify him and turn him away from me. It wasn’t worth it.

  I’d play another game. Then hit the sack and get ready for my visit with Mom.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” I said, keeping my arms cradled around me so my illusive breasts wouldn’t press too firmly against the fabric. “Prepare yourself to lose this time.”

  “That’s just what I was about to say, you weakling,” he said.

  Debussy continued to play in the background, as we carried on another game, and soon I found myself relaxing again as talk remained friendly, playful, and innocent.

  Probably best, if I was ready to have sex again, to get out into the dating world again, like Colt continued to suggest. Maybe I’d meet another bounty hunter when I went Global, and I’d get to know him and ease into a happy relationship. He’d become someone I trusted. Love could grow.

  Jackson won the second game, and when he smiled at me, I sensed a spark of something more—something that for a brief moment resembled desire.

  But in a flash it was gone.

  Then we jumped right into game number three.

  15

  I’d only gotten maybe four hours of sleep. For me, that sort of thing could be dangerous. It lowered my defenses. It made me more irritable. And it usually led to obsessive-compulsive rehashing of old problems.

  While I’d had a lot of fun playing Chess with Jackson, the morning seemed abnormally quiet and void of joy. Though the sun shone brilliantly outside, a cloud had begun to form over my heart, and now hovered heavily.

  I debated on whether or not to do it.

  I fought with myself all morning long.

  I knew it would be better to leave it alone.

  But that tired, irrational side of me said, Do it.

  So I gave in.

  I settled myself on the couch with one foot tucked up under me, and using the remote, I scanned through all the old saved video phone conversations in the TV system. When I located the one—that last talk I’d had with Damon—I played it.

  There was no video image of me, of course, only Damon in a black shirt and jacket with his hair loose and flowing down his shoulders. He’d recently shaved, his angular face tense with some emotion: guilt, maybe, or fear?