Your head hurts so much just like the rest of the body. You let out a moan of pain and you look up at him in fear and annoyance. At least, you haven’t broken any bones.

‘What is wrong with you?’ You want to ask him

You look at him slowly coming down the stairs like that. There’s pure adulterated hate in his eyes and you know he probably won’t let you live. You crawl down the rest of the stairs at the sight of the gun.

Then you quickly pick up the gun and shoot, almost without looking. It’s only after you shoot that you realize that your aim was so very off. You hear ambulance sirens as his body falls down the stairs. He’s graceful even in his death. You move away as his body falls down the stairs beside you with a loud thud and a frightening crunch. You turn him over in his helpless state and it looks like there’s a slight smile on his face. There’s blood coming out of his mouth and he just broke his neck. You look at the gunshot wound in his chest with tears in your eyes. You’re relieved and sorry at the same time.

You feel like crying when you see him like this and there’s a lump in your throat.

There’s a steady stream of profanity flowing through your head. You can’t get to her house soon enough and God damn it, you cannot call Keefe’s would-be assassins because you were too cocky to get their numbers in case anything went wrong.

You cannot express just how pissed off you are at the slut as the train carries her away. You fume. How the hell did you let this situation get this out of control? There’s a huge hole gaping through your ego as she looks at you through the moving train. Looks like she wasn’t that dull after all. Dealing with panicky idiots all your life made you forget to expect surprises. You never thought she would have the guts and that she would be so resourceful. You realize that you have to do something you really, really haven’t wanted to do.

She’s not the only one who’s resourceful here. You make your way back to the airport and in a matter of moments you pickpocket somebody’s mobile phone. It’s really just business, nothing personal.

You call up your dog and tell him to get rid of daddy in a slow and painful way. You are so sick of the bastard who was responsible for the conception of Lisa Reisert that you wish you slammed the phone down harder when she called him on the plane. Your voice is very raspy and you have trouble breathing so your dog takes some time to understand you. You also add that he should stick around and get rid of her. He seems pleased; he’s a bloodhound.

When you end the call, you’re even more pissed off. You just made an emotion-driven choice, damn it. Of course, your superiors would have wanted you to do the same thing.

Lisa makes you realize just why you avoid relationships. It makes you fume that she hit your Achilles heel but it makes you madder that you let her see it.

You fume quietly, squeezing the small cell-phone in your hand. Your vocal chords hurt. You forget about your tracheotomy for a second when you think about Lisa’s expression when she will see her dead father. You smile. Oh, if only Lisa wasn’t trying to be such a hero she would still have someone to call daddy. But she was such a good girl. You are still a human being after all and you could only control your temper for so long. You’ve run out of our patience and you’re through with her and her little tricks.

You smile at the thought of daddy lying cold on the floor surrounded by a pool of blood. It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining and the birds are singing. Maybe if you get to Lisa’s house soon enough you’ll tell the dog to spare Lisa’s life later on but for now, you’ll indulge in mobile games while you go outside to call a taxi. The world is yours and so is Lisa’s head.

"No, that I would never let it happen to me again," you reply, immediately throwing the pen at his neck.

A reflex action, unfortunately, makes him jerk his head back and catch your wrist. You try to struggle free when he catches your other wrist. He forcefully pulls your face towards his. He hurts you as he squeezes your wrists, you feel like your wrists will shatter. The momentary look of shock wears off of his face. If you watched a little closer, you would have seen a slight look of hurt run through his face. There’s something unnaturally seductive about him as he breathes down your neck and his insanely angry blue eyes bore into you; it makes you feel ashamed that you even you notice it.

He slightly grinds his teeth and keeps looking at you. He snatches away the pen and forces you back into your seat; he seems to have developed this unhealthy hobby of throwing you around.

"Look at me," he whispers forcefully after staying silent for a while. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop gambling with your father’s life? Stop playing tricks. Do you really, really want me to kill him Leese? Stop being so damn selfish. You are so naïve, you think that Keefe’s a good man, but honestly Leese, honestly, how much do you think you know about him?" His voice is velvet with threat.

"Now you are going to sit down while I take our suitcases down and you will pretend that everything’s okay. You are going to put on a fucking smile on your face because one of the flight attendants just saw us. And you know how she feels about inappropriate gestures in public places." He sweetly smiles at you, as a few people look at you two. He sheepishly smiles at them as well. "I don’t have a grudge against your father, so please don’t make me kill him."

You’re shaking with rage and fear. You’re so sorry about the Keefe family.

"You…" you feel like crying or saying something.

"Now, Leese, you know how I told you that bad things happen to good people." His tone is mocking and condescending, it’s like you’re some stupid child. "Good things also happen to bad people."

Before you can say something, a flight attendant comes up to you two.

"Excuse me," she says in a loud curt tone.

"Oh, hi, umm…. I … you saw us…" he buries his face in his hands and he has a stupid sheepish grin smacked across his face. "I’m … I’m really, really sorry. Aren’t we … Leese?"

You hate his nickname for you. You force a smile as he looks at you.

"Yeah, sorry. It’s really nothing."

The flight attendant glares at you, she wants to say something but she doesn’t. You wish she could help you.

Feelings of failure and sadness start to sink in.

Jackson gets up to play bellhop again. As he takes down your things, he tells you something softly, which doesn’t make you feel any better.

"Look at it this way," his voice strains from the weight of the suitcase when he says ‘this’. "At least the kids won’t be fatherless and his wife won’t be a widow."

I don't think you unworthy
I need a moment to deliberate. " – Alanis Morissette.

"Get up, get up," you demand yourself. You move away from the commode and you gargle. You look at the handsoap container and you know what you have to do. You squeeze out the soap and you use your hands to write out the words: 18F has bomb. The room is quiet is except for the sound of the tap water running and the dryer. Your eyes are dried. You open the bathroom door and figure out that Jackson Rippner has a way of making your day.

"I was starting to wonder…" he stops when he catches a glimpse of the writing on the mirror. Then, his hand is over your mouth while he shoves you inside and once his other hand is done locking the bathroom door, it’s over your neck and you are newly acquainted with the lavatory wall. Lovely, it’s a wonder that you’re not a big claustrophobic by this point.

You want to cry again but you don’t have the energy to. You’re so sick of everything especially the panic. You hate the fact that some man who was a potential Mr. Lisa Reisert not so long ago is now choking you. You try to push him away. You can’t do a damn thing to fend him off and this brings up terrible memories. You’re in the parking lot again.

"That just wasn’t smart. Stop struggling. You love your father, don’t you?" His cold eyes pierce through you. It would be almost comic to nod. "Then do him a favor and stop gambling with his life."

"Can’t breathe," you manage to choke out. Your eyes fill with tears again as his fingers ease the pressure on your windpipe. He throws you against another wall and this time one of his hands is squeezing your jaw.

"Anyone who would have seen that would have died. Don’t be selfish. Listen, Leese," he says pulling your neck closer to his mouth. You try not to look at him as he bares his teeth. "We’re both managers, we both do what you have to keep our clients happy. And when we don’t do what they want us to, we get screwed. You have to stop lying to me, it hurts you know, because I’m so honest with you. The baybreezes, the handsoap…"

You bite your lip, you didn’t think it was possible for his words make you even more nervous. He moves his mouth away form your neck and he looks at you with pity.

"The phones are working, you call the hotel and I will tell my dog to get away from your father’s house." His voice is rather calm.

You would think he would let you go now and so would he. As his grip softens, he sees something that catches his eyes. You tense up as he moves the collar of your blouse to see the scar.

No. There’s a strangulated sob that’s in your throat.

You try to pull yourself together. There’s a concerned expression on his face and he looks disturbed.

"Someone did this to you?" He asks. You’d think about replying but he already seems to know the answer. "So, this is why you’re such a loner. This is why your dates in the bars are seabreezes."

What really disturbs you is this soft look in his eyes. Just like anger makes his features look ugly, the softness in his eyes makes him look handsome. You’re not comfortable seeing him like this, it’s … it’s almost like he cares with his eyes looking so forlorn. He keeps staring at your mark of shame.

You try to even out your breathing but you can’t. You try to put on a brave face and motion your mouth to move but your voice is shaky from all the crying. You want to say ‘no’.

You hear a hand being placed on the bathroom door and that’s when he removes his hand and kisses you. You can stand straight for a bit, before his hands lie on your waist, helping his body gently reacquaint your body with the bathroom wall. At first, he’s not really kissing you. His mouth is just over yours, it’s soft and dry and you can taste it. He actually starts kissing you a little later. You take some time to assess what’s happening. His mouth is gentle and it’s so, so soft that a slight gasp escapes your mouth and you put your hands firmly on his lower torso. According to you he probably did what he did because he was worried if someone was listening or if you might yell but what you don’t know is that he’s also doing this because he didn’t want you to say something he didn’t want to hear. You don’t know just how much it hurts him when you lie.

He keeps kissing you and it feels nice. It’s nice that you get to feel somebody against you for a while. He’s not really threatening you. You refuse to return his kisses at first. You haven’t let anybody in for a while, until you met him and then he threatened to kill your father if you didn’t help him assassinate Keefe, so what do you do? He’s committing no crime and you’re not in the parking lot anymore. You kiss back, partly because you want him to move away and partly because you want to. He kisses so well. You grab a little bit of his shirt in your hands and pull him just a little closer. He smirks a little and it embarrasses you. Shit.

You keep kissing him and he seems to really enjoy it because he’s nipping at your lower lip between kisses.

"See now, Leese," he tells you. "Being honest isn’t so hard."

You think he’ll laugh and pull away but he doesn’t. He kisses harder and you requite his kisses passionately.

"Screw. You. Jack." His teeth bite into your lip a little harder. You want him.

"That’s the most useful idea you’ve had all day," with that he pushes you against the edge of the sink almost making you sit on it and your feet almost separate from your heels.

This feels like that time you got caught in the girls’ bathroom by your Geography teacher when you were 16 with your first boyfriend, Aaron Hendrix. Aaron forgot to tell you that he made the teacher come to school that day just so he could understand a certain chapter.

Of course, Jackson isn’t a fumbling 17 year-old boy exploring his sexuality and sensuality and you’re glad he isn’t. As you run your hands up his smooth hair and run your lips down his throat, he amazes you with his ability to multi-task when he runs the tap and tears some tissues to wipe off the writing. The room’s breathing with sounds of pleasure and approval. He smells so wonderful and you suck the skin of his neck angrily with your teeth. You help him work his jacket off and put it in the sink. He happily reacquaints you with the bathroom wall once again.

You look up and wince a little as you stare up at the ceiling. He has one of his hands up your skirt and his other one blocks your route out through the right. His mouth stops being harsh on your neck as it moves down but your grip on his hair remains strong. You try to forget everything when you pull him closer, trying to fill up whatever chasm is between you two. As your lower bodies move against each other, his body promises yours of a union that is soon to come.

While you spent 7 minutes and 24 seconds pleasing yourself and Jackson in the lavatory, a little girl named Rebecca had come out of concern. She listened to you two for just a bit. It’s somewhere between his multi-tasking and probably, your third re-acquaintance with the wall that she is dragged off by a concerned flight attendant.

"There’s a man in there," she tells the older woman.

The flight attendant explains that it’s a unisex bathroom.

"There’s also a woman and there are sounds…" she is quickly cut off.

"Oh," the older woman says, mimicking the young girl’s concern and sharpening her tone with a familiar disgust. "It’s going to be one of those flights. "

‘So we’re not going through with this?’ You ask your superior over the phone.

You smile at Lisa as she looks at you.

‘Yeah, now don’t ask too many questions. We’ll figure something out about your last job. Meanwhile you can take a few days off in Miami, Jackson."

You snort.

"I can’t believe you just strung those words together in the same sentence."

"Yeah, well I’m busy." He unceremoniously ends the call. How odd.

"Work?" She asks with concern.

"Yeah."

Your eyes soften for a bit. She’s the only woman who has really made you feel anything human in a while. With her, you know how to laugh and joke. You don’t just make her comfortable but her charm also makes you comfortable. You breathe out a little softly with relief. You try to tell yourself that it’s not because you don’t have to hurt her now. You try to tell yourself that you’re relieved because you don’t have to go through with the stupidest job you’ve ever been given. You miss your old boss, the new one is so incompetent and your superiors are so … stupid to even be putting up with him. Even the backup plans were crappy.

You tell yourself that you don’t feel good because you’ve grown rather fond of her.

"Hell, isn’t it?" She chuckles uncomfortably.

"Yeah," you snort. "It was supposed to be my last job but I guess I’ll have to wait a while before I can quit."

You wonder if Henrietta’s watching. You inwardly smile at the idea of old Henrietta’s spirit trying to pull you away from her. You wonder if she’s ever been in the mile high club. You almost shake your head.

"So what will you do now?"

"Take a few days off," you shrug nonchalantly. "Tour Miami, I guess."

"Well, I won’t be taking a vacation anytime soon. Once I get back, I’ll have to get back to people-pleasing 24-7." She’s so cute.

"Dealing with jerks 24-7, hmm … no offense but your job sounds hectic. You know, when this is over, I may have to steal you."

She blushes as the call to board the plane comes.

"I’ve got to go." She makes a small hand gesture, smiling uncomfortably.

"Yeah. Me too." You smile politely. "Nice meeting you."

"You, too," she nods.

You watch her leave Tex Mex with an almost wistful glance. You know that when you will see each other on the flight again, it will be a happy moment.

You’re going to quit the job you’ve been bored with for so long, Miami’s supposed to be really nice this time of the year and you have a girl to steal away. Life is looking good.