Jack and Djinn

by Amber Sweetapple

  The day she moved into her own apartment had changed Miriam’s outlook on life. Up until then, she had just been trying to survive, one day at a time. She had spent nights lying awake, wondering what she had done to make her mother abandon her, what she could have done differently. When Miriam laid her head to the pillow that first night, she realized that she hadn’t done anything wrong, and couldn’t have done anything different. The pain of it didn’t go away, and the hole in her heart hadn’t vanished, but it was a start.

  Then she met Nick, and things had changed on her again…

  Miriam shook herself, refusing to think about Nick. Down that road a world of bad memories waited…

  “Miriam.” Jack’s voice startled her so much she yelped. Jack just laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He was outside her apartment, sitting on the bottom step, waiting for her.

  “What are you doing here, Jack?” She wanted her voice to sound harder than it did. She didn’t want to sound so glad to see him. She didn’t trust herself around Jack. His eyes saw too deeply into her, and his hands on her body lit her up in a way she’d never felt before. She wanted him, but she couldn’t let herself have him. If she got too close, Ben would find out and hurt him. That, or Jack would change. They always seemed nice at first. And the nicer they were at the start, the nastier they got later. That was a truth Miriam had learned the hard way, through black eyes and broken ribs and ‘I fell down the stairs’ excuses that no one ever believed.

  “I wanted to see you,” Jack said. He made it sound so natural.

  Damn it, Jack. He was making it hard on her. I don’t want to see you. The words wouldn’t come out. “Well, here I am,” she said. It was better than throwing herself into his arms, but not by much. She kept her eyes down. If she let him see her eyes, he’d ask what was wrong, and she’d tell him…

  His fingers were at her chin, tilting her head up. Oh lord, there they were, those bright blue eyes that seemed to see into her heart, past her walls to the soft core of her soul. “You’re upset,” he said.

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t even believe herself as she said it.

  Jack rolled his eyes. “If by ‘fine’ you mean upset, then yes,” he said. How the hell could he know how she was feeling just by looking at her? She had always thought she had a pretty good poker face, but Jack just saw straight past her façade to the real emotions she tried to keep hidden.

  “I’m fine Jack. Leave me alone.” Her only defense was anger.

  Jack didn’t seem bothered. “You didn’t even see me until I said something. That’s not fine. And where the hell are you coming from at one-thirty in the morning, on foot? Is something wrong with your car again?”

  Questions…so many questions. Each answer would lead to more questions, and then he’d get all understanding and she’d let him in to her kitchen to talk, and then she’d kiss him, and then she’d wake up and he’d be gone. Once they get into your pants, they’re as good as gone. Or they stick around just to get back into your pants, and you couldn’t get rid of them, and once they got tired of you, they’d leave.

  She didn’t want to think about Ben. Too many questions she couldn’t answer lay that way.

  “What does it matter to you?” She knew she sounded bitchy, but that was the only way to get Jack away from her. It was for his own good.

  “If you need a ride, you can call me. You shouldn’t be walking around alone in the middle of the night.”

  Oh hell. He was protective too? “Jack, just go. We can’t do this.”

  “Do what? Talk? I’m not even touching you. I’m just worried about you, Miriam.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been taking care of myself my whole life.”

  Jack finally stood up, put his hands on her waist. He’d just met her, but he knew how to touch her, how to hold her, how to make her feel like she was his. She hated that she didn’t mind his possessive hands. She wanted to belong to him. “And maybe you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself,” he said.

  She tried to exert the will to move out of his embrace. She couldn’t. She only managed to lean in closer. “You don’t know me.”

  “Yes I do.” His lips were close, and his eyes were fixed on hers. His hands were at the small of her back, brushing up the hem of her shirt again and seeking the warmth of her flesh. An innocent touch, there on her back, but his hands on her skin ignited sparks in her blood, lit fires in her heart.

  “You just met me,” she said, trying again to break free. He held her against him, gentle and unrelenting.

  “So? Maybe I did just meet you, but I know you. I may not know much about you, but I know you. I don’t need to know where you went to school, or who your parents are, or why you’re so sad all the time. I know you deserve love, and you’re not getting it. You’re getting the opposite, if anything. That Ben guy, he’s an asshole, and it’ll only get worse.” Jack kissed her jaw, midway between her ear and her chin. A bit of her resistance melted. “I know you know that. You’ve resigned yourself to being with Ben. As if that’s all you deserve. You won’t even consider anything else, and you’re hiding behind how much of a bad-ass he is. You’re scared of being alone, and you’re scared of yourself. Most of all, you’re scared of me.”

  Miriam opened her mouth to argue, but couldn’t. He was right, and she knew it. Damn it, he was right. Miriam wrenched herself free, stomped up the steps and fumbled with her keys, slipping the key into the lock. Jack was right behind her, and he grabbed her shoulders, turning her around. He wasn’t violent or rough about it, and that didn’t help her efforts to resist him. She was pressed up against him, her breasts crushed against his chest and her hands were on his shoulders and in his hair, his lips pressed against hers. He tasted like spearmint gum, smelled like paint and leather; his scent was familiar, comforting, and beginning to mean ‘Jack’ in her mind.

  His hand slid up her back, under her shirt, and her thoughts were burned away by the catalyzing fire of his touch. Her will to resist fluttered away in the midnight wind.

  She felt herself growing hot again. The back of her mind, where thought never really stopped, was making a connection between the fact that all Jack had to do was kiss her and she would be lit on fire; Ben had to get her to orgasm before she felt anything.

  Jack was unlocking the door and they were inside, Miriam leaning against the kitchen counter, slipping Jack’s motorcycle jacket off and running her hands over his chest. Her shirt was on the floor somehow, and his hands were unhooking the eyelets of her bra one by one, his palms caressing the line of her ribs from back to front and pressing up against her loosed breasts, fingers brushing her stiffened nipples; their hips were pressed together and she felt his hard length against her, and oh god she wanted him, she couldn’t help it, she unbuckled his pants, slipped her hand against his stomach, under the elastic band of his underwear, and–

  Miriam ripped herself free and put the counter between them, leaning over it, with her head in her arms. She was stuck somewhere between a sob and half-crazed laughter. She heard Jack hiss in frustration and buckle his pants.

  “I’m sorry, Jack,” she said, not looking up. “I know it’s not fair. I want you, so bad. I do. It’s not that, believe me.”

  “Then what? What is it, then?” For the first time, a tinge of anger crept into his voice. She didn’t blame him. She was yanking him around, and he had every right to be angry.

  “God, it’s so hard to explain.”

  “Try.” He was staring into her, as if he could see every crack and crumbled shard of her oft-broken heart.

  Miriam took a deep breath and stood up with her arms crossed over her chest. Her shirt and bra were on the other side of the counter, and she knew if she got too close to Jack, she’d be right back in his strong, tender arms. “You’re everything I could want. You’re sexy, kind, and you obviously like me–”

  Jack laughed, a bark of disbelief. “I more than like you, Miriam. And if I am those things then why do
n’t you want–”

  Miriam cut him off. “Let me finish, please. I want you, so bad. God…why do you think I’m over here, with the counter between us? If I get too close to you, it’s all over with. I’ll have you in my bed within seconds.” Jack tried to round the corner of the counter, but Miriam skittered back to thump against the cold surface of the fridge, her hands not quite touching his chest as he stood a few inches away. “No, please. Just listen. We can’t do this, not this way. We can’t be together behind Ben’s back. I can’t and won’t do that. I’ve been cheated on more times than I can count, and I hate it. I won’t do it. If you want to be with me, then you’ll wait, and you’ll help me figure out a way to break up with Ben. I know you don’t want to hear this, and it’ll probably piss you off, but it’s just facts. If Ben catches a whiff of this, if Ben sees you with me, he’ll kill you. I mean that literally. He did two tours in Afghanistan, and he just didn’t come back the same. Something inside just…didn’t survive the war, even if he came back physically okay. The drinking and hitting me, all that…he was like that before, just not so bad. His dad knocked his mom around, and that’s a hereditary thing, I think: if you see your dad hit your mom, you either do the same thing, or you do the complete opposite. What I’m talking about with Ben, it’s hidden deep inside. You don’t see it, but it’s there. I’ve seen glimpses of it, in the worst moments. A cold kind of craziness. I don’t know.”

  Jack handed Miriam her bra and shirt, then turned around to face away from her. “I guess that makes sense,” he said.

  “Why are you turned around? You’ve already seen me,” Miriam said.

  “Yeah, but if I look at you now, it’ll make it harder to keep my hands to myself. So put your shirt on, if this is how you want things.” He wasn’t angry anymore, but he was frustrated. He turned around when Miriam gave the okay, and she could see the evidence of his frustration still bulged against the zipper of his jeans. She forced herself to look away. She took a pair of Bud Light bottles from the fridge, opened them and gave one to Jack. They went outside and sat on the bottom step, drinking as they talked.

  “It’s not how I want things, Jack. It’s how they have to be, for right now at least. There’s literally nothing I want more in the whole world than to be with you. Please believe that. I can’t get you out of my head. I want you, all of you. But not like this, not in secret.” Jack seemed perfect in every way, and she didn’t want that to change, as she knew it would the second she slept with him. All men change after they get what they want. It was just life as Miriam knew it. The thing that scared Miriam about that line of thinking was how inevitable it seemed. As if she had no intention of not sleeping with Jack. She examined herself with ruthless honesty: it was inevitable, she realized. She wanted him, and she would have him. She just hoped she wasn’t setting herself up for worse hurt.

  “I’m really sorry, Jack,” she said.

  He was quiet for a long moment. “For what?” he asked, resignation in his voice. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’ve been cheated on too, and I don’t want it like this either. I don’t want to start a relationship on the wrong foot. I have before, and it…it sucks.”

  She laughed, a little nervously. A relationship? “Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant.” Jack glanced at her quizzically. “I meant I’m sorry for leaving you…frustrated.”

  Jack laughed, shrugging, and took a long drink. “Oh, that,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I mean, it sucks, yeah. But I’ll live. Just promise me one thing.”

  “I hate making promises, Jack. But I’ll try.” Promises made only led to promises broken.

  “Until we can be together, let’s not let things go that far.” Jack drained the beer and set it down.

  “Hey, you started it,” Miriam said. “And I won’t promise, because promises are sacred to me. But I’ll try.” Jack put the lie to his own words by kissing her, so lightly it was almost a breath of wind against her face. “No fair,” she whispered. She started to say something, then froze, listening. She jumped up and pushed at Jack, panic in her eyes. “Go! He’s coming. He can’t see you here.” She heard the revving of a powerful engine and the squealing of tires. It was Ben, she could feel it in her belly and in her bones.

  “Maybe we should just confront him,” Jack suggested, helmet in hand, straddling his motorcycle.

  “No. That’s not the way to do this. I’ll think of something. Just go.” She watched him reluctantly put on his helmet and ride away, waving once as he pulled out onto the road. She left her unfinished beer next to Jack’s and went back inside, locking the door and thinking of Jack.

  * * *

  Ben pounded on the door, growling curses when she didn’t answer. Eventually he gave up and descended the stairs. He stopped and looked back up at Miriam’s door, feeling uneasy for some reason. He pulled his phone out and sent a text message: I’m coming over. While he waited for a response, he lit a cigarette. As he smoked, he noticed a pair of beer bottles sitting on the ground near the bottom step. One of them was less than half-finished, and it had the sheen of Miriam’s lip gloss coating the mouth. The other was empty, a still-popping layer of foam at the bottom, the way a beer looks after it’s been hurriedly chugged.

  Ben stood up, flicking the butt of his Marlboro Light away with an angry snap of his fingers. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered.

  His phone vibrated: Okay, sexy. Waiting for u. Hurry. Ben smiled to himself. There was more than one fish in the sea, after all. He roared out of the parking lot.

  * * *

  After Ben drove away, Miriam closed the blinds and turned away, stomach churning. This was getting complicated.

  Chapter 5: Now

  Carson stood outside the Taproom, waiting for the manager to arrive. He had talked to a few other people Ben had known, and all of them had said the same thing, basically: Ben was a good guy, but the war had scarred him. No one knew much about Miriam. No one knew where Miriam was. No one could think of any compelling reason that anyone would want to kill him.

  Carson considered yet again the manner of Ben’s death. He’d been set on fire, but that fire had been localized to him, and only him. Nothing else was damaged. Not even singed. The ME had said the fire that killed Ben had been unnaturally hot and intense. The fillings in his teeth had melted. His bones had been charred to a crisp, nearly turned to ash. As if he’d been nearly cremated alive. The ME said she’d never seen anything like it, and had no explanation. Even bodies who’d been recovered from house fires weren’t that burned.

  The manager of the Taproom showed up, a pudgy, balding man sorting through his keys, almost bumping into Carson. “Oh, excuse me,” he said.

  “Larry Genosi?” Carson asked, flashing his badge.

  “Yes, can I help you?”

  “Detective Carson Hale, Detroit PD. I have a few questions for you about Miriam al-Mansur.”

  Larry shifted uncomfortably. “I haven’t seen her in a while. Don’t know where she is.”

  “I see. But you know her?”

  “Well yeah, of course. She works for me. Great waitress.”

  “Do you know where she lives?”

  Larry licked his lips, shook his keyring. “Uh well…she lives up there,” he pointed at the apartment above the bar. “Well, at least she did, until she disappeared. Not like her. I’m worried about her, honestly. She always shows up for work, always. Never missed a day in six years. Then she just vanishes without a word. Is she okay?”

  “We’d like to ask her a few questions with regard to another employee of yours, Benjamin Omar.”

  “Oh, Ben. Yeah. I haven’t heard from him in a few days either.”

  “That’s because he’s dead, Mr. Genosi. He died under rather strange circumstances, and we’d like to talk to Miriam. Are you sure you don’t know where she is?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. How’d he die? He was a rough guy, and I know he and Miriam had their issues, but Miriam ain’t the sort to do nothin’.”

  Carson s
tepped closer to the bar manager. The man was hiding something. “Larry, you want to tell me the truth. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know, I swear!” Larry lit a cigarette and puffed on it rapidly.

  “Then why are you so nervous?”

  “I…listen, I paid her under the table, okay? And I rented her the apartment up there for cheap, too, off the books.”

  “Why, Larry? What was she hiding from?”

  “Not what, detective, but who. She has a way of attracting the wrong guys. She started working for me on the books about six years ago, and then she came to work one day with a black eye and broken ribs. She had some stupid story, but no one believed it. I know what a beat-up girl looks like, okay? She claimed it was nothing, and I let it go. And then the guy showed up here late one night, after closing, and waited for her outside. She kept finding reasons to stay in the bar, and he was getting angry. I was watching him through the back door, and he was pacing. Finally, I had to lock up, and asked her if she wanted me to walk her out. She wouldn’t let me, but I could tell she was scared shitless. She didn’t come to work the next day. I visited her at her apartment, and she wouldn’t let me in. She had the little chain locked, but I could see enough to know that he’d beaten her up good. I convinced her to come with me. Took her to my place. My wife helped her get cleaned up. I’ve had that apartment up there for years, just used it for storage and stuff. I emptied it out and got her a bed and stuff, let her stay there. Me and some of the guys would take turns keeping an eye on her, making sure that Nick fella didn’t come back.