The Pleasure of Panic

by JA Huss

  He doesn’t ask any questions about that. He was just feeling me out to see if I was on board with keeping my mouth shut. And it’s funny, ya know? How OK I am with keeping my mouth shut.

  I shot my father last fall. They told me he died, but they lied. Motherfuckers are always lying. That whole time I was on paid leave for firing my weapon on duty, they were shaking down my old man. Coming up with a plan to weed out the bad seeds and bring some integrity back to this job.

  Which is where I come in. They told me, Just go to Denver. Meet up with your contacts. Feel them out and turn them in. That’s all you gotta do and we’ll let you go.

  So I did that. Well, I sorta did that. OK, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t doing shit until Issy came along. Until she got me involved in her game. Until I woke the fuck up and realized there were things in this world I wanted to be a part of. People I wanted to get to know. Things I wanted to do.

  What I didn’t know, both back then and the night I began playing the game with Issy, was that my father made a deal with them too. To save me, not himself.

  He would hand over all his information—all the dirt he knew and who he knew it on—and in exchange, they’d get me out of the life he forced me into.

  Yesterday I escorted him to the minimum-security federal prison camp as my last assignment with the FBI.

  He made good, turning in both Declan and Senator Walcott. Caleb Kelly was just a bonus, it turns out. No one’s really sure how all that went down.

  But that’s because none of those assholes know about Jordan Wells. They think Darrel Jameson was running this play.

  He’s good. I’ll give him that. But he’s no Jordan. That motherfucker is brutally twisted.

  I like him. I like them both, I decide.

  Darrel and I don’t talk the rest of the way into downtown. Just kinda sit there, satisfied with things.

  It was hard to watch my dad go. Real hard. But he kept his head up, told me maybe we’d see each other when he got out, and then turned away and walked into the administration building without looking back.

  I have a feeling I’ll probably see him again. But I’m gonna let him go for now. Let him find his demons, fight them on his own terms, and figure out his own way forward. A real Zig Ziglar kinda peace washes over me with that thought.

  When we get to Issy’s office, Darrel pulls into a no-parking zone a few shops up and says, “Good luck, man,” as he stares straight ahead.

  I might never go out and have a beer with good old Darrel here. But if I ever need a hitman, he’s the first guy on my list.

  “You too,” I say back.

  I get out, close the door, but just as I’m about to walk off, I hear a window slide down and look back at him.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Yeah?” I ask back, leaning down into the window.

  “I could use some help. If you need a job and shit.”

  “What kind of job?” I ask.

  “The kind you do.”

  I smile. The kind of job I do… well, if I wanted to, I could read a lot into that little offer. But I don’t feel like reading between the lines today. So I say, “Sure. I’m in.”

  “Cool,” he says. “I’ll be in touch.” The window starts sliding up, forcing me to step back, and then he pulls away like it never happened.

  Go F*ck Yourself has a new sign on the door that says, “Don’t count the things you do, do the things that count.” And when I peek through the glass I see a room of women sitting at the various tables in small groups. Suzanne is talking to a few of them. All the tables are filled with black and yellow take-out containers from the Tea Room across the street, and when I go inside, the mood is quiet, but not sad.

  Not sad.

  Issy is on the other side of the large open area, moderating a class on kickboxing. She looks pretty fuckin’ hot in her tight workout pants and halter-top sports bra. I can see her scar. It scares me just to look at it, but I let that feeling go. Because she’s still here and that’s all that matters.

  She doesn’t see me at first, but then she’s in the middle of explaining some kind spinning jujitsu move thing in slow motion when her eyes meet mine. And when she comes out of the pretend kick and lands on her feet, she’s facing me. Like she planned that.

  Maybe she planned that? Which makes me smile.

  And then she smiles. And says, “OK, ladies. Practice that one until I get back.”

  We walk toward each other. A million questions between us. Serious things to discuss. Major shit to resolve. Demons that should be laid to rest.

  But when we finally meet up I say, “You should be resting.”

  She says, “Go fuck yourself.”

  And then we laugh.

  Like this is funny… when it’s not.

  It’s not funny, it’s just… easy. That’s all. To let it go. To move on. To start fresh.

  She says, “You know, I’ve done a lot of thinking and I’ve decided…”

  Shit, here it comes. Judgment Day.

  “It wasn’t the pleasure of panic.”

  “What?” I ask, confused.

  “That brought us together.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “No,” she says, walking towards me. She reaches up to my neck and then she’s pulling her legs up to wrap around my middle, and I’m hiking her up, hands under her ass, holding her tight. “It was the serenity of satisfaction.”

  The kiss that comes after feels like the first kiss. Feels like everything I’ve ever wanted but was too afraid to ask for. Feels like…

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “That’s exactly right.” Satisfaction. “Because pleasure is what you want in the beginning, but satisfaction is what you get at the end.”

  And then Issy smiles and whispers back in my mouth, “I’m gonna put that on a poster.”

  EPILOGUE - JORDAN

  “So you’re probably wondering where the fuck I fit in to all this.”

  Ixion just looks at me, blank. “Uh… nope.”

  “I get it, you’re confused.”

  “Why the fuck am I here?” he asks.

  “Like I said, confused.”

  “Jordan,” Ix says, looking at his watch. “I got shit to do, OK? So can you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

  “You remember that day?”

  “Nope,” he says again. He’s pissed. But then again, when isn’t Ixion pissed off at me?

  We’re sitting in my office. Darrel Jameson is in the chair off to my left, Ixion is sitting in front of me, and the new guy, Finn Murphy, is standing at the door, looking out the window, keeping watch in case Wells Senior decides to see what I’m up to.

  It’s not like I’m hiding this little side business from my father. I’m not. He’s well aware of the whole Your Game business.

  But he’s not aware of this game. The one I just played with the FBI.

  He has his suspicions though, and I’d like to keep him out of it. Consequently… Finn Murphy takes point at the door.

  My phone buzzes and Eileen’s voice comes through the speaker. “Jordan? Sorry to bother you, but you have a call on line—”

  “Not now, Eileen. Tell whoever it is I’ll call them back.”

  “Sure,” Eileen says. “OK.”

  “That day,” I say to Ix. “That day you came in accusing me of playing a game? I’m assuming you were talking about this.” I throw my hands wide. “Right?”

  “Dude, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “The game, man,” I say, leaning forward over my desk like this will make him understand me better. “The FBI, Finn Murphy over there. Issy Grey, and Chella, and Senator”—I whisper the last part—“Walcott.”

  Now Ixion is squinting at me. “Did you kill that guy?”

  “Kill him? Jesus fuck! I’m a goddamned lawyer! Why do people think I’m a criminal?”

  Ix kinda laughs at that. And that laugh says, Where should I start?

  “Well,” I say. It’s my turn to be confused. “What t
he fuck were you talking about that day? You seemed pretty pissed off. I assumed it was because Evangeline heard something she shouldn’t when she was hanging out with Chella.”

  “The game you’re fucking playing with me and Augustine, asshole.”

  “You and—Jesus!” I laugh. “Augustine? Shit, I gave up on her.”

  “You brought her here,” Ix says. “You brought me here to get her here.”

  “Well, that was months ago, man. I’m over her.”

  “Are you over me yet?”

  The question lingers in the room. Darrel looks kinda uncomfortable. Finn peeks over his shoulder at me.

  My phone buzzes again. “Jordan?” Eileen says through the speaker.

  “What?” I ask, gritting my teeth.

  “She’s refusing to be called back.”

  “Who?” I ask, annoyed behind belief.

  “Oaklee Ryan? Do you know her? She’s not a client.”

  I look over at Darrel and he nods, indicating her game is still in play.

  “Tell her I’ll call her back in ten minutes.”

  “OK,” Eileen says. “But she’s a little bit pushy.”

  Some days I just can’t with people, so I take a deep breath and say, “If I were over you, Ixion, and you were over me, then this conversation wouldn’t be happening, would it?”

  “What the fuck do you want from me?” he asks.

  “How about some understanding? How about you flick that fuckin’ chip off your shoulder and let the past go? That’d be a great start. How about you fuckin’ forgive me? How about you say, ‘Hey, Jordan, you’re not the asshole I thought you were?’ How about that?”

  “Because,” he says, getting to his feet, “you are the asshole I thought you were. That’s why.”

  “I brought down a crooked FBI agent, a pedophile rapist, and a corrupt senator in span of thirty-six hours and that’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

  Ixion stares at me. Then he laughs. “Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better about you, Jordan. Thanks.”

  “Fuck this guy,” Darrel says. “We don’t need him.”

  Ix turns, eyes narrow, practically shooting beams of anger at Darrel. “Who. The fuck. Are you?”

  Finn isn’t watching the door anymore. He’s watching Darrel. I’m not watching Ix anymore. I too am watching Darrel.

  Darrel says—and I’m pretty sure we’re all leaning forward to hear his response—“I’m the truth you never want to hear. I’m the nightmare you never want to have. I’m the goddamned Four Horsemen all wrapped up into one well-dressed ex-FBI-agent who takes down untouchable people as a hobby. That’s who the fuck I am. Jordan didn’t kill Senator Walcott. I did. And Jordan didn’t kill that pedophile rapist, either, he did.” He points at Finn. “Jordan is the game master. He makes the plans, the rest of us execute them. So do you want to be part of something bigger than yourself? Or do you just want to go through life being some walk-on cut-out character who makes no difference whatsoever?”

  Ixion just stares at him. And then he opens his mouth to say—

  “Jordan?” Eileen says through my phone speaker.

  “Jesus Christ, Eileen. What the fuck is it?”

  “Lawton Gabriel is here, he’s insisting on—Hey!” Eileen yells, but not to me. “Hey, you can’t go back there!”

  All four of us stare at my phone and then two seconds later we can hear Eileen yelling in the hallway outside my door. Darrel draws his gun, Finn opens the door, and then Lawton Gabriel comes rushing in looking like… not himself.

  “Dude,” Law says. “Duuuuude,” he says again.

  Eileen appears. I look at Darrel, but he’s got his gun behind his back. She says, “I’m sorry. He got past me!”

  “It’s OK, Eileen. I’ve got this.”

  “And I’m outta here,” Ixion says. And he is. Because he leaves.

  I take my attention to Lawton, who is a real cool guy. Fucking loaded real-estate agent. I bought that foreclosed house next to the Botanical Gardens off him last year. He got me a sweet deal. So when I was short a player for Oaklee Ryan’s little Boyfriend Experience game, I asked him to fill in.

  “What the fuck is going on, Lawton? Oaklee Ryan just called me, seemingly distressed. And why the fuck are you dressed up like a… a…”

  “A thug?” Law fills in, his voice a little bit panicked.

  “No,” I say. “Like a hot dude. Is that a… did you get a tattoo?”

  “Oh, that’s funny,” Law says, peeking out my door, looking both ways down the hallway, and then closing and locking it. “Real fucking funny, Jordan. Do you have any idea what kind of game this chick wants me to play with her?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I say, looking at Darrel, who is laughing. “Little bit of wine, little bit of food, send her flowers at work, maybe some dancing and then cap it all off by taking her to her sister’s wedding or something, right?”

  “Uh, no,” Law says. He’s taken up Finn’s position at the window, but I’m pretty sure he’s not on the lookout for my father.

  “Class reunion?” I try again.

  “No,” Law says. “And when I say no, I mean no to all of that shit. Do you have any idea what she thinks the job of a boyfriend really is?”

  I thought I did.

  But apparently I don’t.

  Because when Lawton tells me what Oaklee Ryan wants him to do as her boyfriend… I can only shake my head and laugh.

  She might be my biggest rule-bender ever.

  But hey, if you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.

  So I look at Law. Sit back in my chair. Steeple my fingers under my chin and say, “Just play, brother. Play your fuckin’ heart out. Because winning might not be everything, but it is better than losing.”

  I might have to put that on a poster for Issy Grey.

  Get the next book, THE BOYFRIEND EXPERIENCE, here.

  END OF BOOK SHIT

  Welcome to the End of book Shit! This is where I get to reflect back on the story and say whatever I want about it. They are never edited, they are never censored—just 100% Julie in this bad-boy last chapter.

  I like the idea of writing about a character who is a self-help speaker. I have a very good friend who kinda does this. Her name is Honoree Corder and she’s a business coach and writes books about mindset, and writing, and other magical, badass things. I love her to death. We met in a mastermind group a few years ago and we were sitting next to each other and maybe we got a little bored or whatever, ya know? And like… had our own conversation going on at the end of the table about what the best hand lotion is. It was pretty much love at first sight.

  Since then we’ve seen each other a few times. A couple more times at the mastermind, then at another conference in Vegas last fall, and she was actually one of the four important friends in my life who I introduced to Johnathan when we first started writing books together. (The other three were science fiction writer, Terry Schott, and my assistant Nicole Alexander and her husband Tim).

  Honoree has all these cute colloquialisms and funny sayings that feel very Southern. She says the cutest shit in the most badass way and I’m jealous of that because while honesty is something I do well, being friendly and personable feels like a talent I never quite mastered. She can be brutally honest and sweet in the same sentence. And she just does it naturally. She’s makes friends everywhere she goes, and when you need help making the hard choices Honoree is the one who will look you in the eye and say, “Bitch, get your shit together!” So I love her for that. She pulls no punches.

  So while Issy Grey isn’t based on Honoree, Honoree was my inspiration for this character.

  Johnathan told me once a few months ago that if I ever stopped writing books I should be a self-help speaker because I have a certain worldview that lends itself to practical, logical answers to difficult, emotional questions.

  I think what he means is that I’m Spock. Right? lol I’m logical and practical and see things in a very binary, black and white way. So when
I have a problem, the answer to my problem is mostly black and white too. Do it or don’t do it. We were emailing back and forth a couple weeks ago and I said that to him. You’re Kirk and I’m Spock (because he and I are so very different and Kirk and Spock sum it up pretty well.)

  But I do like teaching and I do like helping people so Issy Grey is more of a combination of both me and Honoree together.

  I like the idea that helping people can actually help you heal yourself. And I was thinking about this yesterday when I was watching that show Billions on Showtime. Do you watch that? It’s really good. It’s about this scrappy (pretty unethical) billionaire who bootstrapped his way up from humble beginnings to be one of the most successful stock investors in the world. So in this episode he lost his license to trade stock because the Attorney General (who is his nemesis) found out he did something illegal. And so this “poor” guy is lost. He can’t do what he feels like he was meant to do. And he wants to trade stock so bad. Like he sees an opportunity and he wants this so bad, he’s almost willing to throw his whole life away to do it.

  He just doesn’t know how to live any other way.

  And I was watching that episode thinking—Dude, just take all that money you have and go help people. Helping people gives you purpose in an immediate way that almost nothing else can. And it heals you at the same time.

  So Issy was a woman who took her sadness and loss and turned herself around by helping others. And she did this is a very provocative way that makes people take notice. But her first instinct isn’t to fight, it’s to run. She’s a very good runner. But now… when the past comes back to haunt her, she has a choice to make and it’s not so simple. Because helping people is her purpose. And if she leaves her purpose behind, she might leave herself behind too.

  Finding one’s purpose is a very hard thing to do. Some people struggle their whole lives and never find their purpose so if you’ve found your purpose you don’t turn your back on it. You can’t turn your back on it.

  Finn is the first character I’ve written in a long time who isn’t good at heart. I don’t know if this comes across on the page very well because I am very careful to write a likeable hero, but Finn is the first guy since James Fenici in The Company books, who is probably more of a bad guy than a good one. If you’ve read the Turning Series you might be thinking… Well, Elias Bricman wasn’t good either. Probably true. BUT—Bric wasn’t breaking laws. Bric wasn’t doing anything illegal. And Jordan is a good guy, regardless of what he appears to be at present.