Mr. Fixit

by Lauren Landish

  “What do you want?” I ask, and Jaxon stands up, turning and grabbing his clothes.

  “I want to hurt him. I want to seriously hurt him,” Jaxon rumbles. He stops, then turns to me as he hurriedly pulls his t-shirt on. “You said two things. What was the second?”

  “Jaxon, I know I can't fix what you went through, I know I can't replace all those days that you were in jail... but I want to try to make up for it. Not make it right, I know it can't be made right, but maybe even.”

  He thinks, then nods. “I have a few demands of my own.”

  Chapter 5

  Jaxon

  “This is totally fucking insane,” Mandy grumbles while she pulls on her designer jeans, her generous curves filling them out amazingly. I still can't believe what's happened the past half hour, and watching her ass go side to side as she gets her jeans on isn't fucking helping. Sure, I had a beer, but it isn't like I dropped acid. “You really are serious?”

  “Dead serious,” I say as she buttons her jeans and reaches into the closet, taking out a leather jacket that makes me jealous, there's no worries about her getting cold in that thing. Too bad it's a couple sizes too small for me. “I want to hurt your father. You say you want to get away from him.”

  “Running away to college in Singapore is one thing, and same with robbing this place. But... kidnapping me and ransoming me?” Mandy asks. “You do remember who my father is, right?”

  “No shit. I know staying around this town is going to be mighty fucking dangerous. But the reward…” I say to Mandy as she zips up the jacket and goes over to her dresser, taking out some gloves. “Aside from the jewels, I got practically nothing. Ten grand and a flash drive. Big fucking deal. But the pain that it’ll cause him is worth it.”

  “But what about those jewels, aren't they worth something?” Mandy asks. “I mean, if you had to?”

  “There's no fucking way I'd ever let them go,” I swear, patting the small bag. “Seriously, this house doesn't have shit. Figured he'd have more, considering who he is.”

  “Dad is paranoid,” Mandy informs me. “I’d be surprised if he has much of anything here. You know, Jaxon, it was kinda stupid to try and rob this place.”

  “Like I don't fucking know that?” I ask, getting pissed off. “My mind is made up on this. You don’t really have a say. But I’m not in it solely for the money. I’ll give you a cut if you want it.”

  Mandy bites her lip, tugging her boots on before answering. “I don’t want anything from you, Jaxon. Fine. I can't stand living here anymore. I’ll go, you don’t have to force me. And as long as I'm with you, you can have me any way you want.”

  I laugh harshly, shaking my head. “You know, for a girl so innocent, you're really ready to give it up.”

  “Asshole,” Mandy says hotly, turning and coming over to me, jabbing me in the chest. “You can say what you want, but that meant something to you! I saw it in your eyes!”

  “It just meant I busted a nut,” I lie brutally, not sure how I feel when I see her wince. “I've done it before. I'll do it again.”

  “I... I don't believe you,” Mandy says shakily as she steps back, once more looking like the innocent girl she probably is. “But whatever. Whatever you need, take it from me.”

  I know I hurt her, but I'm still too angry to let it go. “Then let’s get a move on. I need to delete whatever's on the home systems. He won't believe a ransom threat if he sees footage of you walking out of here with me. Or the way we... well, the library.”

  “Don't worry, Dad doesn't have security cameras,” Mandy claims, smiling softly at the fresh memory as well. “He doesn't trust keeping a record of what happens inside. Considering what he did to some people here, I know why. Paranoid, remember? So, if you make it look like I got dragged off to the streetside traffic cameras, it'll work.”

  “Then let's hurry the fuck up,” I growl, grabbing her and pulling her toward the door. “I've been inside for too long as it is.”

  I don't have to give Mandy too much of a reason to act as I yank her over to my bike, supposedly clamping her arms around my waist as we take off, turning out of the side parking spot I stashed my bike in before roaring away down Lakeside toward Boardwalk. When we're past a few miles per hour, I let go. I don't want to wipe out on the possibly icy streets, and Mandy holds on, feeling nicer around my waist than I really want to admit. Even if Henry Johnson has access to the traffic cameras around Boardwalk, nobody would think it strange to see Mandy clutching close to me as we go around corners, twisting our way through some of the most crime-ridden areas of the city before I emerge back into an industrial area. Mandy looks at my hideout as I pull my bike in, closing the rolling door behind me.

  “What was this?” she asks as I finish closing the door and throw the inside lock. She looks more closely as I hit the light switch and the buzzy, worn overhead fluorescents turn on. “Looks like it used to be a car repair shop.”

  “More like a car disrepair shop,” I inform her, laughing. “This place used to be a chop shop. After the cops busted it up, the owner let me rent it cheap. When the redevelopers or whatever hit this area, he'll sell and the place will get torn down. In the meantime, I pay the light and water bills, make sure nobody fucks with the property too much, and shoot any rats with my scary BB gun.”

  “Rats?” Mandy asks a bit nervously, and I'm reminded again that despite her apparent turn against her father, she's been a pampered princess her entire life. Her father might be a bastard, but she isn't, even if I'm not sure I trust her yet.

  “Don't worry, I haven't had to shoot a rat in a month,” I tell her. “I dropped enough poison in the corners around here that even the big sewer fuckers won't mess around this building.”

  Mandy looks slightly reassured, swallows, and tries to make a joke. “Well, I didn't think you were staying in the penthouse at the Tower,” she says, referring to the nicest hotel in the entire city.

  “Hardly,” I grumble, thinking again. “Come on, I'll show you where you can get some sleep or at least lie down. You're probably not used to nights this late.”

  We go upstairs to what used to be the office of the shop, and Mandy takes out her phone. “You ready?”

  I nod, taking the phone from her. “I'm going out to take care of this, that way he won't be able to track this place. Gimme something of yours so that if he wants proof besides your phone, he'll believe me.”

  Mandy thinks for a moment, then reaches around her neck, undoing a locket that I'd noticed when we were fucking. It's a classic little girl's locket, heart-shaped, but the outside has nice scrollwork. This isn't some piece of shit that you'd get at the pawn shop. She hands it to me, and for some reason, I open it. I'm shocked when I see what's inside... me.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper, looking at the photo. I know what it is, they're from our class photos that we took as juniors at St. Foster's. I'd given her one of the wallet photos when she asked, and looking at my face, I can't believe that I ever looked that innocent.

  “Dad got it for me. It had a picture of he and I in it originally. When you were arrested, that day I was looking forward to our plan to get together on your birthday. I wanted to tell you... I want to tell you that I loved you. And that I didn't care about anything else. I made the biggest mistake of my life when you were arrested, not standing up for you. I've lived every day since then regretting it. If I have to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if it means that I'm going against my own father, then I'll do it. I'm sorry.”

  I don't know what to say, so I just point to the mattress. “Well, if you want, the mattress is free.”

  I go downstairs before Mandy can reply and get back on my bike, riding out of my neighborhood. My plan is to drive to the old docks, but as I do, my thoughts swim around in my head.

  The fact is, I have her. My dream. I didn't think she'd be there, but once I saw those eyes, that hair, I felt like the years evaporated. And the way she gave herself to me, what she said... it makes me stop
my bike, pausing as I pull over to think.

  No... I can't ransom her. Maybe there’s a chance that…

  I think, then decide to look at my haul, since it's still in my backpack. The cash is nice, a solid half-inch of hundreds always looks nice, but I focus on the USB stick. What the fuck, might as well. I pull out my tablet and fire it up, plugging it in. As I look through the files, I laugh. Christmas miracles, indeed.

  I take out Mandy's phone, but only to look for Henry's number before I dial it up on my own cell. Considering it's after three in the morning, I'm not surprised it takes him a little bit of time to pick up, but when he does, the sleepiness drops out of his voice quickly. “Who...?”

  “Oh come on, don't I sound like someone you fucked over?” I say with a totally non-faked laugh. “Someone whose father you fucked over?”

  “Jaxon Prescott,” Henry says after a moment, connecting the dots. “How'd you get this number?”

  “I paid a little visit to the old home. It was a bit childish, but I snuck a look at Mandy's phone while she was snoring on the couch in the library. Don't worry, she's safe, I wouldn't bullshit you on that.”

  “Bullshitting me with what?” Henry asks, confused.

  “You really should have replaced those safes, Henry. Or at least gotten the fucking combos changed. The USB drive inside... tsk, tsk. You getting careless?”

  “You're dead, Prescott! Dead, you know that?” he rasps, and I laugh.

  “Let's get down to business. You stole my family from me, and I know you had my parents killed. So... you have two choices. You can give me my future, or I can take your future away. Even with your connections, there's going to be some federal prosecutor who would like this information. I think ten million dollars is a reasonable price, don't you?” I say the first number that pops into my head, but it sounds about right. And it's nice and round.

  “You’ll never get to spend it,” Henry growls. “When and where?”

  “Hold your fucking horses. You have until midnight the twenty-seventh to get the money together,” I reply. “I'll call you then. If I see anyone other than you at the drop-off point, the only way you're going to see Mandy's next birthday is if they allow visitors at supermax.”

  “What happened? You were gone a while.”

  I don't answer and instead open my fridge, grabbing a can inside and tossing it to her.

  “Here. You always did have a thing for Cheerwine.” I can’t seem to admit to her that I’m starting to get fleeting thoughts of her running away with me, so I just lie. “Just had to get some fresh air and clear my head. It's all under control.”

  She stares at the bright red can for a moment before cracking the top with a wistful smile. “I think we were the only two people at Saint Foster's who drank this stuff.”

  I shrug, crossing the room to sit down on the cheap plastic lawn chair that makes up the rest of my furniture other than my folding table that's against the wall. “That was then. I've changed.”

  She nods, her eyes watching me. “I know. That's newer,” she says, pointing at the ink.

  “It is. I work at a tattoo parlor,” I reply, stretching out. “Worked. Maybe I'll tell you later. It's late, you should get some sleep.”

  “And what are you going to do?” Mandy asks, looking around. “This mattress, it ain't much, but it's better than a ten-dollar plastic chair. I know I'm not used to this, but it'd help if I had something to keep me warm. And I can't sleep knowing you're just... crunched up there.”

  It's tempting, oh so tempting, and I think for a moment before nodding. “But you keep your clothes on. The heater in this place blows.”

  Mandy nods and I sit down, pulling my boots off before I slide up, fidgeting around before we end up spooning, my hand resting on her stomach. Mandy's always been voluptuous and curvy, and it's with only a little bit of guilt that I inhale the scent of her hair, closing my eyes. I don't know how I can explain what I'm thinking, but I will eventually.

  “Good night, Mandy.”

  “Good night, Jaxon.”

  Chapter 6

  Mandy

  I don't know what time it is when I feel a strong hand drift up, cupping my breast through my sweatshirt and squeezing gently. It's electric and I wonder if I'm still dreaming, that everything that's happened since I closed my history book is nothing more than a dream. I reach down and cover the strong hand that's slowly massaging me, and it's all real. I can feel the rough, work-toughened texture of his knuckles, and when I press my hips back, I feel the warm stiffness of his cock in his jeans pressed into my ass. “Mmmm... good morning, Jaxon.”

  He must have been sleeping, because his hand tightens almost painfully for an instant before relaxing and he backs away, literally falling off the edge of the mattress. I roll over to see him actually blushing, rubbing his hand on his sweatshirt and looking embarrassed. I chuckle and sit up, realizing he's right, it's cold. I grab the thin blanket and wrap it around my shoulders, wondering how the hell Jaxon was able to sleep here for however long he's been out of prison.

  Jaxon looks like he's about to apologize, but instead he gloats. “I'm sure you liked it.”

  “Like you didn't?” I tease. “You’re not exactly hiding it.”

  “Morning wood,” Jaxon returns, but scooting down and grabbing his boots before putting them on. “What's your excuse?”

  I don't have a reply and Jaxon rolls to his feet smoothly, going over to the fridge that I saw yesterday and opening it before he sighs, shaking his head. “Shit. You vary from your plan, and you get consequences. Like this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My plan was to leave town, so that Cheerwine I gave you was one of the only things left in here,” Jaxon says as he closes the door. “And I can't go out in this 'hood without your father's people possibly seeing me.”

  “Then send me,” I volunteer. When Jaxon gives me an incredulous look, I stand up, walking up to him and looking him in the eyes. “Does he know that I'm with you, not just tied up somewhere?”

  “No, but after my call, I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t sent someone to Whitechapel just to double check. Besides, what if I don't trust you?” Jaxon asks, and I blink, stepping back. “It runs in your family, Mandy.”

  “It does,” I admit after a painful moment. And I've betrayed him before. “Just give me a chance? Trust me enough to go down to the corner store?”

  Jaxon thinks, then nods. “We don't have enough to get through the next two days unless you think you can survive on half a bottle of mustard with a quarter carton of milk, and I can't take my bike out during daylight. I'm known well enough in the neighborhood. Listen, I don't have a lot of shit though... here.”

  Jaxon pulls his sweatshirt off, handing it to me as he goes to the battered plastic cargo box on the other side of the room and pulls the lid off, taking out a plain white tank top. “I'll wash up while you're gone.”

  I pull his sweatshirt on and it's baggy, but not so much that I look too far out of place. I understand why he gave it to me to use, it's your standard gray hoodie, there's got to be a hundred thousand just like this in the city. I reach into my pocket and find a rubber band, pulling my hair back into a hasty ponytail and reminding myself to buy some personal stuff. “Uh... I guess I'll pay for things.”

  “Okay,” Jaxon says, his voice tinged with shame before he brightens. “Wait, I've got ten grand sitting in my backpack.”

  I can't help but laugh when Jaxon takes out the bundle of bills then stops, frustrated. “Fuck. There's no way they'll take these. Those guys won't accept anything bigger than a twenty.”

  “That's okay,” I reassure him. “Walk me out?”

  He escorts me down the stairs to the door, where he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. “This will open this door. There's a corner shop if you go to your left, two blocks down. They've got some food, some other stuff. Overpriced shit, but you know how it is.”

  I pull the hood on Jaxon's sweatshirt up, but his eyes
stop me before I can lean in to kiss him. “I promise, I'll be back in twenty minutes.”

  The walk down to the store feels surreal. I'm involved in an ad hoc plot to take my own father for a shitload of money, and then there's the strange situation between me and Jaxon. I poured out my heart to him, or tried to, but he's still so angry. I'm not too sure what to think right now except that I want to help him.

  The corner store is just that, a tiny little shop that devotes a full quarter of its space to selling liquor--mostly beer, malt liquor, and the cheapest brands of high-tension booze you can find. I avoid all of that and go down the other short aisles, tossing in snacks as well as the closest things to real food I can find, canned stuff that would make the cooks at Whitechapel gag but we can at least make some sort of meals with. I also grab a few personal items, including a bar of soap, a toothbrush and comb, and a two-pack each of panties and undershirts from the so-called 'Hames' company. Gotta love gray market products.

  When I get back, Jaxon's stripped to the waist, although his jeans are unbuttoned and the flash of underwear I see when he turns around is a different color from what he had on before. I guess he's at least partially done with his sponge bath. And he's shaved... it's nice.

  “Chill, it's just me,” I try to calmly say when I see the kitchen knife in his hand. “You didn't hear me close the door downstairs?”

  “This place has terrible acoustics,” Jaxon excuses, turning back to the pot on the electric hotplate and pulling out the washcloth there. He squeezes it out before he rubs the cloth under his left armpit, then repeats the process with his right side. “What all did you get?”

  I bring the two shopping bags over, setting the one full of food on the folding table that seems to be Jaxon's counter, holder for his hotplate, and dining room table all in one. “A few hygiene things, we didn't exactly grab my toothbrush when we left this morning, and then some canned items. I'm not much of a cook though. This might be straight heat and eat sort of stuff.”