This story is meant to go along with another story I submitted named 'Mackenzie'. You can read either by itself, but it may give you some insight. As always vote and leave comments. Thanks Kilcannon
Jackson Andrews was a wreck of a man. He slowly sipped on his drink in anticipation as he watched the scene unfolding around him. Watching the crowd as they went about their business on the dance floor, at the bar and at various places in the bar just reminded him of the numbness that ached in his heart. He scanned the crowd searching.
Searching for death. Searching for release.
He half smiled as he wondered what death would look like. He smirked as his mind's eye imagined a tall hooded figure on the dance floor, holding a reaper showing his dance steps to his future clients. Somehow, however, he doubted that death was so obvious.
He just hoped that death came soon. He was tired of the pain.
He looked around the bar scene a bit more. Through the smoky haze, he could see the band in the corner. Maybe death would take them too, it would be far more merciful than to subject the crowd to much more of their butchered music. The best he could figure was that they were in the middle of destroying a Beatles tune.
His eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of a tall man in all black standing at the bar. He looked questioningly at him. "Is this death?" he thought. The man faced the bar so he could not see his face, but his height made Andrews wonder. He had remembered what the email had said to look for, dark clothes, and dark hair. "What do I do now?" he thought, "Walk up and introduce myself?"
Sarcastically he thought, "What do I do, hold out my hand and say, 'Hi are you here to kill me?"
He let out a short laugh. However, his hopes were dashed when he noticed the man start a conversation with a blonde girl.
"Not him." He said aloud to no one.
"Maybe I can help you find him." A soft feminine voice interrupted. Andrews turned to see a raven-haired woman in front of him. Wearing a tight, short dress that showed off quite a bit. Andrews looked at her. "I don't think so." He said and started to ignore her.
She sat next to him in the booth and said in a silky tone, "You never know what I can do for you." She scooted a bit closer to him and pulled a cigarette from her purse. He noticed the contrast of the black lipstick against her creamy white skin as she put it in her mouth. He was momentarily lost in thought, but shook himself back to reality.
He grunted, "I don't think so."
Her lips pouted and he gave her a go away stare. "Look," he tried to say politely, but there was an impatient tone to his voice, "I'm waiting for someone."
She smiled seductively, and moved a little closer. "Then you don't mind if I keep you company till the person arrives," she said sweetly. He sighed, "Just great." He thought, "Of all my dumb luck. To be hit on by a prostitute that won't take a hint."
He tried again to get her to leave. "Look," he began in his most unpleasant lawyer voice, "I am meeting an important person, and it wouldn't look good if he came and saw me with..."
"A street walker?" she interrupted testily, "A common street whore?"
He shrugged, "I was going to say someone he didn't know." He looked at her for a second then took another sip of his drink and added without looking at her, "But yeah, that too."
She looked at him angrily, "You don't know me."
"And I don't want to."
She huffed, "Fine, then I won't say anything."
His jaw dropped as she opened her handbag and started applying makeup. He thought he had made it clear, he did not want to be disturbed. "Uh..." he said confused, "excuse me, miss."
She looked over at him as she applied her makeup. "Rebekah," she answered.
She went back to her makeup and he just stared at her incredulously, "Okay," he went on, "Rebekah." He tried to make eye contact, giving up, he continued, "I am kind of expecting someone."
She stopped and looked at him, "That's okay; you won't be in the way."
He ran his hand over his face in frustration. Finally, he gave up and signaled the waitress for another drink. After that he looked over at Rebekah as she finished touching up her makeup. She looked at him and smiled.
"So you have a name?" she asked.
He sighed, "Jackson Andrews."
"So Jackson," she said huskily, "who ya waitin' for?"
He stopped for a second, was tempted to tell her to mind her own business, the decided maybe the truth would make her leave. 'More like make her run screaming,' he thought.
"Death."
She cocked her head to the side, "Death?" she said slowly.
He smiled sarcastically, "Tall guy, black robe. Large reaper."
She giggled, "No really."
He gave up, "I need a job done, and was put into contact with someone that could help."
She leaned over onto the table; he could not help but to take a quick glance down the top of her dress. She smiled at him when she caught him doing it and winked at him, he blushed. "Job got so bad, that you needed someone offed?"
"Not my job," he started then shrugged, "Well, not exactly that. My Life."
"Oh," she said moving back in her chair, "Heat got to you and now you want someone killed. Let me guess, wife? Lover? Competitor for a raise?"
He looked at her a little angrily, "No."
She shook her head. At first, he stared at her hoping she would go away, then he shrugged. What would telling her the truth hurt?
"No." he said quietly, "I hired someone to kill me."
Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "You?"
He took his drink, tossed it back and said, "That's right, me."
Rebekah shook her head, "Life can't be that bad."
She looked at him, "Why would you want to do such a thing?"
"Because my life is over." He said. Consumed with the desire to unload his problems Jackson said, "A month ago I came home early."
She watched him quietly as he talked, "I was going to take my wife, Cecilia, out to celebrate my upcoming partnership, so I left work early to celebrate."
He stopped, closed his eyes as if the relive the experience. "I found her in our bed with a coworker of hers."
He let out a soft whimper. She reached out her hand and touched his. Jackson's eyes fluttered open. He looked at her had, clasped it momentarily and then went on.
"It got worse from there. My wife and I are lawyers at two different firms. Recently both firms were hired as opposing counsel for a high profile case. The partners of my firm had no problem letting me take lead counsel on the case since Cecilia specializes in a different field of law and would not put the case into conflict."
He shuddered before going on. "After having the image of them in our bed, I left."
He stopped for a second, "I doubt they saw me leave."
He took a drink, "When I got back to the firm my secretary told me that the partners wanted to see me immediately. At first I thought that maybe opposing counsel wanted to settle before trial."
He snorted sarcastically, "Boy was I wrong."
"When I got there, I could sense a chilly atmosphere." Andrews stated, "They told me that opposing counsel had approached the judge with internal documents that showed our clients in the wrong and demanded an immediate settlement."
He shook his head, "The judge seeing the memos agreed and awarded the other side a forty million dollar settlement. Our client was not happy. What was worse for me, was the fact that the memos had
my
handwriting on. There was only one place that they could have come from and that was from me. The partners concluded that I had conspired with the other law firm, and were dismissing me and sending all the information to the bar association. I was to be escorted to my office and helped to pack. My pleas of innocence were ignored."
"I'm sorry." She said genuinely.
"So I returned home." He spat out in contempt, "I found the locks changed and that ass that was sleeping with my wife opened it."
"He gave me a smug grin and handed me a envelope." Andrews eyes narrowed, "He said, Jackson Andrews, you are served, in the envelope you will find a petition for divorce and a restraining order to stay away from the premises here and away from your soon to be ex-wife Cecilia Andrews."
Andrews was gripping the glass so hard, that Rebekah was sure it would break. "I never wanted to hit someone as much as I did then. I took a step toward the door. The ass smiled even bigger before going on, "You are not allowed to enter the premises except in the presence of a sheriff's deputy to remove items. The ass then motioned behind me; these gentlemen will make sure you leave peacefully."
"I turned around to see two Houston Police officers standing there." His face was a mask of rage as he relived the events. "They not so politely escorted me to my car and reminded me of what would happen should I violate the restraining order. I was basically out on the street."
Rebekah smiled sadly, "So what about family or friends?"
