little_firestar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
little_firestar) wrote2014-06-07 09:17 am
little_firestar) wrote2014-06-07 09:17 am
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The Guy Next Door (chapter 8-9)
She had already cleaned her bedroom and her bathroom, and was looking forward the fridge, when someone knocked at her door; her heart stopped beating, and she knew that, without shadow of doubt, it was Jane on the other side of the door. She looked around, a bit panicking, then went back in her room, and rearranged her hair checking into her vanity mirror. Like every time she cleaned, she was wearing old, big clothes, and there wasn’t a lot she could do about it, but at least she was still presentable.
When she opened the door, she saw that Jane wasn’t just presentable: even if his curls were all over the place and he had a stubble, he seemed like one of the guys from the pages of Sexy Men.
“Hello Lisbon.” He said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, the posture and the plaid shirt showing off his biceps and the tanned skin. “You don’t happen to have decent tea, do you?”
Lisbon moved away to let him in, and rolled her eyes. He wasn’t fooling anyone: the circles under his eyes were darker than the previous day, a clear indication that he hadn’t slept much. She wasn’t surprised, though, given what he had shared with her. The same had happened to her too- only, her night had been short and agitated because of work and because of her hormones, that kept remembering her how much she was attracted to that fine specimen of a man.
“Ehy, I like the scent. It’s lilac, right?” he sniffed around like a K-9 dog, making her quite uneasy. “I have to admit, though, I am partial to lemon-scented soaps.”
She bit her lips. “Well, you know, I always wake up early, and since I didn’t have to get to the office today, I cleaned up a bit.” She shrugged, like it was nothing. At her side, Jane shook his head and sighed. He didn’t mind Teresa’s mess-also because he was curious to discover if the old saying about messy woman making good lovers was true.
“So,” he said, looking around. He cleared his throat, and Teresa saw that his usual arrogance was now gone. His eyes told her he wanted to talk about something serious, and she imagined it was about what he had told her the previous days about his family. But, she wasn’t going to pry. If he wanted to talk about it, so be it. Otherwise, it wasn’t going to be a problem for her. After all, she knew it all about troubling pasts and the difficulty of sharing such intimate details.
Without saying a word, she went into her kitchen, and put on the kettle for his tea and boiling water for her coffee. He joined her, and made an “uhm” sound, lifting his perfect blonde eyebrow. “Why am I not surprised that you are always ready for everything?”
She didn’t even bother to answer, she just smiled. After a very long pause, while they were sipping their beverages of choice, he looked at his feet and took a big breath. “Listen…” he said, massaging the back of his neck. “I’m sorry that I… bothered you yesterday with my story and with my interminable list of sins.”
She shook her head, making a strange movement with her noise, that reminded him of Samantha in Bewitched. He smiled, understanding that she hadn’t minded it all and that he was in the clear, and, as he moved past her, he bumped into her shoulder, his silent and not too physical way of saying thank you.
“If you don’t mind, I was thinking about taking the measurements for your new window.” He suddenly said, looking at the point on the wall where he could already see the light enter, bathing the apartment in sunshine.
“Jane, really, there’s no need.” Teresa said, joining him, standing on her tiptoes, hands in the pockets of her trousers. It wasn’t like she didn’t want a window there- because she loved even just the idea. It was having Jane there, for such a long time, mostly shirtless, that troubled her (with delicious shivers along her spine). “I mean, it’s not even your job…”
It was his time to roll his eyes, and somehow, even if she was at his back, she knew exactly what he was doing. “I took courses, Lisbon. Renovation for Dummies was just the first step, for your information.”
“Right” she said, more to herself than to him. As he was making measurements, she took a seat on a nearby chair, and looked at him. “Don’t you miss it? I mean, not the conning…” she said, blushing. “Although, I guess you could miss it too. Not that I think you do, but… anyway. I mean, what you did with the Police. The… profiling or whatever it was you did.”
He stopped what he was doing, and leaned against the wall. His eyes were firmly set on Teresa’s, and she felt like she could read him as much as he did with her, in that moment. “Sometimes, but…” he paused. “I’m just scared that I would think too much about the past, were I to come back.”
“So, you prefer doing this? Putting back in order an apartment you could or could not sell afterward, and work on my kitchen in the meanwhile to keep yourself busy?”
Jane smiled at her, shaking his head. He couldn’t understand why Teresa wanted that much to get a promotion that would take her out of the field. During his years as a Police Consultant- his official position- he had seen his good share of detectives, and Teresa Lisbon was one of the best he had ever met. She had a good intuition, and, as she had just showed, she could read people and understand them. Putting her behind a desk was, in his opinion, a waste.
“Actually, I work on your kitchen because you apparently know how to make decent tea and,” he paused, and eyed her lasciviously. “for other perks.”
She blushed, and didn’t even bother to try to hide it; after all, there was a good chance that Jane was doing it on purpose. They stayed in silence for a short while, either staring at each other with mixed emotions, or looking away. Until Jane spoke again, his voice so low it was almost a whisper, and Lisbon wondered if he knew he was talking at all or if he was just thinking out loud. Either way, his confession was heartbreaking, and again she felt the need to touch him, comfort him with her own warmth-but it was a luxury she couldn’t afford, so she resisted temptation.
“I’m just scared. Scared that if I do that again, I’ll end up conning people as well. That I’ll betray their memory by… by returning to be that man.” She didn’t speak, just looked at him, not with curiosity, but with such an intensity Jane felt like she was looking right through him. “I know what you think, but I’m not running from what I am. I am just trying to honor my family’s memory.”
By running away from what I am and what I’ve always done, he thought, but he didn’t need to add it at loud. It was a truth they both knew, and there was no need to acknowledge it at loud, to let Teresa judge him. He did some small-maintenance on her kitchen, and then looked at the sketch he had done and showed it to her. They talked about it, and if he really felt like working on her apartment (yes, he did- it wasn’t like he had anything better to do with his time), then, when he was done and ready to go back home, his hand already on the doorknob, he remembered what he had promised her the previous day.
Smiling cheerfully, he got closer and closer, until he leaned over her, and whispered in her ear his question. “Tell me, Teresa, do you still want to see the passage?”
“Uhm?” made Teresa, her mind filled by his scent, unable to understand anything at all. Then, she remembered what he was talking about, and she shook her head out of her reverie. “Oh, yes, sure.” She said, blushing. Actually, she didn’t care that much about the passage, but Jane didn’t seem to want to leave, and she needed to put some distance between them, if she wanted to resist temptation.
Big Mistake.
He took her hand, and dragged her in a secluded alcove she had closed with a heavy, dark green curtain; behind it, she had used the place to store all kinds of things, from old shoes to non-perishable food. Jane didn’t say a word as he saw the mass of shelves, just turned to look at her with a lifted eyebrow. He was tempted to make a joke about the supermarket around the corner being probably envious of her, but he decided not to. Teresa could not own his “memory palace”, but she wasn’t going to forget that he had told her the same thing about her fridge. And he liked Teresa too much: tempting her ire was the last thing on his mind.
“Listen.” he said as he knocked on all the walls, and then, last, on the wall that was supposed to divide their apartments; it was clear that it sounded different, and that the wall wasn’t filled, but empty. “This is where there’s the corridor. I can almost see it, you know? During the Civil War, over there, in my apartment, there was the big dining room of the lord of the house, and here,” he said, indicating her own kitchen. “Here there was the kitchen. The servants probably walked through this corridor to bring the food on the table of their masters.”
“Ah, to have someone taking care of my plates….” Teresa smirked a little. “I wouldn’t mind to have such a service, every once in a while.” She laughed, blushing.
Jane turned to see her, his back against one of the shelves. “You know…” he whispered, playing with a lock of hair looking into her green eyes. “My offer still stand.”
Teresa mimicked his position, putting some space between them. She looked for his eyes, searching for the truth. “We both know that your offer will only bring me to your bedroom.”
“Maybe,” he said, getting closer to her again, his low and sensual voice making her desire to let it go and fall into his arms, no matter the consequences. Maybe… maybe, just once, she could do it. “Or maybe… maybe you are the one seeing sexual messages everywhere.”
She lowered her eyes as he grinned, suddenly ashamed of herself, regretting her feelings and her behavior. She felt like he had slapped her, like he was making fun of her, and she didn’t like it. She moved away from the position as soon as she could, and started to pretend to be busy putting in order the boxes of food. Jane felt her frustration, and shook his head, damning himself: that wasn’t how he had planned this to go.
“Lisbon… there’s no need for you to do this.” he told her, stopping her from compulsively putting everything in order, but she resisted and kept going on anyway. He put a hand on her own, and smiled, tenderly. “You were one of those kids who, at school, put her crayons in rows and got mad if someone touched them, right?”
She snapped, turning into his sort of embrace. “Let me guess: you weren’t.”
“I didn’t go to school.” Jane said, shaking his head with a bit of sadness. “Carnie people take care of their own. Don’t trust outsiders.” He touched a row of cans, and they fell onto the ground. Teresa jumped, and immediately went on her knees and started to put them back in order. As she was done, she was closing her eyes tightly to prevent the tears from escaping.
“My father used to forget to buy food.” She admitted. She didn’t know exactly why she hadn’t stopped herself from saying the words: she had always kept that information for herself, even her little brothers weren’t aware of that fact, but she had had enough, she couldn’t deal with Jane making fun of her and her habits, as crazy and absurd as they could be.
“Your father…” He started, but couldn’t bring himself to end the sentence. He had guessed that Teresa had gone through some ordeal with her family in her youth, but he would have never guessed that his hypothesis- that one of her parents could have been an alcoholic- could have been that right, and could have had such consequences.
“After my mother died, life wasn’t easy for him, and sometimes…” She paused, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. “sometimes he just forgot.” She shook her head and moved away, back into the kitchen. She hated pity, and pity was exactly what she was seeing on his face. She should have never talked: some things were meant to be kept a secret.
Jane shook his head, sad, as he looked at her washing their cups, wondering if she liked to stockpile food because of her father. Jane’s own father had never been a great example for his son, but even when he spent their money on women and drinks, he never forgot to leave something for the groceries.
His closed his fists, feeling a rage he had only felt once in his life, towards himself; he had never met Teresa’s father, and it was just the second time that the cop mentioned him, and yet, Jane hated him, in a primal way. God. No wonder Teresa was so scared of getting close to others: she feared they would hurt her like her father had done. Poor woman. How many things did she miss in her life because of the ghosts of her past?
“You aren’t from Sacramento, right?” He asked, his voice low and soft, delicate as a caress. He wanted to know everything about her- he had to. “There’s still a hint of an accent… mid-west?”
“I was born in Chicago, actually.” She answered. She was smiling, but he could see that there was a trace of sadness in her. He looked into her eyes, and he could almost see her, going back into the past, reviving her life in the Wind City. There had been a time when Teresa Lisbon had been happy in Chicago, probably a child like any other, and right now, she was clinging desperately to that memory, hoping to not drown into misery.
“You still have family over there’?” he asked again, getting closer and closer. He wasn’t touching her intentionally, and yet, his elbow was brushing against the soft and jasmine-scented skin of her forearm. Their skins burned at the touch, and yet, neither of them cared. It was probably what they both needed: something to remember that, in that moment, they weren’t alone.
“My brothers James and Michael do, while the youngest, Tommy and his daughter live here in Sacramento. When they are not chasing criminals.”
He made a face, and she rolled her eyes at him. “He is a bounty hunter who can’t afford a baby-sitter and whose ex-wife is too busy chasing future ex-husbands to look after her own daughter every now and then.” She paused. “And you? Brothers, sisters?”
“None that I know of, but I’ve spent my whole adult life waiting for the instant my half-sibling will show up, looking for father dearest.” He looked at her with mirth in his eyes, despite the topic, and like Teresa he felt finally free: it was the first time he was talking about his family- his blood one- with someone outside the carnie world. “Well, technically I’m an only son, but Daddy dearest has always been a womanizer, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had more than one son around, and my mum…” He shook his head. “I don’t really remember a lot about her. She went back to her home when I was four, but last I heard, she never had any other children.”
“My mother died when I was twelve” Teresa said when she saw that he wasn’t asking her of her parents, probably because of the words they had shared about her childhood. “And my father….”
She paused, and when she looked away for a fraction of second, her eyes teary, he understood that the man wasn’t in the picture any longer. She shook herself, like to give herself strength, took a big breath, and then went on. She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, but she felt she needed to. Maybe it was because it was time, maybe it was because she had kept it buried for too long, or maybe it was because Jane had been hurt too, was far from perfect, and would have never judged her or her past… but once she started, she couldn’t stop.
“My father killed himself when I was sixteen, opened the gas while he was too drunk to remember that his own children were inside.”
He froze inside, and felt the need to hug her, and cover her with kisses and caresses. He wanted to tell her that he wanted to help her to stop the ghosts of her past that kept chasing her. But he couldn’t: as much as he felt for Teresa, he couldn’t make promises of everlasting love and happily ever after, not when the blood of his family was on his hands.
And yet… yet, she needed him. So, he hugged her, and when her face was buried in his chest, he all but ordered her to follow him- to meet his family.
“I didn’t think that your family was buried here…” She told him, surprised, as they walked slowly and in silence across the monumental Cemetery. Jane didn’t answer her, just kept walking in the shadows of the pines, until he didn’t stop in front of two simple gravestones, completely identical; there wasn’t any age indicated, nor the dates of birth and death, only their names: Charlotte Anne Jane, Angela Ruskin-Jane.
Jane knelt on the grass, and arranged a bouquet of violets on his daughter’s grave, and put some poppies on his wife’s tombstone. Teresa wanted to tell him how sorry she was for him and for them, but decided to keep it quiet. Jane had told her it had been over two years, but she still remembered people’s condolences, when they told her how sorry they were for her loss- and she had hated every single one of them. What did it mean? What was going to change? Nothing- and she felt like he had gone through enough of that, just like she had, many years before.
“When Charlie was born, Angela’s family left the circuit and moved here. And, well, it’s not like I’ve spent such a long time in Malibu since…” He paused, his breathing heavy. “Since it happened. They practically abducted me and decided to kind of adopt me as a honorary member of the family, told me that they felt alone because Danny had moved out. But I just couldn’t go on like that. And when I saw your building, I remembered a time I visited the old owner, and decided that I just had to move in there.”
He turned to look at Teresa, and smiling he took her hand, and brought her down on the grass with him. They were so close that their sides were practically attached.
“Is it ridiculous that I don’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife, and yet I talk with her?” He asked Teresa, seriously puzzled by his own question. It had never been a problem for him, but now he guessed that someone, knowing his beliefs, could be surprised, but Teresa wasn’t.
She shook her head, smiling, and took his hand, squeezing it. “Is it ridiculous that I talk to my mom’s picture on my nightstand?” Jane didn’t answer, but acknowledged that there was something that made them more similar than what they wanted to believe by squeezing her hand; still holding Teresa’s hand, he turned to face his family’s graves again, and started talking with them.
“Did you see, Annie? I came with Teresa. I told you about her, do you remember?”
Teresa was honestly shocked- and somehow, flattered as well. Even if she wondered if it was a common practice, to talk with your dead wife about the woman you are heavily flirting with and/or trying to get in bed. “You talked about me? With her?”
“Annie and I talk about everything” he wrinkled his nose. “Actually, I tell her everything. And she listens. Or, you know...” he gesticulated with his hand in the air; it was clear to Teresa that Jane’s discussions with his dead wife were more a therapeutic exercise than anything else, but she didn’t mind. She did believe that she could listen to him, and she hoped she knew he had good intentions and meant no disrespect. Just like she did as well.
“I told Teresa about you. And I thought it was time I introduced the two of you.” Teresa squeezed his hand, and let her thoughts wander to Angela Jane. Patrick had said a bit about his wife, but he had left many things unsaid. And yet, his eyes and his body language had told a story about a great love, something… epic.
What an incredible woman, Jane thought as he saw Teresa smiling at his side. She was keeping quiet, and yet he felt like, in her mind, she was having quite the discussion with his wife. And still, here she was, with him, almost a stranger, and yet someone she had opened up with. The thought exited him, and he realized that he hadn’t felt such euphoria in a long time, since he had met Angela when he was just a kid.
Jane talked about his week with his wife for a while; his monologue was full of enthusiasm, despite everything, and Teresa wondered more than once if he wasn’t getting tired, but his voice didn’t show any sign of fatigue. If she can hear you, Jane, I’m sure she is touched.
He said a few other words, and caressed his daughter’s grave, and then they went back home. While they were driving in his car, a vintage robin egg blue Citroen DS, he told her he was sorry if he was being too quiet. “It’s stupid, but, it’s exhausting.” He blushed, and she smiled- she liked this side of him far more than any other she had seen so far. They stayed in silence, even if there was a lot that Teresa wanted to tell him, but any word seemed too much and inappropriate. Also, she had seen what he thought about his role in his family’s deaths; telling him that it wasn’t his fault, that he was a good man could have made him angry, and she didn’t want to see him irritated. She rubbed his knee out of instinct, but when she saw her hand on the old jeans, she took it away as if it burned.
“I was thinking….” Jane started as he looked at her retreating hand with the corner of his eye. “There’s a nice diner on this street. If you wanted something, we could always…”
But she stopped him with pleading eyes. “I really can’t, Jane.” She said, and he could almost see in her eyes the sheets of paper accumulating. She was probably thinking about how behind she was with the paperwork, and that she still had to finish cleaning and then the groceries and then, and then…
Well, he guessed there was no end to Teresa Lisbon’s to-do list. “It’s ok, you have a lot of things to do, I get it.” His tone quite harsh as he tried to block her out of his vision field. He hoped that she understood why he was mad with her: he had showed her where his family was buried because he felt it was because of his absolute dedication to his “job” that he had lost them, but Teresa didn’t seem to have gotten the message that there were things that were important in life.
“We are not the same.” She suddenly said. She was fisting the fabric of her slacks, her mouth in a thigh line. She saw Jane opening his mouth to reply, but she shook her head and went on. “I left Chicago because when people looked at me, they saw the daughter of a delusional drunk, they looked at me and they said, poor thing, she’ll end just like him. But I’m not like him. People expected me to fail, Jane…”
Jane snorted. “My life hasn’t been a bed of roses either, princess.” He said, with a hint of disrespect. Frankly, he was starting to have enough. He wasn’t judging her: he just wanted to help, but Teresa didn’t want to see it like that. For her, life was only as she saw it. “And I get that you have been through a lot, but at least you can look at yourself in the mirror. You can be proud of what you did. Me? I conned people. And because I couldn’t stop, I lost them! My daughter, Teresa! I buried my four years old! How do you think it feels, uh?”
Teresa shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness and tenderness. “It’s not your fault, Jane…” She said, a hand on his shoulder. In answer, the blonde man abruptly turned the wheel, and parked on the side of the road, squealing off.
“Why can’t you stop it!?” he practically screamed, his eyes teary. “It was my fault! I was too busy convincing an old lady that her dead husband wanted to have their money invested to answer my phone… and I left them there to die!”
He still remembered clearly when he had seen Angela’s family that day, and the discussion with the investigators.
Everybody kept telling him it wasn’t his fault and it was better he hadn’t answered, for listening to her dying would have been too much for him to handle. He still remembered that he had looked outside the window, and seen his reflection, hair perfect and an expensive suit. All the feeling buried for over two years exploded, and he hit the wheel with his closed fist, again and again and again, repeating the same sentence in his mind every time his flesh connected with the leather. I should have answered. I should have been there for them.
“Jane… Jane, no…” Teresa begged, crying, grabbing his arm and trying to keep him steady. She wasn’t one for crying, far from it, but how Jane was behaving remembered her all too well of all the times her father had gotten mad because of his wife’s loss, times when, after having crashed whatever was close by, he eventually ended up hitting her. “Jane, it was an incident. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have gone to get Charlotte as Angela had asked me! I should have been the one on that road!”
Teresa shook her head. “And maybe you would have died with your daughter… but you can’t know for sure that nothing would have happened! You told me that the road wasn’t in top condition…”
“But maybe they were wrong…” he said, shaking his head, his voice low. He was starting to sob, but no tears were leaving his eyes. Not for the first time, Teresa wondered if he hadn’t already cried all of them. “Maybe she was still alive and if I had answered the phone…” he paused, and when he spoke again his voice was low, just a whisper. “It’s my responsibility. Why can’t people… why can’t you see it?”
“If it’s true, then am I responsible because my father was an alcoholic who abused his children.” she asked. There was no trace of shame, sadness or regret in her voice or her expression, she was just resolute. In that moment, Jane wondered if she had ever been that much at peace with her past as she was there and then. She took his hand, squeezing it, her eyes teary, but he could see it wasn’t for herself: her tears were for him. “When he was alive, I never told anyone what he did. He was the Chief of the Chicago Fire Department, and he was good at hiding it… I didn’t know if people was going to believe me, and even if they did… I didn’t want to lose my brothers. We were already broken because of our parents, at least, the four of us had to stick together. So I didn’t say anything, and when he hit me, there was always an excuse I could make. Even when he broke my arm.”
“Teresa, it’s not the same thing.” He said. His eyes were teary as well, his voice soft. His free hand cupped her face, and he was skimming over her skin with reverence and softness, like the most delicate caress. “You were just a child, and he was sick. Me… I was just… too caught up in myself.”
He wasn’t going to lie: he was grateful for Teresa’s attempt to make him feel better, but nothing was going to change what had happened, he was still going to live with his ghosts and his guilt- and the fear that he could get back to what he had once been with just one wrong move.
Teresa couldn’t handle it that any longer: she knew where Jane mind was, and that, if he kept thinking like that, he would eventually say things he would get to regret. Just the idea of listening to him describing what he thought of who he once had been was scaring her, breaking her heart in millions of tiny little pieces. So, she did the first thing she could think of, the only thing she believe could give him comfort: she kissed him. But even if it was to make him remember that he wasn’t alone, and that he had been there for her, what Teresa hadn’t predicted was the fire that burned once their lips touched. Jane answered her kiss, and her mind went blank: she had never been kissed like that, not from Ray nor from any other, and even if she knew that it was dangerous and that there was no way to control what was happening between them, she couldn’t put an end to it.
When they finally parted for air, Jane too was speechless and the only thing he could say was what.
Teresa shook her head, purring as he run his fingers through her dark hair. It wasn’t the way she usually acted, but there was something in her that seemed to say that she couldn’t do otherwise.
Jane got closer again, and again he captured her lips in a kiss, slow and sensual. She moaned in his mouth as their tongues touched, and when he parted, just a breath of air between them, she could feel on her mouth his hot breath, and her eyes couldn’t move past his pale, full lips. He skimmed with his index over her features, and she closed her eyes at the sensation.
“Come with me, Teresa.” He all but whispered. “Let’s get home.”
And like she always did, she once again allowed Jane to sweep her off her feet.
At the end, Teresa had realized with satisfaction that she had been right all along about Jane’s tube: it was perfect for two, and the sensation of being immersed in the warm water and the soft bubbles, with his face nuzzling her neck, was the equivalent of paradise. And yet, when she had dried herself and had walked back to his living room with just a towel around her body, the doubts and the fears had come back with a passion, only to disappear once again when she saw that he was sitting on his couch with just a pair of old tracksuit bottoms.
She couldn’t help it: every time she saw him, especially if there was a certain quantity of naked skin involved, she couldn’t help but want him.
“Are you relaxed?” he asked with a grin, patting the empty space on the couch and throwing his mobile on the small coffee table.
Lisbon rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest; she wasn’t being modest- he had seen plenty of her during their two close encounters in the last few hours, but she wanted to let him know she was kind of mad that he was dismissing his psychological issues just like that. “I wasn’t the one who needed comfort, Jane.”
He smiled, his eyes shining. His surname had never sounded so sexy and sinful, or even just so beautiful, like when that single syllable left her mouth.
“C’mon Lisbon” he said, patting again the empty space next to him, using her surname just like she did with him. “Get over here and stop thinking. Your thoughts are hurting my head.”
“You can’t read my thoughts, Jane.” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve ever…” she started, but he stopped her, his thumb rubbing her lip.
“I know.” he said, his eyes lost in her green gems. “Trust me, Teresa, I know.” She knew that “new Jane” was carefree, but she felt like he knew exactly what he was talking about, and more than her second thoughts, she wondered if he had any; after all, wasn’t she the first woman he had been intimate with after his wife’s lost? Was he comparing them in his head? What did it mean for him?
“Stop. Thinking.” He said, his words punctuated by languid kisses on her neck. He was going to leave marks there, and she couldn’t care any less despite being aware that everybody the following day would have known of her secret liaison- Ray included.
“Mmm…” She purred, leaning in his touch; his hand was traveling south, grabbing a feel of her naked form underneath the towel. Jane sighed in appreciation against her neck, his desire reawaken by Teresa’s forms; she was a beautiful woman, and even if she was petite, even if she liked to hide her body underneath her conservative and professional clothes, discovering her perfect forms had been a revelation for him. He chuckled: waiting for over two years to have sex again, and denying himself any kind of physical pleasure in that span of time, had been worth it.
“Shouldn’t I be the one checking on my phone?” she asked, giggling, suddenly remembering what he had been doing when she had entered the room.
Jane sighed: Teresa’s way of checking up with reality had killed the mood for him. He sat back, running his hands over his face. “It was a guy I met a couple of weeks ago. Even though I refused his offer, he insists on meeting up again.”
Even if Teresa was a bit sad for Jane’s sudden change of attitude- she was definitely liking what he was doing to her – she sat crossed-legs on the couch, and inquired furthermore. She couldn’t help it: she was a real detective at heart. But Jane didn’t smile: yes, the topic unnerved him a bit, but he liked that she was so curious and wanted to discover everything. He could almost imagine her playing with Clue as a kid…
“It’s a police thing. I’ve been asked to help with a case on a consulting gig.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t’ refuse.” She said, her fingernails scratching the skin of his chest. “Have you thought that it could be a good opportunity to get back on your feet?”
Jane groaned, even if he wasn’t sure if it was because of the sensation of Teresa’s touch or because he didn’t like to talk about Delk, Pope and their whole crew that was trying to recruit him.
“He and his assistant chief called me a psychic.” He said, and was grateful when Teresa didn’t remind him that that had been the part he had played for almost his whole life. “Besides, I am working on your kitchen right now.”
Teresa smiled, shaking her head. “It’s not even your real job. It can wait.” To his ears, her voice sounded like music, peace and harmony.
“Nothing that concerns you can wait.” He said, sealing the promise with a kiss on her neck, where there was his love-bite. “But I may have to see him in person, if he doesn’t stop calling me. Just because he is a chief of police, he thinks he can order everybody around like he does with his men…” He mumbled. Teresa messed his hair like she did with her own brothers when they were children, but she couldn’t resist- Jane was as adorable when he was childish as he was when he went into male worker mode.
Teresa sighed, and looked at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts. “I don’t know what’s better: being able to order people around, or being able to refuse a job, or an order, just out of principle.”
“It wasn’t out of principle.” He clarified, pouting like a spoiled child. “I felt insulted. Calling me a psychic is like saying that I’m not the one doing the hard job.”
Teresa didn’t answer, but with a smile she shook her head; but soon the smile vanished, as she saw that, outside, it was getting dark. “Ugh. I really should go and get something done…”
Jane sighed, and encircled her petite body with his strong arms. “Don’t.”
Teresa sighed in pleasure and contentment in his arms. “Well, I fear you’ll have to be more persuasive than this…”
She felt him pouting against the skin of her neck, and the feel made her giggle. “You’ll stay, because you want to stay and because I love having you here.” He preferred avoiding telling her how much he desired her again; feeling that acting like a caveman wouldn’t bring him any luck that night with his lady.
“Still not enough….” The breath died in her throat as he did something with his hand on her most intimate parts, his breath heavy and panting against her neck; apparently, what he was doing to her was affecting him too, as the hard, heavy weight of his desire against her side was showing.
“Then, maybe…” He panted, his lips soft and wet against her cheek. “Maybe I’ll show you how to fly.”
“Show me.” she challenged him with her most resolute voice, turning into his embrace to steal a kiss, one of her hands scratching his chest, the other buried in his scalp.
And he kept his promises-more than once. Hours later, Teresa was still in his bed, while he couldn’t sleep. He was walking through his apartment, running his hands through his hair and thinking about what had happened in the last forty-eight hours, his head filled with images of her, Teresa. Just thinking about her set his blood on fire, remembering what a sensual creature she was once she let it go of her identity of a mere cop. She was so much more, and yet she still found it hard to believe. Or maybe, it was much more than that. He was struggling too with his attraction for her- his feelings, regrets and fears and guilt - and he wondered if it was the same for her. They both had a lot of baggage: it was impossible that it wasn’t going to influence their choices in life.
He was looking outside a window, contemplating the night empty of stars, when he heard footsteps approaching; he turned, and here there was Teresa, wrapped only in his bed sheets.
“Ehy.” He said, leaning against the cold glass with his back, signaling her to join him as soon as he saw that she was checking her phone. She did as he asked, and once at arm’s length, he took the mobile and tossed it away, taking Teresa in his arms. “Work can wait.” He told her.
“It can?” she asked. She sounded like a child, a bit lost; Jane couldn’t help but smile: he loved that he could confuse her in such a way.
He nodded, and taking her in his arms, bride-style, he brought her back into his bedroom.
Jane could understand that Teresa liked to call her little brother “Tommy”: after all, she had told him he was the youngest, so, practically, besides being family, it was like he was her own child too. He could accept it, really. What he didn’t accept was that a grown-up man, close to his fifties, wanted for a complete stranger to call him Tommy.
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Jane?” “Tommy” asked, casually sitting at the table of the small diner like he owned the place. Jane shook his head. He didn’t like being there, but at the end, he had been forced to accept seeing Chief Tommy Delk again, and even if tenacity had always been a quality that Jane could appreciate in a fellow human, he couldn’t say that he had enjoyed being the victim of the LAPD chief’s harassment.
“Tea is fine, thanks.” Jane said, his lips in a straight line.
Delk filled his cup, and then smiled, his hands crossed under his chin, and stared at his companion. It was the kind of situation that in the past, Jane had often found himself in; only, usually, he had been the one at the other end of that look. “I’m happy you accepted to see me, Mr. Jane.” the African-American cop said. A part of Jane wanted to shiver and run away: he felt like a pray, and Delk the lion ready to eat him alive.
“I accepted only because I wanted to make sure you understood I’m not interested.” Actually, Teresa had insisted that he met the man: after all, in the last five days she had spent in his bed, Delk more than once had interrupted them. Besides, she saw it as a sign of respect for a fellow cop: just tell him to his face, Jane.
Delk nodded. “Yes, in being my “psychic consultant.” He said, with air quotes. “But I was wondering, what if I doubled the price?”
Jane lifted a perfect blonde eyebrow, laughing under his teeth. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Ok, if that’s how you want to play it…” Delk paused, leaning against the back of his chair, his arms crossed. “I’ll triple it.”
Jane closed his eyes, exasperated, and took a big breath. He didn’t want to make Delk mad and get an enemy, but the man didn’t want to get his point: he wasn’t interested in that job, period. Even if the first offer alone had been huge. “Listen, if you really want a psychic- even if I can assure you there is no such a thing, I can recommend someone. Sean Barlow, I can get you in touch with him, or if you prefer someone more spot-light oriented, there’s always Kristina Frey.”
But Delk just grinned, shaking his head. “I’m not interested in them, Mister Jane. I’ll be honest: what we are dealing with is a delicate internal affair case, and I want the best that there is.” He paused, gesticulating with his palms in Jane’s general direction. “And from my research, you are the best.”
Jane couldn’t help but laugh. That man was so full of himself… almost like Jane himself. “If you want me…” Jane started, and Delk stopped him.
“And I do, Mister Jane…”
Jane snorted, and then restarted from where he had been so abruptly interrupted. “If you want me, you’ll not get a psychic.”
“And that, Mister Jane, is what I want. So, you tell me you are just an observer and a knower of the human soul? It’s fine with me, because, let’s be honest: why would I need a charlatan con-man too busy to steal the money of the People of California to actually stop a crime syndicate?” Saying so, Delk smiled, and offered Jane his hand to shake. “I guess we could now discuss a serious offer….”
“And just for the record, Tommy, I knew you were bluffing when you offered to triplicate my salary.”
Half an hour later, after two failed attempts at calling Teresa, Jane was back in his apartment and decided that, if there was someone else who deserved to know about the offer, it was Danny. The little guy had always been a fan, had never had bad words for his brother-in-law after what had happened to Angela, and Jane guessed it had a lot to do with their similar experiences while growing up, and the fact that both of them had always had time-consuming jobs once they left the carnie world.
“Wow. That’s the most unorthodox way of getting business I have ever heard of, but…” he whistled, Danny’s young voice filled with mirth. “Congratulations, bro. When do you leave for the city of Angels?”
“I haven’t said yes, yet.” Jane replied, smiling. He was pretty sure that, at the other end of the phone, Danny was either rolling his eyes or cursing him. “Why should I move to Los Angeles, when my home and my family are here?” Yes, he was the first to admit that money was starting to lack, but he didn’t need a job that desperately. After all, in Sacramento he had his in-laws, Danny, and then, Charlie and Angela. If he wasn’t there, who was going to talk with his late wife every week? And mostly… how could he miss his weekly chat with her? He wasn’t sure he was ready yet to let it go of his past so completely. In the last two years he had always had this thin line connecting him and his beloved; leaving now would be like cutting it. Could he do it? Free himself from his obligation?
“Paddy, it’s a five hours drive.” Danny sighed, and Jane knew that the boy was rubbing his eyes. “You could always get back on the weekends.”
Jane sighed. Yes, it was true, but Teresa too was in Sacramento, and what was going to happen to their blossoming relationship if he decided to leave? He had started that “game” not to win her over, but because he wanted to teach her a lesson, and yet… yet, he had been the one to lose. Because Teresa had become something so much more important than what he had predicted, and he wanted her, all of her, all the time.
He needed her. He needed to talk with her, to know if he had been a fool or if there was a chance for him, a chance for them.
“Danny, I need to go.” He ended the phone call, and headed in the general direction of the capitol building; next to it, at the CBI, he knew that it was where he would have found her.
She couldn’t help it: every time she saw him, especially if there was a certain quantity of naked skin involved, she couldn’t help but want him.
“Are you relaxed?” he asked with a grin, patting the empty space on the couch and throwing his mobile on the small coffee table.
Lisbon rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest; she wasn’t being modest- he had seen plenty of her during their two close encounters in the last few hours, but she wanted to let him know she was kind of mad that he was dismissing his psychological issues just like that. “I wasn’t the one who needed comfort, Jane.”
He smiled, his eyes shining. His surname had never sounded so sexy and sinful, or even just so beautiful, like when that single syllable left her mouth.
“C’mon Lisbon” he said, patting again the empty space next to him, using her surname just like she did with him. “Get over here and stop thinking. Your thoughts are hurting my head.”
“You can’t read my thoughts, Jane.” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve ever…” she started, but he stopped her, his thumb rubbing her lip.
“I know.” he said, his eyes lost in her green gems. “Trust me, Teresa, I know.” She knew that “new Jane” was carefree, but she felt like he knew exactly what he was talking about, and more than her second thoughts, she wondered if he had any; after all, wasn’t she the first woman he had been intimate with after his wife’s lost? Was he comparing them in his head? What did it mean for him?
“Stop. Thinking.” He said, his words punctuated by languid kisses on her neck. He was going to leave marks there, and she couldn’t care any less despite being aware that everybody the following day would have known of her secret liaison- Ray included.
“Mmm…” She purred, leaning in his touch; his hand was traveling south, grabbing a feel of her naked form underneath the towel. Jane sighed in appreciation against her neck, his desire reawaken by Teresa’s forms; she was a beautiful woman, and even if she was petite, even if she liked to hide her body underneath her conservative and professional clothes, discovering her perfect forms had been a revelation for him. He chuckled: waiting for over two years to have sex again, and denying himself any kind of physical pleasure in that span of time, had been worth it.
“Shouldn’t I be the one checking on my phone?” she asked, giggling, suddenly remembering what he had been doing when she had entered the room.
Jane sighed: Teresa’s way of checking up with reality had killed the mood for him. He sat back, running his hands over his face. “It was a guy I met a couple of weeks ago. Even though I refused his offer, he insists on meeting up again.”
Even if Teresa was a bit sad for Jane’s sudden change of attitude- she was definitely liking what he was doing to her – she sat crossed-legs on the couch, and inquired furthermore. She couldn’t help it: she was a real detective at heart. But Jane didn’t smile: yes, the topic unnerved him a bit, but he liked that she was so curious and wanted to discover everything. He could almost imagine her playing with Clue as a kid…
“It’s a police thing. I’ve been asked to help with a case on a consulting gig.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t’ refuse.” She said, her fingernails scratching the skin of his chest. “Have you thought that it could be a good opportunity to get back on your feet?”
Jane groaned, even if he wasn’t sure if it was because of the sensation of Teresa’s touch or because he didn’t like to talk about Delk, Pope and their whole crew that was trying to recruit him.
“He and his assistant chief called me a psychic.” He said, and was grateful when Teresa didn’t remind him that that had been the part he had played for almost his whole life. “Besides, I am working on your kitchen right now.”
Teresa smiled, shaking her head. “It’s not even your real job. It can wait.” To his ears, her voice sounded like music, peace and harmony.
“Nothing that concerns you can wait.” He said, sealing the promise with a kiss on her neck, where there was his love-bite. “But I may have to see him in person, if he doesn’t stop calling me. Just because he is a chief of police, he thinks he can order everybody around like he does with his men…” He mumbled. Teresa messed his hair like she did with her own brothers when they were children, but she couldn’t resist- Jane was as adorable when he was childish as he was when he went into male worker mode.
Teresa sighed, and looked at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts. “I don’t know what’s better: being able to order people around, or being able to refuse a job, or an order, just out of principle.”
“It wasn’t out of principle.” He clarified, pouting like a spoiled child. “I felt insulted. Calling me a psychic is like saying that I’m not the one doing the hard job.”
Teresa didn’t answer, but with a smile she shook her head; but soon the smile vanished, as she saw that, outside, it was getting dark. “Ugh. I really should go and get something done…”
Jane sighed, and encircled her petite body with his strong arms. “Don’t.”
Teresa sighed in pleasure and contentment in his arms. “Well, I fear you’ll have to be more persuasive than this…”
She felt him pouting against the skin of her neck, and the feel made her giggle. “You’ll stay, because you want to stay and because I love having you here.” He preferred avoiding telling her how much he desired her again; feeling that acting like a caveman wouldn’t bring him any luck that night with his lady.
“Still not enough….” The breath died in her throat as he did something with his hand on her most intimate parts, his breath heavy and panting against her neck; apparently, what he was doing to her was affecting him too, as the hard, heavy weight of his desire against her side was showing.
“Then, maybe…” He panted, his lips soft and wet against her cheek. “Maybe I’ll show you how to fly.”
“Show me.” she challenged him with her most resolute voice, turning into his embrace to steal a kiss, one of her hands scratching his chest, the other buried in his scalp.
And he kept his promises-more than once. Hours later, Teresa was still in his bed, while he couldn’t sleep. He was walking through his apartment, running his hands through his hair and thinking about what had happened in the last forty-eight hours, his head filled with images of her, Teresa. Just thinking about her set his blood on fire, remembering what a sensual creature she was once she let it go of her identity of a mere cop. She was so much more, and yet she still found it hard to believe. Or maybe, it was much more than that. He was struggling too with his attraction for her- his feelings, regrets and fears and guilt - and he wondered if it was the same for her. They both had a lot of baggage: it was impossible that it wasn’t going to influence their choices in life.
He was looking outside a window, contemplating the night empty of stars, when he heard footsteps approaching; he turned, and here there was Teresa, wrapped only in his bed sheets.
“Ehy.” He said, leaning against the cold glass with his back, signaling her to join him as soon as he saw that she was checking her phone. She did as he asked, and once at arm’s length, he took the mobile and tossed it away, taking Teresa in his arms. “Work can wait.” He told her.
“It can?” she asked. She sounded like a child, a bit lost; Jane couldn’t help but smile: he loved that he could confuse her in such a way.
He nodded, and taking her in his arms, bride-style, he brought her back into his bedroom.
Jane could understand that Teresa liked to call her little brother “Tommy”: after all, she had told him he was the youngest, so, practically, besides being family, it was like he was her own child too. He could accept it, really. What he didn’t accept was that a grown-up man, close to his fifties, wanted for a complete stranger to call him Tommy.
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Jane?” “Tommy” asked, casually sitting at the table of the small diner like he owned the place. Jane shook his head. He didn’t like being there, but at the end, he had been forced to accept seeing Chief Tommy Delk again, and even if tenacity had always been a quality that Jane could appreciate in a fellow human, he couldn’t say that he had enjoyed being the victim of the LAPD chief’s harassment.
“Tea is fine, thanks.” Jane said, his lips in a straight line.
Delk filled his cup, and then smiled, his hands crossed under his chin, and stared at his companion. It was the kind of situation that in the past, Jane had often found himself in; only, usually, he had been the one at the other end of that look. “I’m happy you accepted to see me, Mr. Jane.” the African-American cop said. A part of Jane wanted to shiver and run away: he felt like a pray, and Delk the lion ready to eat him alive.
“I accepted only because I wanted to make sure you understood I’m not interested.” Actually, Teresa had insisted that he met the man: after all, in the last five days she had spent in his bed, Delk more than once had interrupted them. Besides, she saw it as a sign of respect for a fellow cop: just tell him to his face, Jane.
Delk nodded. “Yes, in being my “psychic consultant.” He said, with air quotes. “But I was wondering, what if I doubled the price?”
Jane lifted a perfect blonde eyebrow, laughing under his teeth. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Ok, if that’s how you want to play it…” Delk paused, leaning against the back of his chair, his arms crossed. “I’ll triple it.”
Jane closed his eyes, exasperated, and took a big breath. He didn’t want to make Delk mad and get an enemy, but the man didn’t want to get his point: he wasn’t interested in that job, period. Even if the first offer alone had been huge. “Listen, if you really want a psychic- even if I can assure you there is no such a thing, I can recommend someone. Sean Barlow, I can get you in touch with him, or if you prefer someone more spot-light oriented, there’s always Kristina Frey.”
But Delk just grinned, shaking his head. “I’m not interested in them, Mister Jane. I’ll be honest: what we are dealing with is a delicate internal affair case, and I want the best that there is.” He paused, gesticulating with his palms in Jane’s general direction. “And from my research, you are the best.”
Jane couldn’t help but laugh. That man was so full of himself… almost like Jane himself. “If you want me…” Jane started, and Delk stopped him.
“And I do, Mister Jane…”
Jane snorted, and then restarted from where he had been so abruptly interrupted. “If you want me, you’ll not get a psychic.”
“And that, Mister Jane, is what I want. So, you tell me you are just an observer and a knower of the human soul? It’s fine with me, because, let’s be honest: why would I need a charlatan con-man too busy to steal the money of the People of California to actually stop a crime syndicate?” Saying so, Delk smiled, and offered Jane his hand to shake. “I guess we could now discuss a serious offer….”
“And just for the record, Tommy, I knew you were bluffing when you offered to triplicate my salary.”
Half an hour later, after two failed attempts at calling Teresa, Jane was back in his apartment and decided that, if there was someone else who deserved to know about the offer, it was Danny. The little guy had always been a fan, had never had bad words for his brother-in-law after what had happened to Angela, and Jane guessed it had a lot to do with their similar experiences while growing up, and the fact that both of them had always had time-consuming jobs once they left the carnie world.
“Wow. That’s the most unorthodox way of getting business I have ever heard of, but…” he whistled, Danny’s young voice filled with mirth. “Congratulations, bro. When do you leave for the city of Angels?”
“I haven’t said yes, yet.” Jane replied, smiling. He was pretty sure that, at the other end of the phone, Danny was either rolling his eyes or cursing him. “Why should I move to Los Angeles, when my home and my family are here?” Yes, he was the first to admit that money was starting to lack, but he didn’t need a job that desperately. After all, in Sacramento he had his in-laws, Danny, and then, Charlie and Angela. If he wasn’t there, who was going to talk with his late wife every week? And mostly… how could he miss his weekly chat with her? He wasn’t sure he was ready yet to let it go of his past so completely. In the last two years he had always had this thin line connecting him and his beloved; leaving now would be like cutting it. Could he do it? Free himself from his obligation?
“Paddy, it’s a five hours drive.” Danny sighed, and Jane knew that the boy was rubbing his eyes. “You could always get back on the weekends.”
Jane sighed. Yes, it was true, but Teresa too was in Sacramento, and what was going to happen to their blossoming relationship if he decided to leave? He had started that “game” not to win her over, but because he wanted to teach her a lesson, and yet… yet, he had been the one to lose. Because Teresa had become something so much more important than what he had predicted, and he wanted her, all of her, all the time.
He needed her. He needed to talk with her, to know if he had been a fool or if there was a chance for him, a chance for them.
“Danny, I need to go.” He ended the phone call, and headed in the general direction of the capitol building; next to it, at the CBI, he knew that it was where he would have found her.