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Jyn never dreamed of white picket fences.
She was the girl who lived in an apartment with no hot water, who fell behind in classes because she was too busy worrying about where her next meal would come from. She was the girl who was arrested at twelve, sent to correctional at fifteen, served time for two months at eighteen.
She is, simply put, the antithesis of the white picket fence dream. Angry, violent, drunkard, poor. A mess. A failure. The bottom of the barrel.
There’s nothing white picket fence about Jyn Erso, never would be.
She frowns at them now as she walks down the offensively clean sidewalk, wondering how the hell she ended up here. Why she thought this would be a good idea. This neighborhood is too nice for someone like her. Too normal. She should have worn a prettier dress.
She checks the address again, then rings the doorbell and waits. Bodhi opens the door a few seconds later, a dishtowel on his shoulder, some kind of red sauce on the corner of his mouth. Jyn holds up the giant gift box she’s carrying with a huge smile, her sour mood momentarily forgotten.
“Surpriiiiiise! Happy Thanksgiving!”
Bodhi blinks at her in shock.
“Thanksgiving is not – you don’t give gifts on Thanksgiving.”
“So? Can’t I just shower my brother and his boyfriend with pretty presents like the loving big sister I am? I missed out on a lot of Christmases and birthdays.”
Being in prison for three years will do that to you.
Bodhi looks at the box with suspicion as she lowers it back to her hip. It’s almost like he’s wondering if it holds a ticking timebomb or something.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Huh?”
“The gift? Where – how did you get the gift?”
Jyn’s smile drops. That’s where his mind goes to first? That she stole it?
Well, he wasn’t wrong. She did.
Still.
“Seriously, Bodhi?”
“Is that your sister?” A voice calls from the hallway, and another figure appears next to Bodhi a second later. He’s wearing a huge grin and a white shirt that has the pride flag printed across it. With sandy blonde hair and baby blue eyes, she can see why Bodhi would like him. He’s pretty.
Too pretty to be her type, but definitely Bodhi’s type.
“You must be Luke.”
“It’s so nice to meet you. Bodhi told me so much about you.”
“All bad things, I hope?” she teases with a half-smile. Bodhi shoots her a warning look, and Jyn holds up her free hand in a gesture of surrender. She’s just messing around.
Is he that on edge already?
Luke seems to find it funny, at least. He waves her inside with a laugh, and Jyn goes, relieved to finally be able to put down the heavy box.
Their place is nice. Nicer than she would have ever imagined Bodhi living in – not that he didn’t deserve it. But once upon a time, she thought he was just as far from the white picket fence fantasy as she was.
“Things change,” he told her when they first met up five days ago after she was released from prison. Yes, she thinks, eyeing the sleek TV on the wall, the beige IKEA couch, the bowl of fruit on the living room table – a home that belongs to civilized people.
Things do change.
Bodhi suffers through opening her gift with a pained smile, already sipping on a glass of white wine. She tries really hard not to be offended. Luke appreciates it though – a mixer she got at Target. Since Bodhi likes baking, she thought it was a nice gift.
He probably would have thought so too had she not stolen it – but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. She doesn’t have that kind of money, doesn’t even have a job yet, really. What’s a girl to do?
The rest of the evening goes fine. Bodhi loosens up a little when he sees that she and Luke get along and stops clutching his wine glass so tightly. His boyfriend is sweet and kind, maybe a little boring for her, but hey, to each their own. Some people like calm – she, of course, prefers crazy, though that’s neither here nor there.
But Luke’s great. He’s the kind of guy she would wish Bodhi to end up with. The kind who won’t fuck you over. She’s happy for them. Even if there’s an awkward moment when Luke turns to her and asks, “Wine? Oh, sorry – I forgot.”
He winces but Jyn waves a hand. Not a big deal. The good thing about prison? It’s also rehab. She hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in three years, and this is one habit she’d like to keep.
Luke shoots Bodhi a helpless look. “Do we not…”
“It’s okay,” she insists. “I don’t mind if you drink around me. I’m not a white wine girl anyway.”
Luke nods, visibly relieved that he didn’t fuck up, and pours himself some more. Later, after they’ve eaten themselves full with turkey and pie, he offers to clean up in the kitchen while she and Bodhi settle in the living room. A not-so-subtle attempt to give them some alone time, but she doesn’t mind. When they’re alone, Bodhi turns to her with an intense stare.
“So you’re sober, right?”
“Three years sober.”
Bodhi gives a couple of nods. “Good.”
They’re silent for a while. Jyn feels slow and sluggish, slouching on a nice cushy armchair. She can barely lift her head but in her defense, it’s been a long time since she had a meal that good, and she may have gone a little overboard.
“Since when do you celebrate Thanksgiving anyway? We’re not American.”
“Luke’s American.”
Jyn scoffs. She pushes herself up until she’s sitting straight and levels him with a look, lowers her voice.
“Does he not know about –”
“He knows.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“The issue?” Bodhi’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You showed up with stolen gifts, Jyn –”
“One stolen gift –”
“I don’t do those things anymore.”
An icy hand wraps around her heart, choking the breath from her lungs. She smacks her lips and looks away, nodding a couple of times.
“I see. I’m ruining Thanksgiving.”
“Don’t do that.” She can see him shaking his head from the corner of her eyes. She’s being childish, playing the victim. Like always. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re out. But things changed while you were in jail. I’ve got a job. I’ve got a house, I don’t want to –”
“Jeopardize that?”
“Well… yeah.”
“So go fuck yourself, Jyn, right?”
“That’s not what I said.”
He groans, pushing a hand through his hair in frustration. She knows – she knows that’s not what he meant, that she’s being irrational, that she’s putting all of this on him unfairly… but she feels backed into a corner, and like a wild animal, her first instinct is to snap. Bite the hand, even if it tries to feed you.
“No, but that’s what it sounds like. Lousy, good for nothing Jyn dragging you down again –”
“You haven’t been out for five days and you’re already stealing!”
“I just wanted to do something nice for you!” But now she feels stupid about it. Even when she’s trying to do something good, she messes it up. “Not all of us have rich boyfriends to support us.”
Shit.
That was too much.
Hurt flashes in Bodhi’s eyes, and he leans back, pressing himself against the couch. Like he’s trying to distance himself from her as much as possible, even though there’s already a table between them.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice wavering a bit, but she means it. He’s probably the only person she’d ever say those words to. How many times can she say it before it stops being enough? “But be honest with me… how do I fit into this shiny new life of yours?”
The desperation in her own voice makes her skin itch. Her mind screams at her to pull back, laugh it off as a joke. Don’t show weakness. But she can’t help it. All she has left in this world is Bodhi, and he’s leaving her behind. He’s turned over a new leaf, made something for himself, and she’s still stuck where she’s always been, at the bottom of the barrel. What do they even have in common anymore?
He has a nice thing going on here with Luke, and she doesn’t want to ruin that for him. But she doesn’t want to be alone again either.
Bodhi’s face softens as he watches her, realizing what’s going through her head. She fights the urge to bury her head in her hands and hide from the sympathy in his eyes. It’s not pity, but it might as well be – it’s that same uncomfortable feeling of being seen, being known. Deep down, she never stopped expecting him to turn away from the ugliest parts of her.
“You could just try too. Luke and I can help you find a job.”
“Yeah, I’m sure everyone’s just dying to hire an ex-convict with a drinking and stealing problem.”
“Jyn –”
“It’s not for me, okay, that life, it’s not me!”
She isn’t sure if she wants it to be, if she secretly longs for something stable and normal – but she’s sure she’d never fit into it. So she doesn’t waste her time wishing for something she could never have.
“I should go.”
She stands up, looking anywhere but at Bodhi. Her instincts have won. If she stayed for a second longer, she’d probably start crying, and then her humiliation would be complete. There’s no way that’s happening tonight.
She heads for the hallway, ignoring Bodhi as he calls her name and follows after her. Luke still hasn’t come back from the kitchen, and the realization dawns that he’s probably heard them arguing. Great. Her humiliation is complete.
One more reason to go. There’s no way she could look Luke in the eye tonight – or ever.
She grabs her stuff and hurriedly dresses while Bodhi stands helplessly in the doorway. Her appearance is a mess, the buttons on her coat half-undone and half buttoned in the wrong holes, her scarf just haphazardly thrown around her neck. She pulls on her shoes and finally turns to face Bodhi.
“I have a job.”
His eyebrows rise in surprise. He doesn’t get it yet.
“You do?”
“An old contact called me yesterday. I told him I’d think about it.”
“Jyn… no.”
“It’s what I’m good at, Bodhi, it’s what I do.”
Yes, she did get caught and had her ass thrown in jail – but that was due to a bad mix of recklessness and drunkenness. During those last days before her arrest, she really wasn’t in a good state of mind anymore. But that’s different now, she’s sober, she’s rational, and she’s a damn good thief.
Why else would Lando immediately seek her out days after she was released?
“I don’t know how to change.” Maybe she doesn’t want to. “But you have, and I’m happy for you. Really. I don’t want to mess it up for you. So… Bye.”
She hears him call after her but she’s already out the door and walking down the front porch. This nice suburban neighborhood doesn’t deserve someone like Jyn Erso tainting its picturesque streets. It will be better for everyone if she stays away.
Jyn sits at the bar counter, staring into the dark abyss of her nonalcoholic drink. A fucking coke. What a sad little sight.
She’d come here to pick up someone and forget her heartache for a night, but no one interesting caught her eye. She’d exchanged small talk with two men, and one woman, but they all left her dry as the Sahara. She hasn’t had sex in three years, she wants it to be good. Have people become more boring since she was in prison, or has she just gotten picky?
And what’s the point of bars if you couldn’t get drunk or hook up with someone?
Her night is getting more and more tragic by the minute, and her eyes start to wander to the bottles of alcohol behind the bartender. Calling her name. Jyn’s mouth goes dry.
She doesn’t want to think about Bodhi. His nice house. His nice job. His nice boyfriend. His nice life.
How good he is without her – better, even. When she went to prison three years ago, he was practically in the same place as her, minus the addiction. Now he’s happy and thriving, now that she’s no longer there to drag him down.
Her eyes scan bottles upon bottles, mind churning. She wants to forget. She wants to turn her brain off.
She won’t, though. She won’t.
“Hey.” She raises a hand to get the attention of the bartender. “I’d like a whisky, please.”
Damn it.
A part of her wants to take it back right away, but she doesn’t. The words sit on her tongue but her mouth won’t move. Story of her life, isn’t it? She truly is a goddamn mess.
The bartender puts the drink in front of her without fanfare, unaware of what it actually means for her. The outside world falls away as her focus narrows on that single glass with the amber liquid swirling inside, tempting her – daring her to take a sip.
Jyn’s hand slowly reaches for it and wraps around the glass.
Someone takes a seat next to her, and her head turns on instinct. She isn’t really expecting anything, her mind still on that glass of whisky, but then she gets a good look and her gaze lingers.
He’s looking at the bartender, unaware of her staring. Early 30s, sharp jawline, thin mouth, slightly crooked nose. His dark hair seems freshly washed and soft to the touch – she bets it’d be a delight to tug on it with his head buried between her legs. She bets the stubble on his chin would also feel fucking wonderful.
Wow.
Jyn blinks at herself. There she is. The inner slut she was looking for.
Interest stirs in her for the first time that night. His profile is handsome, yes – but there’s something else too. Something familiar in him that calls to her. Something dangerous in the set of his dark eyes. Something intense that leaves her heart pounding, whispering ‘yes, this is it, he’s the one.’
Plus he looks like he’d be a good fucking lay.
“Hi.”
His head turns, noticing her for the first time. The once-over he gives her makes Jyn shiver. His eyes seem even darker, even deeper now that he’s looking at her, and the curious glint in them leaves goosebumps on her arm.
Oh, hell. She has to get into his pants.
“Hello.”
His voice is calm, neutral, accented. There’s a lilt to it that makes her want to listen to it for hours – she bets it’d sound insanely sexy whispering dirty things in her ear.
Down, girl, she tells herself, trying to remain collected. She may have been way too into him already, but desperation is not a cute look.
“Do you want this?” She nods towards her whisky. Only now realizing that she’s completely forgotten about it in her deep fascination with this newcomer. His eyebrows raise at her strange offer so she adds, “I shouldn’t be drinking it.”
He pulls it towards him without taking his eyes off her but doesn’t drink from it.
“Not a drinker?”
“Not anymore,” she admits with a wry smile. He doesn’t press it, thankfully. “I’m Liana, by the way.”
She doesn’t mean to give him a false name, it just slips out. Old habits die hard. No harm done anyway; she doesn’t plan to see him again after (fucking his brains out) tonight.
“Joreth.”
She quickly checks out his left hand – no ring. Thank god.
“Are you waiting for someone?” she asks because she wants to be sure. He could still be taken, and it would be just her luck too. Much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t fuck someone’s boyfriend. That’s something the old Jyn would do, and she’s not that person anymore. For the most part.
“No. I’m here alone.”
Score.
“Me too. It’s a bit boring, to be honest.”
She’s laying it on thick, she knows, but she doesn’t really care. It’s been three fucking years, she doesn’t have the patience nor the skills to play it smoothly. And she’s never been charming enough to be good at flirting either.
Bodhi used to tell her she was blunt as a nail, but she preferred straightforward. You can like it or not, but you always know what you’re getting into it.
“I’m a pretty boring person too,” he tells her with a hint of humor in his eyes. She doesn’t really get the joke, but she raises her eyebrows in a challenge anyway.
“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”
His face holds secrets. It’s the face of someone who’s seen things, did things, had to fight tooth and nail just to make it to the other side. She knows because it’s the same face that greets her when she looks in the mirror.
Nothing about him seems boring.
“Are you sure? That guy there looks like he wants to keep you company. Maybe he’s more interesting.”
She turns to look. Tall guy with big muscles, covered in tattoos, clearly eyeing her cleavage. Not bad looking. But he doesn’t hold her gaze like Joreth does. Who, for his part, seems completely serious – if not for the small flicker of amusement in his eyes.
He’s teasing her.
“Is that your way of saying you want him to join us? Because I think it’s polite to wait at least five dates before you propose a threesome.”
He lets out a small laugh, barely more than a huff, but Jyn’s lips quirk in response. She wonders if she could get him to make that sound again – if she could get him to make other sounds.
But he doesn’t seem like the type who wants to take her home without a conversation first. Which she would have been perfectly fine with. But she finds she doesn’t mind talking to him either. For all her clumsiness at small talk, it’s not difficult to make conversation with Joreth who has a sharp mind and a sharp tongue that makes for good banter.
He tells her he’s a personal chef who’s only here for the weekend while he works for a client. She fabricates a story and tells him she’s doing a PhD in mathematics, currently working on her thesis about data assimilation.
He’s very impressed by that, and she almost feels a little bad. Not for deceiving him, but because she knows he wouldn’t be impressed if he knew what she really does for a living. It’s not a thing people are usually impressed by. But all things considered, she has a great time. She doesn’t think about drinking or Bodhi all night. She thinks about Joreth instead and his dark eyes and soft hair and what it would be like to kiss him.
She thinks about his head between her legs.
Then he takes her back to his hotel room and she makes those fantasies come true.
Jyn wakes to bright sunlight streaming through the white curtains and birds chirping outside. It’s still a novelty. She’s used to waking to the sound of guards banging their batons on the bar cells as they made their round through the block. A far less nice experience than this – soft and clean sheets under her, an arm loosely around her waist, a warm and naked male body pressed against her back. His even breathing lets her know he’s still sleeping.
Flashes of their encounter play through her mind: his lips on her neck when they kissed in the elevator, his dark eyes watching her when she dropped to her knees in front of him, his trailing slow kisses across her stomach, his hand gripping her thigh as he spread her legs and sank into her.
They did it on the bed, on the counter, against the wall.
God, last night was fun.
She squints at the clock on the bedside table and sees that it’s only 6:28. Far too early to wake up. Normally, she wouldn’t linger after a one-night stand but the comfy bed and the warm body wrapped around her are convincing arguments.
With a contented sigh, she burrows deeper into the blankets and drifts back to sleep. When she wakes again, it’s two hours later and she’s alone in the bed. The sound of running water streams from the bathroom; Joreth must be in the shower.
And that’s her cue to go.
Jyn drags herself out of the comfort of the bed and begins to collect her discarded clothing. It doesn’t take her long to dress and gather her belongings, but something makes her linger. She could just leave. Avoid the awkward morning after. But fuck, he was good in bed and he did say he was only here for the weekend – what’s the harm in seeing him again? A two-night stand. Then they’d both go back to their normal lives.
As she tries to decide what to do, her eyes snag on his suitcase by the wall, and curiosity sparks in her. What do personal chefs carry around in their suitcases?
She throws a quick look at the bathroom door, but the water is still running. Her mind made up, she runs to the suitcase and opens it without regret. She’s always been a nosy bitch; an occupational disease. What she was expecting, she wasn’t sure – cookbooks, maybe his laptop. Instead, two manila envelopes greet her, and her curiosity grows. She grabs the thinner one and pulls out the contents, frowning.
There’s a name and an address at the top of the page, followed by a very thorough, very detailed explanation of how to get there from this hotel. A photo of a generic white man in his 50s is clipped to the paper. Then a layout of an apartment, complete with another exhaustive description of its interior design. From where the coat and shoes rack stood to how the seventh step of the floorboard creaked when you stepped on it.
What the… All this for a chef? It doesn’t quite add up.
She doesn’t know what to make of it, but the suspicion in her grows, and she reaches for the second, bulkier envelope. There’s money inside.
Lots of money.
Dollar stacks upon dollar stacks – she quickly counts them and her eyes go wide. Fifty fucking thousand dollars?
Holy shit.
Jyn is frozen, staring at all that money in her hand, wondering what the hell she just stumbled upon.
No way this man wasn’t up to something shady.
She hears the water finally stop, and she scrambles to return everything to where they belong. But when she goes to put back the money, she falters. Her heart hammers as her mind races with a stupid, reckless, possibly dangerous idea.
Fuck… well, if the money suddenly disappeared, he’d definitely know it was her. But only once he realized it was missing, and by then, she could be long gone. What would he do, report her? Unlikely, since she would bet her life this money wasn’t acquired legally. She didn’t give him her real name, thank fuck, and when life throws fifty thousand dollars at you like this, you don’t put it back and say “no, thank you.”
She stuffs the envelope in her own bag and closes the suitcase. When he finally steps out of the shower, wearing only a towel, she’s sitting on the bed, pulling on her shoes. Her eyes linger on his bare chest for a second, regret flooding her as she remembers that insanely amazing thing he did with his tongue. She definitely can’t meet with him again.
A shame.
But fifty thousand dollars is fifty thousand dollars.
“Leaving already?” When Jyn nods and stands, shouldering her bag, he steps into her path, a hand curling around her waist. Loosely, not restricting. But she tenses anyway, all too aware of how close he is to that envelope of money in her bag she just stole from him. “I’m working tonight, but we could meet up and grab a late dinner together? I’d like to see you again, Liana.”
His voice, low and smooth, does things to her. It’s clear from his tone that he’s not just promising a nice meal if she agrees. The regret grows.
She leans up and presses a long, lingering kiss to his lips.
“I think we both know this was a one-time thing,” she tells him. “Goodbye, Joreth.”
The sun is going down when Jyn finds herself back at Bodhi and Luke’s home. Lingering in front of the porch outside, shifting from foot to foot as she watches their living room window, trying to figure out what to do. Inside, Bodhi and Luke are sitting on the couch, cuddling as they watch TV.
She could go in, apologize. Tell him she could try it his way. But that would be a lie, and she doesn’t want to give him false promises. She can’t go in there without meaning it. Truth is, she’s still a bad influence on him, still a dark stain on his new life. She was too upset to think rationally yesterday when she’d left so abruptly, but now she had time to calm down and think about it – and she realized everything she’d been thinking was still true.
He’s better off without her.
Bodhi laughs at something Luke says, and Jyn’s heart squeezes. The love in his eyes when he turns toward his boyfriend is evident even from the distance. She’s doing him a favor.
She walks up to their front door and places the envelope of money on their doormat. There’s a little sticky note attached on top with the word “SORRY.” They deserve that thirty thousand. And the remaining twenty should be more than enough to do something with her life.
Jyn rings the doorbell and runs.
Perhaps it’s the heartbreak of giving up her brother that makes her reckless enough to end up at the address she’s seen on Joreth’s file. Probably one of the stupidest things she’s ever done – and there had been a lot of stupid things.
But something has or will go down here, and her curiosity won’t let it rest. She almost wonders if Joreth’s a thief like her – has he robbed this place? Is that why he had the whole layout of the apartment in his documents? But then how did he have so much cash on hand?
She knows she should lay low because if Joreth ever finds her, she’s screwed. She stole fifty thousand dollars from him for fuck’s sake. Whatever he really does for a living, she can’t imagine he’ll react kindly. But the whole thing just nags at her, the face of that man in the picture haunting her thoughts. How is he connected to all this? What’s Joreth really doing?
Her recklessness will probably get her killed someday, but today, she doesn’t care.
Google Maps points her to an apartment block on a busy main road. Old but not worn-down. Orange bricks, tiny windows, a couple of balconies decorated with flower pots. Ordinary. From the looks of it, the residents must be middle class – no one that would have fifty thousand dollars just laying around like that.
Jyn sneaks in after a couple who’s just leaving and makes her way to the fifth floor, apartment 507. She listens quietly for a couple of minutes but no sounds come from inside. Out or just sleeping?
She rings the doorbell, ready with an excuse of spreading God’s word just in case someone answers. She’s also wearing a blonde wig to be safe, although if she ran into Joreth here, he’d recognize her face right away. (He spent too much time looking into her eyes as he fucked her not to.)
But no one comes to the door. She could pick the lock right here and now but there’s music streaming from next door, and a couple fighting on the opposite end, and she doesn’t want to risk anyone walking out at the wrong time.
She does know where the apartment is situated now, however. And she’s come too far to let it go.
Jyn makes her way back outside and heads for the fire escape on the side of the building. It doesn’t take her long to unlock the window latch once she finds the right apartment, and then she’s inside.
She isn’t sure what she’s looking for which makes finding it all the more difficult. Maybe drugs? That would be one explanation for all that money.
Jyn’s pretty good at finding secret stashes, has learned all the typical hiding places people liked to utilize. She flips over cushions, checks under mattresses, digs deep into closets, tries to feel out any loose floorboards, goes through cupboards, checks behind pictures, combs through books.
Nothing yields any results.
For all intents and purposes, this is the apartment of a single fifty-something white man whose most exciting possession is an autographed baseball. (She pockets that.) Nothing else stands out. She’s more confused than ever why Joreth had this man’s address and profile in his suitcase.
Jyn groans and flops down on the couch. She hates giving up. But there’s nothing here to find, so perhaps the mystery of Joreth will remain just that. A mystery.
A key turns in the door lock.
Jyn bolts up and makes a beeline towards the bedroom. She just barely has time to jump in the closet before she hears the front door opening and someone – two someones stepping inside.
Oh, hell. She’s fucked.
But the bedroom is facing the living room, and through the tiny crack in the closet door, she has a perfect view of two men settling down on the couch. One of them is the owner, the man from the photograph. Tom, she remembers the name.
The other is Joreth.
Bingo.
Despite the situation she’s stuck in, all her panic fades away, replaced by that familiar burning curiosity. Maybe she’ll get answers after all.
“Would you like a beer?” the man asks Joreth who nods.
“Yes, thank you.”
Tom returns in less than a minute, handing a can of beer to Joreth before settling back on the couch and opening his own. He takes a sip but Joreth just stares contemplating at his own.
“Sorry, could I get a glass of water instead? I still have to drive home, and my wife will kill me if I got a DUI.”
Wife?!
The bastard.
She fumes silently, hands curling into fists. She knew it was too good to be true.
Tom lets out a sigh but grabs the beer from Joreth’s hand, and heads back to the kitchen. Jyn’s still stuck on the wife part – I can’t believe I fucked a married guy – when Joreth produces a small transparent vial from his pocket and, with a swift movement, pours the content into Tom’s beer.
What… the fuck.
Her eyes go wide, her heartbeat picking up.
Was that – it couldn’t be.
Poison?
Where is this going?
Tom returns with the glass of water, and they begin discussing some baseball team or another, but Jyn can barely pay attention. Her eyes stay locked on the can of beer on the table, wondering when Tom would take a sip, and most importantly, what would happen if he did.
She doesn’t have to wait too long.
Tom finally lifts the beer to his lips and drinks. She cannot look away, but she doesn’t miss the way Joreth’s gaze follows Tom’s movements as well. Waiting?
For some seconds, nothing happens.
Then Tom starts coughing and spluttering, clutching at his chest, eyes wide in panic. Joreth doesn’t say anything, doesn’t lift a finger. He just watches.
Tom falls off the couch and stops moving.
Jyn’s heart practically beats out of her chest. Oh, holy fuck…
Joreth just killed that man.
He fucking killed that man – the layout, the notes, the money…
It makes sense now. He’s a…
Holy shit.
She fucked a hitman.
Jyn screws her eyes shut, unable to look at the body or Joreth’s traitorous face. A personal chef, what a fucking joke.
Oh, I’m a personal chef. I’m single. I’d like to see you again, Liana.
Oh, sure you fucking would.
Her thoughts spiral, from cursing him out and wishing she never met him to begging God or whatever higher deity is listening to let her walk away scot-free.
Please let this be over, please let this be over, please let this be over.
I promise I’ll be good, I won’t steal again, I’ll live a nice quiet life –
Oh, who the fuck is she kidding?
She won’t. But she doesn’t deserve to go out like this.
Her eyes open when she hears movement, watching as Joreth gets up from the couch, takes out a pair of gloves, and pulls them on. Is he about to get rid of the body?
It doesn’t look like it. He just grabs the glass of water that he never drank from and disappears into the kitchen. Getting rid of evidence that he was ever here. Only one can of beer remains, and a dead man on the floor. She wonders what the substance in the vial was, if they’ll be able to tell that Tom was poisoned.
If Joreth was a professional, probably not. Probably, this isn’t the first time he did this. Probably, he’ll walk away scot-free.
Another thought occurs to her that freezes the blood in her veins. She stole fifty thousand dollars from a hitman. What’s more, she gave some of that money to Bodhi.
Oh, fuck. No, no, no. Would he come after her? Would he come after Bodhi?
Stop it, she tells herself firmly, trying to breathe evenly. In and out. Calm, cool, collected. She could agonize over this later once she wasn’t locked in an apartment with a murderer.
Joreth returns from the kitchen and does one last sweep of the apartment. Jyn holds her breath, counting the seconds. It’s almost over. He’ll leave and then she can sneak out the way she came.
But just when she thinks she’ll get away with it, the phone in her pocket begins to buzz.
No, no, no.
There’s no sound but the buzzing might as well be like a gunshot in the silent apartment. She scrambles for her phone, declining the call from Bodhi, but it’s too late. Joreth’s eyes are locked on the closet she’s hiding in, and suspicion is written across his whole face.
He heads towards the bedroom. Jyn’s hands tremble.
What the fuck is she going to do?
She has no weapon, she has nothing –
Joreth throws open the closet doors, and she screams. It’s involuntary, but maybe a neighbor will hear, maybe someone will come to help…
His hand immediately wraps around her mouth, muffling the sound. Faster than she can blink, he has a gun pressed against her collarbone – from where he got it from, she has no idea. But she knows he’s not afraid to use it, and it’s enough to keep her from screaming again.
Frankly, she’s somewhat surprised she’s still alive at all.
Joreth drags her out of the closet and presses her against the wall, keeping the gun against her shoulder. Oh, how the tables turn. She liked it a lot better when he pressed her against the wall to kiss the living shit out of her.
“You. You’re not a mathematician,” he states, his voice cold.
“And you’re not a fucking chef.”
Amusement sparks in his eyes. This isn’t fucking funny, asshole.
“No, I’m not. You stole my money.”
“You really shouldn’t have fifty thousand dollars just laying around like that,” she says, her tone snooty. She isn’t sure why she’s biting back when he has a gun to her, it’s just in her nature. Perhaps it’s the only weapon she has left, and if she’s going to die, she’ll die being herself.
“People usually respect each other’s privacy.”
She snorts. Maybe in his world.
“You’re a thief then?”
“And you’re a hitman?”
He doesn’t answer that, but his silence is confirmation.
“So let me get this straight. You stole my money. And then you were stupid enough to follow me here? Why?”
Jyn gives him a weak grin, lifting her shoulders.
“I don’t have good self-preservation instincts.”
Joreth says nothing for a long time. His gaze feels assessing, but she can read nothing from his closed-off expression. She wonders what he’s thinking. Is he deciding if he should kill her? Is he wondering what was the best way to do it?
What does he see when he looks at her?
“That’s truly a shame,” he says at last. It feels like final words.
And sure enough, he lifts the gun from her shoulder and presses it against her temple. Jyn screws her eyes shut, her lip trembling.
So this is it then. The end of the line. Who’s going to miss her, she wonders. Will people come to her funeral? Will they say nice things about her? Will they lie and say she was a good person, a kind person, someone who had such potential to do something great with her life?
Probably not. Lies and thefts and disappointments, those will be her legacy. In a couple of years, people will look back and think “it’s a shame about Jyn, but everybody could see it coming, what did she think was going to happen?”
Jyn takes a deep breath, waiting for the bullet.
Bodhi, I’m sorry.
She hears a disgruntled hiss, and the gun lifts from her temple. Her eyes open slowly. Joreth looks angry and frantic, rubbing his jaw as he paces the room back and forth. She tracks the gun in his hand with worry, but slowly lifts her gaze to his face when he stills.
They stare at each other.
Why the hell didn’t you shoot me, she wants to ask.
Someone begins knocking on the front door. They both startle.
“Tom? Tom, are you in there?” a woman calls from outside. Jyn turns back to Joreth who’s still watching the door with increasing panic. Or what she thinks is panic for him. There isn’t a lot she can read on his face, but his eyes are a bit more expressive.
Things are spiraling out of his control fast, and she has the feeling he isn’t used to that.
“Let me open the door,” she tells him on a whim. His gaze snaps back to her, shock, confusion, suspicion warring in his eyes. But the lady outside doesn’t seem to want to go away, and they have to deal with it fast before she decides to call the police. “I’ll get rid of her. Let me open the goddamn door.”
She won’t gain anything from this woman inserting herself into the picture. If the cops are called, Joreth will definitely kill her. But if she could convince him that she’ll stay silent, maybe even help him get away, then…
Joreth thinks for a long second before nodding. He gestures towards the door with the gun and tells her firmly, “No funny business.”
Translation: I could still shoot you.
Jyn looks down at her appearance, then pops the top two of her buttons undone, ignoring the confused look Joreth shoots her. She runs her hand through her blonde wig, messing it up a bit, then pinches her cheeks, trying to get some blood flowing.
The front door opens to reveal a middle-aged blonde woman with a pixie cut standing outside, hands on her hips with a stern expression. For a second, Jyn feels a bit like a child being chastised by a teacher and she hasn’t even said anything yet.
“Hi there.”
“You’re not Tom,” the woman notes with suspicion.
“Nope,” Jyn agrees, popping the p. “He’s inside. Resting.”
The woman tries to peer inside but Jyn holds the door firm, a pleasant smile on her face.
“I heard someone scream.”
“That was me. Things got a little… wild if you know what I mean.” She lets out a girlish giggle, widening her eyes with thinly veiled innuendo. The woman’s frown deepens with surprise, but she doesn’t seem entirely disbelieving.
Time to lay it on thick.
“I know, you’re probably thinking… what’s a girl like me doing with a guy like him? I mean, sure, he’s paying me, but if you knew that tongue trick he’s capable of –”
“Okay, I’m sorry to bother you!” the woman quickly interrupts, her tone dripping with barely concealed disgust. “Tell Tom he still owes me those two eggs I let him borrow the other week.”
“I sure will,” Jyn chirps with false enthusiasm and finally slams the door on her face. For a second, she just leans against the door, a relieved sigh on her lips.
Then she turns around to face Joreth, a little smug. She’s good, what can she say?
“Congratulations,” he tells her with a wry smile. “Now you’re officially the last person he was known to be with.”
They sit side by side on the couch with the morbid presence of Tom’s corpse keeping them company. Jyn’s itching to leave but Joreth won’t let her go just like that, and it seems like he’s still trying to decide his next step.
It doesn’t look like he’s about to kill her, but she still isn’t sure what he plans to do with her.
“Where’s my money?” he asks roughly ten minutes after either of them said anything. Jyn lifts a shoulder.
“There’s twenty thousand left. I don’t have the rest.”
“You already spent it?” He sounds baffled.
“I just don’t have it anymore.” She looks at him, a little confused as well. “You knew the money was gone but you still killed him?”
“The client paid me for it. It’s not his fault I was stupid enough to lose it.” Jyn inclines her head. Fair enough. “Besides, if I don’t finish a job, that reflects badly on me.”
“God forbid. Hitman Daily might publish a scathing exposé on you.”
“Har-har.”
“Why’d you kill him anyway?” she asks, unable to quiet the voice in her head that wants to know. The stupid curious little bitch that got her in this mess in the first place.
“It’s my job,” he says like she’s stupid for not already getting that.
“No, why did someone want him dead?”
A pause.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I didn’t ask.”
“You killed him and you didn’t ask?”
“None of my business, is it?”
“Well, actually...” She would argue it is. If she was paid to kill someone, she’d want to know why.
More silence follows when Joreth doesn’t rise to the bait. Another thought occurs to her, and she turns to him again, a little outraged.
“I can’t believe you asked me on a date after this. So you just planned to kill someone and then fuck me like nothing happened? Really?”
Joreth snorts. His expression is amused, a little heated, and – dear fucking god, no. He might be hot, but she isn’t going there. Ever again.
“You’re surprisingly calm about this.”
Yeah. She has to be.
“I’m trying to convince you to let me go.”
His expression sobers, all traces of humor or flirtation wiped clean.
“I cannot let you go,” he says, but he almost sounds regretful about it. It doesn’t make her feel better. “You saw me kill someone.”
“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?”
Joreth doesn’t answer right away. He turns away, his eyes staring off into nothing. His voice is nothing but a murmur, barely audible. “I don’t know.”
“Please…” she begins, a little pleading. She didn’t want to beg but goddammit, she’s fresh out of options. And if she’s right, if he’s really this reluctant to kill her… maybe she can persuade him somehow. “You clearly don’t want to kill me. Just let me go.”
“I can’t.”
“Then what do you want?” she bursts out, losing her patience. Still too terrified that she wasn’t leaving this apartment alive. That fear was probably evident in the way her voice trembled.
But Joreth doesn’t seem affected, his expression dead calm as he turns back to her.
“You owe me.”
“What?” she frowns.
“You owe me thirty thousand dollars, and I’m sorry, Liana, but you don’t get off that easy.” He stands up, no sign of his earlier hesitation. Finally made up his mind, it seems. “You work for me now.”
And that’s how Jyn becomes not just an accomplice to murder – but a hitman’s reluctant assistant.