Jackson
When Lizzie walks in Swank's, a part of me wonders if hell has frozen over. Years ago, when she left, that was the condition she gave for ever setting foot in this place again, and yet here she is.
Back in my life. Back in my club. Back like she never left at all.
Lizzie glances over her shoulder anxiously, probably hoping that no one saw her walk in. If I was her, I would be, too. This place doesn't exactly fit into the bougie-country-club-princess life she's grasping to, and I can only imagine what her high-and-tight husband would think if he found her here.
If he only knew what she was like back in the day. All unruly curls and wild ideas and a body sweeter than sin. A beautiful and all-consuming storm of passion and impulse. Opinionated and feisty and fiercely loyal to those she loved. An absolute force to be reckoned with. She's still as gorgeous as ever, but the Lizzie that's here today is nothing like that girl, and damn, do I miss her.
She looks around the club for me, but in the shadows next to the stage, I'm fairly hidden and I decide to let her sweat a bit. As our hostess approaches her, I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the wall, my eyes set on Lizzie.
The jeans she's wearing cling to every dangerous curve she's got and a black t-shirt hangs off of one shoulder, letting the black lace of her bra peak through. Her dark curls fall over her bare skin, cascading down her chest in perfectly defined spirals—not the tangled mess I remember. She's tense, but even behind those designer shades, she can't hide the captivation in her eyes. There's a part of her that's excited to be back here, and I fucking love that.
"Lizzie." I call out, emerging from my hiding spot. My voice startles her and she jumps.
"Hi." She nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. When she moves her arm, I see the scars just behind her elbow and a wave of fury washes over me like I'm seeing them for the first time. Lizzie follows my eyes and quickly puts her arm back down to hide them, but it's too late. "Sorry I'm late. I had a few errands to run this morning."
By errands, she means that she went to the cemetery. We had Emily's headstone bugged months ago just in case the people responsible showed up and confessed something. Lizzie's been there many times over the last few months, and I've watched her every time, listening to her talk to Emily's grave about old memories and how much she missed her. That's how I knew she'd show up today. No matter how she felt about me, she still loved Emily and this was killing her.
"Why don't we sit down?" I nod to an empty table by the edge of the stage, and Lizzie follows me toward it. I pull a chair out for her and then take a seat across from her. She's nervous, just like she was the first time she showed up at my club eight years ago. Part of me wishes I could go back to that day.
There is so much animosity between us now that it's hard to even imagine the kids we were back then. When I think about who Lizzie and I used to be, it's like watching a movie of someone else's life and I hardly recognize us. It's easy to say that she's changed, but the truth is, so have I. Maybe for the better, but probably for the worse.
"Can I get you guys something to drink?" Gina appears at the edge of the table, balancing a tray of cleaned shot glasses on it.
"Whiskey? Champagne? Blow job shot?" I wink at Lizzie.
She doesn't appreciate my humor, and rolls her eyes. "Whiskey, neat. Make it a double."
"Anything for you, Daddy?" Gina bats her eyelashes at me and I cringe. I'm sure Lizzie is going to love that.
"I'll have the same." I give her a tight smile, not even making eye contact.
Lizzie smirks, arching an eyebrow at me when Gina leaves. "Daddy?"
"It's just a nickname. You know how everybody likes those around here."
"Right." She folds her arms over her chest, her guard falling a bit as she leans against the table. "You forget I know exactly what goes on around here."
"Believe me, I don't forget, sweetheart. I remember every single second." A grin plays at my lips.
"How many times have you slept with her?"
What the hell does she think this is? Some kind of brothel? This is a dance club, and I'm certainly no pimp. "I don't sleep with my employees, Elizabeth."
Lizzie lets out a sharp laugh. "Well, I think we both know that's not true, Jackson."
She's got me there, that's for sure. "You've always been my exception, Junebug."
"Don't call me that anymore, okay?" She lets out a heavy breath, the reminder of her past stinging her deeply.
"Sure, whatever you want." I chuckle. Lizzie's eyes lock on the stage, glistening in the soft pink hue from the lights. "Go ahead and take it for a spin if you want. I'm sure you still know your way around my stage."
She presses her lips into a firm line, and glances away. "That was a lifetime ago. And if you remember, you were the one who pulled me off the last few years I was here."
"Because you were my wife, and I didn't want other men watching you dance. That body belongs to me."
"Maybe back then." Lizzie clenches her jaw.
"If you say so..."
Lizzie stands up in a fit of anger. "Jax, I came here to talk about Emily and if we're not going to do that..."
I grab her wrist, cutting her off before she can continue. "Sit."
For a moment, she looks scared of me, but soon it disappears. She jerks her arm back, flailing around. "Touch me like that again and I'll break your nose."
There's my girl. Turns out she is hiding in there somewhere.
"I'm sorry." I concede, holding my hands up in surrender. "You're right. We're here to talk about you helping me with the man who killed Emily."
"I haven't agreed to anything yet, Jax. And the longer this meeting goes on, the less likely it is that I'm going to." She's flustered, but there is a familiar fire in her eyes.
I nod. "Okay. At least let me explain, okay? I promise, no more bullshit. Completely professional."
"I wasn't aware you knew the meaning of the word professional." She quips, cautiously sitting back down.
"Like I said—for you, I can make an exception."
Lizzie is the only one I ever let get to me this way, and it turns out not a single thing has changed. I want to hate her. I want to sit here and see her indifferently and take care of the business between us, but instead, a rush of memories floods my mind. I remember what it was like to hold her in my arms. The smell of her hair, the curve of her body against mine, the way she'd fall asleep on my chest with her legs intertwined in mine. But even beyond that, the way she understood me, and challenged me and pushed me to be better in every single way. The way she loved me, took care of me, and put up with all the bullshit that came with being the crown prince of the Hale crime family.
We were so damn good together, and then it was just gone. The only reason I can hold it together is because there is a part of me that gets it. A part of me that understands and can even appreciate why she left. She's happy, and she's safe, and that's all that matters, but having her this close to me and knowing I can't have her is fucking torture.
If I'm going to get what I want from her, I need to rein it in.
"What do you want from me, Jax? Really. You asked me about my law license, but I haven't practiced in years. And why do you need a lawyer, anyway? Did you..." I don't like her accusatory tone, and I cut her off again.
"Before you say something you're going to regret, I don't need a lawyer because I was involved with Emily's death." I growl, irate that she would even suggest such a thing. It's been a long time, but she knows me better than that.
"I'm sorry." Her eyes fall. "I didn't mean to make it seem like I thought you were involved. I know you would never... I know how much she meant to you."
I clench my jaw. "They arrested the man who killed her."
"They did?" Lizzie frowns in confusion. "Well, that's great. What do you need me for, then?"
"I want you to defend him, Lizzie. I need him out on bail."
"Why?" She sucks in a sharp, knowing breath.
"I think you know the answer to that." I mumble. "I have to handle this myself. I can't take a chance on him getting out for some reason, and I need people I can trust."
Her eyes widen. "Jax, you can't honestly be suggesting I help you get a guy out of jail just so you can kill him. I could lose my license for this."
"What do you care? You bake pies now."
Lizzie groans. "Cakes, Jax. I make cakes."
"Whatever." I lean forward. "Look, you don't need to know the specifics. All I want to do is hire you to defend your client and get him out of jail. Case closed."
Lizzie covers her face with her hands, gently rubbing her temples in exasperation. "Jax... I got out of all of this a long time ago."
"I know." I nod. "And I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I had any other choice."
She doesn't answer, licking her upper lip as she contemplates what I've asked. I know it's a lot. I know what I'm asking is above and beyond what I should, but I'm desperate. I need justice for my baby sister.
"Please." I reach for her hand across the table and give it a squeeze. "For Emily."
Lizzie bites her lip, shifting her weight in her chair. "I'll think about it, okay? I can't make any promises today."
"Absolutely." It's not a yes, but it's better than a no. "Take all the time you need. You know where to find me when you've made your choice."
She nods and then stands up. "I'll talk to you soon."