Page 10 of Jax

What he doesn’t know is if he thinks I’m going to be getting Jax in this outfit, he’s flat out wrong. This isn’t the look Jax goes for at all. He can’t dress me up like his perfect girl and expect me to get someone else.

Arguing with Psycho is fruitless though. He believes showing off skin automatically makes men crumble. Well,lessermen crumble. He thinks he’s above all that when really, he’s the worst of them all.

5

While the guys train that morning, the girls congregate in the big room. None of them say a thing about the noises coming from mine and Psycho’s bedroom even though the walls are thin and they undoubtedly heard his testosterone-filled display, as if getting a piece of ass maintains top dog status. I’m convinced he believes this. Little by little, he’s taken over everyone’s relationships, inserting himself here and there like he has a say in others’ business.

Most of the girls here think I’m lucky. The others know better and are smart enough to not bring attention to themselves.

Silently, the six of us pour our own bowls of cereal and lounge around the room. Since there’s hardly any seating, we prop ourselves up against walls or lean against the small row of semi-filled cabinets. From time-to-time, Psycho will pair us off to complete one of his cons. One time, three of us robbed one of the local bars. One girl took one for the team, sleeping with the bartender while I slyly emptied the register and the third girl was the lookout.

We all know we’re only here to do what’s asked of us, and in return, we get a place to sleep and some food. For a lot of us, it’s better than what we came from. I don’t know the other girls’ stories because I haven’t asked, but in their faces, I can see similar pasts to mine mirrored in their fractured, lost gazes.

I don’t ask their stories because it’s no use. I don’t know if the same girls will be here tomorrow. It’s possible Psycho could throw them out on a whim or they might try to escape. I’ve been here the longest. Because of that, I get some sort of ridiculous, unwarranted respect when in fact, it only makes me the stupidest girl here.

“What’s your plan of attack today?” Lyla asks, pinning me with her gaze while she props one hip on the sink.

I chew the stale cereal and swallow. Everyone here knows my role in our current big job. He probably has smaller ones running at the same time but he’s put a lot of emphasis on this one as if it’s our only meal ticket. He thinks this is his biggest idea to-date. He’s seen what the two businesses have done for Jax and his brother, and he wants it. “Go visit him again, I guess,” I tell her, hating the way I’m talking about Jax as if he’s only my next victim. “Try to make him see the opportunity.” That last word feels like hot sauce on my tongue. The onlyopportunityit affords for Jax is having what he’s worked so hard for get stolen.

Lyla rolls her eyes. She and I have been dancing around this dangerous alliance for a few months now. I’m not quite sure I can trust her and vice versa.

I wonder if she sees this whole scenario like I do. Why doesn’t Psycho just work for what he wants? He’d rather take it instead of going through the blood, sweat, and tears to build it. He’s lazy and cowardly. If he loved fighting as much as he says he does, then he wouldn’t mind all the hard work in building the same thing Jax and Finn have. Plus, this whole scenario rests on the two brothers being complete dumbasses. Jax and Finn are warriors, and not only because they beat people up in a ring. They grew up that way.

Psycho has a fight on his hands. He just doesn’t know it. The problem with Psycho is that he thinks he’s always the smartest man in the room. He might be the best con artist, but he’s successful because he preys on people who are susceptible to manipulations.

In my opinion, he’s met his match with Jax and Finn. They’re strong-willed and not likely to fall for whatever trap Psycho will make me set.

“Tiron told me you used to date this guy?” Lyla continues.

She looks at me doubtfully as if she can’t believe any of the women here have really dated anybody seriously. She most likely believes “dating” was a poor choice of words on Tiron’s part, and what he really should’ve said was that Jax used me for sex and then dropped me. “If you want to call it that,” I say, keeping up one of my only rules that I don’t share myself with anyone. The last time I tried to connect was with Psycho and look at how that’s bit me in the ass. I told him about Jax when we first got together, and he still remembered enough to make him our next target when my ex’s name started to get thrown around in the same sentence as luck. Luck and the Heights don’t belong in the same category.

Lyla nods as if that’s what she thought my response would be. Guilt and anger slam into me for downplaying my relationship with Jax. In the same respect, looking into her eyes and knowing that she’s never once felt what I had, makes the lie easier.

“I know you don’t need my help but use what you know about him to make this work.” She gazes around, face pinched. It’s a look that’s far too old for the age I believe her to be. “He’s got a hard-on for this one,” she whispers. “Almost like it’s personal.”

I’ve thought the same thing, unsure of why he’s planned this one when it seems so impossible. Why not go for a bunch of smaller, easier targets? Like the grandfather with the unspent retirement? I’m sure we could find a handful of those.

If I had to guess, it’s because Jax has everything Psycho wants. The notoriety, the fame. Deep down, he probably understands that he has my heart too. It’s something I thought he wanted once. It was a long time before I realized he only wanted my body like the others. That’s on me. I was too lost to look at things for what they were. Instead, I lived in a dream world, trying to make Psycho my new Jax. “I’ll do what I have to,” I tell her. Because isn’t that what I always do? I mean, I already ruined Jax once. What the hell is one more time? Myself above everyone else, right? My survival has always been my goal, proved again and again, but never more so than when I sat in that courtroom and told the judge and everyone else that Jax raped me.

I knew what it would do to him. I knew he’d go to jail. I guess I just didn’t care when I was faced with my own demise. K would’ve done far worse than send me to jail. He’d have killed meandJax. He’d done it before.

If only I knew then what I know now. K’s dead. Good fucking riddance. It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving scumbag, and if I ever met the person who did it, I’d kiss them.

“If you think he actually cares for you, why don’t you use that instead?” Lyla offers.

I clamp my jaw together. It’s none of her fucking business, and it doesn’t matter that she’s only trying to help. She’s too close to a subject I only ever wanted to be just for me. Now, everyone here knows that I used to be with Jax, even if they think it was for nothing but sex, they still know a part of me I was trying to keep all to myself, untainted by everything here. I glare back at her. “I got it handled.”

She shrugs noncommittally but now my hackles are up. I inspect her as she eats the rest of her disgusting cereal. Did someone put her up to this? Does she know more about Jax and me than she’s saying?

My first attempt at conning Jax was half-hearted. I know exactly how I can get him to welcome me back. He’ll deny it with every fiber of his being, but he likes being the white knight. He loved saving me before, and I know if I tried, I could get him to want to save me again. Will it change the way he feels about me? Probably not. But I can get close again.

I just don’t fucking want to. Hurting Jax is the last thing I want.

I finish my cereal and then search around the room for something to do so I can get the hell out of here and clear my head. I notice they’re down to a pack of cigarettes, so I take some petty cash from our shared room and head toward the corner store to buy a case. Psycho will think I’m trying to thank him for the orgasms this morning, and I’ll get to get away from the slums for a while. Win-win.

Before I leave, I pull on a ratty sweatshirt to cover up the nice outfit I’m wearing. I don’t want any overzealous men to think I’m walking the streets in search of a hook-up. Psycho’s pretty well known around here, and me too for that matter, but you never know when some newbies will show up and won’t be able to control themselves when they see a girl walking around in a revealing outfit.

The walk isn’t far, just long enough to get my head back on straight again before I have to go back. I smile at the old man behind the counter when I walk inside. The laminate flooring has seen better days, and the musty smell always makes my sinuses blow up when I leave but the company is nice. “What’s up, kid?” the owner asks.

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