The Only Thing You Ever Lacked

February 10, 2017:

In an attempt to let her sister in, Jessica Jones taps Trish Walker for a simple case, resulting in warnings, a heart-to-heart, and the vanquishment of an old foe.

The Bronx, NY

Characters

NPCs: None

Mentions: Bucky Barnes, Jane Foster, Captain America, Azalea Kingston, Red Robin, John Constantine, Matt Murdock,

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

It's been a day or so since Jessica's embarrassing display at the Foster-Barnes apartment. Out of the blue, Jessica calls Trish at a time when she knows the radio show wasn't going to be a factor.

She barely gives a chance for Trish to say civil hellos before she launches in: "I need to do some surveillance on a fraud case, and I need to talk to you. If you're interested, I could actually use a car and a driver for this thing. It's sordid, and boring, and you'll probably sit there holding your pee for longer than you really ever wanted to, but…it would be nice to have you there. Your own car is fine."

There's no telling what her plan is supposed to be if Trish tells her to step off, but hey.

Trish almost pulled her phone down to double check who she was talking to. Jessica was calling her for help?? This was too good to pass up. Trish checked her watch, a huge toothy grin spreading across her face. It would be good for the two women to spend some time together, after everything that Jess had been through recently

"I'll be there in about twenty minutes, traffic willing. That do for you?"

Trish hung up and walked to her closet to pull out what she considered to be her 'undercover' wear. She put on black skinny jeans, a long sleeved black tee shirt underneath a black zip up hoodie, with a black toque, and black leather jacket to finish off the look. She tucked the tail of her hair up under the toque and added her biggest dark sunglasses for effect. After making sure she was together in the mirror, she locked up her apartment, and drove over to get Jessica.

On the drive over, Trish contemplated all the different reasons Jessica would need to talk to her. It could have been the drop in the other day with Azalea, or it could be about the poster. It might be completely unrelated too. And if it was just to have some simple girl time, well, Trish's glove box was stocked with all her favorite candy and chocolate.

Trish pulled up in front of Jess’s apartment building taking the one available space that had just opened up. She put the car in park, debating whether to go up to Jess’s door, or just patiently wait for her sister to come down.

Jess gets in the front seat of the car; apparently she'd been waiting. She stares at this get-up Trish is wearing. A wry smirk begins playing at her features, first at her eyes, then at her mouth. "I said surveillance, not convenience store robbery."

She is not the crying, pathetic thing of the other night. Neither is she the relatively healthier Jess who had shown up with Apology Cake. She is back to baseline; the sardonic, often impolite Jessica who feels a dull ache inside at all times and who handles it with her own brand of sometimes unkind humor, lots of work, and high, thick walls that won't let anybody inside. Though she is sober, at least.

She buckles in, leans back in her seat, and says, "332 Sherman in the Bronx." Apparently Trish's 'undercover' wear isn't offensive enough to call a halt to the entire mission. She checks the charge on her phone and softens enough to say, "Thanks. This actually will help me." She can see for herself how important this is to Trish, how eager she is. It softens her, just a little.

Reminds her there's more than one kind of love, and despite her crushing disappointments she's got a lot to be grateful for. It's a thought she wouldn't have been capable of last year, so…

Perhaps she's not entirely back to baseline.

Trish’s initial smile at Jessica’s arrival froze to solid ice at Jessica’s jab at her outfit. Icy green eyes peered over the top of her glasses as she glared at her sister. Satisfied that Jess got that she wasn’t impressed her bad joke, Trish slid her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Very pointedly, with the middle finger of her left hand.

Trish put the car in gear and pulled into traffic, once she was given an address. Even though Jess’s jab kinda stung, it wasn’t enough to put her off the whole outing. Her one concession is to take off the toque and toss it in the back seat, blowing loose hair out of her face.

“You called me, remember. And you’re welcome. You’re still my sister, even if you are a hard assed wench sometimes.” Trish tossed a grin at Jess as she double checked the GPS to make sure she was going the right way. “I’ve got a couple extra chargers in the center console, if you need one, and chocolate in the glove box.”

Trish stomped on the break and hit the horn as some idiot cut her off. “ASSHOLE! LEARN HOW TO DRIVE!” she shouted at the car ahead of her, completely uncaring that they couldn’t hear her.

“So what are we doing? Chasing a cheating spouse, looking for stolen good, or something superheroish?”

The flip-off makes Jessica's shoulders shake with sudden chuffs of much-needed laughter. She'd really forgotten how much she appreciated Trish's ability to meet her bullshit with her own variety of snark.

Or maybe she just never had appreciated it till recently.

Jessica isn't normally much of a chocolate person, but…she goes for it now. She rips open the package and sticks some in her mouth. The sugar hits her system, offering a burst of raw endorphins, and she sighs, closing her eyes. "Workman's comp fraud," she says. "Our target, Mr. Thompson, has told his job at the phone company that his back is in bad shape; he's collecting checks on this premise. The insurance company wants to make sure he's not full of shit. So we'll go sit outside his house. If he goes to the gym or fixes his roof or whatever else we'll snap a few photos. Anything that's inconsistent with the story he's given, we'll document. If he doesn't come out of his home for a full 24 hours I'll contrive a reason to go inside in more professional clothes and see if I find him more or less in his bed or on his couch. Sometimes, believe it or not, the target is telling the truth, but you'd be surprised how many people malinger."

Her smile is crooked. "Sorry, I'm fresh out of superheroish things today."

Trish shrugged, unconcerned at the apparent lack of superhero flavor to today’s particular mission. It was still quality time in the car with Jess, which was always something she enjoyed. Well….usually enjoyed, but so far so good so hopefully Trish didn’t just jinx herself.

As she drove them towards their target, Trish tapped thoughtfully on the wheel. “That’s alright; I really don’t need any more excitement after Captain America’s best friend pulled a gun on me. I really wouldn’t be surprised at all at the supposed malingering masses. It’s a hot button topic that never fails to light up the board on a slow day. ‘Tell me your thoughts on how many are draining the system today’ and I get the rest of the show off. My producer hates it, but, meh.”

Trish studied Jess in her peripherals mostly, just so they wouldn’t crash. It was good to see her in better shape than when Trish had found her at Jane and Bucky’s place. It had taken a good hour after a really long bubble bath for her knees to finally quit wobbling from her experience of looking down the barrel of a gun. “How are Jane and Bucky, by the way? Nice people, but I think I told you that already.”

Jessica grimaces. "Probably better now that I've fucked off and let them have some peace. I should never have bothered them like that." Guilt makes her hunch in her seat and toss the half-opened chocolate right back in the dash. "They're good people. And he wouldn't have shot you without verifying your identity. He's just been through a lot of shit, and he needs to be careful. He probably had one on me when I knocked too."

She seems patently unconcerned.

She looks out the window and notes, "I think I'm going to go get my driver's license. Not that having you drive me around isn't great stuff, and having the company on surveillance is good, but…fuck letting the accident control my life for the rest of forever. I don't think I'll ever like doing it, but…just fuck it. So after this I could use a refresher on how if you feel like putting your car at risk somewhere low-traffic." She crosses her arms, uncomfortable asking for the help but asking all the same.

Trish rolled her eyes behind her glasses at Jessica as she hunched in the seat, tossing the chocolate. The explanation for the gun was certainly appreciated, though not exactly needed. It was his place, after all, to defend as he saw fit. “That’s reassuring as I don’t think I’d like being shot”, was all she felt needed to be said on that particular matter.

Annoyance flared at Jessica’s self-deprecating words. “Why do you do that all the time? For fuck sake, Jess, if people didn’t want you in their life, they’d let you know! Obviously they care about you, or they wouldn’t have invited BOTH of us to stay. I mean, I just barged in out of the blue, and they couldn’t have been more gracious if they tried.” Trish shook her head and huffed a sigh. She immediately regretted her outburst of temper but there it was. Jessica always managed to bring that out in her with the least amount of effort.

“I’m sorry. I think it would be good for you to get back behind the wheel. We’ll find some deserted mall parking lot to start in, after I make sure all my premiums are up to date. Chuck it in the ‘fuck it’ bucket and move on, amiright?” Trish slurred the last three words into one, complete with an elbow jab.

"You're so cute when you try to be edgy," is Jessica's retaliatory comment. But she's smiling, just a little bit. "I just meant I was inconsiderate. I'd think you'd appreciate me trying to learn how to be all graceful and shit."

She straightens a little bit though, Trish's brand of exasperated truth telling pumping a little more confidence into the perpetually leaky tire of her self-worth.

As they finally reach the house she says, "Okay, park right there on the street, then push your seat back a little bit. As long as we don't move too much most people don't notice folks sitting in a car. We'll see what we can see."

With that out of the way, she hesitates for a moment. Then she says, "Listen, Trish…I wanna talk to you about Azalea." This has taken on a slower, more delicate tone, as if she's choosing her words with care and concern. She is looking at the house, not at her sister, but she is suddenly intent on Trish in a way that she wasn't before.

Trish couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out as Jess called her ‘cute’. Her little outburst got Jess sitting up straighter for the moment at least, so it was a win in Trish’s book. She pulled into the spot Jess indicated without any further incidents. Trish resisted the urge to put the seat completely back all the way, stopping at just a couple inches.

Jessica’s new intentness put Trish on high alert. What could she possibly want to talk about Azalea for? Was it the poster? Trish chewed on the side of her thumb before answering.

“What about Azalea?” she asked as casually as she could. Which really wasn’t very casual if she was totally honest with herself.

Jessica doesn't seem to care about the poster, because if it were about that there would probably be another zinger involved. Instead she says, "There's things you should know about her if you're going to be her…friend." She trails the end of that off a little doubtfully, unsure of the status, but friend seems safe enough. "She needs friends, and I think you could be a good one to her, but…being her friend involves an element of…risk."

She grimaces, knowing this is not going to drive Trish away in the slightest. Trish wants her shot at being a hero. But Jess can't find it in her to deny it to her. The Red Robin did what he did with the benefit of training and equipment, and if Jess didn't exactly want to see Trish getting shot at out there she had to admit her sister had gone and gotten more formidable. It wasn't fair to underestimate her.

Neither would she allow the blonde to go in unprepared and uniformed about the girl she'd taken under her wing. Not knowing how Azalea Kingston felt about Trish, especially.

Contrary to popular belief, Jessica can be delicate when delicacy is called for. She wouldn't have survived as a PI were this not the case; one has to know how to approach different people and situations. Sometimes polite and professional, sometimes warm, sometimes harsh. Often, these emotions are calculated, not genuine, but they can be combined with something more authentic when the situation calls for it.

The situation definitely calls for it today.

Trish’s confusion was plain on her face. The way Jess hesitated over ‘friend’ and ‘risk’ had her curiosity spiking. True, Az had seemed a little strange, but likable enough. At least Trish’s ego had certainly liked the other woman, and the rest of Trish had too.

“I thought Azalea was pretty cool, if a little strange. But I didn’t think too much of it, since you’re also a little strange. And Cindy, who can sit on the wall, is definitely strange but in a different way. I saw her by the way, but didn’t say anything as she seemed pretty geeked out by it.”

Trish shifted in her seat to really look at Jess, suspicion starting to creep in, the more she thought about it.

“Does Az have gifts, like you and Cindy? Is that what you mean by risk in being her friend? Because I like her and won’t spill secrets or anything.”

Jessica wishes she had a cigarette. But she's trying not to take that habit up again, and she's glad Trish missed the stage when she had. She can only imagine what her sister would have said about that.

Instead she reaches for the chocolate again. The cellophane wrapper is loud in her own ears as she tears it down, revealing a square. She breaks it off and says, "Yes, she's gifted," she allows. "And yes, she's a cool kid. But her gifts didn't come from an accident, like mine. And I don't know how Cindy came to be, but I do know about Azalea."

She pops the chocolate into her mouth and lets it melt before saying, "Her soul is merged with the soul of Xihunel the Sky Serpent, a dark Aztec God who has roamed the world, jumping from body to body as he stalked women and killed them. A magical accident merged her soul with his until they are inseparable. Can you imagine? One moment you're a normal college kid, you're dating guys, you're playing guitar, your life is going okay. The next, you walk down the wrong street, get caught in the wrong thing, and there's a 10,000 year old rapist in your head, wrapping his tendrils around your mind, manipulating your impulses, changing your preferences."

Not hard to see why Jessica has taken an interest in this girl.

"Turning you into someone you weren't. She is a deadly fighter now, and she has in the past tried to manage the god's dark impulses by running around as a costumed super-hero. She lets him hurt bad guys. She stalks BDSM clubs…that's where I found her when her parents hired me to track her down the first time. And her memories merge in and out of his, like tides surging in and out. One minute she's looking at you like you're the best thing that's ever happened to her, the next she's enthusiastically telling you about stalking women in Paris 200 years ago."

Trish’s mouth dropped open and her eyebrows tried to climb off her forehead. She would have sat straight up, but had forgotten to take her seat belt off, which made for a rather comical moment when she struggled to untangle herself. What Jessica told her actually helped Trish to understand that moment they’d shared when Trish had started her toast in French. It also explained some of the predatory looks Az had given her.

“A what?” Trish squeaked. She grabbed for her own bar of chocolate. “Dude, seriously? An Aztec rapey God? Holy shit!”

It’s rare for Trish to be stunned into speechlessness, especially as a radio host. She flopped back in her seat and shoved a chunk of her bar in her mouth, using the time it took for it to melt to think.

“So she’s dangerous, but it’s not really her fault?” Trish shrugged one shoulder, trying to wrap her head around the whole thing. “Technically so are you, but I keep you anyways. Are you saying I shouldn’t be alone with her, or just to be aware and careful if I am?”

"Right. Dangerous, but not her fault."

Jessica is tempted, for one moment, to tell Trish not to be alone with her. But that would do both of them a disservice.

She needs to stop sheltering her sister. She doesn't want to. If Trish doesn't need her to protect her anymore, then…

The thought brings a lump to her throat. Whatever Trish thought of Jessica's tendency to shove her out of her life, deep down Jessica wants to be in hers. She just has very stringent requirements for how she should be involved, and that mostly involves her beating the shit out of anyone who hurts her, or stepping in to ensure nobody is an asshole to her. What does she do when she can't do that, or when she's no longer required…?

She shoves that thought aside savagely. She can't have this conversation and also grapple with more fucking emotions. Still, she'll pay for it later, she knows it. She can feel the cold creeping back in.

She unwraps more chocolate. "The latter. Be aware and careful."

A pause. "I…set her on a path. It…seemed right. Felt right. But…I screw up so much trying to do the right thing. I'm scared. Scared I made it worse." She's gearing up to try to tell Trish what she did, her own uncertainty bleeding through.

Trish felt her throat thicken at the uncertainty coming from Jessica. She wanted to take Jess’s hand and say something wonderfully inspiring, that would have them both crying first, then laughing at themselves, but she couldn’t think of what to say. Sometimes words just can’t make it better, no matter how much you want them too. What she does instead, is take another bite of chocolate.

“Mmmph.” It was a chocolate muffled sound of encouragement for Jess to continue. It seemed like this was something that Jess was going to have to get out in her own good time, and prodding wouldn’t help at all.

It was heartbreaking to hear Jessica talk about herself like that. It made Trish want to grab her by the shoulders and shout ‘You’re not a screw up! Bad things happen to good people, get over it!’. She didn’t though. She sat in the car, half ass watching for someone to leave the house they were watching, eating chocolate, and mentally willing Jessica to quit beating herself up all the time.

It's probably just as well Trish just keeps that to herself. Jessica has been fighting that battle for as long as Trish knew her, even before Kilgrave. After…

Well, after has been after, and after has meant that every scrap of confidence she gets is hard won. It also means it's all lost just as easily. She's had precious weeks lately where she's felt great. That's something.

She takes the Jewel necklace in her hand, rubbing her thumb slowly over it.

"She's met John— I'll introduce you, you'll like him, he's great. If he could have done something for her, he would have. He doesn't fuck around when things need to get done. He just does them. So that means he's not sure what to do. He just warned me to be careful."

She finishes the candy and shoves the wrapper into her pocket.

"Meanwhile, Az admitted she was scared she was losing her humanity. I told her that Xihunel wasn't her fault, but…he's her responsibility now. That I thought things had progressed too far for her to continue treating him like an interloper who makes her do things. That she has to basically be a human that has done these things, to mourn them, and decide that from now on, she's going to atone for those things. That this might basically turn her into Xihunel, but maybe a heroic one, basically. Because she's decent, and, well. Maybe he is ready to atone. He went and possessed someone that decent. Because I don't think this 'let's just let the steam off' thing is working for her. I think she's getting worse. So…best case? She does it just like that. She achieves a heroic synthesis, becomes better, stronger, and moves forward. Worse case? He drowns the angel of her better nature and destroys her, leaving only someone who…"

A long silence, heavy. "Will have to be dealt with."

Trish marveled at how most of that advice could be applied to Jessica herself, but refrained from pointing it out. They were having a really good talk, and Trish didn’t want to spoil it. She did however file all that away for future use on her sister.

“Kinda like Angel, the dreamboat Vampire with a soul, huh?”

That was a much safer route, random pop culture references that were completely safe, and not at all designed to make one take a deeper look at oneself.

“I’ll cross my fingers that it works out and no one needs to be…’dealt with’. “ Trish bit her lip before continuing. “I think you did the right thing there Jess. We both know how ‘just letting off steam’ doesn’t really solve anything. Doesn’t matter what form that takes, be it drugs , or in Az’s special case, chains and whips or whatever.”

"Be careful with that comparison." Normally Jessica might tease about Trish's nerdy side, but not now. Not today. "She's got a thing for you. It could easily blossom into something deeper. And as we've established, heartbreak can suck. If you're not interested…best say so up front and carefully. If you are…best be extra-careful. She could turn abusive in a heartbeat, and if you find you want out you could find yourself in the unenviable position of needing to get away from someone knowing their reaction might be dire and dark. And no matter how much you tell yourself that her actions are her responsibility…you won't feel that way, and we both know we won't, not really. It will be worse than with your mother…if you go down that road, Az really will need you."

Jessica had to make sure Trish understood precisely what she was doing with Azalea Kingston.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, anyway."

And then something that might surprise Trish most of all. "If you do decide to at least be her friend, I could use your help. I have to go to Germany. I could be gone a few days, I could be gone up to a month, depending on how things go. She needs someone she likes and trusts to spend time with her. My absence there could be a sore spot. Given your new ninja training I trust you to at least surprise her and get free if she turns violent…as long as you don't tell her about your ninja training, and don't bring her into your apartment so you always have somewhere safe to run. But…I don't know anyone with more compassion than you, or more strength for dealing with difficult individuals. And…not that I think you should pity her or treat her like a case— anything but that— but I think you'd be displaying your own levels of Cap-level courage if you did this. Not all heroics happen with fists. I couldn't turn my back because she is so much like me it hurts my heart to watch her sometimes, but…you don't have to be involved the way I did."

Many different expressions crossed Trish’s face, from confused bewilderment to dawning understanding. While her hair was blonde, Trish wasn’t exactly a stereotypical one that spawned all the bad jokes. Except when it came to matters of the heart, well Trish’s heart anyway.

“Az has a thing for me? I didn’t, I mean, I wouldn’t, you can’t think I’d…what?!?” Trish felt the color rising to her cheeks. It wasn’t so much the fact that Az was a girl that was making Trish so flustered, but the Aztec God part of things. Okay, just the rapist part.

“Of course I’ll be her friend. I mean, I need to think about the…other, but I’ll definitely be her friend. A non-pitying, secret ninja, never at home but always available for coffee kind of friend.”

Mentioning her mom was the best way to get Trish to pull hard on the reigns of a headlong rush into a messy situation that couldn’t help but end badly. It could be great too, but caution was the way to go this time.

“You really think I can be a hero?” Trish asked, picking out the safest topic, with the least amount of emotions attached.

"Trish. I'm not going to judge. I am a woman who got raped who essentially took a rapist into my home, if you want to look at it a certain way." Jessica suddenly sounds just…so exhausted. "If you want to look at the evil of it and not the good, which is I took in a girl who was hurting. Nor am I going to presume what you might want or need. I care too much about you to stop you from making your own choices. Yes, I want to protect you and I get pissed off when people treat you like a throw away piece of ass, but that doesn't mean I think you're incompetent, okay?"

She grips her necklace so hard it hurts, swallowing. "Trish. You're already a hero. Heroes do two things I guess. They give a damn and they try to make things better. I'd say you have that in the bag. I mean I'm the last person to be an expert but…I guess…"

She struggles for words.

"In the past three months I've hit things, investigated things, leapt into danger, been shot at, been tazed, been tied up and imprisoned. But that was all just…the work I was doing."

She lets the necklace go, letting it swing back against her neck. "The few times I've really felt like a hero were not about that. It was about a different kind of stepping up. The moment where…where I saw we needed a leader and I…found I could do it. The moment where…the brave thing was to turn my back on the pretty fantasy for the harder reality, even though in the fantasy…I was everything I thought I wanted to be. It wasn't even like I had to lose you there; I could have just walked up to your radio station and let you interview 'Jewel' and worked to become your friend. The moments when I've let people cry on my shoulder or…when I've figured out how to admit my screw ups, or when I've even asked for help and found everyone surging to do it…that's when I've felt like a hero. Those are the moments I…when I look back the moments I've proud of, the moments that have spawned the little words that I sort of…have gotten from people and have taken out and held on to. I can only think of one time where my fists made me feel like a hero."

She grimaces, pressing her hands into her her heart and swallowing as the pain makes nausea send bile and chocolate into the back of her throat. "And that was when I rescued Matt in that alley. So I'd say that part of it is like 1%. And you've already been training that 1%…the 1% that was the only thing you ever lacked."

Is she sure the least amount of emotions are attached to that?

Finally Jessica voices the thing that had bothered her earlier, looking out the window. "It's scary for me to see you do that," she says. "Because…I feel like you won't need me anymore. Which I deserved. Because I took off. But I'm really proud of you, too."

Trish marveled at Jessica’s ability to zero in on what she was thinking and feeling without much effort. Could have been a PI thing, but Trish preferred to believe it was a sister thing instead. A small flare of indignation sparked at the throw away piece of ass comment, but it was quickly squashed with what came next.

Jessica Jones thought that she, Trish Walker, was a hero. Those words touched her so completely, she wasn’t able to stop the tears this time. In an attempt to save them both horrendous amounts of embarrassment, Trish looked out her window, and tried to wipe them away inconspicuously.

She took a shaky breath and started to speak, only to find she couldn’t yet. How on Earth could Jess think she didn’t need her? Trish swallowed hard and tried again.

“Jessica, you are the only one who knows me. The real me, not Patsy, and not the host of ‘Trish Talks’. You were there when I was at my worst, you protected me from the one person I shouldn’t have needed protections from, and I will always need you.”

So much for the non-embarrassing. The gate had been opened and it all came spilling out.

“I started training because I needed something to deal with that pain of you taking off. I had to find something that would keep me out of the bottle and off the pills, so I picked Krav Maga. I had to learn to how to look after myself, since you weren’t there.”

Trish dug through her purse for one of those travel packs of tissues, and took a minute to wipe her face and blow her nose before continuing. “And that isn’t so you can sit there and feel even more shitty about yourself. Because I still need you.” Trish let out a watery laugh in an attempt to break the heavy mood in the car. “And now you know I can kick your ass if you try and walk away again."

Jess reaches over and takes Trish's hand, all while giving her some space to wipe eyes. She gets not wanting to cry. But…she squeezes. She doesn't even bother to worry about keeping it tentative. With Trish, her hand feels like a normal woman's hand; because she knows above all else Trish is the one person who will trust her control, even more than she trusts herself.

Trish was there to watch her learn it.

"I hope you do," Jessica says softly. "I really do. Because I can't guarantee I won't fuck up again, I really can't. My head is still such a fucking mess some days. But I'm going to try not to, try to stay in there. And I'm glad you picked Krav Maga."

God, if she'd actually driven Trish back to her own addictions Jessica would never have forgiven herself.

"Me going wasn't because I didn't need you too. I hope you know that. I was just…a wounded animal…oh god damn it. Really?!?"

Here they are having an emotional discussion…as the target of their surveillance walks out of his home with a tennis racket.

"You fucking asshole," she mutters, snatching up her camera. "That's right, we've just nailed your ass." She clicks away, irritation rolling off every twist and turn of her dark expressions. "Timing, you son of a bitch."

Trish just goggled at Jess for a moment, as she picked up the camera, before remembering what they were actually doing there. Her head whipped towards the direction Jess was clicking in, and her mouth fell open again. “Really, tennis? Son of a bitch!”

Timing was right, but it gave Trish the time needed to pull herself back together. Of all the things she had pictured happening here, a big weepy spill fest had not been one of them. Neither had been the huge Azalea bomb drop, but hey, at least it hadn’t been boring.

Trish tapped a finger to her lips as she revisited the whole Azalea thing. She made sure the keys were ready in the ignition in case Jess indicated they needed to follow the tennis asshole.

“Who said I was a throw away piece of ass?” Trish exclaimed, coming back to that particular piece of the conversation.

"Nobody said it directly," Jessica says absently, taking photo after photo as the man whistles his way into a car, appreciating the way Trish had the car ready to go. She nodded at her, gesturing for her to start the car and follow. "Stay three to four cars back at all times; otherwise we'll tip him off," she adds.

"I just think about that guy who showed up in the bar that one time going on about his fucking bald-headed bishop. Assholes like that."

She squints, and suddenly laughs. "Holy shit, speak of the devil. Trish. Look who it is."

She's gotten a good look at Tennis Guy now.

And she starts laughing and laughing. As jokes go it's maybe kind of weak, but she needs to laugh, and the fact that Tennis Guy is also the Bald Headed Bishop guy is making it happen right now.

Trish pulled out after letting a few cars go by, keeping one eye on her target car, and the other on the rest of the traffic. She tried to get a better look at the perp, yes she was now calling him a perp in her head, but didn’t recognize him. Until Jessica made the connection.

“I don’t know who…wait…NO! I can’t believe it! This is too fucking perfect! What an absolute douche bag!” Trish laughed right alongside Jess, enjoying the fact that they were the ones to catch the creep in the act. “I gotta say, this is pretty awesome Jess!”

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License