Time Sensitive Target

Part 38 - Expect More, Pay Less

"Do you want the radio on? What music do you like?" Jase fiddled with the dial on the stereo of his car, half watching the road ahead. I gazed out to the brilliant blue expanse as far as the eye could see.

"Classical," I surprised myself with the response. I hadn't really intended to say anything. Jase and I had spent maybe seventeen hours in each other's company, but less than ten words had escaped my lips during that time. I was so deeply confused, and angry. I could feel a constant rage boiling beneath the surface, and yet, one glance from him and it simmered away meekly. I hated him passionately, it was the strongest feeling I'd ever had about anything. Even after my mum had passed, even as a child dealing with her erratic mood swings and neglectful parenting... none of it compared to the strength of the emotions I held towards Jase. Soft piano erupted from the speakers. He listened for a while as the notes rolled to a crescendo.

"This is what you listen to? You can tell who this is?"

"Schubert." I responded. I'd always loved classical music. No words, no outdated synthesised drums, no autotune. It relaxed me. It seemed a cruel reminder within the confines of the car, considering I could do anything but relax.

"This is me," Jase announced as he pulled the car into a drive beside an immaculately presented house. Three huge magenta bougainvilleas lined the front garden, a carefully manicured hedge archway stood over paved steps, beginning the pathway to a glossy black front door. The house was a pleasing shade of ocean blue, the columns, panels and windows contrasting in crisp white. It looked like a thoughtfully remodelled beach house.

I had considered insisting on remaining inside the car, but the inviting exterior persuaded me in. I followed Jase as he unlocked the door, stepping inside to tap in a code on the alarm system. It was nearly like a show home. The hallway was off white, with beautiful hardwood floors and industrial lamps hanging overhead.

"Do you want to wait here? I'm going to grab a TV from upstairs," Jase bounded up an elegant modern staircase, leaving me alone in the hallway. I peered around the corner of the wall to a large open plan space. A marble topped island stood in the centre of the kitchen, barstools positioned with equal distance between each of them. A sumptuous looking cream couch sat in front of a white colonial fireplace, a huge flatscreen looming above. Newly built in cabinets stood either side of the TV, floor to ceiling, half cupboard half shelves filled with deliberately arranged books. It was all so... tasteful. And expensive. I'd expected a mini fridge and a tattered leather reclining armchair. It suddenly dawned on me that he could be married. This home was far too elegant and poised, it could have had a feminine touch. The idea of Jase sleeping next to a woman made me feel nauseous. Would he be gentle? Would he caress her face and stroke her hair, speaking softly and soothingly as he had done to me? The beautiful home suddenly felt toxic, I seized the handle of the front door and forced myself out on to the porch, breathing in the warm air. Jase emerged down the stairs a moment later, carrying an enormous TV in his capable arms.

"Would you mind getting the rear door?" He tipped his chin towards the car. I headed for the vehicle obligingly, opening the door and stepping aside to let him shunt the TV on to the back seats. I sat in the car, waiting with the air conditioning blowing on my face as Jase raced back to lock the house up. The idea that he could very well have a family of his own was burning in my mind. Why did it make me feel so ill? I couldn't imagine him being... normal. Was the grislier part of his job where he truly got to be himself? When returned home to a partner waiting with outstretched arms, did they have any idea what he was capable of?

"Let's hope there's no traffic over the bridge," Jase murmured as he started the engine. I was done with my small talk for the morning, a familiar surge of anger bubbling beneath the surface.