The Magpie's Death

Too Honest (1)

Downing his fifth shot, Sam realized how high Jack's tolerance was. Maybe alone time in the kitchen with vodka and beer was more frequent than he thought. While Jack seemed perfectly fine, not even the least bit tipsy, his head kept getting lighter and his hesitations began to disappear.

"Alright. I think it's time for you to speak." Clinking his glass, Jack drank a shot of his own, then gave him a playful smile. "I want the truth."

Sam stared at his empty glass for a moment, spinning it between his fingers. The truth. If Jack knew what that meant, would he be so eager to listen?

"Everything I say stays between us and you never mention it again."

"Okay."

"I'm serious." He glared at Jack. Instead of intimidation, his eyes showed fear, an emotion he had no need for until now. He knew there could be consequences to this, but he also knew he had to tell him. "Promise me."

Jack nodded, not expecting such a look. His voice cracked as he replied, "Yeah, okay. I promise."

Looking back at his glass, still twirling it around as if it could calm him, Sam sighed. He was a new mess of mixed emotions and it was too strong for him to fight.

"I used to be in a gang. A powerful, underground, crime syndicate, actually. They recruited me at sixteen and when I aged out of the foster system, I became a member of their elite inner circle. My job was to threaten or eliminate threats, and I was very skilled at my job."

"You were a foster kid?"

The question sounded sad and he wondered if Jack had heard any of the rest. Maybe he was drunk and it just didn't show. Out of everything he'd said, that shouldn't be the first thing on his mind.

"That's not relevant."

Jack leaned in to examine him, dark green fixed on him like he was searching for something.

"Seems pretty relevant," he finally concluded.

The closeness of their faces made Sam uneasy. "It's not part of the explanation." He shifted on his stool, tilting to the side until Jack backed away. "Do you want the explanation or my life history?"

"Both would be nice, but we'll start with the explanation."

Sam huffed out a laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation. "I told you I was a trained killer. Doesn't that scare you?"

Surprisingly, Jack looked more hurt than afraid, as if that small reveal gave him pain. It didn't make any sense. No rational person would be okay in this situation. It wasn't only his cold, gangster look, or the fact that he abandoned his daughter and disappeared. Then he suddenly shows up again with bruises and a gunshot wound, saying he used to murder people for a living. Nothing about that, or him, was good. Despite all that, Jack gave him the smallest smile.

"And I told you, you don't scare me." That was the truth. Jack's eyes were firmly fixed on his, not showing any sign of fear. "You keep saying it, but I've never seen it. Do you want me to be scared?"

"Yeah, I do." More than you could imagine.

At least those words took Jack by surprise. He downed another shot before asking, "Why?"

"Because then you'll stay away from me."

Because then you'll be safe and I can leave. Because if you hate me, this won't go any further and I won't selfishly drag you into my hell.

Jack nodded and poured him another glass. He downed it, feeling his cheeks flush more as the warm liquor ran down his throat and up into his head.

"Then keep talking and see if you can frighten me away."