Roses for Kimmy

Chapter 3: October 15

California, Sacramento Graveyard, Two Days Later

Clean hair. Black slacks. Crisp dress shirt.

Jackson Robertson was the picture of a good business man. Even on little trips like this, Jackson liked to keep up appearances.  Over the last year or so his family had managed to worm its way into the center of attention. Thankfully the media had the smart sense to not overdo it. That’s what made things like this possible.

He sauntered through the grass, his grip tight on the small bouquet of red roses in his hand. A small chunk of dark hair fell into his ice blue eyes as he walked. His path was straight. His line was between the tombstones. Some people would have a problem walk over grave sites, but not Jackson. At least not today. Today he was focused, one minded.

It merely moments before he arrived at his destination. He stopped the tip of his dress shoes specifically two and half feet away from the gravestone.

Kimberly Sara Carston

1993-1998

Jackson knelt where he stood, his knees popping mercilessly. He reached out with a thick hand, touching the cold marble of the gravestone. He rubbed it with his thumb, smiling a little as he studied the words and the carving of the little stuffed rabbit just as he had done a thousand times before. 

“Hi, Kimmy.” He half whispered.

When he had first come to visit her grave site about eight and a half years ago, it come had come about out of desperation. He had been at the end of his rope, and the bottom of at least twenty bottles of alcohol.

It had been raining that night.  

It had actually been raining from the previous morning.

He had left the house about half past midnight. He and Sara had had a fight. Their last fight actually. He never came back to her ratty little home.

Somehow he had found his way to the small grave of Kimberly Carston. Though at that point he used the term ‘grave’ loosely. Her body had never been discovered, but they pronounced her dead anyway.

Jackson had collapsed in front of her grave, sobbing and drowning in alcohol. At that point he hadn’t had time to grab a pretty red rose for her, but he lay there, talking to her until the sun came up. Since then he had come to her grave site for everything.

Kimberly was one of the first to know about starting the business, he had even flown out to show Kimmy the ring before he proposed to Lisa. Though many would find it strange, talking to Kim was sometimes the best way he could unload his stress.

He set the roses on the gravestone, “I miss you…” he rested his hand back on the stone. “…I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to make these visits. Katy is almost more nosey then Lisa was. I’m amazed I made it out of the house yesterday.” Jackson laughed a little.

He lifted his hand to his lips, kissing his index and middle finger before pressing it to the stone above her name.

“Happy Birthday, Tinkerbell.”

Katherine Robertsons’ Apartment, 10:33 PM

After three minutes of jiggling the handle and rattling the door, it finally clicked open. Katy stumbled into the apartment, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She looked down at her feet, her dark curls sliding into her face.

“…Damn shoes…” she muttered.

She leaned against the plain wall with a slim hand pressed flat against the wall so that she could kick off the shoes. Katy stared at the black high heels for a long moment before making her way further into the apartment.

The Jacket and purse were quickly discarded on the tan couch as she continued towards the bed that her entire body ached for. She wobbled on her feet a little as she walked into the bedroom.

With a loud ‘Oof!’ she tossed herself onto the bed, her small body bouncing a little on the springs. She relaxed, moaning as she stretched out to take up as much of the bed as she possibly could.

She wiggled around, trying to get comfortable before she rolled her head to the side, looking at the picture frame on the nightstand. It was the only thing with any character through the whole house. A young man smiled at her, his white sparkly teeth only half showing through his crooked smile. His dark hair had fallen into his eyes, giving a stark contrast to his skin.

“Aidan… come home soon…”

Annapolis Motel, Room #8

It was about three in the morning when Despotis stumbled into the bright bathroom of his tiny motel room. He squinted his eyes. He had taken the contacts out a couple hours earlier, returning them to their original blue color. He scratched his bare chest as he looked around before grabbing his cell phone off the counter.

He dialed a number and pressed the phone to his ear, still squinting against the bright lights.

The line rang twice before someone on the other end picked up.

“Hello?” Smith slurred.

Despotis glared at the phone in disgust. “Have you been drinking?”

“I don’t know… what do you think?”

He growled. “I told you, you have to be alert while you’re there.”

“Oh… get off it, she’s sleeping, she’s out cold.” There was a loud gulp on the other end of the line.

“What the… are you drinking right now?”

“What?” He slurred defensively.

Despotis pulled the phone away from his ear, scowling. He took a moment to regain his composure and then put it back to his ear.

“Listen up you drunk little twerp, if anything happens to my girl, we are both screwed, do you understand?”

“Okay… look, your pretty little doll is asleep and she’s not waking up soon.” Another gulp. “Trust me a little, okay?”

“Fine, but if something happens to her, it’ll be your ass on the line, not just mine.” He slammed the phone shut, dropping it into the empty sink.

He growled, leaning against the wall as he starred himself down in the mirror. His eyes roamed over his fit, tan chest. He had a few scars, the result of many years of ‘work’. He touched a long one that ran along a right rib. That one had possibly been the worst one he had ever gotten from a woman.

Elektra DeFlair.

He smirked at the name.

She was the only woman in his whole life that even dared to stand up to him. When combined an angry pregnant woman, with combat training and a sharp knife, the results are somewhere in the field of a nasty stab wound.

“What are you doing awake?” Chelsea grumbled sleepily as she stepped into the room with a sheet pressed to her naked body.

He turned to her slightly, just enough that he could see her.

“I just had to make a phone call.”

She touched his arm, rubbing the skin there. “At three in the morning?”

“Work doesn’t own a wrist watch.” He turned to her, putting his hands on her hips. “Since we’re up anyway… I think its time we finish up, don’t you?”

Chelsea grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck as he picked her up.

Katherine Roberstons’ Apartment, 12:00 PM

“Just a minute!” Katy called as she fumbled towards the door.

The knock came again, despite the fact Kat was now only a few feet from the door.

“I said hold on-!” She swung the door open, only to met with the barrel of the gun in her face.