Double Jackson Read online

  "It's your turn," they both said together.

  Chapter Seven

  Coll watched the color leech out of Jack's face. He stretched his arm over his lover, and picked up the first phone his fingers touched. He held it over his head and squinted.

  "S'yours…Fizz. I abdicate my position. You can take it." He thrust the phone toward Jack.

  "You're all heart," Jack took hold of the phone as if it were a time bomb about to go off. Which, Coll decided it might well be. He stared at Jack, and willed his positive thoughts to be heard as Jack connected the call.

  "Hi, Fizz. Hold on, I want to put this on speakerphone so I don't have to repeat it to Coll."

  "Where are you? No, don't tell me if it's too much information. Are you at home?" Her voice was loud and tinny in the room. "Do you have today's paper handy? Is there a clock or three around? Are you decent?" The staccato questions came thick and fast. "Jack?"

  Coll's eyes widened and he shook his head at his lover's silent question. He had no idea what the inquisition was all about.

  "Kitchen? With iPad and phone?" Jack could be as brusque as the next person when it was warranted. "Naked."

  "That'll do." Fizz's voice ebbed and flowed as the signal changed strength. "Well, not the naked bit. Clothed. Plus a paper or two and remember, decently dressed. Do it now and send it to me please. I'll be with you as soon as I can. About ten minutes, I reckon." The phone went dead.

  Jack looked at Coll, who raised one eyebrow.

  "Oh, shit."

  "Oh, fuck. Her ten is five. I don't think she means in our birthday suits." Jack pinched Coll's left nipple and rolled of the bed to land on his feet.

  "Bastard. I wish I was that agile." Coll sat up, stretched and then stood up slowly.

  "Ha. If you had to do the stuff I do in this series you'd be limber as well. Problem is at the end I'll be arthritic and stiff as an excited cock everywhere, not just in my dick." He jogged into the bathroom, and with a wry grin, Coll followed him.

  Jack had the shower on full blast. As Coll watched he spun round under the water three times and got out.

  "Over to you. I'll go hunt up iPads and stuff." Jack rubbed his hands over his hair and snagged a towel as he moved swiftly away.

  "Cover up your jiggles, then," Coll called after him. "No cock rock on display."

  A whistle was his reply.

  Coll wasn't under the water much longer than it took to wash any traces of sex from his body, and soak his sweat-slicked hair. He flicked a towel across his body in the hope some water would be caught and absorbed and then pulled on a clean t-shirt before he ignored boxers, and thrust his damp legs into linen trousers and deck shoes. The material of the trousers chafed his skin and he wriggled uncomfortably. Maybe he should have donned underwear after all. The last thing he wanted was a rash on his cock from the nylon thread used in his clothes.

  It was too late. He heard the deep-throated rumble of a powerful motorbike and guessed Fizz had arrived.

  Coll took the stairs two at a time. He arrived in the hall as the knocker crashed onto the wood with such force he wouldn't have been surprised to see it emerge through the panel and an attached hand still thumping away.

  He pulled the door open and Fizz almost fell into the foyer.

  "Have you taken that picture yet?" she demanded in a breathless voice as she took off her helmet and put it on top of an old-fashioned hat stand.

  "Good afternoon, Fizz. Not yet, sorry. How are you, Coll? I'm fine, thank you, Fizz, how are you?" Coll said sarcastically. "Would you like to take a breath before or after you hit me over the head for my tardiness?" The look he received would wither the hardest cock.

  "Funny, ha, ha. I need that photo like an hour ago."

  "Difficult." Jack had entered the hall unnoticed. "We didn't know you wanted it, and it would have been a TMI photo."

  Fizz made a noise like a particularly upset wildcat. Jack sniggered. "Knickers in a twist, Fizz?"

  "No, but your nuts will be in a nutcracker before you can say walnut or pecan if we don't get stuff sorted out pretty damned quick. Let me take a damned photo." She snapped the words irritably. "Where?"

  "Kitchen. I was setting it up."

  "I don't want a setup." Fizz followed Jack into the kitchen, and Coll followed the two of them.

  If he were a ladies’ man, then Fizz's ass would be everything you could ask for. Not for the first time he wondered why she was single, with no guy—or woman––in sight.

  Coll made a beeline for the coffee pot. "Coffee?"

  "After." Fizz didn't look up from her phone. "Okay, it's still okay. Get sorted. No, not like that. Who lines up three clocks and props a newspaper up for a selfie for no reason? I want natural."

  "If we'd known an hour ago you could have had au naturel."

  Fizz growled. "Fuck it, Jack, do you have to make fun of every sodding thing? This is fucking serious. Watch my lips, asshole. Nat-ur-al… got it?"

  "Then you can't have three clocks, honey. Look." Jack's voice rose and Coll bit his lip. He could see the signs of an outburst of temper on the horizon. Jack didn't lose it often but when he did, everyone with any sense made themselves scarce until it was over. Luckily the explosion was usually short-lived, but for the duration, the red flags were up and waving.

  "I'm looking at an empty space." Fizz's temper was almost as bad as Jack.

  Coll decided it was time to act the peacemaker. He propped a broadsheet up against the coffeepot, so the kitchen clock was showing on the wall behind.

  Without speaking, he propelled Jack onto a stool, shoved an iPad with a Sudoku on it into his hands and turned Jack's wrist towards where Fizz stood. Then he stood behind Jack and pointed at the Sudoku so his own watch showed the time clearly. In his other hand he hid his phone.

  "Take the bloody photo, Fizz. No selfie. Just fucking press the shutter."

  There was an audible click.

  "Good, now let me." Coll gave Jack's arm a quick, reassuring squeeze and put his arm—the one without his watch strapped to his wrist—high in the air. Then he angled his phone over them as best he could and took several shots. On the third, Jack looked upwards and grinned as if on cue.

  Surely one of them would do for whatever Fizz had in mind? Coll dropped his arm and rotated his wrist.

  'Sheesh, I'm too old for all his contortionist lark." He checked his phone. "Oh, now, this last one's good." Both of the watches, the clock, the tablet and the date on the paper stood out clearly.

  "Great, let me have your phone a sec." Fizz went to take it. Coll handed it to Jack who, at six foot four could, and did, hold it high out of Fizz's reach.

  "Not until you tell us what the hell is going on," Jack said. Fizz jumped up like a puppet on a string, but still couldn't reach the phone.

  "Dammit, Jack, let me have it and I'll explain."

  "First." It wasn't often Jack put such an inflexible note into his voice. Fizz rocked back on her heels, and Coll was certain he saw panic in her expression.

  "Jack, I think she needs it, love. Hand it over and trust your agent to know what to do for the best."

  Jack stared at them in turn, and slowly nodded. Then he handed the phone to Fizz, who typed something and pressed Send. With a mutter, Jack folded his arms across his chest and glared.

  Coll went to stand behind him, and wrapped his arms around his lover's neck. "Hey." He bent his head and kissed the nape of Jack's neck. "Whatever it is, we have each other. For ever and ever, until death do us part. Remember? Not death and a double or death and a dickhead."

  "Yeah." Jack sighed. "Thank goodness."

  "Yep. And let's face it. Sorting stuff is why you pay Fizz the big bucks, and we put cardboard in our shoes and eat leftovers."

  "I heard that. And If I don't sort this shit out we'll all have cardboard in our shoes. And be living in a shoebox."

  Fizz handed the phone back to Coll. "Thanks. Okay, where's the coffee? Let me whet my whistle as my gran used to say and I'll fill you
in."

  Coll chuckled at the expression he hadn't heard for ages, and pointed his finger at Jack who had a scowl to outdo all scowls. "Ditch the look, Carrick."

  Jack poured three mugs of coffee and handed them around. "Okay?"

  Fizz inhaled the fragrant liquid, and took a long swallow. "Oh my, yeah. A lifesaver. Right, sit and we'll talk."

  Jack nudged Coll. "Hey, your elbow is bloody bony." Coll sat in one of the basket-weave chairs set in front of the patio doors, and Jack and Fizz followed suit.

  "So, are you sitting comfortably?"

  "Fizz." There was no mistaking the threatening tone.

  "I needed the picture because Tina rang me. There's some guy at the gig she and Dave are at who is acting as if he's you. She got him chatting, and got a picture with him. Our picture was to show you were here. Mind you, it's our word against his."

  Coll looked at Jack. "You can have 'the look' back."

  Chapter Eight

  Coffee went everywhere as Jack stood up violently and began to stalk, stiff-legged across the kitchen. His cup tilted and spilled its contents over his jeans, the floor and Fizz's shoes, which she'd kicked off as they sat down.

  She yelped and Jack swung round from where he'd started to pace.

  "Shit. Did I burn you?"

  "No, you scalded my Ferragamos. Sacrilege."

  Jack watched, bemused as she picked the shoes up, and tenderly wiped them with her jumper.

  "For life?" he asked. "Scarred, and do I need to buy you some new ones?"

  Coll laughed. Fizz looked puzzled and shook her head. "I swear you two speak in riddles. Oh, I get you. No, my shoes aren't scarred for life, though if they were cats there would’ve been at least three lives lost. Now will you sit down and let me explain a bit more? Pacing the floor reminds me of teething kids and sleepless nights, and that is something I never, ever want to go through again. I've told Rollo and Una not to expect me to be a hands-on granny. Not until any child is old enough to ride pillion."

  Jack laughed. As ever, Fizz had a way of diffusing his anger and restoring his equilibrium. He pulled a chair out and twisted it round, so he sat astride, and rested his hands on the back. "Okay… no pacing, no snarling and no more looks. Tell us what you want us to do."

  Fizz shrugged. "Get out of your wet jeans?" She sighed gustily. "Honestly? I've no bloody idea. The only way to call his bluff seems to be to have you both in the same place at the same time. However, that's about as likely as me winning an Oscar. We have no idea how we can know where he is. Like this evening. Tina texted me, cos she said she knew it wasn't you. Which is why I wanted a picture. Hopefully, it might help. But there was no way of getting you over there, getting you in, and having a showdown."

  Jack wasn't so sure. However, he wasn't going to burst her bubble just yet. He stood up.

  "Can Oliver pick you up?" He referred to her unmarried son, who lived in the same village as Fizz. She shook her head.

  "He's in the States. Why?"

  "Wine and a taxi then." Jack stood up and walked to the wine rack. "Nibbles in the garden and a good bottle of New Zealand Sav. Blanc?"

  "Sounds good. Hold on, I've a text from Tina." Fizz looked at her phone. Jack looked at Coll, who interpreted the look and shrugged.

  He's as doubtful as me, then. Shit.

  "I'll put the chairs out," Coll said, and walked out into the garden. With a quick glance towards Fizz, who was now pressing keys on her phone like there was no tomorrow Jack followed Coll, and pressed his front up against Coll's back. His cock stirred and Jack wriggled around a bit, just to emphasize the point. Coll looked over his shoulder and grinned.

  "Nice. Can we practice this wriggle and push more often?" Coll asked. "Preferably naked, and without spectators."

  Fizz coughed theatrically. "Definitely without spectators, and preferably behind closed doors and curtains. I'm now imagining bloody telephoto lenses and hidden microphones behind every bush and garden gnome."

  "We haven't got any garden gnomes," Jack said. He put his hand on Fizz's forehead. "Not feverish."

  "Idiot." She giggled and her whole demeanor changed. The worry lines eased, and for a split second she looked less like Fizz the worrier and more like Fizz the friend. "Well, all I can say is, if any of the little blighters pop up, check for microphones."

  Chapter Nine

  A few hours later, they'd moved indoors and were on fruit juice and soda. Each of them knew they had work the following day.

  Coll was invigilating an exam, and Jack knew damned well the alarm would have him moaning at five a.m.

  "I really need a clear head tomorrow," Fizz said, as they readied to divide a gluten-free apple pie between them. She forced a knife into the crust. "This pastry would knock you out if someone threw it at you. Can you sue the maker?"

  Jack laughed. "Only if you want to come and keep house. Tina's trying her hand at the pastry making. I keep saying just to buy frozen, but she's determined to crack it."

  Fizz nodded. "So'm I." She held the knife like a dagger, positioned it a good six inches above the pie and thrust downwards. The crust went everywhere, the knife broke in half and Coll fielded a chunk of the ruched edge as it flew over his head.

  "Howzat!" Jack gave the classic cricket cry and snorted, as Coll proceeded to juggle with it and the hilt of the knife.

  "Out LBW."

  "Nah, leg before wicket is bollocks. Knife before crust, more like." Coll crumbled the piece of pie he held, walked into the garden and put it onto the bird table. "Let's hope our feathered friends eat the evidence. I'm not sure what you'll do about the knife, though."

  "Own up if I have to." Jack picked the blade out of the pie and inspected the food. "Well, the apple looks okay. Shall we?" He split the apple filling up and they ate it. The remains of the pastry he added to the table outside where, he was relieved to see, most of the first piece had been eaten by the sparrows and chaffinches that frequented the garden.

  When Tina and Dave appeared just before midnight, the three of them had retreated to the lounge to drink coffee and listen to music.

  Jack looked up and was surprised by the relief on her face. He stood up and walked toward her.

  "Tina? What's wrong?"

  She burst into tears. Dave cuddled her and patted her back. He looked over her head at Jack and shook his head slightly.

  "See, Tina? I told you he was fine. Now calm down and let's tell them what's happened."

  She shuddered and carried on crying.

  Fizz stood up, tipped her head in the direction of the kitchen, and mouthed the word 'wine.'

  Jack nodded, and Fizz walked out of the room just as Jack's phone trilled Stand By Me. A few seconds later Coll's mobile played We Are The Champions, and vibrated its way across the tabletop.

  Dave rolled his eyes. "Any advance on two? No, don't answer them please. Not until I've spoken."

  Jack looked at his screen. He didn't recognize the number. He wouldn't have answered it anyway.

  Next to him, Coll raised one shoulder and put his mobile back onto the table. "The paper," he said. "John Denny, the chief editor. There must be a flap on."

  Dave nodded, and pushed Tina into a chair. Jack passed her a box of tissues, just as Fizz reentered with two bottles of wine, a cooler, and five glasses.

  "I have a feeling we all might need one," she said quietly. "Yes?"

  "I think so." Jack raised his voice and tried to squash the army of spiders fighting a battle on his tummy and over his skin. "Dave? Red or white?" At least Dave and Tina didn't have to worry about getting home. Their house was a few hundred yards away across the garden.

  "Red for me, and white for Tina. Make hers a spritzer, and go heavy on the soda."

  Tina lifted her head. "Ignore him. I'm okay now, I wasn't then." She took the glass Fizz gave her with a murmur of thanks, had a heavy swallow, and took a deep breath. "That is so blooming welcome."

  Dave picked up his wine and sipped somewhat more decorously. "Jack, you need t
o ring home."

  "Eh? I am home." What on earth is he going on about? "This is my lounge. Well, mine and Coll's. Our home."

  "Oh okay, sorry." Dave ran his hand over his head and yawned. "Shit, I'm knackered and I'd bet you a pound to a penny I’ll get called in again soon. I meant, ring your mum and let her know you're alive and kicking. Maybe you'd best tell your director or whoever as well."

  "Why?" A trickle of fear made its way inexorably down Jack's spine and into his bowels. "Ma's in Cyprus with Millie, and Dutch." His sister Millie's husband was stationed on the island with the RAF. "Caleb, I'll text… he'll be asleep by now if he has any sense." He picked up his phone, typed a short text, pressed Send, and put it down on the table.

  Dave tapped his foot as he waited until Jack finished. "Then you'll need to ring your family in the morning. Before they see or hear the news. Because there was a guy arrested at the gig we attended. He tried to fight with the policeman, broke away, and ran into a concrete pillar. It was your ‘double’ Jack. And as he'd been playing you to the hilt, the news soon spread that it was you off to intensive care. I rang the station, and Tina and I hotfooted it home. I'd say it's all going to explode any minute. So for fuck's sake, do not fall over and crack your head or anything. Because believe you me, this guy was out to cause you serious trouble."

  The doorbell rang and so did Dave's phone. He checked the screen. "So it begins. That's my boss outside, and he says the vultures are circling. Get ready for the three-ringed circus."

  "And the rest. Look." Coll handed two phones to Jack. His and Jack's. "Same questions and different interpretation of them. Shall we dive in?"

  Jack looked at Fizz. "How do we play this?"

  "I've sent your picture around. I'll get onto various people to sort a press conference and kill my PA for not keeping me informed. And to say the ‘Net round here is like tarts’ knickers is no excuse. He knows where I am, and knows my text messages work. Asshole, I'll have his balls in a grinder if he doesn't pull his socks up." Her phone buzzed. "Ah, asshole alert. Excuse me." She opened her phone. "Bryan? What the fuck? No, no bloody excuses…you've screwed up. Get your ass into the office and sort a fucking statement. I don't care if you're screwing the whole bloody International Ladies’ Football Team. You do not screw with me." She stamped her foot and listened for a moment. "Or my clients. Or I'll screw you head first into the ground. And tell Tanni who else you're screwing." She winked, and high-fived the air, as she listened once more. "I thought you might. Yes, 10:00 a.m." She ended the call and shook her head. "He won't last."