F. Paul Wilson - Legacies

"A crime fighter? Gia, you're one of the few people I know who's not some sort of criminal. I run a business, Gia. A business . I charge for my services."

"You didn't charge for last night."

"And see what I get for it! One freebie, and suddenly I'm Batman. Or that do-gooder who used to be on TV—"The Equalizer." That's why I never do freebies. Once the word got out, everybody would expect me to put my butt on the line simply because they need me."

Gia raised her head and grinned at him. "Oh, yeah. You're so tough."

Jack shrugged. "Money talks, bullshit walks."

"And you're only in it for the money."

"If they've got the dime, I've got the time."

Her grin broadened. "And you don't get emotionally involved."

Jack fought a responding smile. "If you don't stay cool, you act like a fool."

Gia placed her palm over the bruise on his chest. "One more rhyme and I push the purple button—hard."

He tried to roll away but she had him. "Okay. If you stop, I'll stop."

"Deal. But admit it: You do get emotionally involved."

"I try not to. It's dangerous."

"That's my point. You identify with everybody you take on as a client."

"'Customer,' please. Lawyers and accountants have clients. I have customers."

"All right. Customers. My point is, you don't hire out to just anyone who happens to have the necessary cash."

"I go case by case." Jack was growing uncomfortable.

He wanted off the subject. "I mean, I've got to feel I can do the job, otherwise we're both wasting time. I'm just a small businessman, Gia."

She groaned and flopped onto her back. "A small businessman who has no social security number, dozens of last names, and never pays taxes."

"I pay sales tax… sometimes."

"Face it, Jack, this Repairman Jack stuff gives you a rush, and you're hooked on it."

Jack didn't like to think of himself as hooked on adrenaline, but maybe it was true. He had to admit he'd had a bodacious buzz after leaving the creep and the stolen toys in front of the Center last night. He'd been completely unaware of how much he was hurting until he got home.

"Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not. But let's just say I retire—hang up the 'Repairman Jack suit,' as you so eloquently put it—what then?"

"Then we begin a real life together."

Jack sighed. A life together with Gia and Vicky… now that was tempting.

And so damn strange. Back in his twenties he'd never imagined himself married or living in any traditional arrangement. And being a father? Him? No way.

But becoming involved with Gia and falling for Vicky had changed all that. He wanted them around, and wanted to be around them , all the time.

If only it were that simple.

"You mean, get married?"

"Yes, I mean get married. Is that so awful?"

"Not the ceremony. And certainly not the commitment. But going to a municipal building and registering my name somewhere…" He faked a minor seizure. "Aaaaargh!"

"You'll use one of your fake identities—we'll pick one with a name that sounds nice following Gia and Vicky—and that'll be it. Easy."

"Couldn't we just live together?" Jack said, though he already knew the answer. But at least they were off the subject of his work.

"Sure. Soon as Vicky's grown up and moved out and married and on her own. Until then, Vicky's mom doesn't shack up with anyone—not even that man Jack who Vicky and her mom love so much."

Gia had been a Manhattanite and an artist for many years now, and seemed every bit as urbane as the next, but every so often the Iowa farm girl nestling deep within her surfaced to call the shots.

Which was okay with Jack. That Iowa farm girl was part of her appeal, part of what made her Gia.

But marriage wasn't the problem. Repairman Jack was the real barrier to going public with the relationship. For as soon as Jack moved in with Gia and Vicky—or vice versa—he became vulnerable. He tended to make enemies in his line of work. He tried to keep his face out of his fixes, but a certain amount of exposure was unavoidable. A fair number of people with a grudge knew what he looked like. Every so often one of them found out where he lived. What followed was usually unpleasant. But because Jack lived alone, because he was very circumspect about appearing in public with anyone he cared about, the grudge guys had to deal directly with him. Fine. He could handle that. And he did. Most of them were never seen again.

But if Gia and Vicky were linked to him, they'd become targets.

And Jack had no idea how he'd handle that.

If one of them ever suffered because of him…

"Okay," he said. "I retire and we get married. Then what?"

"Life."

"Easy for you to say. You go on designing book covers and doing your paintings, but what about me? What do I do in the straight world? I don't know anything else."

Gia rose up on one elbow and gave him one of her intent looks.

"That's because you've never tried anything else. Jack, you're a bright, inventive, intelligent man with an agile body. You can do anything you want."

But I want to do what I'm doing now, he thought.

"But what about the toy theft?" he said. "If I were retired and we were married, what would you have done?" He poked her playfully. "Huh? Huh? What would you have done?"

"I'd have asked you to go get them back."

He stared at her. Not a hint of guile, no sign that she was joking. She meant it.

"Am I the only one in this room who detects just a tiny bit of inconsistency here?"

"Nope," she said. "I'm a hypocrite and I freely admit it. The only time I want you to be Repairman Jack is for me."

Jack was speechless. What did he say to that?

During the silence, a low, guttural laugh filtered in from the front room. Jack felt the gooseflesh rise on Gia's arm.

"My, God, Jack. Did you hear that?"

"Just the TV. That's our old friend Dwight."

Dracula was running in the ongoing Dwight Frye Festival. Jack could picture the scene playing now, one of his all-time favorites: The ship transporting the count to England has washed ashore, and the only man alive is Renfield, looking up from the bottom of the hold, his eyes alive with madness, his insane laugh echoing through the ship.

"It's creepy."

"You got that right. Ol' Dwight did such a great job as Renfield that he was typecast for the rest of his career. Whenever they needed a character whose belt didn't go through all the loops they called Dwight Frye."

Gia glanced at the clock. "God, look at the time. I want to get some Christmas shopping in before we have to pick up Vicky."

"I don't think we have time to go to Westchester," he said.

"Very true. So we're going to FAO Schwartz."

Jack groaned.

"Stop complaining." She kissed him, then rolled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. "I'm going to take a quick shower, then we're off."

He watched her walk across the room. He loved the sight of her naked—her small, firm breasts, her long legs, the pale pubic patch that proved she was a natural blonde.

Jack wondered what she'd look like pregnant. Probably fabulous.

Strangely enough, he'd been thinking about babies lately. Ever since he'd seen Gia holding that AIDS infant at the Center on Friday. The light in her eyes… that nurturing look. Gia was a natural nurturer. Jack knew that from seeing her with Vicky. Physically, Gia was a single parent, but she gave more to Vicky than any half dozen other parents put together.

He heard the bathroom door close and listened to the shoosh of the water in the pipes as she turned on the shower.

He closed his eyes and pictured Gia holding another child… their child. He thought of growing old with Gia and Vicky and a new little person, the fusion of Gia and himself, and the vision lit a little sun inside him.