JJ

MEET JAXON. 

NAME: Jaxon Eli Jameson 

NICKNAME(S): Jax. JJ. 

AGE: Twenty Three

BIRTHDAY: October 25, 1998

OCCUPATION: College / Works at his dad’s dealership during summers. 

GENDER IDENTIFICATION: Cis male (he/him)

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single / Sleeping with @broobie

RESIDENTIAL AREA: Somerset Estates / During College: Sarasota Uni.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Driven, Intelligent, Independent 

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Spiteful, Temperamental, Manipulative 

PLACE OF BIRTH: Siesta Key, FL

LENGTH OF TIME IN SIESTA KEY: His whole life.

“Because you wanted to know where you knew me from,” he pointed out, he was in no way in the mood for an argument, but then again, he never was. However, it seemed like the other wouldn’t let it go, and it definitely would annoy him enough to just leave the gym if he continued, because he refused to engage in it, “Quit being an ass, I already said that I believe you,” he wondered if he knew how suspicious he looked, why was he being so defensive? If he talked like that with a detective, he would definitely become one of the suspects, he once again, wondered if he knew that.

-

“That’s my point though. I don’t need you to believe me. You’re acting like you know something I don’t.” There was something off about Franco to him. It's the way he told him he didn’t have to convince him of anything; when he shouldn’t of had to in the first place. It was strange, having someone he barely knows try to prompt him into thinking about a possibility where his father could’ve been murdered. For a firefighter, he had no bedside manner. “I’m the ass? Me? My father goes missing and I’m holding out hope that he just went on a cruise somewhere with a girl, and you’re here telling me he could have been fucking murdered. You don’t think that’s a dark thing to say to the son of the man who’s gone? Are you literally that fucked in the head?” 

His parties were well known, everyone knew how they were, which was why the latino knew that it wouldn’t be his kind of party, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t take a no, so he decided to just accept his invitation. He could go, stay a little, and then leave after some time, he never said that he had to stay the whole party, “Alright, man, if you insist, then I will go to your party,” he assured him, he didn’t break a promise, so if he said that he would go, it was because he would go, “You don’t need to convince me of anything, I’m not a detective,” he was in no way in charge of anything when it came to the investigation, “I was just part of the search group, but hey, you know your dad better than me, so if you say he’s not dead, then he’s not dead.”

-

“Yeah, I know. I’m not trying to convince you. You’re the one who brought it up.” It almost sounded like Franco didn’t believe him. Like he knew he was trying to cover up the truth. And if it weren’t for Jaxon’s temper, he would have let it go. “You know it’s not a good idea to be telling someone’s grieving son that their father is probably dead... What kind of hero are you anyway? Or is saving people’s lives just about the money and pussy you get out of it?” This was the real Jaxon. Not the party animal, frat boy. There was a darkness inside him. A monster. And there was no way of reeling it in once it gets a taste for blood. 

Holly: it's about your dad.

Jax: (typing for a long time)

It was no surprise that, down the long stretch of beach riddled with college kids, underpaid nannies, and mommy bloggers alike, a tattered, burnt orange beach towel housed the slender, reclining form of bailey reid. More often than not, one could find the twenty something bumming on the beach for hours on end. The sand, the salt, the sea, it felt more like home than any beachside shack and any old van. With her tucked away in the caramel colored crochet bag that was half as old her, were her beach essentials; her phone, a couple of bottles of sunscreen, a bar of surf wax, a pair of wired headphones, an extra bikini, and a rolled up wetsuit for those days, or nights, the water was chillier than she would have liked. 

Stretched across the towel, forearm draped casually over the front of her eyes, feet propped up on the sage green, longboard perpendicular to her, she didn’t hear nor feel the familiar buzz of her phone alerting a message received. Her mind lingered elsewhere, contemplating what she would have for dinner, until a shout of a noise caught her attention. Squinting in the afternoon sun, Bay postured herself upwards on her elbows, nose scrunching as she peered down the way towards the sandy section dedicated to volleyball. Normally, she wouldn’t have paid the hoots and hollers and gasps any mind. Frat boys were notorious for their obnoxiousness that the sun, the sand, and beer only amplified. However, the familiar form of one boy in particular caused her to do a double take. 

Hazel hues narrowed, homing in on the tall and toned figure standing off with some pookah shelled asshole. “Shit.” Bay muttered the word as she scrambled to her feet, tugging the black straps of her ribbed, triangle top back over her shoulders the waistband of matching bottoms higher on her hips, darting off towards the altercation. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Without much of a second thought, Bay situated herself between the two men, hands raised in a defensive position. “Fuck off, alright?” Her voice stern as she looked up at the frat boy, brows pulling into a deep frown. “Come get your friend, cops are crawling around here.” Not only was it a horrible idea to pick a fight with Jax Jameson, of all people, but now certainly wasn’t the time. “ And put on some fucking sunscreen, you look like a god damn lobster out here.” Once a disgruntled friend came over, clasping their hand on the assailant’s shoulder, Bay let out of air, turning towards her friend. 

“You good?” 

-

His temper could rival most natural disasters. Once the anger wraps its way around his body, there’s less than nothing he can do to stop himself from exploding. With both fists clenched and ready to swing upon his assailant, Bay’s voice opened the sky and stopped him from making a huge mistake. With his father missing, the police were watching his family. If he were to get arrested for beating some dumb frat boy’s face into putty, that would circle Siesta’s grapevine and give the people more reason to stare and whisper. He’s heard it all. They thought they were being discreet, but gossip spreads like wildfire: That’s Jeffery’s son. I heard his father was really hard on him. Wouldn’t surprise me if he had something to do with it. His father is missing and he’s throwing parties? Psychopath. Did you know he beat a kid into a coma once? Yeah, it was eight grade and he pummeled another boy for touching his locker. His senior year he almost crippled a kid on the football field. Lock his ass up and throw away the key. Jaxon did his best to ignore it. He could have easily told himself, ‘what the fuck do they know?’ But they were right. He did do those things and he hated himself for it. For having these outbursts he can’t control. Imagine not having control over your own emotions. Imagine watching yourself do horrible things you don’t want to be doing. And knowing no one can stop you; including yourself. 

“Yeah ... Yeah, I think so.” The anger was still rolling around and aching to be released, but somehow, some way, Bay was able to smother it just enough to keep him from lashing out. “Maybe, uhm, maybe we should get the fuck out of here?” Initially, it may have been a threat to scare everyone off, but someone had called the police during the altercation and now they could be heard in the distance. One of the detectives working on his father’s case didn’t like him already. In theory, it was because the detective was hooking up with his stepmom, and didn’t want her asshole stepson to find out. But Jaxon knew, because Alesia told him. They didn’t have secrets. Not many at least. 

“My car is parked by the boardwalk.” One of the many expensive cars he’d been borrowing from his father’s high-end dealership. This week it was an Aston Martin. Last week it was a Bentley. For someone who wanted to fly under the radar, he had a difficult time letting go of the flashy lifestyle that came with being the heir of Jeffery Jameson. “Thanks for coming when you did...” despite offering her a ride, he unsheathed a flask from his bag and took a long swill of Richard Hennessey, stolen from his father’s liquor collection. “I just— I don’t know what I would have done... if you hadn’t— you know?” 

      these were the moments jaxon felt the loneliest. for one night, he can be the center of everyone’s attention. he can throw the biggest, craziest parties in siesta key, but once they’re over, once everyone goes home, he’s completely alone. as cool as the big bad, lone wolf sounds, no one wants to be without a pack, without friends. when thinking about it, he realizes he doesn’t have one real, genuine relationship. he couldn’t be honest with anyone. no one knows him. no one. and yet while staring out at the ocean, his mind wanders to bailey reid. it’s been awhile since they’ve gone surfing. or played volleyball. there was game going on now. a couple drunk frat boys have been hogging the net with a beachball for the past hour. twenty minutes after texting bailey to see if she’d want to play or go surfing, he decided to ask the boys to wrap it up. he knew they were only goofing around. their game would never end with the way they were playing. drunk and wanting to impress his friends, one of the boys decided to get smart and aggressive. and then after an exchange of insults, the boy punched jaxon in the face. big mistake. because now he wants to kill him. 

It felt weird to be called a hero, even if he did think that his coworkers were heroes, when it came to himself, he had a hard time to associate with that word, “I was just doing my job, you don’t really owe me anything,” he would probably still think the same way even if he wasn’t doing his job. He was an extremely caring person, he helped people without second intentions or wanting something in return, “Maybe, but it’s always good to make sure, because the world is filled with a lot of bad people, someone could have killed him,” he didn’t mention it, but there were people that also had a lot of enemies, he didn’t know his father, maybe he did a bunch of bad stuff, and someone wanted revenge. It wasn’t impossible.

-

“a jameson always pays their debts.” he assured him, taking a break from the punching bag to sip a little more vodka from the flask he kept in his gym bag. “look, big party this weekend. i want you to come. let me return the favor in the only way i know how. please.” he placed a hand above his shoulder. his father taught him eye contact was important when steering a conversation. he was brilliant when it came to things like business and war, but utterly oblivious and incapable of parenting and affection. “believe me, no one killed my old man. i know it’s hard to believe, but he ran away. i saw his closet. all his favorite suits are gone. money withdrawn from the bank. he’s probably in Tahiti drinking his liver away with a new dime piece. it’s what he does, brother. where do you think i get it from?” 

jaxon dropped the news about alesia so casually remi almost missed it. hot stepmom was fucking the homicide detective? there was a motive right there - for alesia, anyways. if jaxon’s dad was dead and not disappeared. remi knew her; she was the only one who alesia let do her nails and remi cared about all of her clients. she was their confidant. they told her things they wouldn’t tell their friends or families. but she had known jaxon longer and her concern was making sure jaxon was okay. “no, yeah, of course not. i won’t say anything…” licking her lips nervously, remi sucked down a mouthful of frozen lemonade until there was nothing left. “…but do you trust her? like you know for a fact she had nothing to do with your dad going missing?” remi paused. “or that detective? like he could be some kind of, like, stalker creep, y’know?”

-

“i trust her, yeah.” jaxon could see the wheels turning in her head. newly printed headlines were in her eyes. she thought alesia was behind it and that bothered him. if alesia were to find out he was spilling details, she’d disappear next. “she’s been nothing but great. she actually cares. sure, she may have helped homewreck our family, but she didn’t make my dad a lying, cheating piece of shit. he was that way all on his own.” leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms and looked out at the ferris wheel above pier. it was a beautiful day and he couldn’t enjoy it. he wanted to escape like the seagulls, taking whatever they want and flying away. “i've never trusted the police, so...that idea’s not crazy. but what about that girl? they both went missing around the same time. you don’t think its related? everyone always forgets about her. my dad’s rich so people want to find him. but the girl? you never hear shit about her.” 

“damn. god, he’s such a dick. what the fuck?” her mother always told her not to speak ill of the dead, but jeffrey jameson wasn’t dead and, rightfully so, deserved to have shit talked about him. and if he were dead, he still deserved it. remi wiped grease from her fingers as she chewed up another onion ring. “did you mention that to them?” she asked. “the detectives? ’cause… like, i don’t know if you should, you know?” jaxon’s cameras and darkroom were important to him. she could see him being extremely upset over it. a little shiver raced down her spine as she, for the first time, considered whether or not jaxon could have done anything to his father. remi pushed the thought from her mind. “with your dad being so well known and them having no leads about where he is? i bet they’re getting desperate to wrap things up and that’s the kind of thing that’d make them look at you funny. like - i completely believe those yahoos would try to do a making a murderer thing just to close it.”

-

“what? no, of course not.” jaxon wasn’t an idiot. he knew that kind of information would land him in a hot seat. knowing remi didn’t want him to say anything to the detectives about it either helped warm him up to the idea of trusting her a little more. not that he didn’t trust her already; but this secret was bigger than cheating in a game of football, or stealing one of his father’s expensive cars to go on a joyride with some girl he’s trying to impress. jaxon has shared those kind of secrets with remi over the years. but this? this was murder. “yeah, no, i agree with you. between you and me, one of the detectives is sleeping with alesia, and he doesn’t like me much. if they could put me away, they would in a heartbeat. then he could fuck my step-mom as much as he wants.” jaxon promised not to say anything about that, but there were some things he needed to get off his chest. “and listen, you can’t tell anyone about that. no one.” 

now, both of remi’s expertly shaped and trimmed eyebrows rose skeptically. “maybe if he was trying to get married again, babes, but your dad’s business is solid. unless it isn’t - like he’s cooking the books or something and somebody found out. maybe he did one of his clients dirty?” spitballing was something remi could do all day. talk about nothing, talk somebody’s ear off… not great for a resume unless she wanted to work in sales and she did not want that. she saved her talents for gossiping with her clients. and speaking of… “one of ‘em stopped by the salon. big dude. i didn’t really have much to say to him. he only came to me ‘cause my stepdad said you and i were close so i guess he figured i might know something you weren’t saying.” her eyes settled with jaxon’s and she shrugged one shoulder. “told him i didn’t know anything and it wasn’t my business.” 

-

“i don’t know. i’ve been working at the dealership and nothing seems off.” as was alesia. they have been working there together since he returned home from school. jaxon knew there was nothing fishy about his father’s business, but for the sake of coming off innocently unaware, he feigns consideration. “i think i know which one you’re talking about...” there were two guys at his house regularly. detective malval and detective harding. harding was the bigger of the two. not much in height, but muscle. he was also very blunt and assertive and that worried jaxon. if it weren’t for alesia sleeping with the other one, they probably would have figured it all out by now. but it was malval who was stalling, wanting more time with the cuban widow. “well, thanks. you know, between you and me, i’m nervous. you know, i got into it a lot with my dad. one of the last times i saw him, he wrecked my darkroom. said i was wasting my time taking pictures. he was drunk, angry, and broke everything. i just want all this to go away.” 

There were two moments that he met Jaxon, when his dad died, and when the incident happened at his party. He wasn’t sure if he should bring up the former, because he was sure it was a pretty hard moment in his life, but then again, he probably would eventually figure out that he was also part of the search group when he tells him that he was also one of the firefighters that went at his place because of the fire, “I’m a firefighter, and I was part of the group that answered the call when there was a fire at your party,” he explained, “But we met before that, when your dad had disappeared,” he decided to just be completely honest, tell him everything at once, like taking off bandaid.

-

“You were?” A small laugh found his lips, but it was humorless. He wasn’t exactly proud of that night. He never told the police or anyone really, but the fire started because of him. He lost his temper and smashed a few beer bottles and glasses of alcohol around the house and then later flipped a table that had candles on it. He didn’t mean to start the fire, but it would have looked that way if he told anyone. “I remember you now. I was so fucking drunk you had to help me out. Guess I owe you one, hero.” The matter with his father was a different story. Jaxon didn’t want any help finding his old man. He was dead unbeknownst to siesta key. Murdered and hidden. It was best that way. “Look, my dad is probably on some new yacht, traveling new water, with some new young piece of ass. Fuck him.” 

“really?” remi’s brows furrowed together, skepticism written on her face plain as day. she sucked in a mouthful of frozen lemonade to help her mull it over. she didn’t consider herself the be all end all expert of deadbeat dads, but she knew plenty. what jaxonw was saying didn’t jive with what she knew of his dad. but how well did she actually know him? “like, yeah, he left your mom but he didn’t bounce up out the picture then. rich dudes don’t just d.b. cooper it, y’know?” chewing on her straw, remi tapped a finger against the styrofoam cup. “is your mom sticking her nose back in or is she keeping her distance? did the police look at her?”

-

remi was too well versed with the jameson family. if he says too much, she’ll be able to dissect everything and pick apart the flaws. which was something the police hasn’t been able to accomplish yet. it made jaxon wonder what remi would say to the police if questioned. has she been questioned? that was something he hasn’t ask, but it’s at the forefront of his mind now. “yeah, but maybe it’s embarrassing being with some young 20-year-old. siesta is a small town. wouldn’t the gossip be bad for business— being known as the serial cheater? i don’t know...” in high school, jaxon had a bad reputation. yet, being known as a fuck boy didn’t actually hurt him; girls were even more attracted to him because of it. “i’ve gotten a few calls from my mom, but i didn’t answer any. i have nothing to say to her... but that’s a good question. i do wonder if she’s talking to the police.” he nodded, thinking about it for a minute before finishing his cup of lemonade. “what about you? longtime family friend. you’re like family. did the police question you?”

                being  thirty,  parties  held  little  interest  for  the  pilot.  however,  this  was  a  party  he  wasn’t  able  to  get  out  of  because  his  friends  had  all  but  dragged  him  out  here  insisting  this  would  be  the  party  of  the  year.  being  a  siesta  key  native,  and  like  most  natives,  hunter  was  well  aware  of  the  jamesons  and  with  the  death  of  patriarch,  the  news  had  placed  them  even  more  in  the  limelight.  it  was  as  wild  as  hunter  expected  it  to  be,  with  all  of  the  works.  upon  entry,  hunter  had  pretended  to  swallow  a  pill  which  he  had  promptly  spit  it  right  back  out  after  he  was  allowed  entrance.  in  the  midst  of  searching  for  his  friends,  the  dark-haired  male  found  himself  by  the  pool  when  he  spotted  jaxon.  he’d  know  jaxon  for  awhile,  even  spoke  to  him  every  now  and  then.  but  he’d  say  most  people  knew  the  son  of  the  famous  jeffrey  jameson.  “waiting  for  someone  special?”  hunter  inquired  with  a  raised  brow.

-

“i thought i was.” truth is— no one should be special. giving someone any kind of power or influence over you would be detrimental to your own wellbeing. in order to succeed and be great, you have to be on top. jaxon realized he’d been counting on someone else to make him happy. she kept him sane, occupied, and in certain instances, he felt like he could be loved. but, he couldn’t be. love is a mental illness, a sickness. it’s best to snuff it out before it gets worse. “a girl, actually. what’s your take on that? you ever been in a relationship, hunter?” 

It wasn’t always that he remembered someone he met in the field, sometimes when he met them somewhere, he had this vague feeling that he knew them, but couldn’t remember from where, though that wasn’t the case with Jaxon, he remembered what happened, and where he knew him from. It wasn’t always that something big happened around the island, they rarely had any life threatening situations, but in his case, what happened was pretty big, so it was hard to forget, “Kind of, yeah,” he admitted, his hands were already with his gloves on, because he never boxed without them, as it hurt when he did it before, so he bought a glove, “Sure, why not? It will probably help me,” he shrugged lightly, he didn’t have a partner often, so the opportunity weren’t always there, but it didn’t seem a bad idea.

-

Planted firmly behind the bag, Jaxon held onto it with both hands, watching him from the side. Remembering faces had never been a problem for him. Despite the many parties and random hookups, Jaxon’s memory was photographic. It tied into him having an eye for the unseen. His father wanted him to be a football star, but Jaxon was drawn to photography and film. Actors, names, writers, producers, he remembers everything and everyone. Yet, Franco’s name and face was a mystery, and that upsets him. “Where do I know you from?” It was Franco who helped him out of the burning house. But his father taught him not to believe in heroes. Because a hero will gain your trust, your allegiance, and then take everything from you.