Page 65 of Hard to Kill
She gives him the finger over her shoulder as she heads up the stairs.
Jacobson comes walking down a couple of minutes later, wearing a white T-shirt with a penguin on the front and tennis shorts. Jimmy hasn’t seen an ankle bracelet in a while. It’s bigger than he remembers, or maybe it’s just Jacobson’s skinny chicken legs. If he still had the tennis court at his old house, thething would probably hamper the shit out of him rushing the net.
“All I have to say to you,” Rob Jacobson says, “is that I got nothing to say to you.”
But being Jacobson, he has to add, “I did hear you had some car trouble?”
“And where would you hear something like that?”
“A friend.”
“Wait,” Jimmy says. “You still have friends?”
“You just met one of them.”
“You mean illegally blond?”
“I’ve got an idea,” Jacobson says. “You got anything else you want to ask me, talk to my lawyer.”
He turns around, like he’s on his way back upstairs, when Jimmy grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around, feeling the immediate spasm of pain through his rib cage, but not caring because spinning this guy makes the pain well worth it.
He raises his hand just slightly, so he now has Jacobson by the neck. As he does, he hears the girl in the sweatshirt make a chew-toy squeak from the top of the stairs.
“This is not the day for you to annoy me more than you already have, for too many reasons to list,” Jimmy says, his mouth close to Jacobson’s ear.
“I have pointed this out before, but I can fire you,” Jacobson says, through clenched teeth. “You know that, right?”
“And I’ve pointed out to you that you fire one of us, you fire both of us,” Jimmy says as he lets go. “Now let’s go sit in the living room without me having to pull you in there by your ear.”
Jimmy can hear the girl walking around upstairs. Jacobson takes the couch. Jimmy lowers himself down, carefully, into a wicker chair.
“Okay, what’s got your hair on fire this time?” Jacobson asks.
“Your son broke into Jane’s house last night and threatened her.”
Jimmy sees genuine surprise on Jacobson’s face, even knowing how little is genuine with this bastard, other than maybe the fear he showed Jane after he’d gotten shot at.
“Wait… Eric was at Jane’s?”
“In her bedroom. In the middle of the night.”
“What the hell for?”
“He told her to quit your case. Told her that he couldn’t let dear old dad get away with murder twice in the same lifetime.”
Jacobson sadly shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he may be even more of a loser than I thought. And still dumber than cement.”
“Jane found him pretty persuasive when he was talking shit about you, and what he says you’re capable of.”
“Rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Eric could always fake sincerity even better than I do.”
Before Jimmy can respond, he sees a familiar sneer. “Broke in, huh? At least the kid is still good at something besides riding the waves.”
Jacobson yells up to the girl. “Bethany, come down here and get me some coffee.”
“Get it yourself,” they both hear from upstairs. “I’m walking to the beach.”
Jacobson shrugs. “Kids today.”