Smoke, Jazz, and Blood » Places

         

Smoke filled the air as Jackson took one last puff of his cigar before dropping it in a glass of water that someone left behind. With the train still moving Jackson slowly got up from the stool and balanced himself. He was not a fan of trains or even automobiles for that matter. He always got around town by just walking. His feet were his vehicle in that case. Jackson leaned over and grabbed his bourbon. He straightened his posture and made his way out of the bar. He could see the other people from his cabin wandering around and some going into another man's private cabin. Jackson thought the man with his own car must think he's the bee's knees. Without anymore thought, Jackson stepped inside of the cabin he started out in. It was nearly empty. His eyes shot around the room until he found his briefcase. He was overjoyed that no one had taken it. All the materials held within were his checks to the bank. Figurative checks. It was all a bunch of evidence for the trial that was sent over to Jackson's home back in the states. The case would be tough to crack, but Jackson had confidence in himself that he cracked the case. He was going to win it for the victim and get some good cash to go along with the win. He closed his eyes, but in return he picked up a scent. It was his own. His clothes smelled like ash. Jackson wanted to be presentable by the time he got into London. He reached under the seat where he placed his duffle bag with clothes inside. He checked his surrounding and did not see a single soul. He grabbed out another collared shirt, slacks, briefs, and a sweater vest. He would just keep his socks on since they would always smell like feet no matter what pair he wore.

Stepping out of the cabin, Jackson went into the bathroom one door down the hall, next to the cabin. He stepped inside and just shut the door enough to not be seen. He didn't lock it, but his reason was simple. Last time he was on such a train, the bathroom door wouldn't open after he locked it. He was stuck inside until the bartender noticed the door was locked, but everyone had departed the train. He shook the bad thought and started to undress. He dropped his trousers, followed by his shirt, and finally his briefs. As he was going to reach for his clothes he looked in the mirror. He couldn't help but realize what he saw. It wasn't himself, but his father. His mother even said that to him once, but Jackson flicked the comment off of his shoulder just like a pesky bug.