WHO: Sam Arquette and JJ Mayweather. WHEN: Thursday, August 23. Following this. WHERE: Mayweather residence. SUMMARY: Sam follows up on Blaze's information by telling JJ that he needs to fess up. WARNINGS: Harassments. Talk of JJ.
Sam had let herself into the Mayweather house. If it had just been Dash's note she would have handwaved the entire thing, but the note to Rhett had been cruel - and that was true even if Rhett hadn't been romantically involved with Moira MacTeer, which was a rumor that had been floated to her.
Beyond that, it looked terrible. It made it look as if JJ were the murderer, which was something she doubted. She suspected that in the context of all of the other notes, this would be clear to Emilia as well, but still - it needed to stop, and JJ needed to turn himself in so that those who had received the notes would know that there was no threat.
She rapped on his door. It was late, but not so late that she suspected him to be asleep.
"Jasper James. Open."
The use of his full name was infrequent. As the last time he’d opened the door, he’d been sprayed in the face with something, JJ was hesitant. He checked the web cam footage before he sidled out of his chair and moved to lean against the wall near the door. It didn’t look like Sam had anything, but he wasn’t stupid.
“I thought I’d made it clear how I felt about you, Sam. Friends only,” he teased.
"You've been sending notes," Sam stated flatly, not amused enough to even crack a smile. "You sent a threatening note to Rhett Wyatt after his co-star had been murdered."
There was the possibility that Blaze was wrong, but JJ had the skills to do all of it. And if he hadn't, this would be the moment when she'd probably know one way or another, and for a moment, she half-wished that Blaze would be wrong.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, still not opening the door. “Don’t you have some writing to do? Further investigating murders or something?”
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Sam said. "I didn't say anything to you when you fucked up Marceline's picnic. And I haven't said anything to you when you've been a fuckwit to my cousin. And I've danced with you, and sent you my stories, and considered you a friend, but I am done making excuses for you. Threatening a total stranger with death after their co-star has died is flat out stupid, never mind cruel, and you are going to go make it right, do you understand?"
She sounded like her mother. Which. Was almost amusing, or would have been in another circumstance. She had overlooked so many things, because in a weird way she did like JJ. He was irreverent, and could be funny, there were moments he seemed to care, and he could even be charming when he wanted to be, and he really did give good editing advice, and she didn't want to lose it. But. This couldn't keep happening to people. And people like Rhett, who already seemed a little haunted by the events of the past few months, didn't deserve it anymore than her cousin had.
Against his better judgment, JJ unlocked the door. He opened it just enough before he stepped away, finding his way back to his seat, Sam following him, where he returned to debugging the code he was working on. “I don’t need you to make excuses for me,” he replied as he stared at the screen. “People in this town know what they’re getting when they hear my name. Mayweather means something.” Unless it pertained to his brother. “Go interrogate Lola. She openly terrorizes people. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Arquette.”
She expected him to appreciate nothing, it wasn't his style. He could be halfway decent if he put his mind to it, but mostly he didn't. If anything his words confirmed to her that he enjoyed his reputation. She crossed her arms over her chest, and for an instant debated options. She hadn't expected him to just go off and do the right thing, but she hated the option of cutting him out completely.
"I'm here to get my bag," she told him. "Whether or not I send you the next chapter, whether or not I talk to you ever again, is going to depend on what you decide to do. The police department is conducting a murder investigation, JJ. I don't believe you murdered anyone, but these notes are a distraction from catching the real killer, and Fall City doesn't have a large department - their resources get stretched thing. Not knowing who did the notes they have to assume it may be related to the killer, and that's a distraction they don't need. You're going to go in, and you're going to take responsibility so they can stop being distracted on this childish bullshit, and instead focus on the real crime."
She glanced at the code he was working on. She shrugged, with a nonchalance she didn't entirely feel. "Or, you can continue to be best friends with the code, without any distraction from me."
JJ broke from the screen long enough to catch a glimpse of her with the second half of her speech. He shrugged in reply. “There’s nothing to take responsibility for. So if you decide not to send me chapters or talk to me again, that’s your decision.” His tone was cool, clipped. “There are dozens of girls just like you wandering Seattle. I’ll survive.”
As he turned back to the computer, jaw tight, he continued with his program. “Good luck finding somewhere else to cool off.”
Sam rolled her eyes at that. A less secure person might have been wounded at the barb, but she neither needed to be 'special', nor did she believe that dozens of girls like her existed in Seattle. But he really had given her the perfect exit. She turned and headed for the door.
"There are dozens of other homes in Fall City with Air Conditioning, JJ. I'll be fine."