Breene, K F - Jessica Brodie Diaries 01 (5 page)

God broke the mold when he made
you.

Are you tired? Tired from running
through my mind all day?

Did it hurt? When you fell from
Heaven?

“Oh, Ms. Peek’s place?” Ronnie
asked helpfully.

“Uh...her name is Gladis? I don’t
know her last name. In her cottage out back. I just moved in today.”

“That’s her, you bet! Well then,
you’ll be right back here in no time. Ain’t many places to shop as close as
this here!”

I had been reminding myself of that
unhappy fact through this whole experience.

“I can put this here on credit, no
problem. Just pay it next time around. And if you got a new wallet, I’ll know
why!” He started laughing as he handed me my bag of groceries.

I can tell you I was relieved. I
forgot toothpaste and had lost my hairbrush. There were necessities in this bag
that I needed immediately, as well as in the morning. Going without was
possible, but not pretty.

However, I was not used to this. I
stared at him for a minute, wondering if what he said was genuine. After I was
sure it wasn’t a trick, I gave him a tentative smile, and a small step toward
the door, just to give him time to yell at me or demand blood payment.

He gave me an encouraging nod.

I finally relaxed in a relieved,
purely joyful smile. I could be mortified later. Now, happy.

Ronnie returned my smile with a
weird stare. I hadn’t eaten anything in a while, but no telling what might be
in my teeth. I decided it was time to get out of there quickly. Concern for the
lost wallet would come later.

I clutched the bag closer and off I
went. I barely heard the low, exotic drum of Apollo’s voice speaking to Ronnie.
I might have ruined my chance with a man like none I found in
L.A.
,
but at least I could wash my face, body, and clean my teeth. Small miracles.

Whatever. Where there was one hot
man, there were bound to be others. This was
Texas
,
after all. Land of men. Men’s men. Real men. Men who made things with their
bare hands. Men that had muscles from real life, not just lifting a barbell.
Cowboys that had nice butts and cool hats and rode horses. I could find
another.

I got back to my new home, put my
stuff away, found my wallet on the coffee table where I left it, sighed hugely
for an imaginary audience, then showered for dinner. I didn’t need a mental
note to head to the store the next day to pay my bill. It would be etched in my
memory forever.

Half an hour later an older white
guy ushered me into a stately, though still low-key, parlor in Gladis’s
impressive house. While it looked like a man picked all the furniture a score
of years before, what with all the large, shiny wood and overbearing pieces,
the accents and small details were relatively updated for this century, and
hinted at a graceful eye for decorating. Scrolled sconces adorned the walls, adding
flare to beautiful oil paintings. Exquisite oriental rugs protected parts of
the shiny hardwood floor. Candles lent a feminine touch to a large mantel
piece.

“Hello dear!” Gladis gracefully
rose from a leather couch across the grand room.

“Hi Gladis.”

“Don’t you know better than to ring
the bell? This is your house, too. Come in the back door, silly!” She waved her
hand as she met me, immediately turning and leading me to the liquor cabinet.
And a woman wearing all black standing guard.

Bartender? Or had my reputation
preceded me?

“What’r you havin’?” Gladis asked.

“Do you have beer?”

“Beer? Oh honey, no! This is a
house of sophistication. It is time for grown up drinks!”

Grown up, huh? Drink a bunch of
hard alcohol, get sloppy, do things you’ll regret? I must have turned grown up
at eighteen. Okay, sixteen, but don’t tell my mom—it was her alcohol I was
stealing.

“Well....”

“C’mon, darlin. Lady here knows
every drink you can think of.”

“Every drink? Really?” I looked at
the middle-aged woman unfortunately named Lady. “Do you know how to make a
German Chocolate Cake?”

I got a stern look for longer than
an average moment. As a strange paranoia washed over me, she glanced back at
the almost full bar behind her. Then looked at Gladis.

Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?

Gladis had a bemused expression on
her face. “Well, Lady? You said you knew the drinks of young people. What do
you think?”

“Yes, ma’am. It sounds familiar.
Hmmm.” She turned toward the bottles behind her again, staring. Gladis gave me
a wink.

“No, ma’am. It escapes me. I am
sorry to disappoint,” Lady said, turning back to us. She meant it, too.

I quickly told the bartender, or
maid, or whoever, how to make the drink. It was an easy drink to make and take;
vanilla vodka and a chocolate liquor, which tasted like a real chocolate cake.
How could someone not know that one?

When they were made—and by the way,
they were shots, not drinks—I turned to Gladis. “Okay, this is what you do. You
grab your shot. Grab your lemon coated in sugar—yes, that is an active
ingredient. Now. Take the shot, swallow, then immediately suck on the sugar
lemon.”

Gladis tilted her head to the side
as if I’d started speaking Sanskrit.

“Gladis, this is a grown up drink.
Now, c’mon. If you don’t have beer, you have this. Grab your shot, let’s get to
it.”

I looked serious through the whole
thing, because a smile would have given it away.

Gladis put a resigned look of
determination on her face, grabbed the shot, clinked my glass, and we fired
away. I really didn’t think she would do it. Welcome back to your 20’s!

When we were done, she gave me a
hard look. Then a smile crept up her face like a slow moving beetle. “That does
taste like German Chocolate Cake. Interesting... Now, Jessica my dear, please
have Lady make you a sipping drink so we can chat.”

I would have asked for a Mojito,
but didn’t know how to make it if Lady didn’t, and I didn’t think they stocked
fresh mint, so I asked for a chocolate martini. Lady looked relieved at this
one, made it quickly, and handed it over.

Gladis led me to a plush leather
sofa. “So darlin’,” she started, “did you find the store alright?”

That earlier bout of embarrassment
must have come rushing back to my face because Gladis said, "Out with it!”

I told her the whole story. From
getting lost, which was embarrassing since she gave me directions, to diving
around a hot guy into dog food, then not being able to find my wallet and
leaving with my thirty-something-dollars’ worth of groceries on credit.

She was laughing through most of
it. When I got to the money part she stopped me. “Do you need money for that,
dear?”

“No! Thank you, but no. I found my
wallet at the house. No, it is just so dumb that I put groceries on credit like
it was 1900 or something!”

“Yes, I can see how that would be
embarrassing. Listen, what did this good looking man look like?”

Thinking of him spread warmth
throughout my body with a curious shiver going down my spine. “To tell you the
truth, Gladis, I didn’t get a thorough look because I was too busy being
surprised, then tripping over my own feet. But he had the bluest eyes I think
I’ve ever seen. They were like the pictures you see of the
Caribbean
ocean, but the deeper parts. Clear, deep blue. Shockingly blue, even.

“He was wearing plaid, I think.
Yuck, plaid. He had jet black hair that was a little long-ish, but not long. A
little shorter than Russell Crowe likes to keep his hair.” That comment was met
with a confused look.

“You know, like the rugged,
outdoorsy Australians like to wear it? Like, boy short, but a little longer
than most boys, and with a little wave to it? Not hippy long or unkempt or
anything, but enough to grab a handful in cli.....”

I can’t believe I almost said
cl**ax! To an old lady!

Her eyes were twinkling. Gross.

“Well, a good style, anyway. And I
think he had a bit of scruff on his face. His voice was a deep baritone. He was
tall. Must be six-two or something, because he would be taller than me if I was
wearing heels, and I am five-six when I stand up straight. And he had this
musty smell. But not a bad musty, but like a....like a… I don’t know how to
describe it, but it just crawled in my nose and acted like heroine or
something. Ohhh it was nice!”

“Hmmmm.”

I quirked my head at the odd
reaction, but didn't pursue. It was nice to tell someone about Mr. Hottie, or
Apollo, as I had, right or wrong, taken to thinking of him. I didn't know
enough to delve deeper.

We moved on to other conversations,
always lively without ever lacking a topic or words. I was a babbling moron,
always had been, and she a pro at tempering stupidity. Despite the age gap, and
social status gap, and most other gaps that existed between two strangers, we
had a kindred spirit. We strangely fit together, and by the end of the night,
were old friends.

I woke up late the next morning and
lounged around the cottage. I unpacked some clothes, took a gloriously hot
shower, and primped. It was a new town, I needed to put my best foot forward!
Also, I needed to pay that bill—this time I would look decent when I met the
workers. With brushed hair and clean teeth!

The day was sublime. A cool breeze
with the promise of warmth to follow. I heard a bee buzzing in the distance and
smelt fresh flowers in bloom. As I exited the spiked gate, Gladis looked up
from a patch of dirt, potted flowers around her.

“Good morning Gladis!” I boomed.

“Ah, good mid-day to you!”

“Can’t be out of the house too
early—it’d give the neighbors the wrong impression!”

Gladis chuckled and nodded. “Young
ladies don’t want to seem too eager.” She went back to her gardening.

“Do you do all the gardening,
Gladis?” I asked in awe, looking over more than a half-acre of front yard.

She didn’t bother stopping her
digging this time. “No, dear. This is a hobby. Gardening in the sunshine is
good for the soul.”

Getting a tan by the pool was more
my speed, but I let it go.

I was at the Piggily Wiggly pretty
quick. Weird ass name for a grocery store—I was expecting a pig farm at
first—but it was as normal a store as Safeway, so what did I know? No Apollo’s
this time; no tripping, no making an ass of myself, no funny business.

Ronnie, ringing people up at one of
three active check stands, had obviously worked here for a while. His hands
moved quickly and with purpose, moving people along expertly. And judging by
his longer line of all older women, he was the young hunk of the supermarket.

Go get ‘em, gals!

When it was my turn, Ronnie
recognized me right away. “Hi ya. How’re ya doin’?”

“Great, thanks! I’m just in to pay
my tab from the other night. Last night. Found my wallet.” I held up the previously
lost treasure and chuckled.

“Oh, well Mr. Davies picked that up
for you.”

“Mr. Davies? Who’s that?”

“Oh, Mr. Davies. The guy... I mean,
the man that was standing behind you the other night. He just picked up the tab
seeing as how it wasn’t much ‘n all.”

Loss for words. “Um. Oh. Uh... Is
there an address where I might drop the money by to him?”

Ronnie looked at me funny. “No
ma’am. I really shouldn’t give out his address or nuthin’. You’re new here, but
I reckon it’ll take a week or so ‘afore you know where he lives.”

“O.k...?” I was not quite sure what
that meant. Did he surmise I was a stalker?

The woman behind me cleared her
throat in an obvious, and not-so-subtle, way of telling me to move along.

“Well, thanks again Ronnie. I’m
sure I’ll see you around.”

“Yes ma’am. See you again real
soon. Have a good ‘un.” He flashed a toothy grin. He was really cute for a
young dude, in the puppy-dog sort of way.

So Apollo was Mr. Davies and known
around town. Well, anyone that gorgeous was bound to stick out. Plus, he was
chivalrous and generous. Paying for my groceries was classy. Dare I hope he
liked me?

Memories of last night tumbled
through my head. The ending note being the memory of what I looked like.

No, dare not hope. But his face was
definitely going into the spank bank for sure.

With a new-found sense of freedom
arising from a new place where nobody knew me, I didn’t want to go straight
home. I wanted to explore. Check out the town and surrounding area. Have a
glance at people, look at the countryside.

After about an hour I had the
startling realization that checking out your surroundings was only a good idea
if you paid attention. I wanted to get to
Austin
,
to the city and more people. Instead, I found myself in flat nothingness filled
with dirt, natural grass, barns and fences. I knew it was a farming area
because it smelt like cow ass. Call me Sherlock.

I pulled to the side of the road,
mostly in a ditch, to get out a map.

I rooted around in my car for ages
before I came to the conclusion that I suck, and must have taken the map out
when unpacking the car. Great. I didn’t even know where the nearest gas station
was, and didn’t have much longer before my car was out of gas.

I put my head on the steering wheel
and moaned. It didn’t help.

“Okay.” I looked up at the sun and
determined that I was facing east. If I was in
L.A.
,
I would be pointed in the opposite direction as the ocean. I would then turn
around and head to the beach for a glorious sunset over the waves.

And now I was home sick.

“Okay.” I said again, my voice
sounding strangely loud surrounded by so much nothingness. No car noises, no
people, not even airplanes overhead to drown out my words. “I am pretty sure
that I was heading east, roughly east, to get here. West to get back. Yes, I am
a genius. The roughly part is tricky, though. Wait…I think those directions had
a sorta map…”