Breene, K F - Jessica Brodie Diaries 01 (4 page)

“Well, Jessica, I received a lot of
responses, many of which could have fit that description to some degree, but
only one piqued my interest. A girl from
California
,
just out of college, making a giant leap of faith. I knew right then God
must’ve heard me, and intertwined our paths for a reason. Now, was I right?”

Not exactly, no. But I wasn’t
planning on revealing that little nugget. I wanted that cottage, and I was
prepared to fabricate to get it.

“A fresh start in a distant place
is exactly what I am looking for. This is just one of the places I was looking
into;
Texas
I mean. I got a job,
so I found the ad and applied.”

“You see? God was listening. I am
heading to the end of my days, and I desperately needed to give back. Charity
is great, and feels great, but I wanted to give on a personal level as
well."

Ordinarily I would be irritated
that I was her Petri dish. Or that she was under the impression I needed
charity. But with a sweet little setup like that cottage below, in a price
range that wouldn’t hurt my pocket too much, I’d be her Oliver any day. Hell,
put a red wig on me and throw some coins at my feet, I’m in.

Her smile widened in a good-natured
way. “Okay, darlin, let’s go have a look!

We walked out the way we came. Big
rooms, long hallway, grand staircase. We went out through the front door. We
walked around the north side of the house to a little stone path. A large
wooden gate with spikes on the top barred our way until she tapped in a code.

“The access number is already
written down and placed in the cottage for your convenience," she said as
she continued along the path. “You’ll be safe from your admirers here.”

Yeah, like I had any of those.

Across the gate and through the
woods, little red riding hood followed her filthy rich and slightly eccentric
Godmother. We crossed a large patch of perfectly manicured lawn with various
well positioned flower beds. As we neared the cottage, we walked by a BBQ
station with a giant grill, counters, a small fridge, patio tables and chairs,
and a fire pit. I could throw one hell of a garden party on this lawn.

If I could find some friends to do
it with.

Beyond that was an Olympic sized
pool. At the far side it had a stone wall with ivy and a waterfall that
appeared to double as a slide. And I would absolutely make use of that slide. I
was still a kid where pool play was concerned!

The closer we got to the cottage,
the harder my heart thumped. It was like I was going on a date with the hottest
guy in eternity. I had to wipe my palms on my jeans, knocking off a few chip
flacks as I did so.

She opened the front door and
handed me a key. Then stared, again expectant.

Into my dumbfounded stare, she
said, "Well? This is your new home. Take the keys, enter, and give me a
tour.”

She was cracked. Give her a tour to
a place I had never been before? Oh, okay. So, you want to watch me wander
around blindly, do you? I’ll bite.

The entryway was spacious with high
ceilings and a marble floor. It had a staircase off to the right. Instead of
following it, I went through one of the doors on the left. That led me to a
living room, also with ample space, centered around a sweet little fireplace.
Furniture was ornate and stately, the leather hiding that it was slightly out
of date.

I continued through an archway into
a dining room big enough to seat six people. The room had a china cabinet
filled with fine
China
and crystal. I almost instructed her to take those away since I wasn’t adult
enough to be in the vicinity of such items. What if I sleep walked one night
and sold them all on ebay?

I continued on, my tour totally
forgotten. This place seemed like home. I fit here. As odd as that sounded with
me never, ever having this sort of finery around me, I fit. I found my niche,
and I was going to stay here as long as I could. I loved it.

After my self-tour was concluded,
and I realized I’d left Gladis somewhere behind, I backtracked through the
house and down to the living room. There she was, sitting on the couch, gazing
out the window with a dreamy smile. She looked up as I came in.

“Well?” she asked. “How do you like
it?”

I could feel my face alight with
glee. "I love it! Love it!"

She got up slowly, as old women do,
and gestured toward the sliding glass door. I followed her out to a patio
overlooking the slightly distant pool. It was some minutes before she spoke,
her southern drawl coming out tenfold.

“I designed this lil’ old house.
Pool house, my husband called it. I always thought of it as my retreat. Back in
those days, it was not uncommon for the woman of the house and the man of the
house to have separate bedrooms. Well, I had a separate house of my own when I
wanted it.

“It was the man’s way back then.”
She gave me a look that showed what she thought of that foolishness. I agreed.
A grand mess, altogether.

“The man was the boss," she
continued, "the ruler of the house. He brought home the money, and cash
was king. Before women’s lib and all that, the men paid the bills, and the
women stayed home with the children.”

She chuckled and patted my arm.
“Well, you try telling a southern lady, born and bred, that she has to answer
to her man, and she will kindly smile at you and go on doing as she pleases.
Now, don’t take me the wrong way. We did step aside for our men as often as
not. But we weren’t ruled. Oh no. No way.”

She paused for a beat and looked me
over, the sun sinking behind her into the horizon. “You might wonder why I am
telling you all this?”

Yes...I certainly did. But she had
a way of talking. Her southern drawl fascinated me. It was its own music, and I
couldn’t help but listen to the slow flow of it.

Into my polite shrug, she went on.
“This house was my sanctuary when that man of mine tried to assert his law. And
he did, often enough. I caught him with other women, we had fights like any
married couple, and there were times I wanted to slit my wrists just to get out
of his house!”

Hel-lo. Didn’t see that coming...

She was chuckling to herself,
probably reading my face if not my mind. “Not that I would, dear. No. But it
was a time of no escape for women. You young women have so many options now. So
much freedom. So many luxuries. This cottage, this pool house, was my
sanctuary. It was the only place I could be myself. I wanted to rent it out to
a free spirit that could make use of it like I always wanted to."

The twinkle in her eyes said I was
the free spirit to which she was referring. I didn't bother to correct her.
Some people's free spirit was everyone else's hot mess. Ami found that out the
hard way.

“I want you to have people
over." Gladis continued with a wave of her hand. "Decorate how you
want to. Go skinny dipping. Have plenty of men over to share your bed. Do
whatever you want to. Just treat it with respect. Treat it like your own, dear.
That’s all I ask.”

Despite the fact that a woman my
grandmother's age just told me to sleep around, I was touched. She was offering
me a home. A life. A place to put down roots, if I wanted.

I smiled like a fool.

"I will have friends over, if
I can find any, ha! And, you know, take care of it, obviously. Did you,
um--" I winced with the word slip up. "Should I get some furniture? I
was going to hit Ikea..."

She laughed, probably at my
foot-in-the-mouth stuttering, and shrugged me off. "Do what you will,
dear. Use mine, put it in storage, I leave it up to you. By the by, you don't
have any food in that kitchen o' yours. Come to the Big House. We'll have dinner.
Get acquainted."

“Oh. Awesome, yeah. That would be
great. But I’d like to get some things. Would you mind giving me some
directions to a corner store or something close?”

“Of course, of course.” She looked
out over the grass, not moving an inch.

I had nowhere to be, so I just sat
with her. Things seemed a little slower here. There was less bustle. Things
were laid back and easy. The silence that fell was not awkward, as I thought it
might be. It just...was. We sat. We gazed. I waited for her to get up, or talk,
or move. She just looked ahead.

I pulled into the parking lot of
something called the Piggly Wiggly. As my car rolled toward the large, boxy
store, I got a moment of indecision. I could literally park anywhere. Up close,
further away, down the block--anywhere! I hadn't seen this much parking since I
showed up to school on a holiday without knowing it.

Spoiled, I chose one near the door.
Why not, right? I didn't need to walk if I didn't want to. Or fight for any
spaces. Luxury!

Halfway to the entrance I realized
I forgot my list. I stopped dead and tilted my head up, trying and to remember
when I’d last had it… Wait, I should have it... Somewhere…

Lifting my bag away from my
shoulder with one strap, I dove to the bottom, fishing out a small, crinkled
list. As I rummaged, feeling like the bag was swallowing my arm, I heard a deep
male baritone say, “Ma’am.”

One, not being familiar with that
phrase, and two, wondering if someone was talking to me, which was very
un-L.A., and hence, very strange for me, I gave a quick questioning glance in
the speaker’s direction. I met a plaid chest. Obviously a little closer than I
thought.

I still had my hand stuck at the
bottom of my over-sized, over-filled handbag, walking lop-sided with no real perspective
on where I was in relation to the door, when I looked up and met two deep blue
eyes in the most breathtakingly, ruggedly handsome face I had ever seen. Watch
out Marlboro man, you ain’t got nothin’ on this cowboy!

His blue eyes caught my focus and
drew me, holding me prisoner in to a place where time did not exist. As I fell
in, lost, I felt many things happen at once. My skin erupted in goose pimples
as a shiver crawled down my back. My head went light, giving me the distinct
feeling I was floating. Thank goodness, because my legs wobbled, not sure if I
had control over my knees anymore. Topping it off, a suddenly warm, wet
sensation pooled in my groin that craved sudden and fervid contact.

I think I muttered something. I
really think I heard my voice, but I was too consumed with his eyes, and the
burning taking over my body, to be sure. I think I kept walking, but when you
lose the feeling in your legs, it's anybody's guess.

Suddenly, blue turned white as I
lost the connection of his eyes. Light swirled around me, spinning, vertigo
taking over. I hit the ground at a tumble, rolling to a stop, then flinching as
a mess of dog food rolled on top of me, crushing me to the floor.

Why me?

I opened my eyes to two things. One
was florescent rectangles hanging from a white ceiling. A small black orb
dotted the white periodically; monitoring devices. I'd landed flat on my back
on the floor. Perfect.

The next was concerned brown
peepers, leaning over the mountain of mess I'd made. He ignored the rivulets of
dried food trickling down the pile like a small stream, splashing around me
like drops from a waterfall.

Seriously, why me?

“C’mon now, darlin. Up ya
git," Brown Peepers said, digging my arms out of a ripped bag with the
fervor of youth. He couldn't have been more than twenty.

“C’mon now. You had yourself a
nasty fall. Here y’are.” He took some of the bags of dog food off me, giving a
portly forty-something-year-old woman with hair styled in a large, red beehive
room to help me to my feet.

My stomach tightened up as I stood
in the wake of a natural disaster. Fifty pound bags of dog food littered the
ground in a messy heap. Next to the door lay an overturned shelving unit with a
picture of a dog and a smiling woman, spewing more dog food over the ground.
Leaning against the mess was a red bubble-gum machine, a breath away from
crashing to the floor and breaking.

Hurricane Jessica.

“I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry!” I
gushed. “I don’t know what my problem is!”

I braced myself for the rant. For
the store owner to barge out, yelling about the mess. Threatening me with a
counter-suit if I even dared thought of a lawyer. He chase me out of the store,
my backside a welcome sight in the wake of the mess. I would then go to the
next grocery store where I wouldn’t be branded a disturber of the peace. Until
I did something else stupid.

Only problem was, I wasn’t in
L.A.
,
and I had no idea where another shop was. They weren’t on every corner in this
neck of the woods.

Red-beehive-lady clutched my arm as
I struggled out of the pile. Embarrassed laughter bubbled up as I beheld the
mess. I scanned the ground for my handbag, disbelieving that one person, me,
could make this much chaos. It was a gift.

“Honey, you took a tumble!”
Beehive-Lady said, peering into my face. “Here, come over here and have a seat.
Are you sure you’re okay?”

Her face held nothing but concern.
She gestured me around the store to a small bench seat, urging me to follow. In
shock, wondering why she wasn't pissed, I took two steps, carried away by her
concern. It took logic to still my feet.

Why the hell wasn’t she mad? I’d
just rumbled through and blasted a stand of dog food! I’d interrupted a quiet
evening at the shop with pandemonium. Why wasn’t she yelling?

The brown haired guy was picking up
the dog food, but making quick, worried glances in my direction. He wore the
same mask of alarm, concerned I would fall over at any minute.

I went back to looking for my
handbag, waving away Beehive-Lady as best I could, saying, “No, no. Oh my God,
really, I’m fine. I am just ridiculously clumsy and totally ridiculous! Sorry
for the mess! Really!”

Where the hell was my damn purse? I
had taken the tumble in the doorway, but it wasn’t there. That brown-haired
fellow was more than halfway done stacking bags, uncovering nothing on the
shiny white floor.

“You don’t worry yourself about no
mess,” Beehive lady said, shuffling into sight again. She squinted into my
face, probably anxious to see if I had a concussion. Apparently only a deranged
moron wouldn’t rest for a second after ruining the whole front walkway of a
store. “Ronnie will have that dealt with in a jiffy. C’mon’ere and have a seat.
You sure yer not hurt? I haven’t seen a tumble like that off the football field
in I don’t know how long!”

“Oh, ha! No,” I said distractedly,
franticly searching for my bag and its contents. “I’m good, seriously. Just so
sorry for the mess!”

I took a step around Beehive-Lady,
scanning the sidewalk outside the store, ready to bolt, when the Greek God
Apollo himself stepped through with my handbag in hand, a devastatingly
handsome half-smile filled with mischief lighting up his face. Those eyes
didn’t have to say hello to have me. Mr. McGuire wasn’t this good on his best
day.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” He tried for a
concerned look after a quick glance at Ronnie and Beehive-Lady, but only
managed a handsome farcical look instead. “I’m sorry to have startled you. I
believe this is yours?” He reached out with my purse.

Must-pull-eyes-away.

God he was so beautiful.

NO-PULL-EYES-AWAY!

I managed to look down at my purse
long enough to get my hand on it. It was bigger and fuller than I was used to,
because I shoved a bunch of little bits in there when I was moving, and Apollo
must’ve had muscles of steel to make the weight seem nonexistent, so when I
thought I had hold of it, it plummeted toward the ground.

In his eagerness to help me, Mr.
Apollo took a big step toward me, snatching the bag with lightning fast hands
before it could spill onto the floor. I was acutely aware of his musty man
smell. It wasn’t a clean, fresh out of the shower smell, but like a man that
was working outside all day. Eau d’Homme. Not BO or anything, but pure
Man.
I liked Man. Especially gorgeous, sexy man...

My groin burst into flame. A
million points of lava erupted across my skin; the heat of him so close, the
smell of him, the man-ness of him. I was panting. I couldn’t help a tiny moan
escaping my lips before he stepped away nonchalantly.

My God woman, get a grip! This was
all going downhill so fast I had skid marks! I needed to get the hell out of
there. Away from him.

But I didn’t want to.

But I had to! I looked like a
mental patient. No hot guy would want to be ten feet from me.

But he was so hot!

But I smelled. No shower, remember?
I was here to get a toothbrush. I probably peeled his eyebrows off when my
breath hit his face.

Wait...did I talk to him?

I pushed my schizophrenia to the
side and about-faced. Along with my body, my face was on fire...of a different
kind. Of the “can one person really be this humiliated?” kind. I muttered a
quick “thanks,” nodded to Beehive and Ronnie, and turned to go further into the
store. Grudgingly, but necessarily.

I couldn't stop myself from
stealing a secret glance as I rounded an aisle, just for one more glimpse. Big
mistake.

I was stupidly hoping he was
looking at Ronnie and the woman, but he wasn’t. Of course. His eyes were
sparkling with bemusement as he watched me trying to get away. His mouth went
from slightly quirked to a full gleaming spectacle as he caught his eye, red
faced and all.

I half fell into the aisle, juggled
a bag of rice, stuffed it back on the shelf and basically sprinted deeper into
the store. My first day here and I meet the most ruggedly handsome guy I have
ever seen, with manners no less, and eyes that are as deep and bottomless as
eternity, and I blow it. It was a fairy tale encounter. Right up until I
tripped over myself, knocked over a stand of Kibbles N’ Bits, landed on my ass,
spilled my handbag everywhere...I mean, did I have to go on? I almost dry
humped the guy’s leg! I suck. I so suck. What is my problem?! Seriously,
what-is-my-problem?

Lost in self-incriminating thought,
I collected the basics for my new home. I walked into the checkout line,
checking my list off item by item in my head, when I felt a presence.

No. Oh no. Not again.

Yes please, my inner self peeped.

I knifed my inner self immediately.

I knew it was him. I knew it was. I
don’t know how I knew—maybe it was the rubbery quality of my legs. Maybe the
lightheadedness. Maybe it was the musty, not quite sweaty eau d’homme smell.
Or, maybe it was the fire combined with Goosebumps that once again spread
throughout my body; lava settling deep in the pit of my stomach and pooling in
my groin. Christ-on-a-crutch, what was going on with me?

Don’t look up. Don’t look up! Be
busy. Busy and important. Crap to do. Dinner to cook. Or not. Something to do.
Don’t look up.

I methodically unloaded my basket
onto the conveyer. As my items slowly traveled toward the checker, which was
unfortunately none other than Ronnie, here to witness the end to my marathon of
stupid, I dug through my purse for my wallet. And dug some more. I moved
unidentified objects aside, feeling. Groping. Searching. Finding every small
article I owned in the world, except my bloody wallet.

“This can’t be happening,” I
muttered under my breath, turning my eyes down to the sink hole that was my
handbag.

I dug deeper. I looked harder and
faster and more frantically. It probably looked like something at the bottom of
my bag had my hand and was trying to wrestle it away from me. But, when all was
said and done, it wasn’t in my God-damned purse! It wasn’t...freaking...there!

I gave a deep, exasperated sigh. I
looked up at Ronnie apologetically.

“I....I don’t...”

Ronnie, finished tucking the last
item neatly into a paper bag, straightened. His eyes held mine expectantly.

I had the sudden urge to run. Or
hide. Or do anything but stand there like a fool and shake my head minutely.

“I’m sorry, guys.” I half turned to
glance at Apollo standing next to me. He had a good-natured grin wound around
confusion. “I don’t have my wallet. Er, actually, I might have my wallet. I
don’t know. I just moved and I have a ton of stuff in this bag.”

I shook my bag a little, like this
was all its fault.

I looked at Ronnie squarely. “I am
really sorry Ronnie. I need to put those groceries back. I know I have my
wallet somewhere, because I remember using it. I just don’t know where it might
be at this point.... So...”

I reached for the paper bag,
wondering if my face was as red as it felt. Usually a couple things would be
happening at this point. First, the next person in line, no matter how patient,
would start stamping his foot, have pity on his face but not hide his intense
frustration at me making him late to his next engagement. Even if he had
nowhere to be, he would feel late. Life in the city, as it were.

Second, the overworked, underpaid
cashier would be pissed at having his day interrupted by someone that was in a
grocery store with no money. Only a dingle-berry would go to a store without
their wallet. The cashier would commence treating the patron, me, like said
dingle-berry.

Strangely enough, Ronnie the
Cashier was not mad in any way. The opposite in fact. Even though, not that
long ago, he had to rebuild a display in my honor, he did not wear even a hint
of a frown.

Odd, that.

I looked over at the next person in
line with the same apology on my face, forgetting of course that he was
completely gorgeous and turned me to goo. My legs got rubbery as his eyes
probed mine.

Luckily for my fear of
embarrassment, I looked away as quickly as possible and was able to gain
composure. Small steps.

I reached for the groceries,
wondering how long it would take to put everything back. To my surprise, Ronnie
had taken the bag into his hands and was coming around the counter.

“It’s okay, ma’am. It ain’t much
you got here. Where ya livin’?”

Confused, I told him the address,
then heard a slight shuffle behind me. Curious, I turned to investigate and met
intense puzzlement, which was strange. Oh, my, who cares, look away. God, but
he was gorgeous.