Fabricating Jada

by Marie, Vanessa

  DeAnna's face twisted with confusion. "Carter cross-dresses?"

  I snorted a laugh so hard it hurt. "No, Carter is a girl. She's like a tall, supermodel pixie."

  "Ahh, that makes way more sense," she said with a nod and then stopped to gawk at me. "Wait, did you say Jesse actually helped you?"

  My mouth pulled into a half smile. "Yup. A few times. It's amazing—we don't want to murder each other when neither of us speaks."

  She laughed. "Well, at least he seems to be taking some sort of interest in the class then. Do I really get to keep the box?"

  I dipped my chin in a nod. "It's all yours, after McGrumpyButt inspects them and tells me everything I've screwed up."

  "Fine. Are you not eating again?" She glanced at the bench looking for the food I still had stashed in my bag.

  "I packed, I just wanted to finish these up first." The ache in my left arm took that moment to make itself known, and I grimaced.

  "You okay?" Her blue eyes pulled at the corners, full of concern.

  I gave her a half shrug and shrugged off my flannel. "I'll be fine. I've just been using it a lot today and the skin feels tight and numb at the same time even though I still feel pain. If that even makes any sense."

  "It does." She lifted her leg and pointed to a scar on the inside of her right calf. "Exhaust burn. I wasn't paying attention when I got off the back of Jesse's bike when I was younger and burned the crap out of my leg. It was awful. Every time I took a step I could feel the skin stretch and where it had blistered." She made a horrified face and shook her head. "It took forever to heal."

  "Great," I mumbled, thinking about my arm and what the healing time would look like. It wasn't like I could do this kind of stuff with one arm behind my back.

  She covered her mouth with both hands. "That's not helping you feel any better is it?" she asked with a sheepish grin.

  "You're fine. I'm sorry you got burned too, it's no fun."

  "We'll have battle wounds together, both from stupidity—except yours wasn't your own," she said with a laugh.

  "Right?"

  We talked for a few more minutes, and I had to threaten to take her shoes to make her leave without the jewelry box and roses. Parting at the split in the hallway, I went into the locker room to wash up, so I could eat before everyone got back and she headed back to her office.

  I'd forgotten all about the cuts Jesse threatened earlier in the morning until lunch was over. It was easy for me to get consumed by what I was working on and forget the world around me.

  All of our projects set in front of us on our benches, ready to be judged. My leg bounced in nervous anticipation, a habit that showed my frayed nerves more so than my apparent facial expressions—which I'm sure were wide-eyed and apprehensive—as I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

  Miguel was the first one to stop at my table, his smile easy and full of charm. "So, Valley Girl, tell me about your project."

  I sucked in a breath. Miguel never made me nervous, but I was on edge.

  "Um, it's a steel fabbed jewelry box with a custom interior and handcrafted metal roses?"

  Jesse's baritone voice cut through the silence. "You sound like you're not sure that's what you made, Jane."

  Jane. The name made me bristle with annoyance—taking over the nervousness I'd felt a moment before.

  I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin to meet his icy gaze. "It's not a question. I just wasn't sure what kind of description you were looking for other than the obvious."

  Jesse's eyebrow lifted, the challenge written all over his beautiful scruffy face. "I'm sorry, I guess I have to break it down into little girl speak for you. Did you do anything worthwhile out of your pile of junk?"

  Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to keep my mouth shut and let my work speak for itself. Without a word, I reached forward and hit the release lever to open the box. Jesse's eyes zeroed in on the movement.

  It opened perfectly. Like I knew in my gut it would. The corners of my mouth twisted into a grin of satisfaction.

  "That's badass, Valley Girl. Did you make the entire mechanism?" Miguel asked, with an impressed look on his face.

  I cut my gaze to Jesse's and answered him. "Yes, I did … All out of scrap parts."

  Something behind Jesse's eyes caused me to pause. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or infuriated. He wasn't readable. At all. When he'd helped me earlier, I'd taken the lid off so there'd be a surprise left at the reveal.

  "How'd you figure out how to put it all together to create an automatic open? The way the gears spin in release looks like something you'd buy," Jesse said as he squatted down in front of the bench to examine it closely.

  I shrugged. "It's just how my brain works. I try to think of how something should function and then put pieces together like a puzzle."

  His eyes shot to mine and narrowed in intrigue. "Walk me through it." It was a demand, not a request.

  I glanced at Miguel, who was standing with his arms folded over his chest beside Jesse. He dipped his chin in a nod and gave me his signature smirk.

  That boost of confidence was all I needed to launch into the specifics of how I made it work.

  After I was done, he picked up the box and inspected it from every angle, set it down, and then checked out the roses. I wasn't sure what I expected as far as a response from him. I don't think I even expected validation that I didn't suck … but I really didn't expect him to put it all down and walk to the next table without another word.

  My heart sank. Sitting there with my shoulders rounded forward, hunched over on my stool, I felt like a deflated balloon just sitting there—alone with my thoughts of being inadequate while they made their way around the room.

  Was it enough? Did I make the wrong thing? Should I have made something more car related? He asked for fabrication and that was what I'd given him, but maybe I'd missed the mark.

  A knock on my bench pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced up to Miguel's wink as he walked back to the front of the room.

  "I'm not sure what the hell you call this—but it's not fabrication," Jesse ground out to someone behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder, to see who he was talking about. It was the kid in the back with the piece I couldn't figure out myself earlier.

  "It's art," the kid defended.

  "It's shit," Jesse shot back.

  Holy crap. The room fell into an eerie silence.

  "Well that's just your opinion. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder."

  I didn't think a cliché would be a good way to go for this kid. Then again, he was standing up for himself—so I could understand that part.

  Jesse slammed his palms on the bench in front of the kid and his project fell over, breaking apart. "Then you must need thicker glasses, because that's not art. Half-assed tack welding random pieces together that create nothing is not fabrication. Fabrication is taking nothing and turning it into something beautiful. It's pretty sad that even a girl can understand that, but you can't."

  Why did he always have to make a dig at me? I had nothing to do with that kid's project, and I knew mine was much better.

  The idiot sealed his own fate with his next remark. "Maybe if you were more focused on helping us instead of flirting with your girlfriend, I could have done better."

  A low growl escaped Jesse's throat. The hair on my arms stood on end. The tension was thick and almost palpable.

  "Get the fuck out of my shop."

  The kid Tony's face turned ashen. Maybe he'd seen Jesse and I go toe to toe so many times he thought he could do the same. I wasn't sure why he couldn't do the same. It wasn't as if I was anyone special. But he hadn't kicked me out, other than the first time I met him. But no one here knew that but us.

  "No, look—I'm sorry. I just want to learn and you were attacking me so I attacked back. Please don't kick me out."

  Jesse stood to his full height, his gaze full of venom. "I don't really give a shit. Get out. You're wasting everyone's time by
being here. This isn't up for discussion. Vacate or I'll throw you out."

  The kid scrambled out of his seat and darted out of the room. We all sat there shell-shocked, as he moved to the last few people. Their responses were robotic and cautious. By the end of it, we'd lost two more people.

  Jesse left the room for a while. I turned to face the bench behind me.

  "Do you have any plans for your vase?" I asked.

  Chaz shook his head. "Not really, why? You want it?"

  "It's cool, but I was thinking you could have my steel roses to put in it and you could give it to DeAnna … She had her eyes on them earlier."

  His face lit up, excitement evident in the way his mouth pulled into a crooked smile. "You'd do that? Give me your roses? Did she say anything about me? That girl is smokin' hot."

  I let out a small laugh. "All she told me was that she wanted to steal some of the projects."

  "Damn." His eyes shot to mine, and he looked like something had just occurred to him. "Are you and her friends? Is that how you got in here? Because you and Jesse must have slept together and it went bad or something with the way you two fight."

  My brows pulled together in confusion as my expression morphed into anger. Did no one think I could make it on my own merit? "No," I ground out. "I don't know either of them. And I do not have a history with Jesse. I got in the same way you did."

  He rolled his eyes. It was evident he didn't believe a word I said. "Sure you did. I'll still take the roses though, it could get me in good with her."

  I blew out an annoyed breath and narrowed my eyes at him. "Forget it."

  "What? You're taking it back now?"

  I shot him a you've got to be kidding me look. "After you insulted me? Yes, I'm taking it back.”

  "Bitch," he muttered.

  I'd never been called the B-word to my face before, and it stung. Words had a way of cutting me in a way that went straight to the heart of all of my insecurities. Without replying, I turned back in my seat and faced forward. It made me wonder how many of the other guys thought I'd slept my way into the class. The thought made my cheeks heat with frustration.

  Jesse came back into the room and dropped a big brown leather pad with a thud on my bench. It was worn and well used. He set three mallets down next to it and crossed to the pneumatic hammer on the far wall. Miguel passed him a sheet of metal as Jesse pulled his safety glasses down and a pair of thick tattered work gloves on. "If you want to know how to do this, get over here and watch."

  We gathered around two-people deep to watch as Jesse hit the on switch, and the hammer kicked on with rhythmic tapping. Chaz stood right in front of me. Being 5 feet 2 inches was going to be an issue when I was stuck behind a wall of tall men. I leaned to the side to try to see around him as Jesse explained what he was doing.

  A tap on my elbow caught me by surprise. I glanced over to see Pete, the oldest guy in the class smiling at me. He jerked his head for me to come over. Following his direction, he allowed me to slip in front of him so I could see.

  "Thanks,"

  "You're welcome. Looked like they were trying to block you out on purpose."

  I gave him a tight-lipped smile and shrugged before returning my attention to Jesse.

  "Keep the metal moving or you're going to have a harder time smoothing it out," he explained loudly over the noise of the hammer smacking the metal.

  My eyes were glued to his movements, the way his body was positioned, the placement of his feet, and where he held his hands. Everything about the way he moved was easy, as if he could do it with his eyes closed. He probably could.

  "Who wants to give it a shot?" Miguel asked from Jesse's side.

  Without a moment's hesitation, my hand shot into the air. This moment was why I was here.

  "Come on over, Valley Girl." He winked just as Jesse cut his glance to mine before he gave my body a quick scan.

  "It's not a good idea," he said and looked at Chaz, the jerk from behind me.

  "Why?" I demanded, with my hands propped on my hips, a scowl deepening on my face.

  He ignored me.

  Ignored that I'd even spoken, he walked Chaz-jerkface-Johannson though the process. My emotions warred with each other, not knowing which one was more at the surface. Disappointment or anger? How he could dismiss I'd even spoken without a second glance in my direction made my blood boil.

  Anger it was.

  It boiled like hot coolant in a radiator, and I was about to steam.

  Miguel shot me a sympathetic smile and shrugged as if he didn't know what else to do. One by one the guys were led through the demonstration while I stood there with my rage.

  Ignored.

  I wasn't invisible, but they sure in heck were making me feel that way as they stepped in front of me and blocked my view like they had when we first started.

  By the time Jesse had given his last demonstration on the leather bag he called the shot bag, the disappointment hung over me like a dark cloud. I might as well have been standing out in the rain. Everyone left for the day. They all walked out without a word or glance in my direction.

  Before I left myself, I gave my area a once over. It was spotless, but as I glanced around the rest of the room, my nostrils flared at the sights. The room was a mess. Metal shavings and chunks littered the floor below a handful of pieces of equipment, and the benches were smeared with grease. I let out a groan and went to pick up the broom. It wasn't my mess, but I couldn't leave knowing one was left behind. For some reason I felt responsible.

  As I bent down to sweep up the pile I'd just created, footsteps and the rough voice I'd gotten used to, made me pause. "Fucking slobs," Jesse growled.

  I finished sweeping up and stood after he spoke. His eyes whipped to mine. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

  I glowered at him. "Well, hello to you too."

  His face was a mask of indifference even though his eyes held a curiosity to them. "It's after five, you should be gone."

  My eye roll was automatic. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

  Aggravation flashed across Jesse's face. "Do you always have to be such a smart-ass? Or is it possible for you to keep your mouth closed?"

  It was my turn to look aggravated. "Do you always have to act like a jerk and treat me like a piece of garbage?"

  He took six large strides toward me until he was standing directly in front of me. His large body looming. I couldn't help but do a quick scan of him with his thick dark hair and menacing expression. "Why are you here?"

  Nice, ignore me. Just like he did earlier. The defeat from earlier seeped in, making my shoulders hunch. I huffed. "Because the room was left a mess, and I'm not capable of leaving knowing it wasn't cleaned up."

  Jesse arched a dark brow at me and said nothing.

  I threw my arms in the air, completely exasperated. I was at my wits' end with him ignoring me. "Why do you hate me so much? What have I done that makes you disregard me and treat me like scum? You may be a jerk to everyone, but you seem to enjoy torturing me specifically. Why?"

  He turned away. Turned his freaking back to me and walked off. I stood there stock still with my mouth hanging open at his audacity as he marched over to the bench at the front of the room and grabbed the bottle of cleaning spray and a shop rag.

  Something in me snapped. I growled and marched after him. "No, you don't get to walk away and ignore me again. Once today was enough to make me feel like complete garbage."

  Jesse whipped around and pointed at me. "That right there is your problem, Jane. You're too soft."

  "My name, is not Jane."

  "I know what your fucking name is, but you shouldn't give two shits about what I call you," he snapped.

  I jerked my head back at the tone of his voice and the fact he knew my name wasn't Jane.

  "But I do care!" I yelled, my voice rising as I took a step into his personal space.

  "Too much," he yelled back.

  Rolling my eyes, I expelled a huff and tossed my arms i
n the air. Like a crazy person. "Well excuse the heck out of me for giving a crap."

  "There's a difference between giving a shit and letting every little comment get to you. Everything gets under your skin and you react. You're an easy target." His eyes had softened a bit, but his scruff-covered face was still pulled into harsh lines.

  I squinted one eye and grit my teeth together. Doing exactly what he'd just said, reacting.

  I was a reactor.

  Especially around him.

  "I'm an easy target for you," I shouted and poked him in the chest. Hard muscle jumped beneath my fingers.

  Jesse covered my hand with his, over his left pec and dropped his face right over mine. I wanted to drop my eyes and stare at the red, orange, and purple hues of ink that circled his forearms. I wanted to inspect the traditional tattoos that covered his hands or trace the outline of lettering across his knuckles—but I didn't. I forced myself to stare him straight in the face.

  "Bullshit. You're an easy target for everyone. It's because you walk around with a huge chip on your shoulder."

  I tried to jerk my hand away; he held it tighter and pulled me closer. "I don't have a chip on my shoulder."

  He shot me a look that said otherwise. "You walk around like you always have something to prove and that makes you a target."

  "So was that why you refused to let me participate earlier?" I needed to know why.

  "No."

  I rolled my eyes again and shook my head in frustration with his answer. One word that gave me nothing. I needed an explanation. "Then why? Explain to me why it wasn't a good idea."

  Jesse growled like he didn't want to explain any of his actions. And I waited impatiently, tapping my foot until he relented.

  "The vibrations would have hurt you further. Did you think I didn't notice every time you tensed and winced while using the drill press? Your arm is in no shape to handle the added stress from a pneumatic hammer."

  I dropped my eyes, closing them, and took in a quivering breath. "Oh."

  He was trying to protect me. It seemed at odds with how he usually treated me.