Fabricating Jada

  Jesse lifted my chin with his callused hand, his gaze heated and intense.

  "I tried to make it simple without making you look weak. You have nothing to prove."

  I narrowed my gaze at him, searching his face for understanding.

  "Then why are you so hateful to me all the time?"

  He lowered his face even farther, until our lips were only a breath apart. Still holding my hand over his chest. The warmth of our skin flowing into one another. "Because you need to be pushed. You need to grow thicker skin and shut off the part of your brain that cares about the validation of others."

  Moisture burned in my eyes, blurring my vision as I sniffed to keep the tears from falling. "So you're a jerk, because you want me to toughen up?"

  He dipped his chin in a curt nod.

  "That doesn't even make sense." I shook my head, breaking the heated eye contact. The way he was looking at me was confusing. Our close proximity had my body on full alert. The man oozed sex appeal, and my traitorous body wanted to lean into him.

  "Doesn't it?" he asked with an arch of his brow as he stepped away—breaking all contact and whatever kind of moment we were having.

  I stood there, unmoving until I snapped out of it.

  We cleaned in silence, and I left when I was finished, without saying anything else to him.

  Taking a page out of his book.

  I was completely drained as I climbed onto the bus. The plan was to nap on the way back. After the day I'd just had, the last thing I wanted to do was interact with people. I settled into my seat and had just closed my eyes, knowing it would take us a half hour to get to the Greyhound station.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, interrupting my calm.

  Carter: Are you on your way back yet? Or did you get Pollynapped? Did your arm fall off? Did Jesse fall in love with you?

  I snorted at her craziness as I typed out my response.

  Me: How much fro-yo have you consumed? Yes, I'm on my way back. Arm is still attached, but barely. It hurts. A lot. And he hates me.

  Three dots popped up immediately.

  Carter: I highly doubt he hates you.

  Me: Shows what you know. He told me he "most definitely doesn't like me."

  Carter: Asshole. We hate him. We shall make a voodoo Jesse and impale him with things.

  I laughed out loud and did a quick scan of the people around me to see if they'd heard. A few were looking at me as if I'd lost it. How much sanity I had left was questionable at best. We texted back and forth until I made my connection, and then I dozed on the long trip back to Long Beach.

  Carter passed me my phone back after she scrolled through the pictures of my projects as we sat on her couch, eating our In and Out burgers.

  "J, do you realize you could make an Etsy shop and sell these for big bucks?"

  I rolled my eyes. "You're biased and do you have any idea what the shipping costs would be for something that heavy? No thanks."

  She shook her head. "I'm not. This is the best work you've ever done. Your ingenuity is a force to be reckoned with. Jesse Valentine better watch his back, because you're coming for him!"

  "I don't know about that. He didn't say a word after he was done inspecting it all. Miguel seemed impressed, but then again he's a giant flirt so I never know with him if he's just being nice or not."

  It was Carter's turn to roll her eyes. "Whatever, chica. What are you going to do about tomorrow?"

  "Keep working, I guess."

  A wicked gleam shone in her eye. "Well, I think he's a dickhead because he wants to tap that ass." She made a smacking motion back and forth in front of her.

  I lifted an unimpressed brow. "Um. No. We can barely stand to be in the same room. Don't get me wrong, the man is gorgeous, but it wouldn't be worth it. His mood swings give me whiplash."

  Carter's smile grew wider. "That just means he's good in the sack."

  "Just stop," I groaned.

  "Whatever you say, but mark my words," she said and took a bite of her burger.

  I'd already polished mine off and was ready for bed.

  As I stood in the bathroom and washed my arm, worry hit me like a freight train as I held it under the water. The blister had popped at some point during the day, probably when I was overdoing it, and it was oozing something that looked straight out of Ghostbusters.

  Cleaning it the best I could with the supplies we had, I tried to keep my hands from shaking from the pain. It needed air after being covered all day, but I was afraid I was going to wake up with my sheet stuck to it.

  That was exactly what happened.

  The next morning I sat nervously at my bench, my leg bouncing in anticipation. My face was pulled into a frown from the ever present pain in my arm. I had no idea how I was going to work on anything with the shape it was in, but I'd force myself to push through it.

  This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I wasn't going to blow it.

  One by one, everyone entered the room and took their seats. Jesse and Miguel followed a few minutes later.

  Miguel tilted his head and watched me with a wary look in his eyes. I didn't like that look at all. Jesse noticed and narrowed his gaze. He marched right for me.

  Great.

  "Is there a problem, Jane?"

  I ground my jaw back and forth. It was too early for his crap, and I wasn't in the mood. "No."

  "You sure about that?" His voice was accusatory.

  "I'm fine," I snarled.

  He sneered at me. "You don't look, fine."

  Miguel stepped up next to Jesse and flashed that easy smile he always wore. "She sure looks fine to me."

  Jesse groaned and shot Miguel a dirty look. "You're a fucking walking HR nightmare, you know that? Are you trying to get sued for sexual harassment?"

  I snorted. I couldn't help it. The irony was too rich.

  "Got something to say?" Jesse demanded, leaning over my bench.

  I shook my head and laughed to myself. Miguel joined in the laughter.

  "What the hell are you laughing at, Nunez?" Jesse snapped.

  He clapped Jesse on the back. "Oh, ya know. How you're the pot calling the kettle black on sexual harassment."

  With that, I lost it. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. Miguel hit the nail on the head.

  "Fuck off, Nunez,” Jesse said and walked off.

  He knocked on my table and smiled as I tried to catch my breath. "What a way to start the morning, eh?"

  I nodded, still unable to speak.

  That should have been my sign that the day was only going to go downhill.

  Jesse slammed a mallet on the front bench to get our attention. "Since everyone had a demo yesterday, you're going to split up into pairs and work with the pneumatic hammer and then finish them out on the bag."

  I groaned inwardly. Everyone had gone through the demo but me. I had no idea what I was doing and from the way my arm felt, it was going to be bad. They all paired off, leaving me the odd man out. I walked across to another bench, not about to ask the jerk who'd called me a B the day before.

  "Do you guys want a third?"

  They exchanged a glance and scoffed. "Nah, we're good, princess."

  "Maybe your boyfriend will give you some special one on one time," Chaz the-jerk-off-Johannson spat from the bench behind me.

  I glared at him. "Is someone a little butt-hurt they don't get attention?"

  Everyone laughed.

  His sneer was menacing, and it didn't surprise me when he muttered, "Bitch." Again.

  No one else wanted to work with me. I rolled my eyes at their maturity and headed back to my bench.

  "Where's your group?" Jesse asked a moment later.

  I shrugged. "Flying solo I guess."

  "Why?"

  I gave him another half shrug. I wasn't going to cry about no one wanting to work with me. That wouldn't help me gain the respect of anyone.

  He arched a brow, his face still pulled into a frown and walked off.

  Miguel hand
ed out the materials and everyone got to work. Because all the equipment was being used, I sketched a shape out on my sheet of metal and used the electric sheers to cut it. My project would be a motorcycle tank, if I was able to get it finished. I beat the rough shape on the shot bag with a mallet, getting it ready for the next step. Each hit was more painful than the last, as it took two hands to do it. One to hold the steel steady and the other to wield the hit. Everything was a rough guesstimate on if I was doing it correctly or not. The dark glares Jesse shot me across the room made my need to ask questions dissipate into thin air.

  When the pneumatic hammer opened, I made my way over to it cautiously and tried to remember everything I'd seen Jesse do the day before, but I was still clueless.

  The first series of taps from the automated hammer sent a vibration that reverberated through the steel and my arm so hard, I jumped back, letting go.

  Another set of hands flew up to catch the material before it was flung back at me, and hit the off button. I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath. "You okay, Valley?" Miguel asked from beside me.

  I nodded and cradled my arm against my chest.

  "You don't look okay. How much pain are you in?" His voice was laced with concern.

  "A lot, at the moment," I confessed and glanced up at him.

  He turned to face me and rested a hand on my shoulder. "Look, I think maybe Jesse was right. Maybe using this isn't the best idea for you right now. You can do some serious damage to your nerves if you don't give it time to heal."

  I gave him a slow blink. "I don't really have a choice if I want to stay here do I?"

  Huffing, he looked around the room. "Since you don't have a partner and didn't get to do the demo yesterday, let me show you the technique and work on your piece at the same time. You should be able to do the next part a bit easier."

  "Thanks."

  He hit the on switch and started working my project back and forth.

  "What is this going to be?" he asked and glanced over at me.

  I shot him a sheepish grin. "A tank."

  "Nice." He gave me his signature grin. "Now, when you're going to a higher curve, you want to focus on moving it like this."

  I studied his movement and nodded at each of his instructions. Before I knew it, he was finished.

  We moved to the English wheel as he showed me how to smooth everything out.

  "You should be able to do this motion without causing too much pain to your arm," Miguel said quietly.

  But it wasn't quiet enough.

  Jesse's raspy voice boomed from beside us. "You need to leave."

  My head whipped in his direction, wide-eyed. "What? Why?"

  His expression was hard. "You're unable to do the work on your own and you're a liability."

  Tears pooled in my eyes. I sniffed and sucked in a ragged breath. "Everyone else has a partner. How is Miguel helping me any different?" I demanded with a shaky voice.

  He folded his massive arms over his equally massive chest and leaned forward. "You need to go home, Jane. Come back tomorrow."

  My shoulders slumped forward. "So you're not kicking me out indefinitely?"

  "I'm kicking you out today. We'll see what you're able to do tomorrow." His voice was low enough for only the three of us to hear.

  I cut a sideways glance at Miguel who gave me a tight lipped smile before taking my project up to the front bench.

  There was no point in arguing with him. My fight was gone for the day. I knew my pain level was making it difficult for me to do what I needed to, and it was a hard pill to swallow. Staring at my boots, I shuffled my feet over to my work station and cleaned up before grabbing my bag.

  "It's about time you got kicked out of here," Chaz said from behind me.

  Do not let them see you cry. Do not let them see you cry.

  If I had it in me, I would have said something as a retort, but I didn't. My instinct was to cry. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was too weak to make it. If I couldn't handle the pain from a lousy burn, even if it was a second-degree burn and the size of a hand across my forearm … maybe I wasn't tough enough to make the cut.

  I walked to my bus stop with my tail tucked between my legs and my head hung in defeat.

  The bus was almost empty compared to how packed it was on my morning rides. I took a seat toward the back doors and rested my head back against the glass, closing my eyes with an exasperated sigh.

  Everything was going wrong. This was supposed to be my chance to prove myself, and if I wasn't screwing it up with my mouth, I was screwing it up by showing I was the stupid girl they thought I was. The tears I'd been holding back fell freely, streaking my cheeks like a downhill derby race.

  "Hey, lady, why you crying?" A small voice asked from beside me.

  I sniffed and wiped my face with the back of my good hand before opening my eyes.

  Quinten's big brown eyes watched me with concern as he kneeled on the seat next to me, with his dark, close-cut, curl-covered head inclined to the side.

  My mouth quirked into a small smile. What were the odds?

  "Hey, you."

  "Hi. Why are you crying?" he repeated with his lips pulled into a frown.

  His mom nudged him from the other side and hissed at him. "Quinten, stop being nosey. It's rude." She glanced at me and gave me the same apologetic smile from last time I'd seen her.

  I nodded to her it was okay and turned my attention back to him. "I just had a bad day. That's all."

  He glanced at the race car watch on his wrist. "It's only ten forty-five. Your day ain't over yet."

  My mouth fell open at his response as I cut a glance to his mom.

  Shaking her head as she rubbed her swollen belly, she sighed. "I know. He's been like this since he was two. This is my life."

  I laughed. "You are one smart little dude, Quinten."

  "I know," he said with a shrug. It didn't come off cocky or even egotistical. Just sure of himself.

  There was no doubt in my mind he'd go places in his life. There was a confidence in that little kid that I was envious of. The kind of confidence I would never possess.

  "Hey lady, what's your name?" he asked, pulling me out of my self-loathing.

  "It's Jada." I offered my hand to him.

  We shook hands. Again, I was surprised by him and the kind of firm grip he had. "Nice to meet you, Jada. That's my mama, Toya." He tossed his head in his mom's direction.

  She waved and smiled. "Hi, Jada."

  My face broke into a wide grin. "Nice to officially meet you both."

  Just then I remembered the treasures I had in my bag and was surprised he hadn't said anything about it. I unzipped my bag and glanced at him, with my mouth pulling into a megawatt grin, hoping he'd be as excited about the loot I had as I was. "Hey, Quinten … I have something for you."

  "What is it?" he asked with an excited expression.

  I pulled the signed picture and hat out and passed them to him. His eyes went wide as his face beamed. "These are for me?" he squealed.

  Nodding, I couldn't help but laugh.

  He thrust them in Toya's face. "Mommy, look!"

  Toya's face lit up as tears filled her eyes. "Thank you, Jada. You didn't have to do that."

  "I know. I wanted to."

  Quinten put the hat on and squeezed the picture to his little chest. "Do you know him? Is he your friend?"

  I shook my head. There was no way I could admit to either of those things since neither was true. "No. I just asked if it was possible to get a picture for you. They gave me both of these and said to tell you to always work hard."

  He beamed from ear to ear, bouncing in his seat. That alone made everything worth it.

  I forgot for a little while about the crapiness of my day and enjoyed life through the eyes of a child.

  The bus stop before mine, if I was heading to Carter's house, stopped in front of Sav-On Pharmacy. I knew deep down my arm wasn't going to get any better if I continued to ignore it and rub dirt on it
like Carter claimed. Today proved the pain was too much for me to handle, and I was concerned.

  With the few dollars I had in my pocket, I hoped the pharmacist would tell me something useful as I went inside. I browsed the first aid isle and the hundreds of triple antibiotic creams and bandages without knowing which would be the best.

  Waiting at the Ask counter, it took the pharmacist a few moments to notice me.

  "Can I help you?"

  My cheeks flamed pink as I dropped my gaze to the counter, knowing I was about to be judged. "Yeah. I um—burned my arm in the shop and it's not healing. Is there anything I can put on it to help it along?"

  I glanced up quickly to see him eyeing my bandage. "Can I see it?"

  Nodding, I unwrapped the grease-stained bandage and offered him my red and angry looking arm.

  He sucked in an audible breath as his eyes darted from mine to my burn. "This looks bad. You really need to go to the Emergency Room because it's on the verge of an infection."

  My uncertainly grew under his scrutiny. "I can't."

  The pharmacist's mouth drew into a hard line. "Where did you say this happened again?"

  His tone was almost accusing, and that lit my fuse. Looking up, a flash of anger passed in my eyes. "I'm taking a metal fabrication class. We were welding and the jerk next to me flung a hot piece of metal my way. It landed on my arm. I got burned." My voice was harsher than I meant for it to be.

  "Okay … How long ago was this?" he asked with a softened expression as he reexamined my arm.

  I gave him a quick shrug. "A few days ago."

  "And you can't go to the hospital because …?"

  I huffed. "I can't afford it. Is there anything you have here that I can use or not?"

  He nodded with concern still etched on his face. "Let me come around and I'll show you."

  We walked down the aisle I'd been in before, and he handed me a few things. "Do your best to keep it clean and covered while you're in class. If it gets any worse or if you see any kind of puss, you need to go to the Emergency Room and worry about the bill later, okay?"