Fabricating Jada

by Marie, Vanessa

  Yeah. I didn't have to worry about pretending it didn't happen either. Jesse ignored me completely all day. After lunch we were paired up—well, those of us who'd bothered to show up to class today. Pete, the oldest guy of the group was my partner.

  "So, did you go to the party last night? From the looks of the class today, it seems like it got pretty wild."

  I searched his face to see if it was a trap I was walking into, his brown eyes, shadowed by graying caterpillars which should have been eyebrows, seemed sincere enough. I half shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I wasn't there."

  His bushy caterpillars lifted in surprise. "Oh, really? You're young. I thought you would have been there in a heartbeat."

  I shook my head, my eyes on our project in front of us. "Not really my scene. What about you?"

  Pete snorted. It was like a chuckle and a snort and a burp all in one. I'd heard him make the noise before but never this close up. It made my lips quirk up into a smile. "Nope, not my scene either. I was home with my wife and kids. Who has a party on a Thursday anyway?" he asked.

  That made me laugh. "Exactly."

  The gruff huff behind me made me stiffen—completely rigid. Of course he had to be right behind me. Of course he'd listen to us make fun of him. Kill me now.

  "Maybe you two don't have enough to work on if you have so much time to talk," Jesse snapped.

  After a beat I had the nerve to peek over my shoulder, and he was in the back of the room working with two other students. It wasn't like he'd really ever been helpful, but the icy feeling I got from him now, was almost tangible.

  "What crawled up his shorts?" Pete asked.

  I gave a quick shake to my head. "Who knows? Let's just get this done."

  We took turns working the English Wheel, smoothing out our pieces of metal. We each had our own sheet to roll out into half of a fender, and then we'd have to weld both halves together to make one full fender. The shape was up to us, but it all came down to teamwork.

  I'd noticed Pete was having some difficulty on one of his sections and wanted to help.

  "Hey, can I offer a suggestion?" I could feel Jesse's glare on the back of me as soon as the words were out of my mouth, but I did my best to ignore it.

  Pete had taken more of a shine to me and my skill set over the last couple of days and was receptive to my ideas, thankfully. "Sure. We're a team right?" He stopped rolling his piece and looked at me.

  "Since we decided to do a flared fender, we need to work on that part. On my side, I flared out on the bottom corner and if we're going for symmetry then you've got to start working your side from the middle out so the flares will match." I pointed to the edge and held my side up against his to show him what I meant.

  Pete shook his head slightly in disbelief. "Are you sure you've never done this stuff before?"

  "No, why?"

  He eyed me with suspicion, his lips twisting with a grin. "Because you're too good for someone who's just learning."

  My cheeks flushed pink.

  "Her side is far from perfect. Keep working, you only have a few hours left to finish," Jesse's rough voice barked from behind us. I knew that jerk was behind me. Ugh.

  Whoever thought it would be a good idea for him to teach should be smacked. He was by far the worst teacher in the history of teachers ever. Criticism wasn't a good teaching method. And it wasn't motivating. I gritted my teeth, my nostrils flaring as I turned to face him. "I never said my side was perfect," I snapped.

  "You must think you're able to teach this class since you're handing out advice so freely." His forehead creased, stress lines crinkling around his eyes.

  "I was trying to help my partner. The person you paired me up with so our fender will look like one piece made by the same person—you know like you told us to do and now you're yapping about it? Did you ever say we weren't allowed to help each other? Is that a part of the rule book I wasn't privy to?" My chest rose and fell rapidly from my rant.

  Pete's eyes were wide, his gray caterpillars half way up his forehead. It looked like he wanted to run. Heck, if I wasn't so darned mad I would have run away, too.

  Jesse closed the distance between us; we were almost chest to chest as he dropped his face just inches from mine. I craned my neck back to stare up at him, my nostrils still flared. His frown deepened with each passing second. "If you think you know so much, finish on your own by five o'clock with no help from anyone but yourselves. Then we will see if you sink or swim, little girl."

  We stared each other down. Neither of us willing to be the first to look away. The tension in the air was palpable. Why me helping anyone made him so upset, always left me scratching my head. The kiss was definitely a mistake. The fury in his eyes made it clear it was the furthest thing from his mind.

  "Fine," I ground out and waited. And waited some more until he took the first retreating step. I wasn't going to be the first to back down. Screw him. He was acting like the biggest jerk on the planet and for what? To prove a point? I never said I was perfect, but it didn't mean I was going to give up.

  When he stormed out of the shop, I realized how quiet it had gotten. I peered around to find all eyes on me. Everyone had been watching us. Crap. Pete didn't look like he knew what to think and neither did I.

  "I'm so sorry, Pete. I didn't mean to screw this up for you too." My eyes watered a bit. Stupid hormones.

  "Don't worry about it. You were just trying to help for the good of our project and he doesn't seem to like a female around who knows what she's doing. Let's get this done to the best of our ability okay?"

  My shoulders relaxed a bit. "Okay. I'm still sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. I usually do—except around him."

  Pete chuckled more to himself than to me.

  "What's so funny?" I wasn't sure if he was laughing at me or the situation.

  He shot me a strange glance. "The way you two fight reminds me of me and my wife. Man, to anyone else she's the sweetest person on the planet but I sure know how to ruffle her feathers. I think Jesse figured out how and when to push your buttons the second he laid eyes on you."

  My cheeks flushed scarlet, and I turned back to face the English Wheel. "And what purpose would that serve? To get me all riled up that is?" I prayed my face didn't deceive me. That it didn't scream I'm a dirty, dirty liar who already had her lips all over his.

  Pete bumped my shoulder with his. "Because, speaking from experience, men never really grow up and we tend to pick on the ones we like the most."

  That was the dumbest explanation I'd ever heard in my life. My dad always said to find a man who treated you with respect and showed you worth. Even if he hadn't always followed his own sage advice, I knew he only wanted what was best for me when it came to my career, and he didn't want me to end up disappointed.

  "Well, that's stupid. Let's get this dang fender done and over with so he can yell some more and I can avoid him for two entire days." The weekend would be mine. Well, kind of. I had to work at Auto Depot from open to close. Whichever way I looked at it, there would be none of Jesse's mood swings and that was a break.

  Pete agreed and we worked diligently until we finished. We flipped a coin to see who would weld it so the welds would be done by the same person, and the other person would grind everything down. We were both solid welders and could use a grinder, so choosing one person over the other based on who was the best was a toss-up at best, and we were trying to set egos aside for the good of the project. Tails said I was the welder, and I took a little more time than I really needed to make sure it was the best I could possibly make it. Pete smoothed every edge until it was dang near perfect. I was pretty sure perfect didn't exist in Jesse's book.

  When we finished, we took a step back and looked around the room. Everyone else was still working. And that was with help. That worried me a little. "Uh, do you think we need to go over it again or do anything else?" I asked Pete as nerves crept low in my belly.

  We'd drilled and tapped two holes to connect the fend
er which wasn't required, but I thought was necessary if it was going to be the real thing.

  Miguel arched his brow from across the room and dipped his chin in an approving nod. It made me breathe a bit easier but his verdict wasn't the one that mattered. Not on this anyway.

  "Compared to what I'm looking at with everyone else's, ours is by far the best," Pete mumbled.

  I blew out a heavy sigh. "Maybe, but they also don't have a fire-breathing dragon ready to pounce on them for the first mistake either."

  When Jesse made his rounds half an hour later, we'd cleaned up our work station and were sitting at my bench with the fender set up in front of us. Without a word, he squatted in front of me on the opposite side of the bench and eyeballed our work. He squinted with his right eye and examined it closely and then set it upright. I wasn't sure if he expected it to fall over or what, but it stood upright on its own merit. We'd made sure it was square as I tack welded it together. Maybe I was a bit of a perfectionist.

  He grunted and mumbled something unintelligible. I forced myself to chew on my inner cheek to keep from speaking. Do not speak, Jada. Not a word. The last thing I needed to do was argue with him some more. After a beat, he flipped it and inspected every inch of the welds. "Who welded it?"

  Before I could answer, Pete did. "We would like you to look at the fender as a whole instead of who did what individually."

  Jesse lifted one of his furrowed brows and cut his eyes to meet mine. They bore into me. "And how was it decided who would do what?"

  "We flipped a coin," I deadpanned.

  His mouth twisted slightly. If I'd blinked, I would have missed it. In the world of Jesse Valentine, I'm pretty sure that's what they called a smile. It was the kind of smile that made you nervous.

  "You flipped a coin to divide up the work?" His tone was basically calling us liars.

  I couldn't stop my mouth. It was moving before I could clamp it shut. "I'm sorry, what were we supposed to do? Break it up based on who was stronger in a particular area even though we were both strong in all areas—or just let the person with the penis do it all while the little girl sat back and watched while looking pretty—like a hood ornament?"

  Pete gasped. Miguel had walked up at some point and sounded like he was choking. Or trying not to laugh. I wasn't sure which. Jesse's eyes looked murderous. He slammed our fender on its side. Thankfully it held up and didn't break apart. He leaned over our work bench, his palms flat on the metal surface. Leering at me. "I was actually going to compliment your work until you opened your Goddamn mouth. Is it possible for you to ever take constructive criticism?"

  I stood, sending my stool flying backwards. "Maybe if you actually gave constructive criticism instead of being a giant butt-muncher all the time and trying to belittle me—I'd take what you had to say."

  Jesse growled, that low, no nonsense growl. "Butt-muncher? Can't put your big girl panties on to ever curse at me?"

  "Screw you, Valentine."

  "Get the fuck out of my shop." His expression was blank as if he didn't give a crap.

  "Gladly."

  I grabbed my tool bag from my feet and stormed out without looking back. In the locker room, I threw open my locker and stuffed my clothes from the night before in my backpack. At that point, I wasn't even sure who I was more pissed off at, Jesse or myself. He brought out a side of me I hated. When I emptied everything out, I stopped short when a small silver canister in the back of the locker caught my attention. It wasn't mine, and I'd never seen it before. Grabbing it, I sank to the bench behind me and twisted the cap. The familiar aroma of the salve Jesse had put on my burn hit my nose and immediately brought tears to my eyes. Not from the aroma but from what it meant. He'd gone through the trouble of giving me some of the cream for my arm, and all I'd done in return for all of his kindness was be a mouthy, pain in his butt. I dropped my head into my hands and shuddered.

  The door to the locker room opened a few minutes later, and I didn't even bother lifting my head. It wasn't like I was going to show my face here again after today anyway. I'd sealed my own fate.

  "Jada?" DeAnna asked hesitantly.

  Letting out a small groan, I shook my head. Could my day get any worse? All I needed was a tongue lashing from her, too. I didn't answer as her heels clipped across the concrete or as she took a seat next to me.

  "Are you okay? I've just heard all about today."

  I groaned in response, not wanting to show my face. My behavior was embarrassing enough, and I needed to suck up the pity party of one before the locker room filled with everyone else. "Who told you?" I asked, being a complete and total glutton for punishment.

  "Miguel. He also told me your fender was some of the best work he's ever seen, and he's never seen that kind of quality out of a novice since he met Jesse."

  That made me lift my head and gawk at her. "I wasn't the only one working on it though."

  She gave me a don't shit a bullshitter kind of expression. "Oh, shut up. Miguel told me he watched you coach a man twice your age with twice your experience through the entire thing. Which, I'm sure, pissed Jesse off."

  I dropped my hands and turned to face her. "Why does everything I do seem to make him so mad? I mean, I know I get mouthy and that doesn't help matters, but it seems like he can't stand that I may actually be okay at this."

  DeAnna patted my thigh and gave me a small smile. "Jesse has always worked so hard to be the best at what he does. While he's very good at what he does, it's come with a lot of time and practice. He has a lot of natural ability, but from what I hear, you surpass his natural ability to pick up on things easily and excel. I think that irks him as much as it impresses him."

  I could understand that, and it made complete sense, and here I went and threw it all back in his face. Man, who was the real jerk? It wasn't him. Okay, maybe he wasn't completely faultless, but neither was I.

  "Jada, I wanted to apologize to you for last night. Jesse told me what really happened and it was wrong of me to assume or believe anything my stupid cousin had to say. I hope you will forgive me and things won't be awkward between us." Her candy apple red lips pulled into a hopeful smile.

  "It's okay. I'm sure it looked really bad, but it doesn't really matter now anyway. He kicked me out—and for good reason. I can't seem to keep my foot out of my mouth around him." I tried my best attempt at a shrug. Deflated. That's how I felt. Knowing I was capable of doing the work but not being capable of keeping my mouth shut long enough to do it.

  "I'm sure he didn't really mean it. Did he get your stuff back to you? If he didn't I can—"

  I nodded. "Yeah, he did." A pang of guilt hit me square in the gut. He charged my phone and gave me stuff to take care of my arm when he didn't have to. Yeah, he did.

  "Look, my brother may be a hot head and he may be a man whore—well, he used to be one, but he hasn't been one in a long time … Anyway, my point is I think you challenge each other and something good could come from this if you stick with it. Take the weekend, cool off and come back Monday. I will talk to him. You have a bright future ahead of you, I can see it."

  If there was an award for pep talks and speeches, DeAnna Valentine could win the lot of them.

  "I'll think about it, but I need to go so I can catch my bus."

  We said our goodbyes, and I kept my head down as I lugged all my crap out of the building. I wasn't sure if he'd look, or if he'd even care, but I tore a small piece of paper out of my sketchpad and jotted down "Thank you for everything" and left it in my now empty locker. Even if things had gone awry, I still owed him for the things I'd learned. For bringing my stuff back discreetly and the little things that were actually big things, like my phone and the burn cream. If I'd been a better person, I would have thanked him personally, but I left like a coward with my tail tucked between my legs and caught the bus just before it pulled away.

  The weekend shift was a nightmare. If I'm being honest with myself, every shift I worked there was a nightmare and stole a little more
of my soul each day. The weekend warriors were out in full force, and no one wanted me to wait on them. The handful who did, yeah well, they argued with me.

  It was now mid-morning on Monday, and I should have been in Jesse's class at the shop, but I couldn't bring myself to go. So I called Paul, my boss, and asked to pick up a shift. The worst shift ever, where I was still arguing with the guy at my counter.

  "Just let me talk to one of the guys, they'll know what I'm talking about."

  I had to force myself to groan inwardly. If I was smart, I would have passed him off to one of them to deal with—but I had too much pride for that. My pride was what hadn't let me return to class.

  "I know exactly what you're talking about, sir. There is a kit to try to clean out the idle air control motor, but with what you're describing I think you'd get the most return out of your money if you just replaced it. Your vehicle is notorious for the issue. Otherwise you'll be out the price of the kit and then you'll have to come back and get the motor anyway."

  His eyes narrowed into tiny slits. I knew that look. I freaking hated that look. It was the look that said, No girl is going to tell me how to fix my—even though I have no idea what I’m doing and will end up doing more damage than if I took it to the shop in the first place. No one wanted to admit I knew more.

  "I'm sure you mean well, princess, and they probably hired you because you're pretty so you can distract customers and up-sell parts we don't need, but it's not going to work on me. I know cars."

  I rolled my eyes and chewed on the inside of my cheek.

  Do not react. I need this job. I need this job. I need this job.

  I'd made myself repeat it until I believed it. "Sure, you do," I muttered and went back to get his kit that wouldn't fix anything. As I rounded the back corner of the aisle I was down to return to my counter, I noticed that the same customer who had been lurking down an aisle from my counter was now looming over the jerk I'd been arguing with for the last twenty minutes.