Fabricating Jada

by Marie, Vanessa

  I shook my head slowly, from side to side, intrigued. "No."

  Her face lit up with delight that she got to fill me in.

  "Do you want more coffee?" I asked gesturing to her empty cup.

  "Yes, please."

  With my attention still on her, I crossed to the coffee pot to fill our mugs. My face flamed red as I thought about the feel of Jesse's body against mine the last time I stood in that spot.

  DeAnna’s voice cut through my day dream. "So, we were poor. Like super poor. We lived on hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. Our dad left when we were young, leaving our mom to raise us alone. I don't think she was too proud to accept food stamps, but she made just enough for us not to qualify for them. Which is crazy because she didn't make shit. And she was never home because she worked three jobs to support us."

  Turning back to her, I passed off her mug and sat down. "That sounds familiar."

  "I figured as much. Because our mom was never around to keep him in line, Jesse was always into something. Running with the wrong crowd, stealing cars, you name it."

  I snorted. Jesse stealing cars was definitely something I could imagine. "So what happened?"

  My interest was piqued.

  "Well, by the time he was sixteen, he was completely out of control, had no respect for authority and was on a fast track to prison. Our neighbor, Mr. Valentine caught Jesse breaking into the shed behind his trailer that was basically his workshop."

  All of that hit me square in the chest. The look of horror on his face when he saw where I lived wasn't judgment so much as a reminder from where he'd come from. It caused me to suck in a sharp breath at the same time I registered their neighbor's name. "Your neighbor's name was Mr. Valentine too?"

  A fond smile crept across her face. "No. It was only his name. Our real last name is Paige."

  My brows knitted together in confusion, obviously missing some vital pieces of information. "So how did—"

  She held up her hand and cut my question off. "I'll get to that in a minute."

  I nodded as she continued. "When he caught Jesse breaking in, he gave him an ultimatum, come to work with him every afternoon in his shop and let him teach Jesse a trade, or he'd not only tell my mom everything Jesse had been up to while she was working, but report him to the police."

  "Jesse was more afraid of your mom than he was the police wasn't he?" I knew the answer before she laughed.

  "Oh, yeah. The next day he showed up to start his training and has never looked back."

  That still left a lot of unanswered questions. "But what about your last name? How did that come about?"

  The same fond smile she'd worn earlier crept back up her face as she took a sip of her coffee.

  My hands were wrapped around my warm mug as I waited for her answer.

  "My mom was so grateful for everything Drew had done to help Jesse turn his life around—she married him and he adopted us."

  She said it like it was all so simple. "So love didn't have anything to do with it?" I asked, amused by her simplification.

  DeAnna nodded, still wearing that dopey grin. “Oh, it did for sure. They fell head over heels with each other and the rest is history. Drew is the best stepdad you could ever ask for. Really he's the only dad we know.”

  Everything clicked into place. Jesse and I really were a lot alike, except I didn't have a Drew to rescue me from my crappy reality.

  Then again, I guess Jesse had.

  "And when Jesse hit it big?"

  "He made sure my mom and Drew were taken care of. It was Jesse's idea to buy them a house next door and he was worried about me not having a nice place to live, so we decided since we both lived and breathed work, it made sense to live together too."

  I nodded as I absorbed everything she'd just confessed.

  Maybe we weren't so different after all.

  I was given the instructions to hang around the house for a few days. The reasoning behind it according to Jesse was, "To let the fucking burn heal like the Goddamn doctor instructed." I had no comeback for that because that was what she'd said. "If you want this to heal, you need to take a week off and let your arm rest. When I say rest, I don’t mean do things one handed. Do nothing! Give the skin a chance to grow back without anything else getting under it. Otherwise I won’t be so gentle when I have to clean the infection out again."

  A week was a long time for me to do nothing. It was driving me batty not being in class—the place I was supposed to be. I wasn't the kind of girl who could sit around all day with nothing to do. My mind never stopped working—thinking—dreaming up new designs of things to build.

  Once DeAnna and Jesse left for the shop, I decided to wander the house—trying to find something to do with all the extra time I suddenly had on my hands. As I strolled past the built-in bookshelves in the living room a few books caught my eyes. There were three different old books on how to draw choppers, motorcycles, and cars like a pro.

  Suddenly excited, I grabbed them off the shelf and headed to the kitchen table to start on a design. After grabbing all of my drawing supplies I'd packed from my house, I set to work.

  Following the lead of one of the newer versions, I sketched out a basic chopper frame and a set of wheels. From there, I pushed the books aside and let my imagination take over.

  I had no concept of time once I was engulfed in something, so when Jesse's voice cut through the silence, it had me practically jumping out of my own skin.

  "What are you doing?"

  "You scared the crap out of me." I held my hands over my chest, trying to catch my breath.

  He reached past me and snagged one of the sketches I'd been working on all day. His usually furrowed brow lifted in surprise as he inspected it. "What's this for?"

  I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. "Nothing, really. Just something to do since you refuse to let me come to class—even though I am perfectly capable of just watching the demonstrations."

  The sound of his snort was captivating in a way I had to fight laughing myself. "You're so full of shit," he rasped.

  "I am not!"

  Jesse gave me a pointed look. "You are not capable of sitting still and doing nothing, Jane. This," he gestured to the half dozen sketches I had of my chopper, all from different angles. "Proves it."

  Rolling my eyes, I let out an exaggerated huff. "So I'm not allowed to draw now either? If you let me come to class, I will behave!"

  He barked out a laugh. "You don't know how to behave."

  It was my turn to snort. "That's rich, coming from you."

  His gaze narrowed past me to a spot on the table. "Did you design this?" he asked and reached for one of the sketches I'd done. It was a gas tank drawn from every angle.

  I nodded and stood next to him to point out the different things. "I know it's been done before, but I liked the idea of the tank being riveted together using multiple pieces of metal. I was kind of going for a—"

  "Old war hawk look?" he finished.

  My face lit up with excitement. "Yes! I thought it would be cool, if it had a magnetized hatch that you waved your key or whatever over and it popped, allowing the tank to be filled through the secret compartment."

  Our arms brushed together as I reached to show him where the hatch would be.

  "That's a pretty cool idea, but the problem is how you'd seal it and make sure it was air tight. Otherwise you're going to have—"

  I cut him off. "Leaks, I know. But look," I said and grabbed another sheet that had possible problems and solutions I'd come up with jotted down.

  Jesse pulled the chair out next to mine and sat down. I followed suit, engrossed with our conversation. "What if you did something like this?" he asked and drew on the page, over the top of what I'd already done.

  With him seated and me still standing to his right, we were about the same height. I grabbed one of the extra pencils lying on the table and leaned over him to add something to what he'd just drawn.

  "Yeah, but look—it wouldn't be an automat
ic open. There's nothing to prop it up. Remember what I did with my jewelry box?"

  His gaze met mine in an intense stare down. Part of me worried it was a dumb idea, and he was about to tell me that, but the other part of me knew there was a way to make it work.

  Instead of arguing with me, he sat back against the backrest of the chair and said, "Show me."

  So I did. If I'd thought about what I was doing, I would have realized that I was practically on his lap the way I was leaning across the table—and him—to draw what I meant. It wasn't until he rested his giant palm across the back of my thigh, practically hugging my legs that I noticed.

  "Sorry, I can move," I said, as my neck flushed with heat.

  The way he watched me, made something flutter low in my belly, and I quickly glanced away.

  He cleared his throat and moved his hand away. "You're fine. Do you care if I borrow this one and maybe you can work on some other concepts for the rest tomorrow?"

  My heart pattered in my chest at an accelerated rate. "You want my drawings?"

  Jesse dipped his chin in a nod. "Yes. I'll give it back when I'm done."

  A part of me died and went to heaven. Here was the man I'd idolized for years and wanted to work with more than anything, and he wanted something I'd dreamt up out of boredom. I nodded like a lunatic with an equally crazy grin on my face as he left the room holding a piece of me.

  It was day five of doing nothing but sketching and erasing—sketching some more and throwing giant rolled up balls of paper at the trash and missing. And then being annoyed they were on the floor and unable to leave them sitting there because I was a neat freak. Every day Jesse came home, took a look at what I'd done, stole part of it, and disappeared for the night.

  Maybe because I hadn't left the house and time seemed to stand still while I was working every day and researching ways to make my designs happen on YouTube, but I ran out of the salve Jesse had given me, and I forgot to ask him for more. Call it forgetfulness, call it what you will, but I was still in mourning. Mourning for not being able to go to the shop every day and work on something real—not just a 2D sketch. Everything with my parents was still up in the air and each time I tried to call my mom, it said the phone had been disconnected. When I tried calling the house phone, my dad hung up on me.

  It made me feel less like a slob when I thought about it that way—as mourning a loss.

  I had no car. No money. And no idea how close the nearest bus stop was from his house. I could have Googled it, but I didn't care enough to do it.

  Sighing to myself, I got off my bed, resigning myself to take a shower and see if I could borrow some more salve.

  As I put all my needed toiletries in the shower, I noticed there were no towels.

  Wonder if it’s in his bathroom?

  I remembered I'd seen some kind of first aid kit in a closet in the hall when I'd gotten towels. The only thing I wouldn't have guessed as I ventured down the hallway was how many closets there were. Closets with no first aid kits.

  Where the heck did it go?

  Not feeling comfortable to enter DeAnna's space, I headed back toward Jesse's room. It had to be in there, and he probably wouldn't care if I borrowed it.

  He hadn't seemed to mind me barging in on his space the last time. And that excuse validated it enough in my mind to invade it again.

  They'd both left for work that morning. Leaving me to my own devices. As I crept into Jesse's room, past his semi-closed door, returning it back to the slight crack I'd found it at, the sound of water running caught me off guard.

  Oh crap. Did a pipe break? I rushed into the bathroom expecting to find a mess.

  What I did not expect to find was Jesse—in all of his naked glory—in the shower with his eyes closed standing under the spray.

  My mouth parted in both awe and disgust with myself for becoming the very Peeping Tom I'd accused him of being. But I got it now. When someone good-looking was naked in a shower, there was no looking away. My feet were rooted in place in the middle of the open-spaced bathroom as I raked in every glorious inch of his build.

  I thought he looked good with clothes on. Without them? Lord have mercy, I needed to fan myself. The colors of his tattoos, which sleeved both arms, were vibrant under the lights and spray of water.

  The glass was completely see-through. Because there was only an open entry to the bathroom and that meant no door and the ceiling was vaulted, the steam hadn't fogged up the glass.

  Scrubbing his face with the bear paws he called hands, his eyes opened finding mine.

  Jesse's face morphed quickly from shock to amusement. He opened the shower door and stepped out toward me, leaving the water running in the empty stall.

  His eyes smoldered with a fire that made my entire body flush.

  Muscles chorded and rippled all over his torso. Which was shockingly tattoo free. His squared chest was dusted with dark hair and water droplets as my eyes skated down his rock hard abs—to the V. The kind of V women always talked about. The one and only Adonis belt. My eyes followed the trail to a trimmed patch of hair that led to his impressive length. Which was growing in size as it stood completely erect.

  As he stalked toward me with that dangerous glimmer in his eyes, his quads flexed with each step. Massive quads he hid beneath those work pants. It was really a shame to hide such magnificence.

  Before I knew it, he had me backed up against the double sinks. To the place that had become my spot on his counter between them. "Looks like I'm not the only Peeping Tom now, am I Jane?"

  "I-uh-" I stuttered, unable to put any real sentence together with his hard, wet body pressed against me.

  Jesse dropped his face over mine, in the way he always did because of our height difference. He looked into my eyes in a way he never had before. "Do you like what you see?"

  Water droplets from his wet disheveled hair fell onto my face.

  I licked my lips. Freaking licked the water away that rolled down them. That was my response because my brain was still stuck on dumb.

  Without warning, he lifted me onto the counter and pulled me to the edge, flush against him. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist. Like a crazy person. It wasn't like it was an open invitation exactly, but when in Rome …

  Jesse groaned as his lips brushed against mine. He didn't say anything else as he skated his wet fingers across my exposed skin, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Lifting the hem of my shirt, he tugged it over my head and tossed it to the floor.

  My naked chest was exposed. On display for him to do with as he pleased. And I hoped to heck he would. My prayers were answered as he traced his tongue down my neck to my collarbone with a well-placed kiss. The intimate way he touched me made my skin dance with electricity. Peppering small kisses across my chest, he sucked my nipple into his mouth.

  I moaned and bucked my hips toward him, not able to get close enough. I dripped with need as his erection pressed harder against me. With his hand gripped around my waist he pulled me roughly against him. There was no way he couldn't feel it through my flimsy cotton shorts and lack of underwear.

  Jesse groaned as he pushed the wide leg of my shorts to one side and the head of his shaft found my bare flesh waiting and wanting.

  His mouth crashed against mine in an urgent kiss. I breathed lightly and parted my lips as his tongue explored my mouth. We shared a smoldering heat that could have melted two pieces of metal together.

  The doorbell rang, causing us to break apart momentarily.

  "Do you need to get that?" I asked, breathless.

  "No," he grunted and reclaimed my mouth.

  My hands wandered the expanse of his damp back and wound their way into his sopping wet locks as the doorbell sounded again.

  Three times in succession.

  "For fuck's sake," he growled against my mouth and pulled away from me.

  A look of longing passed in his eyes.

  It rang again.

  After the last ring, the spell was br
oken.

  He pressed his lips against my forehead before he grabbed my shirt off the floor and passed it to me.

  The doorbell rang again as he stormed out of the bathroom, grabbing a towel off the hook on his way. He threw his bedroom door open so hard, it crashed into the wall.

  I clutched my shirt to my chest, able to hear his footsteps thunder down the stairs.

  Once I was able to catch my breath, I slid my shirt on and turned the water off in his shower. Forgetting all about looking for the salve, I crept back down the hall to my own room.

  Shouts echoed from the foyer.

  All I could hear was the boom of Jesse's voice echoing off the walls.

  To say he was pissed was an understatement, and I wasn't going anywhere near that mess.

  I'd been hiding in my room for the better part of a half hour after I'd taken my own shower and could still hear the yelling through my closed door.

  It wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't help my curiosity or the fact I was dying of thirst.

  I used my need for a drink as an excuse just like I had as a kid when my parents were fighting. I crept down the stairs toward the kitchen and the looming argument.

  "You know what, Alyssa? I don't give a flying rat's ass what you think about any of this. It doesn't have a Goddamn thing to do with you," Jesse seethed from the other side of the foyer.

  I tiptoed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, hoping I hadn't been spotted. Alyssa. That name was familiar but I couldn't quite place it.

  "How do you think it's not? It's part of my job to help your image and instead of finding a suitable girl worthy of your time, you focus on a skanky whore who's trailer trash—she obviously set you up to be recorded. She's after a pay day, Jesse," she shrieked.

  Skanky, whore, trailer trash … it had to be his cousin—who ironically enough had interrupted us during our first encounter in his bathroom.

  His growl was low and menacing. I could tell from the sound that his body was probably rigid with anger. "What did I tell you about talking about anyone I was with like that? Especially her?"