by Tim ORourke
Page 3
I pulled the laptop onto my knees and bent closer to the screen. I was so close to the image, it was as if our noses – our lips – were almost touching. My stomach knotted. He had looked at me. That hadn’t happened before. Usually, the people in the photographs I secretly took didn’t look at me; it was like I wasn’t even there. They ignored me.
With the image still paused, I took a screenshot and saved the image into my picture folder. Then, hitting the print icon, the small printer on my desk on the other side of my bedroom started to hum. Placing the laptop to one side, I skipped across the room, snatching the picture of Jax from the printer. I held it up in the afternoon sun, which streamed in through my bay bedroom window. My heart sped up as I looked at him and he back at me. Then, taking a small tack from the desk, I headed back across my bedroom. I removed the large framed picture of the London skyscape I had on my wall. Carefully resting it against the door, I tacked the picture of Jax to the wall along with the others I had already hidden of him there. There were a hundred or more already. To look at it was like looking at a giant jigsaw. Picking up the framed picture again, I hung it back onto the wall, concealing my secret pictures of Jax.
After taking a shower and eating a light snack, I left home before my aunt and uncle got back from work. I climbed back into my car and headed across town. Pulling over, I parked the car a few houses down from the one Jax shared with his friend. I’d lost count of how many times I had sat here. But I had learnt a lot about Jax and his habits. I knew where he had gotten himself a job after flunking out of college, his shift pattern, the fact that he brought a constant stream of young women to and from his place. Most of them looked nothing more than hookers, with their gaudy makeup and their skirts which were little more than belts. They were often drunk as he helped them teeter up to his front door on their ridiculously high heels. And even as I sat in the dark and gripped my steering wheel, I knew they meant nothing to him. I had never seen the same girl twice. He was just passing time with them.
Sinking low in my seat, I watched a pizza delivery guy arrive outside Jax’s place. Was he going out tonight or just crashing in front of the TV? If that was the case, I could be in for a very dull evening. I switched on the radio and strummed my fingers along to Coldplay. Then, when I was about to give up and go home, the front door swung open and Jax appeared. He wore black denims and a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms and tattoos. He looked good. I glanced at the dashboard. 21:55. Where was he going so late? Partying, I guessed. He climbed into his truck. It rumbled to life like some kind of beast, and he drove away from the curb.
I followed at a healthy distance, always keeping a few vehicles between us. Reaching a stoplight, Jax sailed through and I had to wait.
“C’mon!” I hissed, glaring up at the red light and tapping my fingers impatiently against the wheel. I peered ahead, desperate to keep sight of his loud truck.
The light turned green and I shot forward. I scanned the road ahead, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Shit!” I cried out, thumping the steering wheel with my fist. Then, with my heart almost stopping, I saw his truck parked outside Rowdy’s Bar. The chrome hubcaps twinkled in the neon lights of the bar. It was like the truck was somehow drawing my attention to it. Braking hard, I pulled into the parking lot and stopped. I peered over the steering wheel as he headed towards the bar. He opened the door and I could hear the sound of loud music punch its way out into the night.
Not knowing what to do next, and unable to bear the thought of him leaving with something close to a hooker in a few hours’ time, I swung open my car door and climbed out. As I headed towards the bar, and with the music growing louder with each step, I didn’t know if I were doing the right thing or not. What if he saw me? He might suspect something. After all, that would’ve been twice in one day. Wouldn’t he wonder what I was doing in a bar all on my own? I became separated from my friend, I would tell him. She hooked up with some guy and left me all alone. Both sounded like good enough excuses. But who was I trying to kid. He probably wouldn’t even notice me, I thought to myself, pulling open the bar door, let alone speak to me. I looked inside to see Jax leaning against the bar, talking to some guy. I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, then stepped inside.
Chapter Five
Jax
Trent wore blue jeans, which covered his skinny frame. His button-up shirt was black and he had on some sort of worn-looking cowboy boots. He was holding a beer bottle in one hand and was using the other to prop himself up against the brass railing. He appeared to be talking to his friend Gabe, who I had only met once before at a Seminoles game.
I walked up and Trent put out a fist.
“You remember Gabe?” he asked.
I give Gabe a half-smile as I bumped Trent’s fist with my own. “Yeah, what’s up, man?”
He looked right at me. “Nothing. It’s Jaxon, right?”
“Yes, but just call me Jax, everyone else does. ”
Gabe nodded and took another pull on his beer.
“You guys want another?” I asked, pointing at them both.
They answered in unison, “Sure. ”
I made my way to the bar and took a look around. It was a little after ten p. m. and the club was filling up quickly. I found an empty spot at the bar and waited for the bartender – an older chick in a tiny Rowdy’s T-shirt that showed off her huge cans – to finish with drinks she was pouring double-fisted out of two bottles.
The customer she was helping paid her and she fixed hazel eyes on me. She was chewing gum. “What can I get’cha, darlin’?”
“Three Buds please,” I replied with my most charming smirk.
She dipped her head and turned around to grab three bottles out of a large metal bucket of ice behind the bar. She turned around, and with lightning speed, pried the tops off each with a hiss, and practically slammed them on the bar’s counter. She gave me my total and I paid her, leaving her a nice tip.
On my way back to the guys, I spotted a super-hot girl in a tiny pair of white cutoff jean shorts and pink cowboy boots. She was wearing a skimpy hot-pink tank top and a light pink cowboy hat over her mass of brown curls. I damn near tripped over the one step that led to the dance area while I was ogling her. Smooth. NOT. She made brief eye contact and winked at me. I gave her my most disarming smile, and then looked away. Couldn’t appear too desperate now.
I distributed the beers and listened to Gabe and Trent chat about school for a while. That was the last thing I wanted to talk about, so I tuned them out and nursed my beer, scanning the club for the hot brunette in the pink boots. I did a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree scan with my eyes and spotted her in the same place she’d been before.
Wait… before my eyes fell on miss pink boots, I saw something familiar. I flicked my eyes to the left of the bar and saw her. Oh, my God, it cannot be her. The blonde from the coffee shop. She was sitting alone in a lounge type area in an oversized chair. She had a glass of something in her hand. She was looking at me, well I think she was, as I was clear across the club, but she wasn’t smiling.
I looked away. What in the hell was she doing here?
Chapter Six
Mina
With my fingers gripping my glass of vodka and Coke, I took a seat at a table. I chose one which gave me a perfect view of Jax, who was with his friends on the other side of the bar. The country music playing wasn't really my thing and I wondered if it was really the sort of music Jax would normally listen to. He didn't look the cowboy type. Perhaps he liked the cowgirls? Since arriving at the bar, I'd noticed Jax eyeball at least three women wearing short, tight tops and even shorter skirts.
I slowly sipped my drink and once again glanced in Jax’s direction. He was looking straight back at me. My heart thumped like I'd been punched in the chest. Were we going to get into another staring competition? I wondered. This time I wouldn't back down. At some
point I would have to make a move. I couldn't spend the rest of my life spying on him. Why had I come here tonight? Why had I followed him to this bar if I hadn't wanted to take this further than just a secret collection of pictures and film? But would the pictures get me into trouble again? I had made that mistake before, and it had cost me dearly. I had lost my mum because of those pictures. They had been the evidence which had buried me. But I knew in my heart that sooner or later, I would have to forget what had happened before. That had been over two years ago now. Things might be different with Jax, and I guessed I was soon to find out as Jax strode across the dance floor towards me, a bottle of beer swinging from between his fingers.
Oh, my God, I panicked. Was he still pissed because my friends and I had been laughing at him in the coffee bar? Then a horrible fear gripped me. Perhaps he knew I'd followed him here tonight. Maybe that's why he left me standing at the red light back along the road? Even worse, Jax might know that I'd been following him these last few months. Maybe he knew about my collection of photographs?
No, he couldn't know about any of that stuff. If he did, then wouldn't he have confronted me sooner – at the coffee bar? But I'd been with my friends, so perhaps he'd taken the decision to confront me when and if he got me alone.
Did I go? Did I stay? What should I do? All of a sudden, this really didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. I recognised that sinking feeling I'd felt before when I had been caught out. It was more than a sinking feeling… it was like freaking drowning. I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. I pushed my chair back from the table and stood up.
"You haven't finished your drink," Jax said, reaching the table. He looked down at the half-empty glass then back at me.
"Huh?" I mumbled like a half-wit.
"Lost for words now that you don't have your friends with you for backup?" he said, eyes boring into mine.
"I would hardly call them backup, would you?" I shot back, regaining some of my confidence. "You make us sound like a SWAT team or something. "
"Maybe it should've been me wearing the stab-proof vest, what, with the daggers you were giving me," he said, unsmiling.