“It’s manly stuff, you wouldn’t understand.” Then he gave JJ another wink and my son burst into peals of belly laugh giggles. The kind only a child can have and a warm feeling spread from my stomach to my chest. An unfamiliar feeling, because it had been so long since someone had shown us such kindness and I didn’t know what to do with it. For the third time that day my eyes pricked with tears, but these were tears of another kind. The tears of a mom who could still be overcome with emotion by the laughter of a child.
My hormones are messed up.
“I’ll do it then since you offered. I can’t help but feel like we aren’t strangers anymore considering you’ve already been peed on and everything.”
What the hell had I just said?
Who says that? We’re friends now because you’ve been peed on? My mom brain had my tongue tripping all over the place.
Jesse’s laughter surprised me. It was low pitched and rumbly, a contrast to his normally even soft way of speaking. It touched me in places that hadn’t been touched in a long, long time. Four years, actually, and the effect was a little scary. I didn’t have time to be attracted to Jesse. I didn’t have the luxury of having those feelings anymore. My main focus had to be taking care of JJ.
“Here’s my number,” he said, scribbling on a notepad and ripping the paper in half. He handed me both pieces of paper and the pen. “Give me yours so I can get ahold of you if there is an emergency. Not that there will be—but just in case.”
“That’s really responsible of you, I’d completely forgotten. I was so excited about the interview I just…you must think I’m an idiot.” Now it was my turn to ramble, and I handed him the paper with my cell phone number on it, red-faced and embarrassed.
“No, I think you’re really interesting. And maybe just a tiny bit stressed out,” Jesse mused as he came back around the bar. It might have been my overwhelming sense of gratitude, but he looked like a fantasy knight in shining armor with the bar towel tucked into his faded leather belt and a pack of cigarettes hanging out of his front shirt pocket. I wasn’t really into beards normally, but his definitely gave him a rugged, manly character.
Oh God, I have to get out of here before I ask him to marry me.
“JJ, are you hungry?” I said, trying to break the mood and give us an excuse to get moving.
“I’m always hungry, Mama. I’m a growing boy, ‘member?” I laughed, remembering saying the exact same thing to him that morning when he ate two bowls of cereal.
“It’s been a pretty good day and I’m feeling like celebrating. If you can be good in the car on the way home, I’ll get us chicken nuggets.” I never got fast food because one, it was a money waster and we were on a strict budget and two, it was garbage food. But chicken nuggets were haute de cuisine for a four-year-old boy, and I could practically see the stars in JJ’s eyes as the grin spread across his face.
“Can I get the one with the toy, Mama? Can I?”
“You can have the toy and a chocolate milk.” I barely had time to brace myself before I had my arms full of four-year-old boy, hugging his mama for dear life because I had just given him one of the very best gifts. One should never underestimate the value of chicken nuggets—they were my ace in the hole. I scooped him up and held him against my hip. He was a big boy, yes, but not too big for me to swoop him up for big hugs every now and again. “What do you say to Jesse, JJ?” It was awkward, with them having the same name. Thank goodness I usually called him JJ or that would get difficult.
“I’m sorry I peed on you,” JJ said, his eyes cast down. Then he smiled and his head bobbed up with excitement. “I’m gonna be so good so I can come do man stuffs with you tomorrow.”
Jesse smiled and lifted his hand in the air. JJ almost leaped out of my arms to reach out for that high five, and it made my heart twinge a little to see the hero worship in his eyes. Yeah, we’d made a new friend today, sort of, but I couldn’t let him get too attached. I’d seen what that could do to a kid, and I wasn’t going to let it happen to my son. I thanked Jesse and made my way back out of the bar, through the front door this time, putting Jesse down because he weighed fifty pounds and I wasn’t carting his butt all the way back to where we parked the car. He grabbed my hand in his, swinging our arms as we walked, his little legs working twice as hard to go the same distance as I was, so I slowed my pace to a crawl.
“One sleep, Mama,” JJ said excitedly, swinging our arms in tandem with his stride. “One more sleep until we get to see Mr. Jesse again.”
Okay, maybe I was a little excited about the prospect of seeing Mr. Jesse again too.
Chicken nuggets are magical food, I don’t care what anyone says. I ordered the food in the drive-thru and I let JJ eat in the car, which I never do because it’s a choking hazard, but his eyelids were drooping so I figured I’d better let him eat before he passed out sitting up—which he did. No sooner did he fill his little belly then he fell asleep, little face leaning back on the headrest of his booster seat and a tiny stream of chocolate milk drool running out of the corner of his mouth.
I don’t know why something so gross could seem so cute to me.
Pulling up to the trailer park I was stopped by the black metal gate that was closed across the driveway. That gate was the only way in or out of the trailer park and it was supposed to be open during the day. It was a joke of a security measure, only being locked at night, but it was normally never closed during the day. Weird.
No big deal though, every tenant in the trailer park had an electronic key code to open the door. Another joke of a security measure since the code was just your lot number, and anyone could just pick a random number and the gate would swing open. One lucky guess could get you into our trailer park. Although who wants to break into a trailer park on the East end of town? Most people were trying like hell to get out of it.
I rolled down my window and punched in the code.
Nothing.
Of course not. This piece of junk wasn’t worth the metal used to make it. Sighing, I cleared out my entry and typed it in again. Still nothing. Not even a beep. I did not have time to mess around with this right now. Pulling out my cell phone I dialed Mrs. Abernathy’s number, the lady who owned and managed the trailer park. She was about a hundred years old and could barely work a telephone much less the security gate, but I had to call her, even though I knew what she would say. We’d been around this way before, and it always ended the same way. It took six rings before she answered.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Abernathy, it’s Harlow. I’m at the gate and it is completely nonresponsive. Did you make the service call like I asked you to the last time?” This had happened to me no less than four times. I couldn’t imagine how many other people had called about the same thing.
“Oh, Dear, you know I’ve been meaning to, but do you know how much they charge just to come out and look at that thing? Can’t you just fix it like you did the last time? I just don’t see why I should have to pay to have them come out here if you know how to fix it.”
Because we pay you and it’s part of our lot rental?
Because it’s not my job and you aren’t paying me to do it?
Because hacking into the security system is frowned upon, even though I’m a tenant?
All of those phrases were tripping on my tongue, but none of them would have made any difference had I said them to Mrs. Abernathy.
“Because, Mrs. Abernathy, it isn’t legal to tamper with a professional security system. If someone were to come in and break into one of your resident's homes, and they found out it was because someone tampered with the gate, it would be me taking the responsibility. The first time it was necessary to do so that we could open the gate. But you didn’t call for service after that and it’s your responsibility. I’ll do what I can right now, but the gate is going to stay open until you make that service call.” I didn’t want to be harsh with her, but this was a service that was included in our rent, and I wasn’t going to jail and losing
custody of my son because she wanted to save a service fee. JJ had one parent in prison, he didn’t need to lose the only one that actually cared about his well-being.
“If you don’t call, Mrs. Abernathy, I will.” I meant it. I was tired of living in this shit part of town at the mercy of someone who couldn’t be bothered to make sure their tenants were protected when all it took was a simple phone call. A new job could get us out of here. I looked in the backseat at the sleeping face of everything I held dear to my heart.
“Okay, I’ll call tomorrow, Dear, just see what you can do for now.” And the phone went dead. I knew damn well she wouldn’t call tomorrow, but what could I say? Another sigh and I opened my car door, fishing in my glove box for the extra-long USB cord I kept in there, just in case. It was an easy enough fix, but I didn’t want to have to do it. Especially since, even though I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, I was pretty convinced that hacking into a gated community probably was illegal. Even if I lived there. I plugged the USB into my phone and attached the other end to the back of the keypad console. It had taken me much longer the first time this had happened, and I had only started messing around out of necessity because I couldn’t get in and Jesse was at the trailer with the babysitter.
It took me less than three minutes to hack in, and put my code on the back screen of the program. There was a satisfying beep and a metal clang as the rickety black gate began to slide to the left. As I waited for a space to open up wide enough to drive my Kia through, I glanced in my review mirror and froze. Across the street from the trailer park entrance was that same shiny black truck that I’d seen before. It stuck out like crazy because it was obviously an expensive truck. We don’t have expensive cars in this neighborhood. Hell, a lot of people in this trailer park didn’t even have cars and relied on city transportation. Even my little Kia was considered high end, mostly because it was a newer model, not because it was a nice car. It was a cheap car actually but had a good warranty, so I made sure come hell or high water those payments were in on time, and took comfort that if repairs needed to be made they would be taken care of by the dealership.
But that truck did not belong here.
Nevertheless, I had seen it several times, and the olive-skinned man in the driver’s seat as well. The windows were tinted, but sometimes they were down, and when they were I got a glimpse of the driver. He never made eye contact, but I couldn’t help but think he was watching me anyway. Probably a drug dealer, I thought to myself. God, I have to get out of this neighborhood. Another reason to get the gate fixed as soon as possible, even though it wouldn’t keep out the drug dealers that lived in the trailer park. At least I knew who those people were and could avoid them. We didn’t need new blood working outside. That’s all we needed was a drug war in front of our homes. There had been a meth explosion on the other side of the trailer park, across the street. It wasn’t in our park exactly, but the fire had taken the lives of the residents in the home and destroyed the house next door to it. Thank God no one had been home, but still. This was an incredibly poor side of town and I doubted anyone had homeowner’s insurance.
I shook my head and kept driving, unable to get rid of the creepy feeling of being watched. JJ was still sleeping in the back seat when I pulled into the short asphalt parking spot in front of our trailer. I had two choices, either wake JJ up and face the wrath of a napping child, forced to wake before ready, or carry him in. Ugh, I would probably have to carry him. Before I could open the back car door to get him out of his booster I felt a light hand tap my shoulder. Whirling around, arm at the ready I came face to face with a thin, pale face.
“Holy shit, Harlow,” my neighbor, Justice Creaton hissed. “Not everyone is trying to get you, you know?” He took a shaky step back and mock wiped sweat from his brow, blonde hair combed back from his face.
“All it takes is one, Justice.” I sighed and dropped my arm. “I saw a creepy black truck parked in front of the park again on my way in. It freaks me out how he just sits out there. Anyway, you know better than to creep up on me. What’s going on?” I paused with my hand on the door handle to the backseat. Justice looked like he wanted to tell me something, and that probably meant I should leave JJ undisturbed for a little bit yet.
“Did you hear about what happened to Ashley last night?” There was only one Ashley I knew, and probably the only one he was talking about because she lived with her mom and younger sister in a trailer two streets down. She also didn’t show up to watch JJ this morning so I could go to my interview. That wasn’t like her, and with Justice looking at me, wide-eyed and earnest, I knew it probably wasn’t good. My heart sank into my stomach.
“No,” I whispered, my mouth suddenly dry and my tongue weighing a hundred pounds. “What happened to her?”
“She got caught in a gang fight leaving her boyfriend’s house last night. There was a drive by and she was walking out to her car. She got caught by two bullets. I heard it on the police scanner.”
Justice had the police scanner on like background noise in his trailer. It’s how he kept up on all the crime in the area. He listened to the business of the neighborhoods like some people watch television programs.
“Oh my God, Justice,” I whisper-screamed. “She was only twenty-two. Oh, my God.” Tears pricked my eyes as I thought of her mother and her sister, just a minute away.
“She’s alive, but she’s in critical condition. They have no suspects, and no one in the neighborhood is saying anything to the police.”
Of course, they aren’t. Minding your own business could get you shot in this town but talking to the police would get you and your loved ones taken out. My legs started shaking and I leaned against the car to get my bearings. What a horrible thing to happen to such a young girl, and completely out of her control. I opened the back door and scooped Jesse out of his booster, oblivious to his weight, and snuggled his head into my shoulder. I just needed to hold him, to feel him in my arms, warm and alive. I hate this neighborhood. I hate it so much.
No matter what, I needed to ace this interview and get the job.
5
Jesse
"So, what we gonna do today, Mr. Jesse?" I stared into the huge brown eyes partially obscured by the wild curly hair of the four-year-old in front of me and contemplated how to begin. I had promised a super-secret project the day before and it seemed like JJ had taken my word as gospel, and was now staring at me with hopeful adoration. Like a golden retriever. I could almost imagine his tail wagging as he sat on the bar stool, his little legs kicking with excitement as they hung over the edge, no hope of them touching the floor for at least another ten years.
I did have a project I needed to work on, the problem was how to do it while keeping an eye on JJ. It was delicate work, and it took a steady hand—making macaroons was not child’s play. But as he wrinkled his little nose because I hadn't answered yet and he was trying very hard to be a good boy like he promised Harlow ten minutes ago when she dropped him off, I couldn't think of anything I wanted more than to put an apron on the kid and let him create havoc in the bar kitchen.
A bar kitchen that didn't serve food to the public anymore, but I used as my own personal playground when I had the itch. And not only did I have the itch, but I had a very important customer coming later to pick them up. Pulling a large white towel from behind the bar I held it up in front of JJ, gauging the size.
"Buddy," I said as I walked around to the front of the bar and held my hand out to help him out of his stool. "We're gonna make cookies. But not just any cookies. We're gonna make magic cookies. How do you feel about that? Can you help me make magic cookies?"
I could hear the fireworks going off behind his eyes. Apparently, JJ never wanted to do anything in his whole life as badly as he wanted to help me make magic cookies. Ignoring my hand, he hopped from the barstool and I winced as his feet connected with the concrete bar floor, waiting for the inevitable tears. Children are resilient though, and ever-surprising as he didn't even paus
e but rushed past me back into the kitchen area of the bar as if he knew exactly where he was going. I learned two things during the course of the next two hours.
The words "sift gently" mean drastically different things to a four-year-old child than they do to an adult. Also, it didn't matter how large an apron I crafted out of a bar towel if a mess could be made a child will make one. Thank God I already had my ingredients measured and my egg whites chilling overnight. And that I had extra ingredients on hand to make up for the stuff that ended up on the floor during the "gentle sifting."
God, he was adorable with almond flour in his hair though. And once Harlow got a load of the "magic surprise" JJ was making her, once I had given him his very own small pastry bag and tray to practice on, she would forgive me for sending him home in shambles. Probably. He was so proud too, as he splatted out the oblong blobs of cookie batter onto the silicone mat I had placed on the tray for him. It had pre-marked circles on it that I had used in class when I was first learning the method. They meant nothing to JJ. Even with his full attention, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth and frown lines of concentration on his forehead, he still heavy-handed every cookie leaving irregularly shaped orbs on the Silpat. I didn't care. He was amazingly proud of the work he did, and we frosted the middle of those fuckers and packaged them up in the little white kraft boxes I kept on the wire racks just like the other ones I was making. We even put a silver bow on top to make it all official and everything.
It must have been a good interview, two and a half hours later and we hadn't heard a peep from Harlow. Good thing the alcohol had been delivered earlier in the morning before JJ had been dropped off. He would have been wicked squirrely trying to wait for me to get done with that. I’d just gotten done wiping the almond flour and cookie filling from JJ’s hands and face when my cell phone rang. Thinking it was Harlow I picked up immediately without checking.
Jesse (Glass City Hearts Book 3) Page 4