She made a cup of hazelnut coffee and watched the sunrise sitting on the sofa, behind the safety of the glass wall. The night’s events replayed over and over again, and the naked intruder consumed her thoughts. She peeked out the windows constantly wondering who he was, why was he there and where did he go?
JC snickered to herself. The old woman next door will shoot him if she catches him jumping her block wall or streaking across her yard.
Only two houses sat atop the bluff, Tom’s and the mean old woman’s next door. Though they shared the block wall stretching the length between their properties, JC only had the pleasure of meeting the shotgun-toting granny one time. Paparazzi stalked Tom ruthlessly after his and Tess’s wedding. The tiny white-haired woman dressed in a nightgown, stood at the end of her drive threatening to shoot the damn camera people if they stepped one foot on her property.
JC decided to venture out into public. She got up early and went for a jog. Running past the neighboring driveway, she peered down the long drive, searching for a naked man lying dead on the driveway.
No such luck.
She stocked up on groceries and chilled out by the pool in the afternoon while checking in with her sister.
When Tracy found out JC finally left the house, she sighed in relief saying, “Thank God. I thought I was gonna have to fly all the way to California to drag you out into the daylight. JC, nobody knows what happened to you and you’re all healed on the outside. It might help you feel better on the inside if you go do a few things. Get out of the house. Go have some fun. Mom said she might even check on you.”
“I feel better now. I’m just...trying to understand myself. I still don’t know why I stayed so long. One bad boyfriend and I suddenly I feel like a fucking statistic. I always thought that I was a strong person. Anyway, I figured maybe I should let my presence be known,” JC said sarcastically. “I got the shit scared out of me by a streaker.”
As soon as she finished the story, JC regretted it.
Her sister scolded her for ten minutes. Lock the doors and the windows. Call the police. Why didn’t you call somebody?
JC assured her sister she was fine and if the man wanted to hurt her, he already had the perfect opportunity. “Besides, he seemed just as surprised as me. You have to pinky swear not to tell her Mom or Tom. The last thing I want is for them to worry anymore.”
“I won’t mention it, but you have to promise to lock the doors and set the alarm, even during the day, in case the burglar comes back.”
“Will do.”
After hanging up the phone, JC ambled aimlessly around the house for an hour. Tracy’s words pinged with annoyance at the back of her mind. ‘You’re all healed on the outside.’
“Healed on the outside? Screw you, Luca Santini. I’m done being afraid and embarrassed. You’re the one who should be cowering in the fucking corner. Not me! Not anymore. Not ever again.” She practically stomped her foot on the ground, deeming herself cured.
Determined to feel normal again, JC straightened her hair, put on a little make-up, threw on dark jeans, a white fitted t-shirt, a pair of black leather boots and strolled out the door.
The late afternoon sun plunged into the ocean as she backed out of the driveway in her white Prius. JC headed toward the one certain place safe from the public eye and old friends she had no interest in seeing.
Driving out of the city, she rolled down the windows and turned up the music. Fresh mountain air tussled her long hair and the cool air pinched her cheeks. The windy canyon road flourished with thick verdant woods and the distinct scent of pine trees. As she sang along with the music, she caught a glimpse of her smiling face in the rearview mirror. The strong-willed reflection broadened as she danced with the rhythm.
Pulling into the parking lot of her favorite bar, JC navigated her little car between rows of motorcycles, parking directly under the big red neon sign declaring Mom’s.
Tom had taken her to Mom’s at least a half a dozen times. The lively biker bar was a safe haven for him, a hiding place away from the glam and glitz of Hollywood. He could relax there and not be stalked by paparazzi. The bar was always full of bikers showing off their latest ride. Most bikers were probably doctors, lawyers, the everyday bike enthusiast, not the Hell’s Angels type.
When Tom spent quality time with JC, Tracy or John, he handled each of them differently. With John, they headed for the great outdoors, usually on a bike trail. If he spent time with Tracy, it was usually at a museum or art gallery. When it came to JC, he always took her to Mom’s, usually to have a heart to heart discussion.
It took JC three trips before she understood why Tom invited her to Mom’s. He wanted to talk or give her advice. He warned her about people or certain situations he thought she was too naive or inexperienced to figure out on her own.
The last time he offered to take her to lunch, JC stood in the doorway shaking her head in humiliation. Her picture fronted the cover of a rag magazine, again, in a somewhat scandalous photo. “Is he taking me to Mom’s?” she asked her mom with an exhausted eye roll.
Tess covered her smile with the red apple she was munching on and nodded.
“I already know I’m in trouble. You don’t have to take me all the way out to BFE to tell me I screwed up,” JC growled at Tom. “I was not kissing Tanya. And if you have the audacity to ask me if I’m a lesbian Tom Clemmins, you’d better move out of the, kick-you-in-the-chin range. I am not a lesbian! If I were gay, I would totally admit it. Loud and proud! But I’m not! I swear I think Tanya set me up.”
JC sat in her car beneath the red glow of the blinking neon. Dropping her head back against the gray leather headrest, she forced out a heavy sigh musing over several of the life lessons Tom tried to warn her of, Hollywood life lessons. The kind of lessons if she wasn’t careful, could chew her up and spit her out in a hurry. She respected any and all advice he gave her. The only problem was she usually couldn’t see the trouble coming until it snuck up behind and hit her in the head like a two-by-four.
Stepping out of the car, she was confident there wouldn’t be any surprise two-by-fours sneaking up behind her inside the bar. Just like Tom, Mom’s had turned into her comfort zone, a safe place for her to relax and tune out the rest of the world.
Not even her worst nightmare could pursue her here. Her hiding place. Her safe zone.
Tugging on the door handle wrapped in a chord of black leather, JC walked into the dimly lit bar. Allowing time for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she stood off to the side, glancing around at the familiar rustic setting, inhaling the scent of burning wood. Red brick encompassed the entire wall behind the long bar, lined with an endless amount of beer taps. Black leather covered the stainless steel barstools and photos of antique motorcycles hung on the paneled walls.
Much to her surprise, JC didn’t see her favorite bartender, so she moseyed toward the crackling fire in the corner of the bar near the pool tables. Raising her palms toward the flickering flames, she rubbed her palms together, warming her hands from the cool evening air.
“Well I’ll be damned! Look what the cat drug in.”
JC flushed crimson, grinning as she strolled up to the bar. “Hello, Codge.”
“Get your bony ass over here young lady.” The burly older man motioned her to the end of the bar. “What the hell are you doing in town? You finally decide to come back home? I told you, those Italian folks are no fun.” He brushed his hands down the front of his Harley Davidson shirt as if he was brushing away crumbs and wrapped JC in his brawny arms, swiftly patted her back.
Codge, short for Old Codger, stood 6’4” with broad-shoulders as wide as football players.
JC wriggled free from his grip and tugged on his long gray goatee. “They don’t grow these there either.”
Placing his massive hands on her shoulders, Codge held her out at arm’s length, giving her a grandfatherly once over. “You’re looking good, Frog.”
JC chuckled. “Oh, my God, not you too.” She rea
ched up and rubbed his baldhead. “I like your new doo. Did Mom do that to you?”
He belted out a thunderous laugh. “Yeah, that woman’s been after me for years to change my look. I finally gave in.”
“I don’t think you changed too much. That Harley Davidson shirt is the only thing I’ve seen you wear. I should’ve brought you back a fancy shirt from Europe, you know, one with sleeves and collars.” JC chortled.
Codge bent over, grumbling in her ear. “Don’t be saying that shit out loud, young lady. If Mom hears you, I’ll be done for.”
A tattoo of a pin-up girl dressed in leathers with a halo above her head reading Mom covered Codge’s arm.
JC patted his massive bicep. “Where’s your wife? I was hoping to say hi.”
“She’s at home fightin’ a cold. Speaking of moms, where’s that beautiful mother of yours? I heard Tess and Tommy are in town. You tell them they’d better come see me.”
JC shook her head. “They aren’t in town. Only me.”
Codge scowled. “Did they just leave town? Cause I heard your mother was here.”
Her eyes narrowed hesitantly. “No, they’re in Greece and going to Bora Bora soon. I’ve been home for a couple weeks, but this is the first time I’ve been out. I’ve been kind-of laying low for a while.”
A table full of bikers in the center of the bar captured his attention. Codge glanced back at JC and gave her an acknowledging nod with a smirk plastered to his face.
“Who told you my parents are in town?” JC questioned.
His huge smile widened, fully defining the dimples in his red cheeks. His gaze teetered back and forth between the table across the room and JC. “I just heard from somebody in the bar who said that they saw her,” Codge stammered, holding back a full chuckle.
“What the hell is so funny?” She turned her attention to the table Codge observed.
“Nothing’s funny.” He crossed his arms across his chest, innocently raking his fingers through his goatee.
Her eyes caught glimpse of a man the size of Codge, only younger, sitting at the table. JC gasped, gaping at a set of solid wide shoulders. “Holy shit! Streaker!”
CHAPTER NINE
Everything around her came to screeching halt.
Every voice, every footstep, every clink of a glass, even the music rendered silent. Overcome by fear, she stood, paralyzed, as her pulse rampaged through the veins in her neck. JC stared at the man sitting at the table with his back toward her. She’d only seen one man who measured up to Codge’s size, and he’d swam naked in her pool last night.
Fear exploded into anger and aggravation, realizing she stood shaking in her boots while he sat enjoying himself with friends. Oh, that is it! I don’t fucking think so! I am not going to be afraid of you…or any other man!
Slamming her purse on the bar, she snarled at Codge, “Watch this for me.”
JC stormed toward the group of men ordering a round of drinks from the waitress. Her eyes narrowed and jaw clamped tight and she stopped directly behind the man. Other men at the table all took notice of JC staring viciously at the back of his head as if it were a dartboard.
A man sitting directly across the table surveyed her with wide, curious eyes. Clearing his throat, he mumbled something and nodded in JC’s direction.
Everyone at the table, now fully aware of her fury, watched as the large man glanced nonchalantly over his shoulder.
Her heartbeat pounded in her chest as their eyes met and locked.
He made a grim observation of the situation, slowly returning his gaze to the table, muttering, “Oh, hell.”
JC’s hands balled into fists, ready to take aim as he scooted his chair away from the table. “Oh, hell is right!” She demanded, “Why were you in my pool?”
Rising from the chair, he straightened to his full height, towering over JC. The enormous size of him made her stagger back a step. Blood rushed from her face, draining her of color. Anger welled up inside, pissed at herself for withdrawing.
“Change that to a shot of Jack Daniels,” he said to the waitress.
Finding her nerve, JC lifted her chest taking a bold step towards him, encroaching into his personal space. Her voice escalated three octaves higher. “Why were you naked in my pool? Were you trying to rob me? What are you? Some kind of burglar?”
“Make that two shots of Jack,” he called toward the bar, uneasily running his fingers through his dirty-blond hair. He turned back to the men sitting at the table. “’Scuse me.”
He held his hand out, politely gesturing JC toward the bar as if attempting to avoid an embarrassing scene.
“What’s the matter? You don’t want your friends to know you broke into my backyard?”
He cautiously touched his hand against the small of her back.
She flinched and swatted at his hand. “Don’t touch me!” she fumed, taking an aggressive stance, almost chest bumping him as she glared up into his eyes.
He gazed down, staring at her sympathetically with the most gorgeous ice blue eyes she’d ever seen. As he leaned in next to her ear, she recoiled when the stubble on his face briefly touched the skin near her temple. “Ma’am, I’d appreciate it if you’ll allow me to explain. I’m not a burglar. And I don’t need everybody in this bar thinking I might be one.”
JC blinked repeatedly, silently damning him for having such tender sweetness in his voice that dripped like honey from his tongue. An unfamiliar sensation rippled through her all the way down to her toes. Turning from his hypnotic blue eyes, she marched to the bar.
Codge’s elbows rested on the bar top, leaning his chin on his entwined fingers. A bottle of Jack Daniels and two full shot glasses sat in front of him on the thick slab of wood.
A light dampness of sweat covered her body from the adrenaline coursing through her body. Her chest heaved up and down with each breath. JC waited for her streaker to explain, but he seemed to be at a loss for words, only staring at her intently.
“Well, spit it out,” she snipped, impatiently placing her hands on her hips.
He reached for a shot of Jack and then another, extending a shot glass to her.
“You think I’m gonna have a drink with you?” she shrieked, appalled by the offer.
A hint of a smile flirted on his lip. He handed her the shot. “I thought it might settle you down.”
JC gripped the cold glass between her fingers. “Whiskey makes me louder.”
He glanced at Codge with bent brow, downed his shot and removed the shot glass from JC’s fingers, setting it on the bar. “Look ma’am, if whisky makes you feistier, you don’t need this.”
Her mouth dropped open with a huff. Defiantly, she reached over, grabbed the shot between her fingers and tossed it back in one swig. Licking the burning sweet whiskey from her lips, JC choked, “Why do you keep calling me ma’am? Do I look like a ma’am to you?”
Her irritation grew as he simply gaped at her mouth.
“I’m from Texas. We call—”
“Well you’re not in Texas! You’re in California…naked in my pool.”
Codge let out a deep throaty chuckle as he filled the shot glass again.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Clemmins. I thought you were out of town. I’m—”
“Ewww! I am not Mrs. Clemmins.” JC wrinkled her nose. “Mrs. Clemmins is my mother and Mr. Clemmins is my stepdad.”
Staring at JC, he mused over her in bewilderment before swallowing another shot of Jack.
Codge snickered for the second time.
“I’ve about heard enough out of you, old man,” the man warned with a sharp glare.
“Hey! Don’t you talk to my friend like that,” JC sassed back boldly.
“I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
Codge crooned, smiling ear from ear. “Her name is JC Mathews.”
Her streaker’s ice blue eyes smiled teasingly. “JC, darlin’, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Codge is my friend.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Codge mouthe
d something to the man. She snapped her head toward the bar, snarling, “Are you enjoying this, Codge? What did you just say to him?”
Codge held out his hands blamelessly, pointing to the man with flushed cheeks. “Me? I didn’t say anything. Ask him.”
JC’s patience pushed past her limits. Throwing her hands in the air, she pointed at both men. “Bullshit! Somebody better start talking. You still haven’t told me why you were in my yard! And don’t call me darlin’!”
Codge shot the man a wary glance. “Reed, my friend, you’re on your own. I’ve known her family for too many years.” He nervously stroked his goatee. “I said—”
“I guess it can’t get any worse. He said goddess. My name is Reed. I’m your neighbor. And I was caught swimming naked in your pool because I was hot. I thought you were out of town. Hell, I’ve never seen anyone at that house and the day I decide, What the hell, Reed, no one’s home, you show up. I’m sorry for scaring the daylights out of ya’. I thought you were—”
“A goddess. He thought you were a goddess,” Codge belted out a booming laugh.
Reed glowered at Codge as if he was about to commit murder. “I thought you were Mrs. Clemmins.”
Codge chuckled. “That’s not exactly how he told the story. There was definitely a goddess mixed in there somewhere, along with—”
“Codge!” The roar of Reed’s harsh warning made JC flinch.
The old man smiled big enough to stick a nickel in his dimples. “JC, did you come here to eat one of my famous turkey burgers? Why don’t you two have a seat at a table and let your new neighbor dig himself a big hole? Dinner’s on me.”
Giving Codge the stare-down, Reed grumbled, motioning at a table in the corner of the bar. “It’s the least he can do for being such a blabber mouth.”
JC squinted, giving Reed a guarded, suspicious stare.
“I’ll vouch for him. Even though he apparently likes to trespass naked in the middle of the night. No need to worry, JC. Reed’s a good guy.”
Surviving Broken Page 10