I reached over and turned off my alarm, then rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. My morning routine was this: shower, brush my teeth, blow out my hair and pull it back in a ponytail, apply just a bit of mascara and lip gloss, and get dressed. Selecting my birthday outfit was easy. My signature look was a holey pair of jeans, my favorite Def Leppard T-shirt, and a thin red sweater I’d wear unbuttoned, with the sleeves pushed up just below my elbows. Oh, and my Vans. Simple, cool, and comfortable.
Lured by the enticing aroma of fried bacon and sausage, I scurried to the kitchen with my mouth watering. Momma never failed to have breakfast cooked for us every morning. We went to school with hugs, kisses, and full bellies.
“Hi, sweetheart! How’s my birthday girl this morning?” Momma sang.
I walked over and hugged her as she poured a mixture of scrambled eggs into a hot buttered pan. Her hands were busy, so she kissed me on the cheek.
“I’m good. How ‘bout you? Not feeling old, are you, now that you’ve got an adult child?” I gave her a big squeeze, then took a seat at the kitchen table.
“Oh, honey, you and your brother made me old a long time ago. You know that.” She brought me a glass of juice and reached out and pinched my chin. “I’m just glad your daddy thinks I still got it.” She gave herself a smack on the behind and winked at me over her shoulder.
“Oh my God, Mom! Eww!”
We both laughed out loud. Then she added salt, pepper, and another spoonful of butter to the eggs before stirring them. That’s what made her eggs the best in the world, the extra butter.
“Speaking of Dad, did he already leave?”
“Mm-hmm. He went to work early this morning. General I-Can’t-Remember-His-Name is supposed to be visiting the base today, and you know how your daddy is.”
“Yeah, Colonel Sharp, AKA Mr. Professional. Up before dawn and the first one in the office. Gotta have things perfect.”
“He told me to give you a birthday hug and tell you he’d see you this evening.”
“And he’d have me a new car after school today?” I grinned.
“Oh, yeah.” She smiled and rolled her eyes dramatically. “How silly of me to forget.”
“Ha! Right, Mom. You and me both know that ain’t happening. Dad freaked out when I asked for a scooter when I turned sixteen. I know he won’t be getting me a car.” I sucked my teeth and gave a Hollywood sigh while Momma giggled. “I don’t understand why that’s so funny. I’m responsible,” I whined. “I’m practically an adult now. I can even buy cigarettes! In fact, since I’m finally legal, I might start smoking.”
“Great idea! Smoke up, baby!”
My brows pulled together. “Huh?”
“Go right ahead. That way, Daddy and I can cash in your life-insurance policy and live a little before we hit fifty.” She gave me an exasperated look. “So quit being selfish and get after it!”
“Wow, Mom! So, like, who cares about my life, just as long as y’all get to travel and stuff?”
She shrugged. “Well, you’re the one who wants to start smoking.”
“Um. No, I don’t!” I said, wrinkling face. “That’s, like, the grossest thing ever! I was joking!”
“Me too, baby.” She winked. “I’ll beat your little ass if you start smoking cigarettes.” She shook her tongs at me and then took up the bacon and sausage, placing it all on a plate lined with paper towels. Then she stirred the eggs again and put four slices of bread in the toaster.
As I sat there, drinking my juice, watching my amusing mother go through her morning routine, I got misty-eyed. Eighteen years this woman has been feeding me, supporting me, loving me, teaching me, and even beating me at my own jokes. She never stopped being the best mom she could be. Not a single day of her life. How lucky I’ve been. No, how blessed I’ve been to have her as my mom. And just like that, I was in my feelings.
“I love you, Momma,” I said softly.
She glanced back at me as she continued stirring the eggs. One eyebrow was raised. I knew that look. Seen it lots of times. She was on to me. Maybe it was the tone of my voice or the way it slightly cracked that gave it away. She had that motherly instinct, and she knew me better than I knew myself.
“Oh, honey, I love you too. You know you will always be my baby, no matter how old you are. You and your brother have given my life purpose.”
Okay, that didn’t help. Now my heart suddenly weighed fifty pounds, my eyes were puddling, and I had to sniff hard to draw back the tears. “I know, Momma. But I just want you to know I really, really love you.”
“Well, I really, really love you too, baby. Now, why don’t you come put this plate of meat on the table and call your brother for breakfast?”
Steering the conversation was her way to keep us both from crying. She was smart like that. She divided the scrambled eggs onto two paper plates, buttered the toast, and put two pieces on each plate. I brought the bacon and sausage to the table and yelled for Timmy. Within seconds we heard him tramping down the hall, singing “Ice Ice Baby.”
Momma and I looked at each other and busted out laughing. Timmy idolized Vanilla Ice. He tried his best to talk like him, walk like him, and even look like him, right down to the American Flag leather jacket and fade-side haircut.
“Happy birthday, dork!” he said, slapping at my ponytail as he walked behind me. “You’re not playing hooky on your big day?” Timmy sat down as Momma placed our plates in front of us. “How can you even be my sister?”
“I’ve asked myself the same question millions of times,” I replied.
“You two…” Momma exhaled as she brought over two forks, a spoon, and a jar of homemade strawberry jam.
Timmy pushed up his sleeves. “Thanks, Ma. This looks fly!”
“Yo! Nuthin’ to it, homeboy.” Mom with the comeback. She was definitely on it this morning.
“Seriously, happy birthday. But I can’t believe you aren’t ditching school for the beach.”
“Thanks, bro, but I can’t. I have a test tomorrow and need to get all the notes.” Plus, I was too afraid of getting caught to ever skip school. But no one needed to know that, especially Timmy.
He smirked and shook his head. “What a nerd.”
I smiled and discreetly gave him the finger as I passed him the jam.
“Gee, thanks, Def Leppard.”
“Don’t mention it, Vanilla.” I laughed because we both knew neither one of us meant anything by all the teasing.
Timmy opened the jam and spread some on his toast before sliding it back to me. “You only turn eighteen once, sis. In ten years, what difference will this test make anyway? Not one bit. But you’ll always remember what you did on your eighteenth birthday. Let your hair down! Break the rules a little!”
I looked over at Momma. She was sitting across from me, sipping her coffee, listening to our conversation, and saying nothing. “Do you believe the renegade your thirteen-year-old son has become?”
“Almost fourteen!” Timmy corrected.
Momma smiled and looked at us over her coffee cup. She knew we both had valid arguments but decided to change the subject. “My heavens!” she exclaimed, giving the clock a quick glance. “Look at the time! You two better hurry and eat your breakfast before your rides get here.” Again, the woman had skills.
Timmy rode to school with his buddy, Parker, because he hated riding the school bus and because Parker was sixteen and his car had an awesome stereo system. And also because they were best friends with common interests. Vanilla Ice being one of them, and baseball, the other. Parker was a catcher, and my dork brother was a pitcher. They were both tremendous athletes and aspired to play professionally someday. I guess there was nothing wrong with having dreams and aspirations. Especially if you were willing to put the work in. Miracles happened every day.
Speaking of miracles, I thought it would really be a miracle if dad got me a car for my birthday. I was the only senior without wheels. I’d been riding to school with Jackson since the beginning
of our junior year. When he turned sixteen, his granny gave him her old car, a 1970 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. It was a sweet ride, desert gold with black interior with less than thirty thousand miles. Jackson named it Goldie and pampered that car like it was his baby. Of course, that tickled Mrs. Ruby. She said he was as bad as his grandpa Jack used to be about cars. I swear, she’d give him the world if she could. A few weeks ago, when he turned eighteen, she gave him the deed to her house. She said Mr. Jack wanted the house to be Jackson’s, so he’d always have a home. We both knew Mrs. Ruby well enough to know there was something more to it, but it was years before the truth came out.
At seven thirty on the dot I heard Jackson pull into the driveway. “Perfect timing,” I said and pushed up from the table. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom. See you after school.”
Momma raised a questionable eyebrow. “You’re not going to Jackson’s track meet?”
“No, Katie and I have to study this evening.” I opened the door and threw my backpack over my shoulder. “She’ll probably stay for supper.”
“Okay.” Momma smiled, following me to the door. “Tell Jackson to take care of business today.”
“I will,” I replied, jogging down the driveway.
“Enjoy your special day!” she shouted.
“Thanks, Momma,” I yelled back, opening Goldie’s passenger door. “Don’t run all the gas outta my new car!”
“You bet!” She grinned and waved. “Don’t forget to buy some cigarettes!”
I got in the car, tossed my backpack over the seat, and buckled up. Jackson waved at Momma through the window as she blew us both a kiss, then he looked at me in horror.
“Your mom started smoking?”
I laughed out loud. “No, silly. Let me explain.”
Chapter Nine
Jackson
Tuesday, May 8, 1990 ~ Play It Cool
I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway, forcing myself to stop staring at Rebecca’s tight T-shirt and holey jeans. Oh, those jeans… Showing off her smooth, tan skin. She had no idea what she did to me. Suddenly, I realized her jeans weren’t the only ones tight.
I swallowed thickly. “Happy birthday, beautiful!”
“Thank you, Jackson.” She leaned over and kissed me on my cheek, which initiated major grinning and caused my heart to race even more. “You sure are in a good mood this morning. What did your granny feed you for breakfast? A T-bone?”
I squirmed in my seat and fidgeted with my seatbelt’s lap strap, trying to adjust myself. “Humph. Don’t I wish. We had eggs and biscuits and sausage. Oh, and Fiber-One.”
Rebecca threw her head back and laughed. “For real?”
I cut my eyes at her. “Go ahead. Laugh it up.”
“Gotta get that fiber!” she said, shaking her finger in the air and laughing even harder. “You know, Jackson, your granny’s good cooking is probably what’s made you such a great athlete.”
“I’m sure all that greasy food has done wonders for me.”
“Can you name anyone else who’s a four-sport superstar? No, you can’t, because there isn’t one. Just look at these guns!” She reached out and gave my bicep a squeeze. “You gotta license for these things, mister?”
“Ha! The birthday girl’s a comedian.” Her touch sent tingles through my body and made my vision blur. Focus, dammit, before you run off the road!
“My mom said you better take care of business today at the track meet.”
“That’s the plan.” I’d love to take care of business right now, Rebecca. If you only knew. “I guess you’re still studying after school?” That’s it. Focus on something else. And don’t look at her!
“Yeah. I’m trying to avoid taking the final, so I really need to do well on tomorrow’s test.”
“Priorities.” I sighed.
“What are you trying to say?” She pursed her lips. “That my grades aren’t important?”
I shook my head. “Not suggesting that at all.” That neck. Good Lord, man. Drive!
“Jackson! You’re such a bad liar.” Rebecca put her hand on my shoulder and playfully shook it, then reached down to crank up the radio.
I stole another glimpse of her before making my turn. Those lips. Our “turn-it-up” song was playing—Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” The song fit her perfectly. Her smile, her eyes, her hair. I wanted to kiss her so bad it hurt. Literally. Thank God we were almost at school. I really needed to stand up and stretch.
Finally, we turned into the parking lot. I put the car in park and shut off the engine. “So…” I let the word drag out casually. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Aha! That explains why you’ve been squirming around with that silly little grin on your face.”
She noticed me squirming? I hope to hell that’s all she noticed. “Pfft! My grin is quite manly.”
She giggled. “Manly, huh?”
“Yes.” I lifted my chin and pushed out my chest. “Because I’m a manly man.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“It’s true. I’ve been told so by many.”
“Hmmm.” Her lips curved up perfectly at the corners, almost devilishly.
I swallowed to keep from drooling all over the place and realized I had some serious tension in my neck and shoulders. Good grief! What the hell else is gonna stiffen up?
“Do tell, Mr. Manly Man,” Rebecca teased. “Who’s been admiring your smile? And have they been admiring anything else?”
She was looking at me with her chin lowered and one inquisitive eyebrow raised. Whether she knew it or not, she had the seduction thing mastered without even trying. But her intent was to mock me, not turn me on. I was the one making it sexual. It wasn’t her fault every little thing she did aroused me. Hell, I got aroused watching her blow her nose! Blow? Shit! There’s another dirty thought.
“Sorry, ma’am.” I put on my best innocent smile. “I cannot reveal such information.”
“Fair enough.” She flung her ponytail around and bent her knee, pulling her foot underneath her. “Go ahead. Keep your little secret. I got secrets too!”
Mmmm. This girl, I swear. She makes me grit my teeth sometimes. Then I caught a whiff of her perfume and my heart fluttered. Heaven. I wanted to breathe in her scent, stroke her long neck, whisper words of love in her ear, and bury my face in her breasts.
As if reading my mind, Rebecca pulled her other leg up and cradled her knee against her chest. Her ripped jeans revealed more of that beautiful tan skin. I was dying to touch it, caress it, kiss it.
“Well, tell me what my surprise is then.” She batted her eyes.
I laughed nervously. “Major negative.”
She stuck out her bottom lip. “Why not?” she pouted.
I leaned over, just inches from her face, and squeezed her petite, velvety chin. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Now would it?” God, how I wanted to kiss her.
We were both smiling as we stared at each other. I noticed her pupils were enlarging, and I expected mine were too—among other things. Play it cool. Just play it cool. I leaned in closer and gently kissed her cheek. “You’ll just have to wait. It’s gonna be epic.” I brushed a strand of her loose hair behind her ear. “Until then, birthday girl, we need to get a move on, or we’ll be late for class.”
I was terrible at keeping secrets, and she knew it. But I had to keep this one. I’d been planning it for a week. And I had to get out of this car to adjust myself. Thank God I had books to carry.
Chapter Ten
Rebecca
Tuesday, May 8, 1990 ~ Finish What He Started
Niceville High School was simple but beautiful. Surrounded by palm trees, oak groves, and manicured hedges, its dark-red brick offered a warmth that was inviting to all visitors. Petite flowers of maroon, gold, and white adorned its sidewalks, which lead to the gym, the ROTC facility, and the main building where the central office, auditorium, library, and classrooms were located. The school grounds also
included a large sports complex, a student center, and an outdoor recreational area, which was where many students liked to hang out before going to class.
Jackson and I arrived about five minutes before the first bell, so we had to hurry to our lockers. Neither one of us even needed a locker, but it gave us a place to store our lunch. As seniors, we already had most of our core classes satisfied, which gave us several open periods to fill with electives.
Other than Pre-Calculus, Honors English, and Anatomy, which were my three morning classes, I had it made. I was an office assistant fourth period, where I ran errands for Mrs. Liz, the principal’s secretary, and after lunch, I was Mrs. Donaldson’s media assistant in the library for the rest of the day, which was when I did most of my homework.
Jackson’s schedule was easier than mine. He had Statistics and English, and that was it. All his other classes were basically recess. He had weightlifting, team sports, and three PE classes, where he assisted Coach Randal with the underclassmen.
The day was just another ordinary school day, same as every other day at Niceville High School, population four hundred thirty-six. Nothing fascinating ever happened. Apparently, not even on my birthday. Okay, so I was feeling sorry for myself because Jackson didn’t give me a present. He did say he had a surprise for me, but I was still waiting. I wished he never would’ve mentioned it because the anticipation was driving me crazy. I swear, nothing makes a day drag out any longer than when you’re waiting for something. It seemed like I’d been waiting on Jackson for years. Waiting on our friendship to grow into something romantic, waiting on him to make the first move, waiting on our first kiss...
Finally, the bell rang, and it was time for lunch. I wasn’t hungry, but I had this incredible burning in the pit of my stomach—nerves, Jackson. I grabbed my sandwich from my locker and headed to the recreational area to meet the fire starter.
Worth the Risk Page 8