4. Shake n’ Bake
Shake n’ Bake
"Wake up, looney.” So rude! "Hey!"
"Will you stop rattling me?!" I groan, fluttering open my weary eyelids. I glance up to find Jesse hovering over me. His presence is a depressing reminder that this is indeed my reality, not some absurd dream. "I'm not a flipping Shake N' Bake!"
"What are you still doing here?" he asks as my vision adjusts to the dark, eerily silent night. Jesse raises an impatient brow, waiting for an answer as I release a yawn. "Yoo-hoo? Lady? What're you doing?"
"Will you please shut up," I grunt, swatting at his shins as my temples ?pulse.
Unanswerable questions are the worst types of alarms. How do I snooze him?
"Give me a second..." Street lights flicker around us as I peer up at him, somewhat mentally receptive to a conversation.
Or a fight. The pendulum could swing either way at this moment. "What do you want, Jesse ?"
A ghost of a smile graces his shadowed face, and for the first time, I notice that he's got a diamond stud in his nose. The sparkling gem does nothing to draw my eye away from the dried cuts on and around his lips. I wonder how often he bleeds.
"Why aren't you at the motel?" He cocks his head. "Get lost on the way?"
"Maybe I figured that this filthy sidewalk would be much more sanitary than a motel room," I sneer, resting against the lumpy fence, my back sore from slouching for God knows how many hours. "If it's anything like your clubhouse , I'm saving myself from having to get a tetanus shot."
"Probably," he agrees with a grin, leaning his right shoulder against the gate as he crosses his arms. "But you should still go." He nods down at my luggage. "People have killed for a lot less around here."
"What?" My eyes widen with fear as I yank on my monogrammed carry-on. I'd like to see them try . "You're just trying to scare me."
"Nah, I'm just telling you how it is," he says matter-of-factly, his keen gaze flitting across my face. "Pretty girl, empty streets, couple grand worth of luggage." He shrugs. "You do the math, babe."
"I'll be fine." I swallow, immediately fishing a pink spritz bottle out of my purse. "I've got pepper spray."
"Pepper spray?" Jesse snorts. "Jesus..." Shaking his head, he holds out his hand. "Come on, get up. I'll drive you there." He rolls his eyes when I don't budge. A sassy one, I see. "Listen, I'm not gonna stand here and play babysitter all night, 'kay? Get the fuck up, Savannah."
I glower at him. "Don't cuss at me. "
"Or what?" he asks, smirking. "You'll pepper spray me?"
"Don't tempt me with a good time," I snap back. "There's nothing I'd like more than to see you cry."
"The only person crying will be you if you stay out here alone," he states with an edge. "It's not safe. You need to go to a motel."
As if on cue, a terrifyingly loud and powerful gust of wind howls through the barren mountain ridge, sending a ripple of trepidation down my spine. Distant shouting and cursing—and oh, God, was that a gunshot—fill my ringing ears.
"I can't leave," I mumble, angry at myself for not having a backup plan. "You don't know how much I wish I could..."
"You can't ?" He looks down at me, confused. "Why not?"
"Because I can't afford a motel," I whisper, tugging my cardigan around my chest as I physically shrink in size. Momma would be so pleased. "Damn it."
"What?" he asks. "Didn't quite hear that."
"I said..." My jaw tightens. Oh, he heard me just fine. "I cannot afford a motel."
His skeptical gaze floats toward my luggage again. "You can't afford a motel?" He blows a stream of dubious air out of his nose. "I highly doubt that. Try again."
"You think I'd lie about something so embarrassing ?
" I whimper, dropping my head to my knees.
"Oh God, this has got to be one of the worst nights of my life.
" I sniffle as realization dawns on me. He's right.
I am going to die out here. "All I wanted was to see my brother"—tears start gushing down my face like a broken hose—"but instead, I'm stranded in some weird-ass town with no street signs, no money, and I'm pretty sure I forgot my phone charger in Alabama.
" My shoulders heave as I sob. "Why is this happening to me? Why?"
"Uh—" Jesse clears his throat, his feet shuffling against the pavement as he awkwardly taps my shoulder. "You okay?"
"No!" I whip my head up, further smudging the mascara that's already dripping down my cheek.
"Do I look okay to you? Did you not hear anything I just said?
I spent all the money I have traveling thousands of miles to come and sleep on the street like some sad sewer rat.
" Snot collects in my nostrils as I weep, "I might as well just die . "
"Damn..." Jesse blinks, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Rad mentioned you were a bit dramatic, but this? Wow. Talk about high maintenance."
"I don't think that the need for a warm bed and a roof over my head is high maintenance!" I frown, sniffling as I push myself to my feet. "Wait...did you say that Beau mentioned me? He...he mentioned me?"
"Couple times," Jesse says, eyeing my face uncomfortably. "You...you kind of look like a sad raccoon right now." He motions around my face. "You got some stuff..." He expels an airy laugh. "Well...it's everywhere."
"Couple times—" I gasp, shoving Jesse with two hands. He staggers back a foot, shooting me a bewildered look. "Oh my God! You are such a dick! You do know who I am, then!"
"Easy there, Rocky," Jesse chuckles, brushing his hands across all the patches on his leather vest. "This shit's custom." He gives me a playful grin. "Seeing as you're poor, you wouldn't be able to afford the dry cleaning."
My jaw drops. "I am not poor . I am simply...without credit cards."
"What?" He cocks his head, putting on a southern accent. "Daddy wouldn't fund your little vacation?"
"You are just—" I clench my teeth together as my body vibrates with agitation. I stomp my foot. "Aargh!"
"Careful, babe." He chuckles, grinning. "Don't pop a blood vessel now."
"I'll pop you somewhere," I mutter, scowling. "And let me tell you, it would hurt much, much more than any blood vessel."
"You threatening me?" he asks, feigning offense. "And here I was going to offer you a place to stay for the night."
"Oh, really?" I cross my arms. "Why? Suddenly feeling like extending me some Southern California hospitality?"
"Something like that," he says with a casual shrug. "But now that the safety of my—" He glances down at his dick, and my stupid freaking eyes follow. Guess the SoCal landscape isn’t the only thing around here that's bumpy and inviting. He expels an amused laugh. "Down, girl."
"What?" I squeal, snapping my head up. My cheeks flush, body frozen with embarrassment. "I was not..." I swallow. Did I?! "I mean, I wasn't..."
"Uh-huh," he hums, reaching for my suitcase.
"Sure you weren't." Jesse latches onto the handle and begins walking to a parked truck on the side of the road.
I take a second to process that he is no longer standing in front of me.
Did I just gawk at his... thing?! He turns around, calling out, "You coming? "
"What?" I scramble to pick up my purse off the ground and then run toward him. "Where are we..." I clear my throat as Jesse unlocks the truck and tosses my luggage in the back seat. "Where are we going?"
"My place," he says, hopping in the driver's seat. He stares at me, waiting. "Well? Get in."
"Oh." Circling the truck, I jump into the passenger's seat, clipping in my seatbelt as Jesse starts the engine.
Maybe this isn't a smart idea, either. None of my ideas have been very thought out, have they?
"So umm...Beau, he uh—he mentioned me?" I pause, unable to look at Jesse—might look somewhere I'm not supposed to again. "What...what did he say?"
"Not much," Jesse says, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives through a deserted dirt road. "Kid doesn't really talk about his past." He glances at me, but I pretend I don't see his lingering gaze. "And I don't pry."
"Right," I hum, sinking into the leather seat. "His past."
We drive in silence for several agonizing minutes. Was Beau's life that bad? Was he truly so unhappy that he'd leave without even a note? For a long time, I have beaten myself up. I should've noticed that something was wrong. I should've been more attentive, more inquisitive, more present.
Now I'm just his past. Something he doesn't want to remember .
"How'd you find him, anyway?" Jesse breaks the silence, lighting up a cigarette. I cough, waving my hand in front of my face. He sighs, rolling down a window. "Better, princess?"
"Yeah, thanks for not killing me with Satan's smog." I roll my eyes. He snorts, muttering something under his breath. "What was that?"
"Nothing," he says, flicking the cherry into the middle console. "So? How'd you find him? I know it wasn't by searching Beauregard John Kingsley on the internet."
"What?" I twist my neck toward him slowly. "How do you know his full name?" I sit up straight. "His real full name."
"'Cause I helped him change it," Jesse admits nonchalantly.
" You changed his name?" I ask. That explains why I couldn't find him.
"Well, not legally," Jesse explains. "But on the streets, yeah. We got him some fake IDs and shit."
"Why would he change his name?" I ask, chewing on my bottom lip. "Why didn't he want to stay Beau?"
"Guess the kid wanted a fresh start," he replies, tossing me a sympathetic side-eye. "A new identity is usually the first step."
"A fresh start?" I sigh, chest heavy with regret. "Right. Nothing says fresh start like—" I stop, not wanting to dig myself into potentially more trouble. "Never mind."
"So you do have a filter," Jesse muses, turning onto a paved driveway. "Good to know."
"Appears I do," I hum, squinting out the blacked-out windows as I try to make out the house in the distance. "This your house?"
"No," he says flatly. "Gotta hit a B&E first. You stay here. If you hear gunshots... run ."
"What?" My face pales. "Oh, come on..."
"Jesus," he mutters, pulling up in front of the garage before stopping the truck. "I'm fucking kidding. Of course, it's my house. You think I'd take some chick I just met on a ride-along? Cute."
"Well, I don't know that," I mutter, getting out of the car. "Could very well be within the realm of possibility, given your profession."
"My profession?" Jesse slams my suitcase on the ground as he shuts the car door. "And what might that be?"
"You know..." I swallow, following him toward the front entrance. He fishes a set of keys from his pocket and unlocks the door. "Illegal things." I pause, hesitant to take a step into the Devil's lair. "Bad things."
"Bad things?" Jesse flicks on the lights and I scan the ?modern and clean decor. I purse my lips, attempting to piece together how this is his house. "What kind of bad things? Hmm?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," I say, tiptoeing behind Jesse as he leads us into the living room.
He sets my luggage by the taupe velvet sectional before plopping down onto an armchair.
He grabs the remote. Animal Planet pops up on the screen, and he pulls a tightly rolled joint out of his breast pocket. I cringe. "You smoke inside? "
"My house, my rules," he says, lighting up, the dank scent of weed wafting up my nose. "Want some?"
I shift my weight between my hips. "I don't do drugs.”
"This ain't drugs, babe…” He sucks in a deep puff, holding it for several seconds before blowing out a vile stench. Oh, he’s an animal. "You sure you don't want a hit? Might help you relax a little." He grins at me, kicking his shoes up on the coffee table. "If you're even capable of relaxing."
"I relax just fine," I state, suppressing a yawn. This day needs to end. “Where am I...where am I sleeping?"
"My room's down the hall." He smirks. "Don't worry, I got a California king."
My jaw drops. "That better be another one of your little jokes. I am not sleeping with you."
"Yet." He tosses me a knowing wink, chuckling as he notices the vein popping out of my forehead. "Fuck, man, relax. I've got a spare room." He nods down the hall. "Third door on the left. Towels are in the closet." He wiggles his brows. "'Case you wanna shower and shit."
I wrap my arms protectively around my body. "I think I'll pass tonight."
"Whatever you want, babe," he says, turning up the volume on the TV. "But you're gonna have to shower at some point."
"Dickhead," I grunt to myself as I gather my bags. "Well...goodnight, Jesse . Thanks for uh—letting me stay here. It's very"—I battle the words out of my mouth—"kind of you."
"It's only for one night," he states. "Tomorrow, you get yourself a motel. "
"Right." I bat my scheming lashes at him. "Only a night."
His features harden. "I'm serious, Savannah. One night."
"Mhm," I hum, backing away slowly as I smile at him. "Whatever you say."
"Savannah."
"Goodnight," I sing-song, heading toward my new living quarters for the next week. "Sweet dreams, Jesse Paxton."
I told him I was like a weed. He should've never let me grow back.