5. Jane Air-Head
Jane Air-Head
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
"My God!" I whine, my heart thumping in my chest as an endless stream of text notifications continues to assault my dreams. My livid eyes spring open, and I glance at the nightstand, yanking the phone off the cord and flipping on the silent feature. "Shut up already!"
Clenching my fists, I take several stabilizing breaths as I scan my surroundings.
Dread sets in. Right...this isn't my room.
I am not at home. I'm in California. In a stranger's bed.
I look down, sighing. Fully clothed. What.
.. Did I fall asleep? I wince, breathing into my palm and smelling my breath. Oh...gross.
Unable to will myself out of bed and wash the filth of yesterday's happenings off my body, I purse my lips, scanning Jesse's guest room.
Sunlight peers through the blinds, golden rays illuminating the bouquets of artificial pink, coral, and white flowers springing out of asymmetrical vases on the vanity table.
Hmm. It could be my room. My gaze trails across the gorgeous macrame hangings on the wall, and I frown.
This isn't very Jesse Paxton, that's for sure.
My phone vibrates again.
"Okay, okay, okay," I groan, snatching the phone off the bed and scrolling through dozens of text messages from Momma.
My gaze briefly flits up to the battery percentage and then to the black charger plugged into the wall.
When did I…? That isn't mine... Did he..
.? While I was sleeping?! Creep! Ping. Ping. Ping. "Oh, good God, woman!"
Momma
Savannah, answer the phone immediately.
Where are you?
What hotel are you staying at?
Savannah, I swear on papa's grave I will call the police if you do not respond to me.
This is unacceptable. I am your mother! You cannot ignore me.
I'm serious, child. Answer, or else your face will be plastered on every single milk carton from here to Timbuktu
Savannah...WHERE ARE YOU?!
You have ONE HOUR to reply.
SAVANNAH!
I swallow, biting my lip as I type out a response riddled with lies upon lies.
Savannah
Hi, sorry! I fell asleep and my phone died. I'm staying at Beau's place near San Diego. I've decided to stay a little longer so we can catch up. No more than a week or two tops.
I get a response immediately.
Momma
Call me right now!
I wince, replying back.
Can't, sorry! We're just about to head out to get brunch. Love you momma! Don't stress, I'm totally fine
That'll hold her for a day or so, at least.
I slam my phone upside down and lethargically crawl out of the queen-sized bed.
I look through the built-in dressers for a towel until I find a stack buried behind some linens.
The fragrant scent of citrus fills my lungs as I press the towel against my chest, suddenly anxious about what's behind the bedroom door.
Is he here? Did he already leave? It's—I check the alarm clock on the bedside table.
It's nine in the morning. Maybe he's at work? Wait...does he even go to work? I don’t imagine criminals have regular Monday to Friday hours.
What if he's still here? He probably is, isn't he?
You know what? It's fine. I'll just be very, very quiet.
Like a little mouse. A mouse in a stranger's house. That's me.
Gently twisting the door handle, I hold my breath as I peek my head out, looking down the hallway in both directions. It's silent. Almost too silent. He's either gone, or he's sleeping. Hopefully it’s the former. I perk myself up on my tiptoes and scamper to the bathroom in a haste.
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
"Yes!" I exclaim softly, stepping through the safety of the bathroom threshold. I carefully lock the door and hang the towel on the rack before swinging open the shower curtain and turning on the faucet. I make sure the water is scalding hot before I undress and jump inside.
As a stream of reviving water trickles down my hair and body, I mindlessly use whatever products I can find, all of 'em with hints of woodsy cedar and California ocean freshness.
Hmm . Not bad. At least he's using products other than generic green soap.
Although, based on our brief interactions, Jesse seems to be anything but a basic bitch.
This little observation might end up working for me or against me.
Time will tell. But time's not on my side.
I need a plan. I need a plan ASAP. Jesse better not have a limited hot water tank because I intend to stay in this steam dungeon until I can figure out my next steps.
Alright. The facts. Jesse said I can stay here one night.
Clearly, that's not going to work, given that Beau's not due back for another six days.
Maybe I can make myself useful in some way or another.
But how? I could clean! Tidy up a bit? But.
..it's already rather spotless around this house as far as I've seen.
I could cook! I snort. Who am I kidding?
I can't cook. Does opening a yogurt count as cooking?
Hi Jesse, let me just peel that banana for you. Yeah. That's not gonna fly.
Oh, God...okay, moving on.
I could...teach him how to do a handstand?
A little flexibility training? It's important to be agile in his line of work, right?
Easier to...escape law enforcement? On second thought, maybe not.
I don't want to be an accomplice. No way.
Okay, maybe I can teach him to twirl a baton?
A little party trick? Recite Shakespeare with accurate pronunciation?
Ride a horse? Say the alphabet backward?
Paint by color? Show him how to make a mean margarita?
As I run through all my evidently useless skills, my chest grows heavy with hopelessness. There's nothing. I have nothing?—
"No fucking way, dude." Jesse's thundering voice slices through my thoughts, and I snap my attention to the bathroom door. "Absolutely not."
Uh-oh. He's here.
Turning off the tap, I hop out of the shower and wrap the towel around my body as I intensively eavesdrop on his conversation. Great, he's already in a foul mood. I'm starting off at a negative one, and I haven't even pleaded my case for free room and board yet.
"Why can't she stay at yours?" he barks, pausing before adding, "Lucky's a little bitch, Rad—" What?! Rad? He's talking to Beau? "He won't fucking try anything..." A pause. "I don't see how that's suddenly my problem."
Tripping over my own feet, I scramble to unlock the door, bolting out and running toward Jesse. He paces around the kitchen, phone pressed against his ear.
"Is that Beau?!" I ask in an eager tone, startling Jesse as he turns around, mouth slightly agape as he stares at me, the tip of his tongue flicking against his lips. "Give me the phone!" I charge toward him, holding out my hand in desperation. "I want to talk to him! Give me the phone."
Beau. He could be the answer. He'll have a solution. He was always good at innovative problem-solving.
"Your sister's awake," Jesse says into the receiver, gaze flitting across my impatient features as I tirelessly try to snatch the phone from his hand. Jesse dodges my attempts, circling the dining room table as he chuckles. "Yeah, I don't think she wants to talk to you."
Dickhead!
"Give me the phone! Beau!"
"Yeah, I don't know, brother." Jesse glances back at me, smirking, as I chase him around the kitchen like a herding dog who's seen better days.
"I think she's a bit mad that you weren't here to welcome her unannounced arrival.
" He pauses, shooting me a lopsided smile as I continue to shout Beau's name. "Yeah, I think that's stupid, too."
"Jesse!" I whine, gripping the unraveling towel as I struggle to overpower him. Did he grow overnight?! In both directions? Holy hell! "Give me the phone, for Pete's sake!" I raise my voice, shouting, "Beau! I'm here! I'm not mad at you! Beau!"
"Yeah..." Jesse turns his back to me, extending out his right arm as he blocks my advances like a freaking linebacker. "What can I say? Must be a woman thing, huh? "
"Give me the damn phone!" I snap, smacking his shoulder repeatedly. He doesn't flinch, my hand tingling. What is he? Iron Man?! "Jesse!"
"Yeah, I'll tell her to call you when she's calmed down," he says, spinning out as I grab hold of his red flannel shirt. He smacks my hand away, waving his index finger at me as he feigns a pout. "Yeah, okay."
He grins when I cross my arms and stand in front of him, smoke blowing from my ears. What game is he playing here? Is he just trying to piss me off?
"Just get back here in one piece," he continues, lowering his voice as he leans against the kitchen counter.
"Tell Jo and Jimbo to take back roads. Tiny heard chatter that there were a couple of renegade snakes in the desert.
I don't want to rattle them too soon." He pauses, nodding. "Sounds good, brother. See you soon."
When he hangs up, Jesse flashes me an amused smile and sighs.
"Damn, I'm hungry." He reaches into the grocery bag on the kitchen table and unpacks a carton of milk and a box of Froot Loops.
He grabs two bowls and spoons from the drying rack and I stare at him, bewildered at his totally unacceptable and deceitful behavior.
He raises a brow, acting dumbfounded by my reaction.
"What's wrong, princess? Found a pea under your mattress? "
"What the heck was that?!" I shout, snatching the box of cereal from his hand mid-pour. "Why didn't you let me talk to Beau?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Jesse shrugs, giving me a sly grin. "Can I have my cereal back?" He pauses, cocking his head. "Unless you want some." He slides a bowl toward me. "Ladies first."
"I don't want any flipping cereal!" The box crushes under my vice grip, and Jesse laughs. "Why are you being such a tool? I just wanted to?—"
"A tool?" He dramatically grabs his chest. "Wow. Words hurt Savannah. Words hurt."