Chapter 12 Jessica
JESSICA
Call Me by Blondie
Ilook at the pile of dishes left inside the sink wondering how we accumulate so many. It’s not like my mother is constantly cooking, we practically live off TV dinners. Which reminds me I need to warm up the last one for Tommy.
My stomach growls in disapproval. I’m hungry too, but he’s a growing boy and needs to eat. He also needs an adult that actually puts time into being a parent, instead of being someone’s girl.
However, that train has long left the station, our mother is who she is and there’s no changing that, unfortunately.
I turn away from the mess and clutter on the sink and counters.
Moving towards the stained yellow fridge, and opening it, I grab the last TV dinner—Salisbury steak, mash, and a some sad attempt at chocolate brownie.
I can hear Tommy fuss about being hungry and wondering where’s mom off to again.
I don’t reply. Instead, I rip open the packaging and place the container inside the microwave, taking mental notes to clean it again.
There’s thick, greasy chunks coating the inside, and the tray is as dirty as every crevice in this house.
After waiting for a few minutes, the microwave finally beeps.
The sound pulls me from my dissociation as I stare at the empty and overgrown backyard.
The weather is so fucking shitty out. Just as I press the button that opens the door, a high pitch rings startles me.
“Fuck,” I mutter, unsure as to why I’m so jumpy today.
I mean, it could have to do with the fact that some prom nominees have been killed, while the rest wait, wondering who’s next.
The phone continues to ring until I pick it up from the base and place it to my ear.
The sound of loud uneven breathing fills my ear, making the hair in the back of my neck rise with each exhale.
“Hello,” I finally muster the courage to say, but nothing, just more breathing.
It honestly creeps me out. Quickly, I slam the phone back into its base.
“Is dinner ready yet?” Tommy asks from somewhere in the living room.
Just as I open my mouth to respond, the phone rings again.
This time I don’t answer until it rings again right after ending.
Fear turns into frustration, and I snatch the phone back up, placing it to my ear.
“Play with your mother, not with me. Fuck off…”
“Jeez, this is how you greet people. You could just say hello.” Trish's familiar voice instantly relaxes me. My body slumps into the wall. “Hey, how did you get this number?”
She chuckles. “It’s not that hard to find Steve’s number. The guy gives it to practically anyone.”
My finger curls around the curly phone cord. “Yeah, I guess… So, what’s up?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking we should hang out.” The way she says it makes heat bloom through me, causing my pussy to instantly throb with need.
It’s been days since my hook up with Sam and that was a mistake.
He has a girlfriend and a weird twin sister that clings too close. Why couldn’t I have a little fun?
I deserve something that doesn't feel like I’m stealing.
“Sure, but I’m currently on babysitting duty,” I breathe out, hearing her laugh on the other end. “How old is he again?”
“Fifteen. As long as he’s fed and in his room, I’m all yours.”
“I can work with that.” Her voice deepens into a seductive purr. “See you in thirty.” With that, the call ends, just in time for Tommy to poke his head into the kitchen and shoot me a death glare.
“Food?”
Shit…
Placing the phone back on the base, I quickly turn, only to find my brother already zeroing on his food. The smell has my stomach churning painfully from hunger, and scanning the kitchen, I find a loaf of bread and a sigh escapes my lips.
Tommy begins to dig into his food. “It’s still so cold,” he complains.
I shrug. “Take it up with the microwave, kiddo.”
He doesn’t, instead he rolls his eyes and carries on stuffing his face, while I attempt to make bread and butter.
After grabbing the butter from the fridge, the phone rings again.
One time, then it stops. I shoot a look at Tommy who looks to me like deer caught in headlights when the phone rings again. “You gonna get that?”
No, I want to respond… But instead, I nod. “Sure thing,” I say with fake enthusiasm even though my pulse spikes and I can hear it hammer in my ears.
“Jess, are you sick?” Tommy's muffled question has me looking at him.
With a shake of my head, I respond, “No, I'm just tired of answering the phone.” He hums in agreement as he scarfs down the remaining mash and gravy.
Begrudgingly, I take a bite of my butter sandwich, hating the chewy texture of the bread and the clunky, uneven bits of butter, before bringing the phone back into my ear. “Trish?”
Nothing…
“Trish, this isn’t funn—” The sound of something metal grinding into something has a shiver running through my body before I can hang up.
A distorted voice whispers, “Will you scream for me, Prom Queen?” My spine locks at the words.
My heart hikes up to my throat while my stomach churns and turns.
The silence turns to breathy moans, and that’s when I decide I’ve had enough and hang up.
I turn to my brother and, using my index finger, I motion for him to get moving. “School tomorrow. Eat, shower, and sleep.”
My brother groans in disapproval. “It’s literally not even eight.”
“I’m in charge so,” I snap back, crossing my arms over my stance, like our mother used to do when she actually cared to parent us. He throws the plastic container from the TV dinner away.
“I’m fifteen, I shouldn’t need a babysitter,” he argues as he heads out the kitchen but not before shoulder checking me in the process.
Once I can no longer hear his footsteps, I finally breathe again. He’s right, he doesn’t need one. I choose to because, not only does it put a couple of dollars in my pockets, but it helps him too.
Thankfully, by the time I finally make my way to my room, Tommy is in his, music muffled through the wall.
Before I get a chance to freshen up, the familiar rumble of a motorcycle catches my attention.
Moving towards the small circular window by the stairs, I confirm Trish's arrival and make my way back down the steps and out the door to greet her.
Trish removes her helmet and rushes to my side.
I look down at myself for a second and feel self conscious.
I'm still wearing the clothes from earlier today, and with the mess inside the house, this was a bad idea.
Trish closes the distance, and her arm bands around my waist, dragging me to her. “How about some weed and pussy?”
My eyebrow hikes to my forehead. “Straight to the point, I see.”
She smiles and the sight makes my core flutter. “No need to waste time when there’s a killer on the loose.” Trish wiggles her fingers as if to frighten me, but all it does is cause us to laugh. “Come on, let’s go inside, it’s freezing.”
“Lead the way.”
And I do.
Only for the damn phone to ring the moment we step inside. “Do you need to answer that?”
I shake my head immediately. “No.”
She gives me a puzzling look, but doesn’t question me despite it.
We head towards the back of the house, when the sight of the dishes come into view.
Heat crawls up my neck until finally settling in my cheeks.
Beside me, Trish removes her jacket and places it on the table before taking a seat.
“Come,” she commands, patting her leg for me to sit, and of course… I do.
“You look adorable when you’re blushing.
’’ Her cold finger trails up the length of my neck until it settles on my lips, and then we kiss.
It’s slow at first, clumsy even. Then I rock against her, trying to work up some friction as her hands dig at my hips and her tongue swipes along the seams of my lips, demanding access.
I grant it, my mouth opening to allow her in.
With a groan, our tongues move in tandem with our desperate touches.
When the phone rings again, I ignore it the first time, even the second time it rings, but by the third time, Trish pulls away.
“Seriously, you might want to get that. It’s killing the moment. ”
I agree with a loud exhale, and it takes every shred of willpower inside me to get myself off her and answer that god damn phone.
Once again, I place the phone to my ear.
“He—” My words are cut off by low, guttural groans.
“I wanna see what your inside looks like, Prom Queen,” the distorted voice mutters as the sound of metal grinding on metal catches my attention.
I swallow hard, trying to dislodge the lump forming at my throat.
It doesn’t.
If anything it grows bigger when he asks, “Do you like scary movies… Jessica.”
I hang up, slamming the phone into the base, and I feel the color drain from my body, and with it, my warmth. My body becomes a quivering mess. Trish is right beside me trying to get me to look at her before she cups my face and forces me too. “You okay, Jess?”
Am I?
No…
Who would be?
At this point, I’m sure that I can trust her, so I fill her in on the calls. She lets out a low whistle and turns to face the wall. “Fuck, Jessica,” she mutters as she rakes her fingers through her hair. “You need to tell someone.” Trish spins towards me then. “You could be next.”
The words land in a devastating blow, I didn’t even want to be fucking prom queen and now I have a target on my back.
Deciding that I’m not going to wait around like a sitting duck, I loop my finger around her belt loop and tug her towards me until she’s flush against my front and my back is against the wall.
“You only live once, no?” I ask as my finger moves behind the waistband of her jeans.
Trish licks her lips, watching as my finger disappears and finds its mark.
“Mmm,” she hums while she softly rocks against my hand.
Using my thumb, I apply a little pressure to her sensitive bud and slowly roll it in small circles. “Fuck,” she chokes out. “Jess.”
The way she says my name erupts a flow of lava through my bloodstream.
I crash my lips into hers, my tongue slipping inside her mouth to deepen the kiss.
Once again, the phone rings, but we ignore it.
But after it rings for a second time, Trish pulls away with a string of curses and answers the phone.
“HELLO!” she practically shouts. “HELLO.”
I grab the phone when I see the confused look on her face.
Once again, there’s nothing but breathing and static.
I hang up without a word and resume making out with Trish.
Then, the phone rings again, and this time it’s me wishing I could rip it from the wall.
Trish answers and this time, from the look on her face, there’s an actual talking person on the other side.
“Paul?” she questions, but it sounds more like an accusation. “I mean, yeah, she's here. It’s her house.” There’s a beat of silence before Trish speaks again. “Yeah, hold on.”
She hands me the phone, and sure enough, it is Paul on the other end. “Have you been calling me all night?” I ask, determined to know who’s behind the calls. An awkward silence grows between us, but quickly changes when he says, “No, this is my first time calling.”
“Why?”
He chuckles nervously. “I guess… I was… mmm. Would you go to prom with me?” I wait for the butterflies to take flight, for excitement instead of frustration to pour over me. None of it happens, so instead, I reply flatly with three letters, “Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” I respond before I hang up and glance over at Trish who looks so fucking pissed as she slips on her jacket.
“You know…” she begins, before closing her mouth again. Curiosity piques and I step closer, desperate to know what she’s about to say, but she doesn’t say anything. Not until she steps out of my house and climbs on her bike. “I wanted to take you to prom.”
My heart sinks to my stomach and my lips part. “You did?”
She nods bitterly. “I did, but have fun with Paul. I’ve heard he likes getting fucked in the ass.” With that, she throws on her helmet, kicks the bike off its kickstand, and leaves.