Hanging on (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2)

by K. F. Breene

“Hi mom. Trudy.” William kissed his mother on the cheek, than hugged the woman next to her.

  “Little Willie!” Trudy exclaimed. “Oh my word! You’re huge! What’ve they been feeding you?”

  When someone had asked that very question about William’s bulls, he’d replied that he fed them babies to keep ‘em mean. It was a joke. Judging by his polite smile to Trudy, he was not planning on joking now.

  This was very bad news.

  Tom, William's dad, came through the door a second later with another gentleman with red hair.

  “Well, what a surprise!” Tom said in such a way that said it wasn’t a surprise at all.

  William’s jaw clenched.

  “Lovely to see you again, Jessica,” Tom said, stepping forward and hugging me. It was a genuine hug. But then, Tom had always been a nice guy.

  His wife, however…

  “I thought y’all were going to the jazz club for dinner?” William asked stiffly.

  “Honey, you are being rude. Aren’t you going to introduce your…date?” Denise asked levelly. I didn’t miss her pause.

  War had been declared.

  “Of course.” William turned to me. “Jessica, this is Trudy. She owns a spa in town that has continually gotten great reviews.”

  “Hi, Trudy.” I smiled.

  “Hello! It’s about time Willie brought a date around! And my, but aren’t you pretty!” She laughed in an easy, good-natured kind of way.

  “And her husband, Dennis.” The red haired man nodded. “He manufactures video game consoles. His firm is now nation-wide.”

  I smiled and nodded, saying nothing since I didn’t really know what that meant.

  “You know my mother, of course.”

  I nodded, holding my smile so I didn’t lose it. I’d met her in the hospital when they were visiting Gladis. At that point she hadn’t been a road blocking snake. Things had changed.

  As William turned to his dad, Tom cut into the introductions. “And me. Boring ol’ Tom.” He laughed, shoo’ing everyone further into the restaurant.

  “And why don’t you tell everyone what you do,” Denise said before William could properly introduce me.

  William's arm convulsed around me, crushing me to his side protectively. Before he said something stupid, or felt bad he was dating the hired help, I answered, “I was recently promoted to Senior Accountant.” Trudy and Dennis both smiled and nodded. “I work for the Davies. Indirectly.”

  “Oh!” Trudy smiling bigger. “How great.”

  “Tell me, Jessica,” Dennis said, leaning toward me and lowering his voice. “Do they still treat their employees horribly?”

  Dennis backed up and started laughing, Tom mockingly shaking a fist at him. I felt like a pawn, somehow. Like I was used for show but really intruding on their time.

  “Well, our table is almost ready.” William slid his hand along my waist and gently nudged me away.

  It took everything I had not to hurriedly dash toward the bar.

  “Well, why don’t we all get a table?” Denise asked, eyes trained on me. Her smile was as fake as her nails.

  “Oh yes! That would be fun.” Trudy agreed, not realizing that deeper forces were at work.

  Tom and William both wore matching grimaces they were trying to hide within smiles.

  At the table, now holding six instead of our intended two, Denise started the cat fight with, “Jessica, I hear Californian’s know wine. Why don’t you choose for the table?”

  “Now, Denise, that is a sweeping generalization,” Tom chided softly.

  “Oh my gracious, yes!” Trudy bubbled. “I love California. I go whenever Denise has to fly down for work. Yes, do pick the wine. How exciting! What part?”

  Denise handed me the wine list with a smug smile.

  I was so thankful that I was a wino. I did know wines. Wine tasting with the girls was one of my favorite things, and we’d taken many a trip to various wine districts in California looking for that next great find.

  But would I recognize any in Texas?

  Getting back to Trudy’s question as I opened the extensive list, I said, “All over LA.”

  “Oh, I love LA! The beaches are to die for!” Trudy smiled around the table, waiting for the unanimous nods she thought were a given. She had to settle for polite nods, instead. It didn't phase her. “How do you find Texas?”

  As my finger slid down the list, I realized I actually knew quite a few names, and they were smaller and, what’s more, fantastic selections. This restaurant knew what they were about.

  “Uh,” I held my finger in place to mark my spot and looked up at Trudy. “It takes some getting used to, but I like it.”

  “I’m sure we’d love some specifics of our home state,” Denise reflected in a demure voice.

  Tom got a crease between his eyebrows, but he kept his opinions to himself. He apparently didn’t plan to save me.

  “Well, I like how low the clouds look in the giant expanse of sky. Or how, when you look at the horizon, you feel like you can see for millions and millions of miles.” Trudy, Denise and Tom were nodding thoughtfully. Denise was still staring with a thin-mouthed expression. “I also like that you don’t have to go far to see farms and animals. It is integrated here, even though we are on the cusp of a large city. It doesn’t feel so city-like, but still has all the great qualities of a city.”

  “Elegant. And what do you find harder to get used to?” Denise persisted.

  William’s hand found my thigh. It was sweaty, which meant he was worried. I didn’t imagine that would help my survival rate.

  “Well…The food is a bit of a shock, I must admit. I have a hard time finding quality green food. And when I do the prices are outrageous. I took fresh produce for granted in California.” Trudy was adamantly nodding. “I miss good, fresh sushi. There are a couple places out here, and they suffice, but they aren’t nearly as good as some of the decent places in LA. But that’s not that big of deal—there are also some great things. I hadn’t had a proper steak until I got here, I think.” It was Dennis and Tom’s turn to adamantly nod. I shrugged, going back to the wine list. “I don’t know. The culture is just a bit constricting, but I am getting used to it.”

  Denise pounced. “Constricting?”

  Damn it! I should have stopped at the food!

  Everyone was staring at me. “A bit, yes. I am from a pretty liberal culture. It’s not so much that anything goes, but I think the heavily populated parts of California tend to make more allowances for individuals. It’s more of a melting pot. Racial and sexual orientation don’t seem to be as persecuted there as it is here. I miss the sassy gay boys.”

  I could have kicked myself. It was supposed to be a joke—which a constricting culture wouldn’t find as funny. I was steering a sinking ship.

  “I can see that,” Dennis said after a second.

  I let a sigh slip before I could help myself.

  Now everyone was staring at him. He shrugged. “I really enjoy my time in California. She’s—Jessica—is right; there is a lot more tolerance. If that was all you knew, then I would say ‘constricting’ was an excellent choice of word. Although, they starve themselves too much.”

  I couldn’t stop the bark of laughter. “True. I’m not the poster child for that mentality, but they are sure skinny in L.A.. On average.”

  “Too skinny! I always feel fat.” Trudy laughed. “But the sushi—yes, you have a point there!”

  I went back to the wine list. “Are we looking for red or white?”

  Unanimous: red.

  I was let off the hook for a while. Denise, eyes never far from my face, or jewelry, or dress, or posture, or hair, couldn’t find any way to drag me back into the conversation. Until the wine came.

  “Ma’am, would you like to taste?” The waiter was bent toward me.

  “Oh, no, someone else can taste? If they want?” I motioned for Tom or Trudy, avoiding Denise.

  “No, no,” Trudy said, giving a landing strip with h
er hands so the waiter knew to head my way. “She probably knows how it’s supposed to taste.”

  Yeah, that was true. Do or die time. William squeezed my leg in support.

  I gave the customary swirl to aerate it, threw a sniff into the glass—it wasn’t corked, I could tell by the smell, but I continued with the taste anyway. Tasted delicious. Better than I remembered.

  I nodded to the waiter.

  “So, Jessica, how is Gladis fairing? I hear she has set a date for a party,” Tom asked while the wine was being poured.

  “She has? News to me. She’s doing well. Nearly right as rain.”

  “Gladis Peek?” Dennis asked, looking between Tom and me. The waiter left the table.

  “Yes, Jessica here is staying with Gladis. The two of them are thick as thieves!”

  “I’d believe it! A vibrant girl such as yourself would be a great match for Gladis,” Trudy commented with a kind smile.

  “She’s good to me. We hang out a lot. She hasn’t been over for my cooking nights lately because no one will let her walk that far, yet, but I make a point to visit at least once a day.”

  “She lets you cook for her?” Denise said as she raised her glass.

  My butt hole puckered in worry, my eyes trying to stop from watching the wine near her judgmental mouth. “Yes. It’s fun. Wine and food and chatting. Sometimes it’s as simple as a cheese plate. Sometimes I go all out and try something new.”

  “Are you a good cook?” Trudy asked, sipping her wine.

  “I like a woman that knows how to cook,” Dennis grinned.

  “Oh shut up!” Trudy slapped him. Then froze. Her eyes dipped to her glass, her smile replaced by a straight mouth.

  “This is quite good, Jessica,” Tom said, eyes searching out the bottle.

  Denise was looking at the wine list, clearly thinking I spent a fortune.

  “It’s a small lot winery in Healdsburg—which is Napa’s cousin,” I explained. “I didn’t think they distributed to Texas. It is actually one of the cheaper wines on the list.” I made sure I didn’t glance at Denise, even though that comment was directed solely at her. “In the winery a bottle will go for about $28 to $30. Fairly standard pricing for the smaller guys.”

  Trudy’s eyes scolded Dennis, then Denise. “This is a disaster!”

  Denise raised her eyebrows in a silent question and sought the wine bottle’s label.

  “It isn’t good, it’s excellent! How have I not tried this before? Jessica, hand me over that wine list! It must be a new selection.”

  “You probably chose it but forgot to pay attention to what it tasted like,” Dennis helped.

  Trudy waved him off as if the idea was so preposterous it wasn’t worth a response. She looked over the list closely, taping her finger on a few selections and shaking her head.

  “It is rather good,” Denise admonished.

  William squeezed my leg again. Apparently that small admission from his mother meant I passed the test. I wondered how many tests I would encounter before the night was through. So far I was probably failing more than I was passing.

  As I was finishing my delicious plate of top quality and expertly cooked filet mignon, the conversation steered toward dancing.

  Thus far, I had been able to side swipe most conversation with a few well-placed comments. I was never the center of attention, I never shared too much, and consequently, I hadn’t gotten the chance to stick my foot in my mouth. Again.

  That said, I also, somehow, never lost Denise’s hard stare. It didn’t matter if I wasn't a participant in the discussion, Denise watched for my subtle cues. She was like a poker player, reading my body rather than guessing at my cards. It was one of the most uncomfortable dinners I could ever remember.

  The only good news was that Trudy was convinced I knew more about good wine than any of her friends or the sommelier in her favorite wine shop. All it took was another selection of wine—a zinfandel this time—after the first two bottles ran dry. She declared that her and I would absolutely have to go her local wine bar. She could not believe that I knew so much about wines, since I was from a place where cheap wine grows on trees, and was, for lack of a better term, a wino. No, I was a wine Ghandi, and she would go out with me, end of discussion.

  That adult play date landed a smug smile on William’s face, and a livid frown on Denise’s. The stare only got harder, but for a wonder, William’s palm was less and less sweaty.

  I was hopeful that it was good news, and not that he was dehydrated.

  So when the conversation about dancing came up, Denise admitting that she roped Tom into it. Tom said it was just like a sport—to which Dennis laughed. I was ready with my two cents, as usual, and planned to then slip back under radar when I'd given it.

  “No dad, it isn’t a sport!” William said, laughing, “If it was, I wouldn’t have gotten picked on by all my friends growing up.”

  “It was good for you! Kept you tough!” Tom said, putting his hand behind Denise’s chair. “Besides, I doubt you get picked on now. The ladies like a man that knows what he is about on the dance floor.”

  “True,” William said, looking at me with twinkling eyes, “and there was no way I could keep up with Jessica if Mom hadn’t forced me into all those classes. Jess can move her body better than anyone I’ve seen.”

  Denise followed with, “Oh? When did you dance with her?”

  I nearly groaned. William was getting over-confident that I was bullet-proof, and had just put me on blast.

  Since I didn’t feel bad about lying in this situation, I jumped in with, “We’ve danced a couple times so far, I think.”

  In William’s eyes, I wasn’t helping, so I continued before he could blunder, “Once at the rodeo, though I can see why you’d forget—Tom, I believe I danced with you as well.”

  “Yes, of course. I had actually forgotten about that, you're right,” Tom said.

  And he had. They all had. There were other matters that weighed on their minds from that night. Not so for me, though; Dr. George taught me to review that night and spend my brain power focusing on all that was positive. Dancing with William and his friends were definitely highlights. There was no reason those memories needed to be tarnished by what happened later.

  William’s face went from scared to pained. He put his hand on the back of my chair and dropped his eyes to the table. It was as good a cover as any, though it wasn’t his intention.

  I went on, “Beside that night, though, there was the time at Froggy’s.” I addressed the table, “My friend is dating one of William’s friends. After it turned out that none of William’s friends knew anything but the White Man’s Shuffle, which has absolutely no place on the dance floor being that it is without rhythm, I had to get William to dance. He was the only one that could keep up.” I winked at Tom. “But I still haven’t seen the Fox Trot, so who knows, huh?”

  Everyone laughed but Denise. She was still staring.

  Chapter Six

  I waited outside the restaurant in the chill, blessedly alone. It almost felt weird without Denise’s accusing eyes trained on me. I swear, there were very few instances throughout dinner that those deep brown eyes weren’t zeroed in, looking for weakness. I was just glad it was over.

  “Hey baby,” William said as he sauntered up. He’d started to relax halfway through the meal, getting into the conversation, hand always near my leg. He liked his family and spending time with them. It was sweet, in theory.

  “Hi.” I leaned into his strong body, needing the warmth. “Where to? I want to get you alone.”

  He leaned in slowly, planting a soft kiss on my lips, but not deepening. Saving it for later. I got tingles of anticipation.

  “Actually—please don’t hate me—but I kinda sorta told my dad and Dennis and all them that we’d go to the Jazz Club. It is such an exclusive place, and I never get to go—membership only—so I was hoping you wouldn’t mind?”

  “You told you mom you were going?”

 
“Well, my dad, but indirectly my mom, yeah. Is that okay?”

  “William, I don’t think she likes me.”

  “She does, she just doesn’t know it yet. You need a little more time to grow on her. Like mold.”

  His light and playful mood usually made me smile. Right now it was making me grind my teeth. He wasn’t getting the severity of the issue between me and his mom. She was awful. She was making my life hell. It could have been such a wonderful date with William. Instead, it was as bad as getting a tooth pulled as the Novocain was wearing off.

  My face must’ve had some of that worry on it, because he continued with, “She doesn’t not like you, Jessica. I think she is still trying to find fault. I think she does like you, but you’re...”

  “I’m poor. I get it.”

  “Well, middle-class…almost. Young. But anyway, look at you. That dress. Your style. I saw her eyeing your purse. You must have good taste. She probably owns the same one, or most likely doesn’t and wants it. She likes you, I think, but she is trying to protect me, so she still wants to find fault. You are dangerous to her, as you are to me—”

  “Don’t start that again,” I interrupted, my heart dropping. It didn’t seem like William was very observant. Either that, or he hadn’t just spent an hour and a half at the same dinner as me.

  “—but you won me over,” he finished.

  “That's because you have a penis and were desperate to use it.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Only funny ‘cause it’s true.”

  As the car pulled up, Tom and the cobra walked out of the restaurant. I barely stopped myself from squeaking like a mouse and running.

  “Are you coming to the club?” Tom asked.

  “Jess?” William turned to me.

  I really wanted to say no. I really did.

  “Sounds great.”

  “Great!” Tom said, walking forward to take my arm.

  I let him even though I didn’t know what was going on, and followed along mutely as he walked me across the large expanse of red carpet to the waiting car. Once there, he opened the door for me, and as he was handing me in, he said, “Hang in there. You’ll come out on top, I promise! Hard to find fault in perfection, after all.”