Breene, K F - Jessica Brodie Diaries 01

by Back in the Saddle (v5. 0)

  Gladis led me to a plush leather sofa. “So darlin’,” she started, “did you find the store alright?”

  That earlier bout of embarrassment must have come rushing back to my face because Gladis said, "Out with it!”

  I told her the whole story. From getting lost, which was embarrassing since she gave me directions, to diving around a hot guy into dog food, then not being able to find my wallet and leaving with my thirty-something-dollars’ worth of groceries on credit.

  She was laughing through most of it. When I got to the money part she stopped me. “Do you need money for that, dear?”

  “No! Thank you, but no. I found my wallet at the house. No, it is just so dumb that I put groceries on credit like it was 1900 or something!”

  “Yes, I can see how that would be embarrassing. Listen, what did this good looking man look like?”

  Thinking of him spread warmth throughout my body with a curious shiver going down my spine. “To tell you the truth, Gladis, I didn’t get a thorough look because I was too busy being surprised, then tripping over my own feet. But he had the bluest eyes I think I’ve ever seen. They were like the pictures you see of the Caribbean ocean, but the deeper parts. Clear, deep blue. Shockingly blue, even.

  “He was wearing plaid, I think. Yuck, plaid. He had jet black hair that was a little long-ish, but not long. A little shorter than Russell Crowe likes to keep his hair.” That comment was met with a confused look.

  “You know, like the rugged, outdoorsy Australians like to wear it? Like, boy short, but a little longer than most boys, and with a little wave to it? Not hippy long or unkempt or anything, but enough to grab a handful in cli.....”

  I can’t believe I almost said cl**ax! To an old lady!

  Her eyes were twinkling. Gross.

  “Well, a good style, anyway. And I think he had a bit of scruff on his face. His voice was a deep baritone. He was tall. Must be six-two or something, because he would be taller than me if I was wearing heels, and I am five-six when I stand up straight. And he had this musty smell. But not a bad musty, but like a....like a… I don’t know how to describe it, but it just crawled in my nose and acted like heroine or something. Ohhh it was nice!”

  “Hmmmm.”

  I quirked my head at the odd reaction, but didn't pursue. It was nice to tell someone about Mr. Hottie, or Apollo, as I had, right or wrong, taken to thinking of him. I didn't know enough to delve deeper.

  We moved on to other conversations, always lively without ever lacking a topic or words. I was a babbling moron, always had been, and she a pro at tempering stupidity. Despite the age gap, and social status gap, and most other gaps that existed between two strangers, we had a kindred spirit. We strangely fit together, and by the end of the night, were old friends.

  I woke up late the next morning and lounged around the cottage. I unpacked some clothes, took a gloriously hot shower, and primped. It was a new town, I needed to put my best foot forward! Also, I needed to pay that bill—this time I would look decent when I met the workers. With brushed hair and clean teeth!

  The day was sublime. A cool breeze with the promise of warmth to follow. I heard a bee buzzing in the distance and smelt fresh flowers in bloom. As I exited the spiked gate, Gladis looked up from a patch of dirt, potted flowers around her.

  “Good morning Gladis!” I boomed.

  “Ah, good mid-day to you!”

  “Can’t be out of the house too early—it’d give the neighbors the wrong impression!”

  Gladis chuckled and nodded. “Young ladies don’t want to seem too eager.” She went back to her gardening.

  “Do you do all the gardening, Gladis?” I asked in awe, looking over more than a half-acre of front yard.

  She didn’t bother stopping her digging this time. “No, dear. This is a hobby. Gardening in the sunshine is good for the soul.”

  Getting a tan by the pool was more my speed, but I let it go.

  I was at the Piggily Wiggly pretty quick. Weird ass name for a grocery store—I was expecting a pig farm at first—but it was as normal a store as Safeway, so what did I know? No Apollo’s this time; no tripping, no making an ass of myself, no funny business.

  Ronnie, ringing people up at one of three active check stands, had obviously worked here for a while. His hands moved quickly and with purpose, moving people along expertly. And judging by his longer line of all older women, he was the young hunk of the supermarket.

  Go get ‘em, gals!

  When it was my turn, Ronnie recognized me right away. “Hi ya. How’re ya doin’?”

  “Great, thanks! I’m just in to pay my tab from the other night. Last night. Found my wallet.” I held up the previously lost treasure and chuckled.

  “Oh, well Mr. Davies picked that up for you.”

  “Mr. Davies? Who’s that?”

  “Oh, Mr. Davies. The guy... I mean, the man that was standing behind you the other night. He just picked up the tab seeing as how it wasn’t much ‘n all.”

  Loss for words. “Um. Oh. Uh... Is there an address where I might drop the money by to him?”

  Ronnie looked at me funny. “No ma’am. I really shouldn’t give out his address or nuthin’. You’re new here, but I reckon it’ll take a week or so ‘afore you know where he lives.”

  “O.k...?” I was not quite sure what that meant. Did he surmise I was a stalker?

  The woman behind me cleared her throat in an obvious, and not-so-subtle, way of telling me to move along.

  “Well, thanks again Ronnie. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  “Yes ma’am. See you again real soon. Have a good ‘un.” He flashed a toothy grin. He was really cute for a young dude, in the puppy-dog sort of way.

  So Apollo was Mr. Davies and known around town. Well, anyone that gorgeous was bound to stick out. Plus, he was chivalrous and generous. Paying for my groceries was classy. Dare I hope he liked me?

  Memories of last night tumbled through my head. The ending note being the memory of what I looked like.

  No, dare not hope. But his face was definitely going into the spank bank for sure.

  With a new-found sense of freedom arising from a new place where nobody knew me, I didn’t want to go straight home. I wanted to explore. Check out the town and surrounding area. Have a glance at people, look at the countryside.

  After about an hour I had the startling realization that checking out your surroundings was only a good idea if you paid attention. I wanted to get to Austin, to the city and more people. Instead, I found myself in flat nothingness filled with dirt, natural grass, barns and fences. I knew it was a farming area because it smelt like cow ass. Call me Sherlock.

  I pulled to the side of the road, mostly in a ditch, to get out a map.

  I rooted around in my car for ages before I came to the conclusion that I suck, and must have taken the map out when unpacking the car. Great. I didn’t even know where the nearest gas station was, and didn’t have much longer before my car was out of gas.

  I put my head on the steering wheel and moaned. It didn’t help.

  “Okay.” I looked up at the sun and determined that I was facing east. If I was in L.A., I would be pointed in the opposite direction as the ocean. I would then turn around and head to the beach for a glorious sunset over the waves.

  And now I was home sick.

  “Okay.” I said again, my voice sounding strangely loud surrounded by so much nothingness. No car noises, no people, not even airplanes overhead to drown out my words. “I am pretty sure that I was heading east, roughly east, to get here. West to get back. Yes, I am a genius. The roughly part is tricky, though. Wait…I think those directions had a sorta map…”

  I dove toward my glove compartment before I noticed the shadow. Something darkened the already murky places inside my car. Which meant it was something at my window! Looming. Looking in!

  I screamed and jumped at the same time, hitting my head on the ceiling and my elbow on the “Oh Shit!” handle on the door. I hastily re
ached for the lock before I realized that it wasn’t a face looking in, it was a monster. A brown, fuzzy monster that smelt like ass.

  Through my incredible skill of detail orientation, I determined that it was a cow. Outside my door. In the middle of the road. And it wasn’t looking in at all—I was looking at the things belly, to be replaced by its butt, and then another massive bovine. In fact, there were a bunch of cows all around my car.

  Why were there cows outside my car?

  I’m on the road, right?

  Yes, on the road.

  I craned my head to look behind me, wondering how big the herd was, but my dumb seatbelt held me fast. My eyes found the rear-view mirror in time to spy some spindly legs that could only be horse. In Texas a day and already I’m dealing with cow ass and horses. Talk about culture shock.

  The long legs clomped closer, giving me sudden apprehension. I was not particularly eager to meet John Wayne in the middle of nowhere, with no one in screaming range, while blocked in by massive animals.

  "But how the hell am I going to escape?" I thought dismally, watching cow butts slowly move down the road.

  Belatedly I realized that my window was open this whole time. And why wouldn’t it be? I was in the middle of nowhere, in the heat, with no air conditioning. Of course it was open. But now the horse and rider knew I was afraid of sneaky cows. Which, in Texas, might get me hanged as an outsider. A liberal outsider. Nail in the coffin!

  Being that the horse stopped by the side of the car, I stuck my head out the window, foot ready to hit the gas and run these cows down if need be. The glare of the sun sparkling off the metal of my car made visibility difficult. I could make out cowboy boots, jeans, the shadow of a cowboy hat, the outline of the horse, and all the many cows still walking by. If I wasn’t mistaken, this man was a cowboy.

  Thank you, Watson, I’ll take my tea now.

  “Hi again,” said a familiar smooth, deep baritone.

  My heart skipped, then began hammering in my chest. I could feel a thousand butterflies fill my stomach. Also a cold chill that was surprisingly pleasant.

  “H-h-hi. Hi,” I stammered lamely, peering farther out the window and blocking the sun with my hand. The way the sun cascaded around his shoulders made him appear holy. It gave the situation an ethereal feeling, increasing my shivers.

  “You are a ways from town. Didn’t you say you lived with Gladis?”

  He remembered!

  “I do, yeah. I went for a drive and kinda… lost my way.”

  “I see. Do you have a map?”

  “Yes. Well, maybe. I’m just not sure if it is in the car or in the cottage.”

  “In the cottage?” Was that humor in his voice? “I wasn’t aware Gladis had a cottage.”

  “Oh, well, pool house. We call it a cottage.”

  He gave a deep throated chuckle and willed his horse forward a bit. “I am surprised the ol’ dame didn’t make you move into the big house with her.”

  “She likes having me in the house as often as I’ll go, but the ad was for the cot—ah, pool house. She does like to have someone to talk to.”

  “Oh yes, she never tires of company. Ever the entertainer.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “All of…the town knows her. She is a funny old lady. Nice as pie. But funny all the same.”

  Yup, he knew her.

  “Any rate,” he began again, his southern drawl kicking in a little more heavily. He was exceptionally well spoken, which belied a top dollar education. However, his accent came and went, always with a presence to some extent. I wondered if it was the effect of an out-of-town school.

  “You’ll want to be gettin’ home here shortly. It’s getting dark.” His hat brim tilted up, his face still obscured by the glare. He must’ve been surveying the sky and land around him.

  “Right. Yeah, yes I do. Can you, um, point me in a direction? Preferably the correct one?” I laughed at how stupid I sounded.

  He seemed to forget his surroundings for a second as he bent down to peer in the car. Through the orange haze, I could make out jet black hair peeping from under his cowboy hat, and those bottomless eyes looking at me with humor. My head got a bit light.

  “Can’t take a city girl away from the buildings or you lose your way, huh?”

  “Actually, yes. Exactly.” I really did rarely get lost in the city. Out here, though, with all this space and no ocean, it was a whole different world.

  A browner one, for a start.

  “Okay, you are pointed East... do you want to write this down?”

  I realized I had been staring up at him, trying to get a glance at his eyes again. I jumped into action, grabbing writing tools and listening for instructions. As he gave them, I let half my mind wander, just listening to his voice, feeling the cool breeze of the night float by, which was a relief in the humidity. I noticed the color of the sun splashing across the sky as it set, hearing flies buzzing past the cows, and the smell of poop. Just taking it all in with him in it.

  On second thought, I could have done without the poop smell.

  He finished up and I put away the pen and paper. The cows had all moved on down the road and into the pasture.

  “Oh,” I said too loudly. Toning it down quickly, I continued in a more subdued voice, “I wanted to give you money for the groceries.”

  I certainly did not sound like I had a high-dollar education.

  He chuckled. “‘Nite miss. See ya again sometime.”

  He tipped his hat the way they do in westerns and his horse started moving off the road.

  Oh...okay.

  Something about him made me giddy. I hadn’t felt this way since I was ten years old and Timmy McNewland kissed me by the monkey bars. That time, giddy quickly turned to anger when he made a face and said, “ech!” Stupid little boys.

  Chapter Four

  “You Jessica?” Asked a slightly high-pitched voice out of a stocky man in his late forties.

  My new boss walked through the spacious lobby of the office building, ignoring the receptionist bobbing her head in answer to his question.

  “Yes.” I stood up and surpassed his height by about three inches. I was wearing heals but still, his parents didn’t do him any favors. Hopefully he was at least smart or funny.

  “Come this way.” He had a really thick, slow drawl. From what I had heard so far, it didn’t sound Texan, but I was no expert.

  I flashed a smile at the receptionist who gave me a thumbs up, then rolled her eyes at Mr. Nash, my new boss. Not a good sign. Still, giving him the benefit of the doubt, we passed into the building through a big archway with crown molding. The inside was a deep tan, almost honey color. There were plants and wall decor that made this place look like a client’s reception room in a lawyer’s office rather than a low-level office floor.

  What was it with me? I didn’t have much--next to nothing, really--but everyone and everything around me seemed to have money and an air of elegance or stateliness. I had a feeling I was being set up by the cosmos for a big joke. A joke I wouldn’t find amusing.

  “This here’s yer desk.” Mr. Nash gave the cube an impatient sweep of his arm.

  It was bigger than average, like those around me, dark wood, which was actually hard plastic, with deep gray cube walls. It had a phone from this decade, a MAC laptop (nice!), a ten key, and shelving to hold personal as well as professional items.

  There were also a ton of drawers.

  “Right then. I’ll just take ya on to the break room.”

  He led me through a maze of deep gray walls, expensive paintings and potted plants to a room with a large wood table, three microwaves, water cooler, two refrigerators, and all the other stuff an office break-room usually has.

  Good first stop, I needed coffee.

  “C’mon,” He squawked, heading away.

  Geez. Give a gal a second.

  We walked down a corridor to the restrooms.

  “The water closet for ladies is here.” He shoved a
tubby finger at the door with “Ladies Room” written on it. I could have figured that one out, but said nothing.

  “Right. You think ya got it?”

  “Yup, got it. Thanks!” I smiled jubilantly.

  “Hphm. Well, Jenny’s gonna be trainin’ you here shortly. I expect that’s all I need to show ya. Can ya find yer way back?”

  “I think I can handle it, yes. Thank you.”

  He looked at me like I had an eye falling out of my head, and then turned his pot belly around and walked away.

  Well…alright then.

  I made my way back to the kitchen for caffeinated fuel.

  As I was pouring coffee into my cup, someone walked in and stood behind me. I finished up by snagging a couple packets of sugar, which were right next to the coffee machine. No powered creamer. You would think a company this nice would have some freaking powered creamer.

  “You new?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. He was older than me, probably in his forties, with sandy blond hair and leathery skin.

  “Yeah,” I responded with a half grin.

  “Thought so. Everyone looks for the creamer the first time around.” He gave a good-natured laugh. “It’s in the fridge.”

  “The fridge?”

  “Yeah. It’s that big, white block that stays cold, even in summer.” He nodded his head toward the far wall.

  “Oohh, that’s what they call it!” I laughed as I made my way, opened it up and real creamer! Like, the kind that needs to be kept cold so it doesn’t spoil. So much better than the powdered crap.

  “Yeah, this company takes care of us," he continued. "You work hard, hit your goals and all the rest, and they keep you happy. And it seems to work for them, because even when the economy takes a downturn this company still makes money. Never cheat the farmers, either. They are straight up. Once someone is hired, they don’t quit if they can help it, or do everything they can not to get fired. There are a few idiots, but mostly people stay here for a long time.”

  Was I dreaming? I landed a good job right after college. Maybe it had something to do with being over-qualified and willing to go to the bible belt from a liberal oasis. Who cares? Hopefully I could work my way up here.