by Ann, Jewel E
“Where’s your student?”
“Bathroom. Are you going to answer me?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Are you seriously wearing those stupid glasses?”
Jackson pressed his finger to the white taped bridge of his black nonprescription glasses. “They make me look professional.”
“Pfft, they make you look like something for sure, but professional is not the word.” She turned, heading to her closet.
“Jill—”
“Yes, it rained,” she hollered. “One of those pop-up storms. I saw it on the horizon so I pulled over and stripped down to my bra and panties so my clothes wouldn’t get wet. You know what a pain in the ass it can be trying to peel off wet denim. I dressed again in the garage when I noticed you had a student.”
“Screwing AJ is a bad idea.” He peeked his head into her closet as she shrugged off her shirt.
Jillian covered her breasts with one arm and tossed her shirt at his face with a menacing scowl. “I’m not screwing AJ. But if I were, I’m quite certain it would be the best idea I’ve had since we landed in this whole big mess.”
“Jackson?” a female voice called.
He adjusted his glasses. “We’re not done talking about this.”
Jillian rolled her eyes after he left. She had done a good deed that morning, one that warranted a merit badge not an interrogation.
By the time she dried her hair and donned new undergarments she found herself skidding onto Dodge’s front step at exactly noon. She would have been there sooner had Stan not stopped her to talk about the upcoming board meeting that he thought she should attend. There was an open spot for Treasurer and he’d asked if she was good with numbers. Jillian shrugged and said she was competent in basic math skills. That was all he needed to hear and somehow she got the impression the job was already hers. Just what she needed: another job.
“Hey, young lady!” Dodge greeted her with his usual exuberance.
“Hi, Dodge. Did Cage drop off the supplies?” she asked while he stepped back to let her inside.
“Yes, but I don’t think you have any idea how much Stan is going to bust my chops if he finds out the neighbor lady installed a handicap bar in the bathroom for my wife.”
Jillian laughed. “Then tell him you did it.”
“Nah, he’s knows I don’t have a handy bone in my body.”
Lilith looked up from reading her book in her favorite recliner and waved at Jillian.
“How’s she doing today?”
“It’s been a good day. I think it’s because she’s getting rid of my old ass for the afternoon and she gets you instead.”
“So what’s on your agenda today?”
Dodge sat on the bench by the garage door, tying his shoes. “The usual. Bank, grocery shopping, wash the car, and maybe I’ll pick up some perennials at the nursery.” He stood. “Lilith’s lunch is in the oven. Leftover tuna noodle casserole.”
“Okay, I’ll get her lunch then start working on the bathroom.”
“Thanks, Jillian. You’re a savior.” Dodge winked before shutting the door.
She smiled at Lilith’s expectant blue-gray eyes. “I’ll check on your lunch.” She pointed to herself and then the oven because miming was as close to sign language as Jillian could get.
Lilith smiled back. She hadn’t asked if Lilith could read lips or if she knew any sign language; not that it mattered because the only real sign language Jillian knew was please, thank you, and sorry.
“I think it’s done,” Jillian called. Why? She wasn’t sure. There was something comforting about thinking aloud without feeling like a mental patient. She didn’t dwell on the fact that Lilith couldn’t hear her.
“Shit!” Jillian fisted her hand, sucking her knuckle that grazed the oven’s heating element. After handing Lilith her lunch she ran cold water over her knuckle. “Luke still has a scar on his finger from dinner that night.” Jillian rubbed her middle finger, not where her burn was, but where Luke’s had been.
*
Day
Jessica had been seeing Dr. Jones for three months. They hadn’t made much progress in her mind. Dr. Jones assured her once she stopped asking questions about him and started focusing on her past she’d see improvement and small breakthroughs that would lead to an emotional healing or at least an acceptable means of coping.
He tossed her a morsel of information on a rare occasion. She’d learned that he wasn’t married, wasn’t gay, and wasn’t related in any way to his secretary.
“Tell me about your childhood.” He’d asked on more than one occasion. It had become clear that he didn’t believe her childhood could be summed up in less than five sentences.
“My dad worked long hours as a DEA agent and my mom was a stay-at-home mom. In school Jude and I were placed in different classes, as was customary with twins, so we could establish a sense of ‘individuality.’ I played every sport, got good grades, had lots of friends, and went on my first official date when I was fifteen.”
Dr. Jones latched onto the date disclosure. “Tell me about your boyfriends in school.”
“Why? Are you sizing up your competition?” Jessica wiggled her eyebrows from her designated spot—his desk chair.
He never took the bait, not even with an eye roll or smile. Jessica felt certain psychiatrists were trained to have selective hearing. Then again, she also considered the possibility that it was a guy thing.
“My boyfriends, well, let me think…” she spun around in his chair like a five-year-old on the teacups, head back, long dark hair dangling behind the expensive leather ride “…mostly jocks who wanted to see how far they could go with me. I wasn’t a slut so at best they’d get to second base.” She grabbed the desk, coming to an abrupt halt. “I didn’t have large bases at the time.”
Jessica waited for Dr. Jones to react, but as usual—nothing. She grinned and shoved off the desk, sending the chair whirling again. “I bet you hit some serious home runs in your day, Dr. Jones.” Early on, Jessica had given up on keeping her attraction to him a secret. It was also her way of testing his professionalism. And damn if he wasn’t militant about it!
“What age were you when you lost your virginity?”
Jessica let the chair slow to a stop, with her back facing Dr. Jones while she admired her exorbitantly expensive view of the bay. “Physically or emotionally?”
“Both.”
After fifteen minutes of silence Jessica answered. “I was nineteen when Pete claimed my hymen.” She closed her eyes. “I was seventeen when Four stole my emotional innocence and killed my best friend.”
“Tell me about Pete.”
Jessica laughed out loud, spinning around to face Dr. Jones. “Pete? That’s the direction you want to go?”
He capped his pen and rested his ankle on his opposing knee. His black pants rode up showing his argyle socks. Only Dr. Luke Jones could make argyle sexy. Luke made everything sexy.
“Fine … Peter McAllister played guitar at a jazz club. I met him when I was on a date.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sadly, I don’t remember the guy who took me there. I just remember leaving with Pete. He was older and sexy as hell.” She pinned Dr. Jones with an intense stare as a wry grin captured her lips. “You know what that’s like, huh?” She winked.
Dr. Jones blinked on cue, keeping his expression neutral.
Jessica sighed. “I knew rules and regimen. Pete broke the law and answered to no one. Nothing major. Possession, I think. I know, what are the chances of a DEA agent’s daughter getting involved with a druggie?” Jessica shrugged. “What can I say … it happens. Anyway, on our third date he took me to the club and dedicated this amazing song to me. I felt like a queen and later that night I treated him like a king, until…” She stared at the aquarium, lost in the past.
“Until?” Dr. Jones prompted.
Jessica smirked. “Until I made him bleed.” She met his gaze and waited patiently in their customary standoff.
They both kne
w when she was waiting for a reaction, and they both also knew he wouldn’t give her one.
“I sank my teeth into his carotid, drained his blood, then called in the clean-up crew.” She faked an exaggerated smile with clenched teeth.
Dr. Jones tugged on the cuffs to his shirt then removed a hair from his sleeve. “And how did he react?”
He was no fun, a buzz kill, and a complete stodgy grump. “He called me a fucking lunatic, insisted I untie him, and had me banned from the jazz club.”
“Why did he have you banned from the jazz club?”
Jessica sat erect and gripped the edge of the desk. “Are you kidding me? We’ve been dancing around the entire point of all this bullshit therapy for weeks and weeks, and you’re still not ready to address why it is I need to make these men bleed? You don’t want to know about Four and my dead best friend?”
“Time’s up.”
She slammed her hand on the desk. “You’re damn right! Time’s up. We’re finished.” She grabbed her purse and stomped to the door.
“Jessica?” Dr. Jones called, not bothering to stand or look at her.
“What?” she grumbled before shutting the door.
“You’re making progress.”
A sarcastic chuckle vibrated from her chest. “Yeah, well I have a date tonight. We’ll see if he agrees with you by the end of the night.”
*
In college Jessica’s roommate, Kelly Gunner, persuaded Jessica to do a few triathlons with her. Jessica, a self-professed exercise junkie, was an easy sell. After graduation Kelly continued her role as Jessica’s training partner and also took on a new role as her designated matchmaker.
“Please tell me this guy is sex personified, not full of himself, and good in bed,” Jessica said to Kelly over the phone as she zipped the back of her white strapless dress and slipped on her heels.
“Don’t be pissed, but honestly I don’t know anything about him. Gabe’s known him since preschool. Their parents are still neighbors.”
“And?” Jessica combed her fingers through her long dark hair that she’d spent over an hour straightening.
“And what? That’s it. I’ve only known Gabe for two weeks. I haven’t met his parents, so of course I don’t know anything about his friend. But Gabe said everyone loves him.”
“Pfft, then why is he still single?”
“Probably the same reason you are.”
Jessica camouflaged her lips in blood red as she considered that possibility. Was her date for the night single because he was a vampire too? “I doubt that, but we’ll see. I had a shit day with my psychiatrist so I need a no brainer evening with a guy who can give me an orgasm with a simple handshake.”
“You see a shrink?”
“Saw. Today was my last day.”
“What on Earth were you seeing a shrink for?”
“To exercise my brain,” Jessica deadpanned.
Kelly laughed. “Whatever, you wierdo. Gabe’s here so we’ll meet you there soon?”
“Yep.”
“And you have his address?”
“You messaged it to me twice and e-mailed it five minutes before I called you.”
“Okay, hun. See you soon.”
Jessica slipped her clutch under her arm, rolled her eyes to the ceiling, and crossed her fingers. “Please, please, please let this guy be normal, very hot, and not afraid of a little blood.” Before she opened her door she sensed God giving her an affirmative wink.
The double date that night was at said date’s place, a twenty minute drive from Jessica’s apartment. It was the epitome of a blind date—more like a blind, deaf, and mute date. She didn’t know anything about him, not his age, a physical description, profession, or even his name. One thing, his address, was all she knew. He lived in a newer condo in the Mission Bay area.
She took the elevator up to his floor, checking her makeup in the hall mirror before knocking on the door. Long hair, short dress, and high heels, she prayed it would be enough to put a smile on said stranger’s face.
When the dark paneled door opened, Jessica exhaled in relief. The man before her was an easy eleven out of ten.
“Oh, hi there.” He smiled and Jessica’s mind already had him naked, branded, and kneeling between her legs.
“Hi, I’m Jessica.” She held out her hand.
“Oh, I-I’m Darren.” He shook her hand, and she didn’t orgasm but she knew the night was still young and there was definite potential.
“So … are you going to invite me in?” She tried to look past him to see if Kelly and Gabe had arrived.
“Yeah, I’m sure you can go on in.”
“Jess!” Kelly squealed.
“Well, nice to meet you.” Darren smiled and walked past Jessica as Kelly grabbed her hand and yanked her inside before she could respond.
“Oh my God! Jackpot, baby. Wait until you see him!” Kelly made an effort to whisper but failed by several decibels.
Jessica pointed back at the door with her thumb. “Where’s he going?”
“Who?”
“Darren?”
“Oh, home I suppose.”
“I thought we were having dinner at his house.”
“What? Oh … no, Jess that was the neighbor. He was dropping off his key or something like that. I think he’s leaving town for a few weeks. Come, come, come …” Kelly looped her arm around Jessica’s and pulled her down the hall to a large open room with sleek modern lines and shades of gray on the walls.
“Gabe, Luke, this is Jessica.”
Two men stood in the large kitchen leaning against the island, each with a beer in hand. Jessica hadn’t met Gabe before, but she knew which one he was because the other guy was her ex shrink, Dr. Luke Jones.
“Nice to meet you, Jessica.” Gabe held out his hand. “This is my friend, Luke.”
Dr. Jones was no longer wearing his signature three-piece suit. He’d traded it in for dark jeans and a light blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The only thing that felt familiar was his stone poker face, never giving away anything.
Jessica smiled while shaking Gabe’s hand. “Nice to meet you too. And … Luke, is it?” Jessica offered her hand. Luke accepted it with a pleasant smile. “Yes.” His eyes tensed a bit as Jessica held his hand with bone-crushing intensity, reminiscent of their first encounter.
“It’s Doctor Luke Jones,” Kelly gushed while wrapping her arm around Gabe.
“A doctor, huh?” Jessica raised her eyebrows at Luke.
“I’m a psychiatrist.” Luke took a sip of his beer, eyes tracking Jessica’s every move.
Jessica accepted the glass of wine that Kelly handed her. “So not a real doctor then.”
Luke smirked. “I think four years of undergrad, four years of medical school, and a four year residency qualifies me as a real doctor.”
“But you’re not saving lives or anything like that, right?”
“Luke was a volunteer firefighter when we were in college, so he’s definitely had his days of saving lives. Now he just deals with the crazies of San Francisco.” Gabe was kind enough to jump in on Luke’s behalf.
Luke cleared his throat. For the first time ever, Jessica sensed his discomfort—his humanity. She wondered if “crazies” was Luke’s description or Gabe’s assumption.
“So what do you do, Jessica?” Gabe asked.
“Waitress during the day, strip at night.”
Gabe choked on his beer. Kelly patted his back while shaking her head. “No she doesn’t. Jessica’s a brilliant actuary intern. She does two to three triathlons with me every year, and she teaches self-defense classes at a battered women’s shelter.” Kelly laughed. “Well, come to think of it, Jessica’s a shit cook so she spends a lot of time eating out and when we shared an apartment in college she used to run around the place half naked like her body physically rejected clothes, so I suppose the waitress/stripper scenario isn’t too far off.”
Jessica shrugged and took a sip of her wine.
It didn’t matter what she did, the night was a shamble of wreckage. She thought of the wasted hour on her hair, the dry-clean only dress getting another night’s wear, and the expensive perfume she only wore when her vagina needed some manly attention.
“Isn’t Luke’s place amazing?” Kelly kept the conversation flowing in a non-confrontational direction.
Jessica looked around. “I suppose it’s tidy enough.” Kelly and Gabe laughed at her comment that wasn’t meant to be funny. Luke … not so much.
“I’ll give you a tour.” Luke smiled.
“Mmm, yes we’ll meet you out on the balcony when you’re done. The view is amazing.” Kelly pulled Gabe toward the French doors.
Jessica and Luke stared at each other until the door clicked shut.
“This can’t happen.” Luke set down his beer. “If you choose to tell them you’re my patient, that’s your choice, but legally I can’t tell them.”
“Whoa, first, I’m not your patient anymore. I’ve done the financial risk assessment and based on our progress, I should have ended treatment weeks ago. Second, this is nothing.” Jessica gestured her hand between the two of them. “So don’t get your over-starched flannel boxers bound in a wad up your tight ass thinking anything is happening.” Jessica glanced over her shoulder at two sets of eyes peering in at them. She smiled. “Now, weren’t you going to show me what all my money has bought you?”
Luke drummed his fingers on the counter in a steady beat of contemplation. “We’ll make it through the evening and after you leave I’ll tell Gabe you’re not my type.”
“Not your type?” she mumbled to herself, following him down the hall. Apparently his type was submissive giraffes with weak personalities. Jessica inherited her mother’s vertically challenged gene and her father’s strong but colorful personality which was often intimidating to men. It was possible the blood “fetish” played a minor part in her one-and-done dating streak.
“Bathroom … guest bedroom … office…” Luke droned with zero enthusiasm “…master bedroom …”
Jessica veered off the tour into his bedroom. The view of the bay was nearly as amazing as his office. The bedding on the king bed was a mix of white, grays, black, and a few pillow splashes of blue. Everything was a perfect geometric configuration of modern design and immaculate order.
