Lebanon, Kansas – Monday Morning, March 6, 1989
Jessie Lovelace looked in the mirror. Her coon eyes told of her restless sleep. She dressed quickly in the twilight of dawn not wanting Mammie to know she was up. She buttoned her white linen, long-sleeved blouse all the way to the top. She stepped into a knee length, navy skirt and tucked the blouse in at her shapely waist. Then she tightened her belt. She braided her long, brown hair and tucked it into a bun. It took her less than five minutes to dress, applying no makeup or jewelry.
The thunderstorm during the night had kept her awake, so she only slept in short spells. When she did sleep, she’d fought the nightmare memory of her older sister’s death. Jessie had been told that her sister had been swept out to sea by a rip current. Her body had never been recovered. In Jessie’s dream, she always pictured Lilith floating face down, clad in a bikini, while sharks circled ever closer.
From beneath her bed, she pulled out a suitcase, opened it, and selected several items, which she neatly placed in the bottom of her book bag. From her desk, she took folders and notebooks to cover the bag’s contents, then returned the suitcase to its hiding place, surrounding it with stuffed animals.
She glared at the closed bedroom door. Her lips tightened, and she took a deep breath. Today was her first day as a senior at the Kansas school, Flintrock High, Class of 89.
I hate livin’ with Mammie! If Momma hadn’t lost her good payin’ job when the factory closed its doors, we wouldn’t be here with gramma. Damn slumlord dumped our stuff in the yard and locked us out. Three months to graduate, and I have to change schools. It’s more than that. Mammie’s a witch. Grandpa’s dead. Frickin’ Camel coffin nails.
Steamed up with fortitude, Jessie swung open the door, the bright light of the living room causing her to squint. Mammie was waiting for her in the kitchen. Her mom was not home yet, having picked up a night shift at the gas station. Mammie’s rule—no freeloading at her house. Work for your meals, and do as you are told, or else. Jessie knew this all too well from her childhood with Mammie, who used the expression, “the rod of God,” in a twisted, abusive way.
If she had anywhere else to go, she would have gone there, but this being the last few months of school, she chose to play her game one last time before she entered the real world of big money, control, and power. She had but one objective in life—to use her beauty and sexuality to attract the big ticket out of her miserable childhood. She had a plan. What Mammie didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. Mammie’s threat to bring some order to her decadent life reminded Jessie of the “discipline” her grandma meted out long ago.
Mammie did not approve of her daughter’s rule over the teenage girl because there was none. Since Lilith died—presumably—she was never found, Jessie did as she pleased. Her mom needed the financial help and submitted to Mammie’s strict Puritan doctrine. “Spare the rod, spoil the child,” was her religion, and although her mom hated Mammie for it, they had a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.
“You look nice today, Jessie,” Mammie said as she set out a breakfast of hot oatmeal and buttered toast.
“Ugh.” Jessie smirked as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Mammie did not allow any skin exposed from the neck to the knee. Jessie and Mammie looked like the Puritans from the Mayflower.
“I’ve got to get to school early today,” Jessie said over her shoulder as she pushed open the screen door. “I need to find my classrooms, so I’m taking the shortcut through the park.”
“Eat your breakfast, Jessie!” Mammie commanded.
Jessie was already running through the yard.
v v v
Seeing no one in the parking lot dotted with only a few cars, Jessie ran from the edge of the woods along the dirt path to the backside of the high school. She had scouted out the area the day before when she’d registered for classes and found the girls’ locker room near the rear door.
“Damn her if I have to do this every day.” Jessie was out of breath when she reached the door. She made her way quickly to the locker room, glancing over her shoulder to make sure nobody saw her. Inside, she walked its length, looking side-to-side to make sure that she was alone. With her back turned to the aisle, she unloaded her folders and notebooks to get to her clothes, makeup bag, and a small jewelry box, and she began to unbutton her blouse.
“Nice costume.”
Jessie abruptly turned.
“Trying out for, Little House On The Prairie?”
With confidence as though this were routine, Jessie continued to unbutton her blouse.
“Why the homely look?”
Jessie looked the girl in the eye as she pulled out her blouse from her skirt. The athletic girl opened her locker. She was dressed in running shorts and a tank top, and sweat beaded on her chest. Apparently, she’d just finished with a morning run.
“Ohhh, this is sexy, girl! Bet you’ll get a date with this!” The sweaty girl picked up the Victoria’s Secret bra to admire what it might display given the right fill, then scanned the other items—a G-string, a scooped graphic shirt, and scanty jean shorts studded with rhinestones.
Jessie slipped the blouse off her shoulders to reveal a full cup bra that covered every bit of her breasts like twin tents anchored to her chest. Mammie had bought these to replace the scanty and sheer, sexy ones. In a righteous rage, Mammie cut them and her G-strings to pieces when she found them in the laundry. Jessie didn’t care. What Mammie didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
Even without makeup or sexy lingerie, Jessie was a knockout, and she used her alluring beauty to divide and conquer. This was her game––to win over the most handsome and buff, older guy in school––but as a senior, she was bored with the boys. Immature and without direction for their future, most of them were content to farm or ranch or tinker with cars just as their daddy did. One last conquest, she thought, a boy toy to play with before moving on to the big league.
“Wow, you have some really cool clothes––”
“My name’s Jessie. I’m new.” She gracefully took the sexy bra from the girl’s fingers.
“Kendra,” the runner said, placing her hands on her hips. “Didn’t mean to be mean.”
“No problem. I’m living with my grandma, and she has her strict ways,” Jessie said in a soft manner, then with a tone of authority, “but I run my own life, and what she doesn’t know can’t hurt me.” She turned around to unlatch the two-inch white strap across her back.
“So, you like my outfit?” Jessie said, looking over her shoulder at Kendra with a sultry smile.
Bra unlatched, she rolled her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Deftly, she put on the Victoria’s Secret bra and turned, all in one movement, to look Kendra in the eye.
“Would you like to have some of these?” Jessie said with a devilish look.
There was a pregnant pause as Kendra and Jessie’s eyes stayed connected.
“Who wouldn’t, but without a job and my sister’s hand-me-downs as my only option . . .” Not backing down with her stare, Kendra stepped away and chuckled.
“Aren’t you a hoot?”
Jessie looked down to see what Kendra was talking about and then laughed at the contrast of her sexy and revealing bra and her simple blue skirt.
“Bet this would win some looks on the runway.” Jessie posed with a sashay strut in the locker room aisle and then slipped on the scooped shirt that hugged her like a second skin. “I can’t afford these either, nor can my mom. That’s why we’re living with Grandma.”
“So who’s your sugar daddy?”
“Well . . . do you like a game where you always win?”
Kendra and Jessie turned their heads as they heard voices coming their way.
“Hey, let’s talk later. Got to get showered and changed.” Kendra threw a towel over her shoulder. Irene and I walk home together and can meet you at the door where the buses load. Okay?”
“Hmm, maybe a threesome will spice up the action. I’ve got an idea . . .”
v v v
Copyright 2017 © Jeff Cambridge
Excerpt from PURSUIT, a novel by Jeff Cambridge, a writer of transformational fiction with characters that tell life-changing stories.
This is a pre-published scene.
To read the scenes sequentially, begin with
“PURSUIT: A Novel – Prologue”
Your comments are welcomed and appreciated. Simply check one of the reaction boxes below, write a comment, or email me at bycambridge@gmail.com.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, businesses, organizations, and locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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