Lebanon, Kansas – Wednesday Afternoon, March 8, 1989
Jessie pedaled down the tree-lined street from Mammie’s
house on Elm and then turned south on Broadway to head out of town. Barren wheat
fields bordered the road, and she could see for miles across the flat plain.
Exploring new places took her mind off the dismal life at Mammie’s house, a
place where she took her meals and laid her head at night, far less from what
she would consider home. Her mom was rarely around, working nights at the Sinclair
gas station convenience store, spending her days sleeping, and now the evenings
with her boyfriend, Barrett. She hadn’t met the dude and didn’t want to. The
men in her mom’s life were transient, and she didn’t want them around hitting
on her as if she was twice her age and even interested. She sought adventure
and excitement, whatever she could scheme to remain in control. She was a
leader and attracted attention with her good looks and spunky personality.
After half an hour of biking south, she
approached a line of trees. The road made its first slight descent to a bridge
that spanned the Solomon River. A path led from the road to its bank, and she
veered off to explore. A crane swooped from a treetop and glided over the water
in search of its next catch. Reaching the bank, she laid her bike down to walk
the path that followed it. The tranquil setting with water cascading over boulders
and birds chirping in harmony caused her to take a deep breath and close her
eyes. Peace. Her first week at Flintrock High energized her body, revved her
mind, and churned her heart. She was restless and this peaceful getaway was her
first chance to relax. A dry, mossy patch invited her to lay back and listen to
the babbling water. She searched the light blue patches of sky, her mind
wandering through the images of the last few days. Posing as a Pentecostal girl
for her controlling grandma, stripping the plain clothes for those that showed
off her voluptuous body, and attracting a new set of boys, gave her a feeling
of power. She imagined Bobby with his tight T-shirt that clung to hard muscle
and his bad boy look that attracted her rebel ways. Was it James Dean? Yes, he
reminded her of Bobby with his racy car, the cigarette that dangled from his
lips, foot propped against the wide tire. Lauren popped in her mind. Little
Lauren the cheerleader fed by the silver spoon of her rich daddy. What did she
see in Bobby? What attracted him to her? She was cute, blonde hair and blue
eyes. Was it because he was the star running back and she cheered him on to the
goal line? Was she his trophy? Jessie had more to offer, more to entice.
The caw of a crow broke her thoughts, and she
sat up with a gleam of satisfaction that she would break in and steal the
relationship. She just needed an opportunity to find him alone and vulnerable.
She had already shown him the bait, and now, she needed to set the hook to
bring in the catch.
She crossed the bridge then headed east following
the road that weaved along the river. It led to a barricaded, old bridge,
narrow and low to the water. What was left of it was a span of iron beams with
holes where the concrete had eroded and fallen away. She dismounted and walked
her bike; choosing risk and adventure fired her adrenaline, the peace from her
daydream by the river left behind. She made the crossing without incident and
headed north back to town on the broken asphalt road that meandered through the
tall grass plain. Cattle grazed on a knoll. Dormant wheat fields and cows, she
pedaled hard; she wanted excitement.
As she approached the little town of Lebanon,
the crossroad center of America, the green dinosaur that marked the Sinclair
gas station came into view. Thirsty, Jessie rode to where her mom worked,
thankful she wasn’t there. The coal black hair of a man on a rollaway working
underneath a car in the bay caught her eye. A long wave of hair dangled to the
side as the ratchet wrench bleeped. He rolled from beneath the car as Jessie
strolled past, his eyes tantalized by the view. His gaze followed the familiar
legs now sculpted from the ride.
“Hey, Jessie.”
She turned and saw his eyes trace her figure from
toe to head, not missing his pause on her short, cutoff, blue jean shorts. She
nurtured the moment, cocking one leg to the side with her hands on her hips.
“So this is what you do after school, waiting
for a girl to stroll by so you can look up her shorts?”
Bobby scrambled to his feet, black grease
marking his hands, a boyish look of being caught with his hand in the cookie
jar. He waved the long tuft of hair over his head and regained his tough guy
composure. “First time for everything. Hey, I’m done with this job, had to
replace a wheel bearing.” He looked at his hands. “I need to wash up. What are
you doing here?”
“Finished a ride.” A line of perspiration drew a
line from her breasts to the top of her shorts. He couldn’t help but notice.
“I see. Where’d you go?”
“Down to the river.”
“Ahh, great fishing off the old bridge. Cool
hangout.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Beer cans strewn around .
. . nice and private . . . ever take little Lauren there?”
At the mention of her name, he looked caught off
guard. “Well . . . ”
“Wash up. I’d like a Coke.” She looked for his
souped up, metallic blue Camaro and then saw it on the other side of the
station. “Let’s go for a ride.”
“Hehe. Okay. Be just a minute. Here . . . ” He
fished in his pocket for his keys. “I’ll meet you at my car.”
Bobby held up the keys. His eyes stared into
hers. She took them, her eyes not leaving his.
Jessie cranked the bored out engine and it
roared. She gunned it twice, then turned on the radio—
Color
me your color, baby
Color
me your car
Color me
your color, darling
I know
who you are
Come up
off your color chart
I know
where you’re comin’ from . . .
She watched through the
rearview mirror Bobby jog to the car to the driver’s side.
“Get in. I’m driving.”
Jessie said matter-of-factly.
A befuddled look crossed
his face. “Ugh, if you think you can handle the power— ”
“Leave you in the dust
if you don’t.”
He rounded the front,
Coke can in hand and hopped in.
Cover
me with kisses, baby
Cover
me with love
Roll me
in designer sheets
I’ll
never get enough
Emotions
come, I don’t know why
Cover
up love’s alibi
As
soon as he closed the door, she turned the wheel left and popped the clutch.
Tires spewed gravel as she spun the car in a tight arc to parallel the highway.
The tach wound up and she shifted into second as the wheels grabbed the
asphalt. Finding third, she sat back and looked over at him.
“Nice. Where we goin’?”
Bobby said with eyes raised.
“The old bridge . . . ”
Call me
(call me) my love
Call
me, call me any, anytime
Call me
(call me) for a ride
Call
me, call me for some overtime . . .
Lyrics from Blondie, “Call Me” Copyright © Sony/ATV Music
Publishing LLC, BMG Rights Management US, LLC
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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