Everybody Falls (9 page)

"Jeans? Yep, well-worn jeans and a cute top that's not a t-shirt. A cool hoodie. Chucks or boots? Hmm," she pondered. "What kind of car?"

"I don't know," I replied.

"Well, the choice of car matters because would she need a hat or not? If it’s a Jeep or a convertible then a hat would be a no-brainer. But if it's just a sedan or something, then hair either in a high ponytail or loose. Car choice is a big deal, Lace," she said solemnly.

"I can see that," I said just as solemnly back. Raspberries in December. This girly crap could be a mine field sometimes.

She was still thinking, though.

"Where are you?" I asked when she didn't continue. With Ricks, silence sometimes speaks louder than the sounds she emits.

"I was wondering if it was a cleavage or no cleavage kind of drive," she answered at last.

Cleavage?

Uhm.

I don't think so. I mean, my girls were cleavage worthy yet did I want to showcase them for Jack? On just a drive with Jack?

Nuh-uh.

"Do you know if they've dated before?" she asked finally, wrapping up the rest of her sandwich and putting it in my small fridge in the postage stamp sized kitchen of the apartment.

"I don't think so," I finally said, looking at the rest of my chicken salad on honey wheat. Damn, I'd only eaten maybe a quarter of it and I was already full. Crap. I'd steadily been losing weight since Lilly had died and the doc had told me I needed to eat more.

How can you eat when your heart is still so heavy?

"Then no cleavage. But, the top has to be really cute. And instead of chucks or boots, then strappy heeled sandals," she announced with authority.

She glanced at her phone.

"Gotta get back, Lace, or the ol' lady will start frothing at the mouth," she said, hitching her jeans up and straightening her shirt. It was true. During working hours Ricki's mom could be a bit of a slave driver. "What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm tired, so I'll probably turn in early," I said, not looking at my friend as I out and out lied.

For the record, I'm a lousy liar. The kind of liar that gets busted every time I try to wiggle my way out of the truth.

"Talk to you tomorrow?" she asked, scooping up her oversized purse and grabbing the door to go downstairs.

"Yes ma'am," I shot back, putting my sandwich into the fridge and sucking back the last of my lemonade.

"See you, babe," she yelled as she left.

Whew!
Got out of that one.

I cleaned up the crumbs and went back downstairs to work as I mentally reviewed my wardrobe, trying to find the 'cute top' and 'strappy heeled sandals' that Ricki had unknowingly suggested.

And, for chocolate's sake, did I even own a cool hoodie?

*.*.*.*.*

Jax did his shower thing before heading out to the workshop hoping to finish getting it cleaned before it was time to go to the early meeting of the AA/NA group that met at noon. If he wanted to be with Lacey, he needed to get a meeting out of the way early. The rules of his release said that he had to attend a meeting every day.

Some rules were made to be broken.

But some rules were court ordered and he wasn't going to fuck this up.

He'd made it just in time, slipping through the doors as the speaker of this unfamiliar group was calling it to order. There was no one here he recognized, yet the story given was the same.

Jax tuned it out, turning his mind instead to the selection of cars available for his time with Lacey.

Was this a date?

He'd never been on a date before. Hadn't ever asked a girl out; hadn't ever needed to ask a girl out.

Girls used to come to him, not vice versa.

He swallowed thickly and felt sweat on his palms.

Oh, Christ, what had he done?

This was completely over his head.

What if she…?

What if he…?

Oh, Christ!

He couldn't breathe right and his heart was fucking racing a million miles an hour.

Fuck!

Get a grip, man. She's just a girl. Just another girl.

He tried the breathing thing and felt his insides ease before the grip he had on the legs of his jeans released.

Better.

Okay.

Shit, his hands had left fucking wet spots on the light colored denim.

He wasn't going to think about it. Wasn't going to worry and stew like he did about the simplest things now.

If he was worried, he'd just talk to Grams when he got home. She'd tell him what to do or what not to do. She was good with that kind of shit.

Oh.

The serenity prayer.

The time in the meeting had gone fast, then again, this was the early meeting and people had to get back to work. He felt bad he hadn't really listened, however he had signed in which was the biggest part. It proved he'd attended.

"Grams?" he called when he was back at the farmhouse.

"In here," she called and he could hear the TV droning in the background. Oh yeah, Gram's stories were on. Those soap operas she was addicted to; the shows he used to watch with her as a little boy and then again when he was so doped up when he first came back.

He went and sat beside her on the old flowered couch, his eyes glancing at the sincerely old 22 inch TV directly across from the tired, flat cushioned sofa before his eyes moved around the room.

She hadn't changed anything since he'd lived with her and Gramps in the early nineties. Not even moved a table or one of her knick-knacky things. Same old, same old. Which was, he admitted, kind of comforting to someone who'd been lost. Reassuring, in its own way.

He waited until the music came on, signaling the end of the episode before he started talking.

"Uhm, Grams?" he started, nervous again. "I asked Lacey out for a drive and want to borrow one of the cars, if that's okay?"

He felt her eyes on him before he saw her root around for the remote to turn the TV off. Gram never had the TV on just for noise or background pictures. The TV went on only for certain shows then it got turned off. Since Jax wasn't big on letting the big, bad outside world in yet, he was more than fine with her viewing habits.

"I don't see a problem," she said finally. "Which one were you thinking of?"

"I don't know," he said, glancing at her. "What would you suggest?"

He saw her head tilt.

"What's the drive for?" she asked after a while.

"Ah…" he tried to think of an answer but, to tell the truth, he really didn't really understand the question. "Ma'am?"

"Well, if you want to impress her, take the 'Vette," she began. "If you want to impress other people, take the Caddy. If you just want to go for a drive with a nice young woman, take the truck."

He saw her reasoning and knew she was fishing for information without actually asking.

"The truck will do fine," he said after letting the choices roll through his mind.

"Good," she said and began to lever herself out of the couch.

"Uhm, Grams?" He needed more info, yet was hesitant to ask for it. "I haven't ever…ah, I mean, this is kind of new…"

"Yeah, Hot Stuff. I know," she said tenderly and placed one of her warm hands over the one he had on his knee. "Here's all you need to know, Jax, okay?"

He nodded and waited for the wisdom he knew his grandma, his only living relative, could give.

"Be yourself, don't use too much spit when you stick your tongue in her mouth and always use a condom," she said sweetly, patting his hand.

What. The. Fuck.

What kind of advice was that?

Aw, shit.

He watched her go down the hall before she called back, "Since you're a big fella, be sure to balance your weight on your forearms. You wouldn't want to squish her!"

Jax hung his head in defeat.

Goddamn.

His new life, this new way of living, was a fucking joke on every level.

It was three-thirty and he was still standing in front of his closet trying to decide what to wear. He needed something that said 'Lacey worthy' without trying too hard. Something, too, that didn't scream 'I used to rock and rock hard' plus would hide him from the general public.

No small feat any way you looked at it.

He grabbed the light blue button down and a pair of black jeans.

Boots or no?

It was either boots or his new running kicks. So, boots it was.

Leather jacket?

Nope. A hoodie would be better.

He'd take a hat, just in case.

God, he was nervous.

He'd never asked a girl out. Never taken a girl, one-on-one, anywhere.

Fuck.

Seriously?

He felt like he was going to puke, his stomach was so jacked.

"Jax?" he heard Gram call from downstairs.

"Yeah?" he yelled back.

"Don't over-think this, Hot Stuff," she said. "If you're picking her up at four, you need to get a move on."

He smiled. How did she know?

"Thanks, Grams," he called back and threw on his clothes. He moved carefully down the stairs and took the truck keys from the hook.

"You look perfect, Jax," Grams said, eying him carefully. "Have fun."

Jax didn't say anything, just leaned down and kissed the top of her fluffy head, getting a soft sigh, with a back rub, in reply.

Time to go pick up his girl.

Chapter 8

He's here!

Oh, my sweet chocolate. He's here and driving a very clean, very shiny old-fashioned, white pickup truck.

I ripped the holder from my high pony-tail and grabbed my black leather jacket from the chair as I ran down the stairs. I looped my large leather tote from the dining room chair over my shoulder as I made my way across the retail space to the front door.

"Hey," I said, trying really hard not to sound breathy as I greeted him.

"Hey, Lace," he replied, standing on the top step.

Goodness but he looked delish. All tall, broad and just so damn yummy.

I was telling myself that the booming in my chest was from running down the stairs yet you and I both know it really wasn't.

"Ready to go?" he asked. I got caught up in his smile before I realized I needed to answer.

"Uh, yeah, just give me a sec to lock up," I said, turning back to the door and using the key; a key I very rarely, if ever, used. "Next time, you can come around to the back. That's what everyone else does when the shop is closed. You know, they, like, go around the back and ring the bell."

I was babbling. Geez, twenty-four and I was babbling like a some kind of teenybopper or something.

"Good to know," I heard him murmur from over my shoulder.

I turned back to him and smiled, trying to get on with the program.

I was nervous.

It'd been quite a while for me, this one-on-one stuff with a guy. To tell the truth, never with a guy like Jack.

He opened the passenger door and offered me his hand to step inside.

Nice.

After he settled himself and turned the engine over, I saw his eyes slide to mine.

"Where to?" he asked.

Oh, sweet chocolate.

I forgot I was supposed to be the guide on this tour.

"Uhm," I said as he pulled away from the curb. "Do you want scenic or to hit the hot spots?"

"Hot spots?" he asked.

"Yeah, you know. Places to see and be seen," I replied.

"Scenic," he said firmly.

"North, then," I said. "Take the 80 north."

"How do I get to the 80?" he asked and, I have to tell you, that was a really strange question. Everyone knew the freeway to get either back down the hill to Sac or up the hill to the roads that led to Truckee, Tahoe or Reno.

"Take a left here and just follow the signs," I replied trying not to make a big deal out of his lack of knowledge. After all, he did say he wasn't familiar with the area.

There was quiet in the big truck for a while as he found his way to the freeway however, before long, we were talking together, doing the whole 'getting to know you' kind of conversation.

"Did you go to school around here?" he asked at one point.

"Erm…sometimes," I answered.

"Sometimes?"

"My home life was, ah, dicey," I replied. I wanted to be truthful yet not expose the crap of my early life too soon. "I graduated in Auburn. What school did you go to?"

"I, uhm, got my GED instead of graduating," he said finally. I could hear a whole lot of story from just the words and his tone in that reply.

So, the topic of school was out for both of us.

Quiet settled in the cab as the truck wove around the different bends in the road, before I saw the sign for Highway 49.