Truly, Madly, Deeply

  Truly, Madly, Deeply

  By

  L. S. Scott

  Chapter One

  It was a typical Friday night, in the small town with no stop light, one gas station, one dairy bar and one pool hall that I grew up in. I was seventeen with a brand new driver’s license, the beat up Ford pickup my big brother left me when he moved to Texas, the body of a young woman at least three years my senior, and way too little parental supervision, when he sauntered into my life.

  Jaron Blake’s reputation was notorious and his presence commanding, tall and lean. His roguish good-looks were hard, as if chiseled from stone, from his tattered Budweiser baseball cap to his worn lace-up leather boots. Coal black hair curled slightly out from under his cap at the nape of his neck and black ink from a tattoo crawled out from under the short sleeve of his t-shirt and wrapped around the bulge of his bicep. The bluest, most intense eyes I had ever seen were outlined in long, thick black lashes, and his stare was nothing short of predatory when he zeroed in on me, diverting his attention only long enough to return the customary bro hand shake of his buddies, playing pool near-by.

  The weight of his eyes on me was like a fat pig sitting on my back. My heart started to pound as I struggled to force the air in and out of my lungs. I turned my eyes away from his in an effort to regain my bearings and play it cool. I focused my attention on the pool game I was winning, against my best friend Tiffany Gates. She was more focused on the small group of senior high football players who had posted up next to us, to admire our game play as we leaned over the table at various angles. To be fair, I too had been a flirting machine up until that point, what girl didn’t want the attention of the senior high football players? But, it became hard to concentrate on boys, with a man like Jaron moving closer and closer.

  Tiffany stood in the corner with the boys. I could faintly hear their voices and her giggle over my heart pounding in my ears, as I leaned over the table to take my next shot. Their silence registered as I drew the pool stick back and forth threw my fingers slowly, to line it up, so I glanced up from the table to determine the cause of their sudden stillness. I was sure that it was a dirty joke at my expense.

  Tiffany’s pupils dilated slightly, her cheeks flushed pink and the boys turned and ambled away. At that very moment, I felt a presence, standing so close that the denim of his jeans brushed the back of my bare thigh. I froze. A bronzed, muscular arm entered my peripheral and laid two quarters down on the table. When I forced my head around, Jaron was there, so close I could feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes brushed over me, ogling.

  “I got winner,” he said flatly.

  I swallowed hard, excitement bubbling over inside me. With all the strength I had, I pulled myself together and finished the game as he looked on. Tiffany gave me a ‘you go girl’ wink and excused herself to rejoin the pack of boys who had scurried away like mice.

  Everything in the room seemed to fade into the walls, everything except Jaron and Abracadabra playing on the jukebox. He asked me questions as he moved slowly around the table, chalking his cue and sinking shot after shot, and I gave short answers. It was the best I could do in his distracting company, muscles rippling, and tongue wetting his lips from time to time as he concentrated.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Natalie.”

  “Natalie, what?”

  “Mills.”

  “Jacob Mills’ sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “You with those guys,” he referred to the boys skulking in the corner.

  “No.”

  “I win, you go out with me,” he said, his tone domineering, leaving me with the feeling no wasn’t really an option.

  “Ok,” the two syllables dropped from my lips before I had a chance to think about it. I was shaken to my core by his cool aura and his gorgeousness.

  Ten seconds later the game was over and those blue eyes were drilling me again. He laid the stick on the table and sat on the edge facing me. His arms crossed over his chest, he tilted his head and ran his thumb across his bottom lip, an action that caused an unfamiliar stirring in the pit of my stomach and my skin to sting as I flushed.

  “So, tomorrow night. Six o’clock?” Again, it was hard to determine if his words were a question, or an order. I hesitated with my answer as a million thoughts ran through my head. His eyes were so deep blue that I could’ve drowned. He was disarmingly good looking, and he was scary, scary in a way that makes every girl weak in the knees, like Keifer Sutherland in Lost Boys. I was owned the second our eyes met, and he knew it.

  I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin and brazenly met his smoldering gaze with one of my own, “Sure, six is good. I’ll be at my friend Tiffany’s,” I said, in the most confident voice I could muster, clueless to the ramifications of my answer.

  “Tiffany Gates,” he questioned.

  “Yeah, you know her,” I questioned back, curious as to how he knew her and I didn’t know about it.

  “No, but I know her brother.” His attention turned to the jingle of the bell that hung above the door and the guy who had just entered the pool hall. The guy was a little weird and peered shadily out from under his cap.

  “I gotta go,” Jaron said, standing from the edge of the pool table. He towered over me and I looked up helplessly at him. “Tomorrow,” he said with a cockeyed grin, and walked away.

  A wave of nausea rose from the pit of my stomach, as my headlights shined on the familiar red truck parked in front of the trailer where I lived with my mom. It belonged to Bill Briggs, mom’s latest scum bag boyfriend. It was almost midnight so I was sure that meant he was sleeping over and I crossed my fingers that they were both soundly passed out in her room. My hopes were crushed when the smell of cigarette smoke wafted out the door as I pulled it open. He was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, smoke in one hand, beer in the other, watching television.

  “You’re awful late,” he sneered.

  “My curfew’s midnight, so I’m actually ten minutes early,” I retorted, as if it was any of his business.

  “Hmph,” he snorted, “where you been?”

  Again none of his damn business, “Out.” I answered without stopping and closed and locked my bedroom door behind me, relieved he did not follow. I changed quickly into my pajamas, not my usual sleep attire of panties and a t-shirt, but with company in the house, I felt better being as covered up as possible. Though my eyes were heavy, sleep did not come easy. My mind was racing. I had a date with Jaron Blake, hot, dangerous, Jaron Blake. It was what every teenage girl dreamed about and what every father feared. But, I didn’t have a father, just a mother and an array of creepy stepdad wanna-bes.

  My dad was killed in a freak saw mill accident when I was five, leaving my mom to raise my ten year old brother and me on her own. I guess she’d done the best she could as a single mom with no high school diploma, waiting tables. We always had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. She never really recovered from the heartbreak of losing my dad. They were very much in love. The string of terrible relationships she put herself and us through, was her desperately trying to fill the whole he left behind.

  My brother split and moved to Texas when he turned eighteen. Within a couple months he had a decent job and a nice apartment and begged me to come live with him. I refused. My mom had her faults, but she was still my mom and I couldn’t leave her alone, besides I was about to turn thirteen and enter seventh grade. The last thing a kid wants to do at that age is leave their friends behind and start a big, strange, new school. I wondered what he would think of me going out with the resident bad boy.

  I jumped up early, despite my late night and lack of sleep. I hoped to be up and out the door before anyone else in the
house woke. I threw on shorts and a tank, stuffed some clothes, makeup and my wallet in my duffle bag, grabbed the new cell phone my brother had sent me for my birthday and headed for the front door.

  “Where you off to this early,” mom asked from the front of the stove, where she stood cooking Bill’s breakfast in her pink robe and slippers, her hair piled loosely on top of her head.

  “Tiffany’s. We’re going shopping in town. Jake sent me a gift card for my birthday,” I answered, trying not to sound agitated that she was feeding Bill groceries I was sure he didn’t buy.

  Along with the new cell, which he put on his plan, my brother sent me a two hundred dollar gift card. He always overcompensated because he knew mom probably gave me ten bucks and a card, which she did. He also sent me six hundred dollar gift cards every summer to buy school clothes. Jake was awesome like that.

  “Don’t you think you should ask, not tell your mother what you’re gonna do,” Bill’s cigarette smoking raspy voice sounded from the hall.

  “Don’t you think you should mind your own business,” I snapped, opening the door quickly before he could block my escape. I stepped out onto the small cedar porch and bailed off the top step just before he reached me. I could hear my mom calling him back in the house as I slammed my truck door. I turned and glared at him in disgust as I fired my old Ford up and threw gravel in the air.

  Tiffany was not a morning person, so I called ahead to wake her up. To my surprise she answered quickly.

  “Hey girl, spill it. I want to know everything that was said last night.” She had left the pool hall with one of the boys she was flirting with and was chomping at the bit to talk to me about Jaron.

  “Not a lot. He’s not much for chit chat and I was so freaking nervous I could barely say my own name.”

  “Yeah, he definitely has an effect on people.”

  “Um hum,” I agreed in a low, slow voice. Tiffany giggled. “He asked me out. Well, he didn’t really ask, he kind of demanded, that if he beat me in pool, I go out with him.”

  “What did you say,” Tiffany asked breathlessly.

  “I said ok.”

  “Oh. My. God. Where are ya’ll going?”

  “I don’t know. He’s picking me up at six. Some guy came in the pool hall looking for him and he said he had to go, so I went home. But, I’m on my way to your house right now. We need to go shopping.”

  “Yay, I’ll be ready when you get here.”

  “Ok, bye,” I said smiling and hung up.

  A long day of shopping and girl talk, helped to clear my head of my home life and calm my nerves about my date. We speculated about Jaron, what he was really like. Was he the quintessential bad boy with a heart of gold, was he sensitive under the tough exterior, was he a good kisser, was he good in bed? The thought of his sexual prowess made me flush from head to toe. Aside from a couple PG13 rated make out sessions with clumsy boys, I was completely inexperienced and felt certain that Jaron Blake was way out of my league in that domain. But I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like and the thought caused muscles to clench in places I was unaccustomed to.

  “He’s picking me up at your house, if that’s okay,” I told her, sure it was best to avoid my house and scum bag Bill.

  “Of course. But, is everything ok at home,” she asked, eyeing me with suspicious concern.

  “Same ole, same ole. Mom’s new man’s been staying at the trailer, trying to tell me what to do.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Bill Briggs,” I disparaged, as the thought made bile rise in the back of my throat.

  “Yuck,” Tiffany responded, her lip curled and nose wrinkled.

  “I know. I can’t stand the way he looks at me and the nerve of him trying to act like he has a say in my coming and going really pisses me off. It’s just best to avoid him I think.”

  “Well, you can stay with me as long as you want, you know that.”

  “Thanks Tiff.”

  “You bet. Let’s grab something to eat at the Dairy Bar,” she suggested, as anxious as me to change the subject. Through the years, Tiffany’s house had been my refuge on more than one occasion, especially after Jake moved out.

  Richard and Brian were sitting in the back booth so we joined them. Richard was one of my oldest friends and Brian was the quarterback of the football team. Some burgers and milk shakes later, the four of us walked out to the truck together. Brian was especially fond of Tiffany, who had always had her share of male admirers, far more than me. It was only after my recent growth spurt, that I started getting any attention from the opposite sex.

  We stood in the parking lot laughing and playing around, the way teenagers do, the radio blaring Sexy back, by Justin Timberlake, me unable to resist shaking my rump a little, until a blue Chevrolet truck with dark tinted windows pulled in and rolled to a stop, right behind my bumper. The truck was no more than a couple feet from where we stood and we all just looked, puzzled, not recognizing it and unable to see the driver. Finally, the window came down slowly, revealing piercing blue eyes keenly trained on me.

  I swallowed hard under the scrutiny, “Oh hey,” I said as I approached the truck smiling. I took note of the man in the passenger seat. It was the same man from the pool hall. He looked at me stoically for a second before focusing on the task of opening the new pack of Marlboro reds in his hand.

  Jaron’s eyes surveyed the scene. His expression was unreadable until he turned his attention back to me. “Hey,” he said hoarsely, with a lazy grin.

  I continued, “I forgot to ask if you knew where Tiffany lives,” I assumed he did or he would’ve asked, but I was nervous and desperate for conversational material.

  “Yeah,” he said coolly. “But why Tiffany’s?” I personally didn’t think it was an unusual request. Teenage girls hang out and get ready together all the time. But he questioned, as if he knew I had ulterior motives.

  I didn’t want to lie to him, but the domestic dis-function in my home was not something that I openly discussed. “Because that’s where I’ll be,” I said curtly.

  His eyes darkened, and his brow furrowed, “Natalie,” he said my name as if reprimanding me.

  I looked around to Tiffany, who was feigning interest in whatever the boys in front of her were talking about then back to the cab of the truck. My eyes were once again drawn to the passenger, my bashfulness amplified by his presence. Jaron leaned his head over so that he was directly in my line of vision. My heart rate accelerated slightly and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered in my voice, “My mom’s boyfriend is staying at my place. So, I’m staying the night with Tiffany.” The words tumbled out of me uncontrollably.

  “Is he giving you shit,” he asked with a tilt of his head and a quirk of one eyebrow.

  “No. I mean, he just wants to act like he’s my dad and try to tell me what to do. So, I’m just avoiding him. He’ll be gone in a few days and she’ll move on to someone else,” I explained, sliding my hands in the back pockets of my cut offs and shrugging, mentally kicking myself for the massive overshare.

  “He didn’t touch you, did he?” There was a slightly pained expression on his face.

  “No!” I answered quickly; strangely flattered that he seemed to care.

  He examined me with a steely gaze as I dropped my eyes to my feet and bashfully kicked rocks. After a few seconds, he tilted my chin up with his finger, forcing me to look at him.

  “Ok, I’ll pick you up at six, at Tiffany’s.” His eyes softened as he grinned and winked before pulling away, goosing his truck to squeal tires when he hit the pavement.

  I turned on one heel, my head spinning from the encounter, beaming giddily at Tiffany who smiled back rascally. If a five minute conversation sent me reeling, how on earth would I get through an entire evening, alone, with Jaron?

  I watched the clock nervously as six grew near. Doubt and fear churned in the pit of my stomach. He was older, wilder, and somewhat menacing, but all the things that made me hesitant, were also drawi
ng me to him. It was like Jaron Blake had his very own gravitational pull on me.

  The blue Chevy stopped on the street in front of Tiffany’s brick ranch style home at ten after six and I stepped out on the porch to meet him. I had simultaneously worried and hoped that he wasn’t going to show. I gulped a large breath of air when he stepped out of the truck. His faded Levis sat low on his hip where it met with the hem of his gray AC/DC t-shirt that made his eyes appear stormy. He eyeballed me in my new denim mini skirt and white lace tank top and smiled wickedly. When our eyes finally met I knew, then and there, I was had.

  “You look,” he paused, “really good,” his voice near a whisper as he opened the driver’s side door for me to climb in.

  “Did you have to think about it,” I teased.

  “No, I almost said nice, but considering the thoughts going through my mind right now, I didn’t think nice was the right word.” I swallowed hard and blushed, everywhere.

  I tried to shake it off and change the subject, “Where we headed,” I quizzed.

  “I don’t know. You hungry?” For the first time his question was actually a question. He started the truck and Axle Rose was singing November Rain through the speakers, and my heart was doing summersaults in my chest. It was so confusing, the effect he had on me. Every fiber of my being screamed run, while at the same time ached to be close to him. He glanced over at me, waiting for me to answer.

  “Kind of, like, fries and a coke hungry.”

  He chuckled. “Ok, well, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. You seem a little nervous so, I’m going to let you decide where this night takes us. You can change the music if you want,” he said as Axle moved on to, I used to love her but I had to kill her.

  “I like Guns N Roses,” I informed, “I am a little nervous.” I opted for honesty so I had a perfectly good excuse if I made a fool of myself. Not only was I made nervous by him and his strange allure, but the fact that he was several years older than me was worrisome. I knew he was over eighteen and that made me, jail bait.

  “Do I make you nervous,” he asked, a question he already knew the answer to.