Surviving Broken(35)
She made a cup of hazelnut coffee and watched the sunrise sitting on the sofa, behind the safety of the glass wall. The night’s events replayed over and over again, and the naked intruder consumed her thoughts. She peeked out the windows constantly wondering who he was, why was he there and where did he go?
JC snickered to herself. The old woman next door will shoot him if she catches him jumping her block wall or streaking across her yard.
Only two houses sat atop the bluff, Tom’s and the mean old woman’s next door. Though they shared the block wall stretching the length between their properties, JC only had the pleasure of meeting the shotgun-toting granny one time. Paparazzi stalked Tom ruthlessly after his and Tess’s wedding. The tiny white-haired woman dressed in a nightgown, stood at the end of her drive threatening to shoot the damn camera people if they stepped one foot on her property.
JC decided to venture out into public. She got up early and went for a jog. Running past the neighboring driveway, she peered down the long drive, searching for a naked man lying dead on the driveway.
No such luck.
She stocked up on groceries and chilled out by the pool in the afternoon while checking in with her sister.
When Tracy found out JC finally left the house, she sighed in relief saying, “Thank God. I thought I was gonna have to fly all the way to California to drag you out into the daylight. JC, nobody knows what happened to you and you’re all healed on the outside. It might help you feel better on the inside if you go do a few things. Get out of the house. Go have some fun. Mom said she might even check on you.”
“I feel better now. I’m just...trying to understand myself. I still don’t know why I stayed so long. One bad boyfriend and I suddenly I feel like a fucking statistic. I always thought that I was a strong person. Anyway, I figured maybe I should let my presence be known,” JC said sarcastically. “I got the shit scared out of me by a streaker.”
As soon as she finished the story, JC regretted it.
Her sister scolded her for ten minutes. Lock the doors and the windows. Call the police. Why didn’t you call somebody?
JC assured her sister she was fine and if the man wanted to hurt her, he already had the perfect opportunity. “Besides, he seemed just as surprised as me. You have to pinky swear not to tell her Mom or Tom. The last thing I want is for them to worry anymore.”
“I won’t mention it, but you have to promise to lock the doors and set the alarm, even during the day, in case the burglar comes back.”
“Will do.”
After hanging up the phone, JC ambled aimlessly around the house for an hour. Tracy’s words pinged with annoyance at the back of her mind. ‘You’re all healed on the outside.’
“Healed on the outside? Screw you, Luca Santini. I’m done being afraid and embarrassed. You’re the one who should be cowering in the fucking corner. Not me! Not anymore. Not ever again.” She practically stomped her foot on the ground, deeming herself cured.
Determined to feel normal again, JC straightened her hair, put on a little make-up, threw on dark jeans, a white fitted t-shirt, a pair of black leather boots and strolled out the door.
The late afternoon sun plunged into the ocean as she backed out of the driveway in her white Prius. JC headed toward the one certain place safe from the public eye and old friends she had no interest in seeing.
Driving out of the city, she rolled down the windows and turned up the music. Fresh mountain air tussled her long hair and the cool air pinched her cheeks. The windy canyon road flourished with thick verdant woods and the distinct scent of pine trees. As she sang along with the music, she caught a glimpse of her smiling face in the rearview mirror. The strong-willed reflection broadened as she danced with the rhythm.
Pulling into the parking lot of her favorite bar, JC navigated her little car between rows of motorcycles, parking directly under the big red neon sign declaring Mom’s.
Tom had taken her to Mom’s at least a half a dozen times. The lively biker bar was a safe haven for him, a hiding place away from the glam and glitz of Hollywood. He could relax there and not be stalked by paparazzi. The bar was always full of bikers showing off their latest ride. Most bikers were probably doctors, lawyers, the everyday bike enthusiast, not the Hell’s Angels type.
When Tom spent quality time with JC, Tracy or John, he handled each of them differently. With John, they headed for the great outdoors, usually on a bike trail. If he spent time with Tracy, it was usually at a museum or art gallery. When it came to JC, he always took her to Mom’s, usually to have a heart to heart discussion.
It took JC three trips before she understood why Tom invited her to Mom’s. He wanted to talk or give her advice. He warned her about people or certain situations he thought she was too naive or inexperienced to figure out on her own.