IN THE FLESH?

The smell of breakfast wafted throughout house Monday morning, waking me up and arousing my stomach. Bacon, eggs, and something sweet.

As much as I didn't want to get out of bed, I was too geeked to have something homemade. The pizza Scott had ordered the night before had been great, but this was probably better.

      Finally, something homecooked.

      I took the steps one at a time, slowly making my way down to the kitchen.

      Scott was singing to himself, an old record by the Beatles. His vocals weren't so bad. I almost wanted to ask if he did backup singing for his band, but then I didn't want to get too personal.

      Scott had two plates at the counter on the pass-through window and two stools pulled out, like some sort of bonding date.

      That was not about to happen.

      With his back to me, I swooped in and grabbed a plate and sat at the dining room table.

      The clinking of my plate hitting the table elicited Scott's attention.

      He faced the counter, expecting to see me, and then confusion set in.

      He searched until he found me.

      Scott looked at me, rewarding me with a peppy smile. "Saylor Moon! You're up."

      I paused. "Saylor what?"

      Scott went a little bashful. "I, uh, used to call you that when you were a baby. I guess you don't remember of course."

      "It's just Saylor, Scott."

      He bobbed his head, focusing down on his skillet. "Let me get you some orange juice, or perhaps cranberry, apple?"

      I forked some of my eggs. "Does it come with vodka?"

      Scott's silence forced me to look over and find him frowning. He set his skillet down, facing me as he placed his hand on his hip. "You will not be drinking in this house. Or smoking, that goes for cigarettes and bud."

      I rolled my eyes.

      But then I saw a way out. Scott didn't know me, couldn't handle me, and all it would take was some fun to make him see how this whole endeavor was a big mistake.

      One trip to L.A., here I come.

      Pasting on a big smile, I gave him a thumbs up. "Sure thing, Captain."

      Scott grimaced as he came around from the kitchen over to the dining room with his skillet. "I mean it."

      He served me a few sausage links to go along with my plate of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and hash browns.

      I ignored his warning and happily eyed the feast before me. "Thank you," I peeked up at him, "for making me breakfast."

      He nodded as he went and served his plate too. "I didn't know what you liked, so I figured a stab at everything. Make me a list and I'll get better at it."

      I shoved a couple forkfuls of eggs into my mouth before nibbling on the bacon and sausage. "This is great, really."

      Scott came and joined me at the table, sitting across from me and placing out a carton of orange juice.

      He filled us each a glass before commencing to digging into his own meal.

      The first five minutes were silent as we ate and sipped our OJ, I knew it wouldn't last, but I was in a good mood due to the amazing breakfast he'd prepared.

      Scott sat for a while and I noticed his eyes on me.

      "What?" I asked when I couldn't take it anymore.

      "You have a tattoo," he pointed out.

      I held out my hand, staring at the anchor tattooed on my middle finger. "One of them."

      Scott swallowed. "Them?"

      I only had two, the anchor, and a compass on my side along with the quote "I am the Master of my Fate. I am the Captain of my Soul" by William Henry by it, so three really.

      I didn't know much about sailing or the sea, but I knew that boats provided an escape route. A means of going wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted. When I hit eighteen, I would be the captain of my own destiny, and I couldn't wait.

      "Just three, Scott," I said.

      He blinked. "You're seventeen."

      "I know people." I gave him a wink to cool him down, but of course it didn't work.

      "Geez," he mumbled to himself.

      "I don't want any more if that makes you feel better," I gave in.

      This did seem to work. "Good."

      I chuckled as I ate some more of my eggs. If I liked showing off some skin, something told me Scott would have a heart attack.

      "You want Chinese tonight?" Scott asked. "I'm working a mid-shift, ten to six, and I usually don't feel like cooking after."

      Cooking was foreign to me, and in that moment, I cursed this fact.

      "Or I could pick us up something from the prepared foods department at Marty's."

      "That sounds better," I told him.

      "Their specialty is fried chicken, but they also do baked, and some fish. They have amazing fish, cod, pangasius, tilapia, and even shrimp on occasion."

      "Chicken, baked, any vegetable, and mash potatoes," I said.

      Scott made a mental note of it and we went back to a silent breakfast.

      We finished our food and then it was time to prepare for the worst: school.

      I didn't know what to wear or how to be. I hated everything about this move, and I wasn't exactly up for forming friendships.

      But then, I couldn't find trouble on my own in this foreign town.

      I went for casual, a denim jacket, a gray tank, and black jeans paired off with my white Chucks.

      It wasn't too showy to stand out, but being that Meadow Grove was a small town, I would probably stand out anyway.

      I gathered my messenger bag and met up with Scott down in the foyer.

      "Ready?" he asked me, appearing hopeful.

      I grumbled out a reply before leading the way out to his truck.

      "What do you like to listen to?" Scott asked me once he was behind the wheel on the road to Roosevelt High.

      I kept my attention out the window, studying the passing scenery. "Aerosmith."

      "They're one of my favorites," Scott replied.

      He found a station dedicated to the classic band.

      Steven was singing about a woman being his angel and I felt myself relax as I took in the melody. I loved Steven Tyler.

      In another moment, we were at the school.

      All around me I spotted groups of students talking and hanging about in close, familiar circles as Scott pulled up to the curb.

      Dread sank in. It was late October, and alliances had already been formed. I was doomed to stick out.

      Beep, beep!

      Honking behind us pulled me from my misery.

      "Just in time," Scott was saying beside me. "I won't be able to pick you up, so I'm having a buddy of mine do it. He's in my band, and here comes his daughter, Cameron."

      Just as he spoke, I heard a car door shutting. In the side view mirror, I spotted a girl approaching us from an orange SUV. She walked with a pep in her step, her blonde ponytail swaying with her movement. By the smile on her face, I just knew she was a cheerleader.

      I sank in my seat. Kill. Me. Now.

      "Hey Scott!" Cameron popped up at my window, seeming extra perky as her blue eyes bore into my father.

      Scott waved in her direction. "Hey Cam! This is my daughter, Saylor, and Saylor, this is Cameron Camburn."

      Cameron stuck her hand in the window to shake with me. "Hello."

      I peered at her outstretched hand before finally shaking with her. "Nice to meet you."

      She stepped back as I went to open my door and get out of the truck. I faced Scott, wishing I were back home in bed. "See you around six?"

      He nodded. "You got it. Have a wonderful day."

      "Trying," I replied.

      Scott drove off, and in seconds the SUV was pulling by, stopping so that Cameron's father could wave to the both of us before driving on.

      Soon, it was only Cameron and me.

      "Welcome to Meadow Grove, Saylor," Cameron chirped.

      I held up my hand. "Are you the head cheerleader or just a cheerleader?"

      Cameron chuckled. "That obvious, huh? I am the head cheerleader."

      "And let me guess, your boyfriend's the quarterback."

      Cameron's brows knitted together. "Aidan? No way, he's too busy with math. He's training for a tournament this fall."

      I lived in a world where the head cheerleader was dating a mathlete?

      Good lord, I'm in Kansas.

      "What about you?" Cameron asked as we moved more onto school property.

      I shrugged as I surveyed the area. "Not really into anything."

      "Oh, well, did you get along well with the cheerleaders at your old school?"

      "No, they really didn't like me much."

      She seemed genuinely concerned. "Really, why not?"

      "I sorta kicked all their asses and made out with a few of their boyfriends, you know, the usual girl-on-girl drama."

      Cameron's eyes grew big as she mumbled an oh my under her breath.

      I snickered. Little Miss Innocent would be too easy. In reality, because I opted to hang out with who society would consider "burnouts" my little rep at my preppy high school wasn't the best. In a lot of ways, I was that girl parents told you to stay away from, a loser going nowhere in life. Funny, Scott had only been joking before about my potentially not going to college and becoming a nobody, but it was more than likely my fate.

      We were making our way to the side of the building when I spotted them. Roosevelt High held a fountain in its court yard, and on it were a group of rough individuals. They were all male, clad in black clothing, and smoking cigarettes as they lingered around the yard fixture.

      There was one in particular who caught my eye, a tall boy who was the only one standing while he smoked. He had dark, long wavy hair, skinny jeans, and a black muscle tee. He was a god, and I was drawn to him.

      A hand on my wrist stopped me from walking over.

      Cameron.

      "Don't," she warned. "That's Bonham Church, Aidan's older brother, and also a known menace in this town. I mean, come on, they look like they stink and do drugs."

      Delicious.

      "So, you're juniors?" I asked of her and Aidan.

      Cameron shook her head. "Oh no, we're all seniors, it's just Bonham's a moron and is repeating."

      Even better.

      A blond-haired boy came over and greeted Cameron by picking her up and swinging her around as he planted one on her.

      "Aidan!" Cameron squealed at her boyfriend.

      Aidan may have been a mathlete, but his build and face read more of a model. He was handsome, and definitely not an ounce of dweeb.

      "Aidan," Cameron said once the boy set her down, "this is Scott Stanley's daughter, Saylor. She just blew into town."

      Aidan appraised me, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Nice to meet you, I'm Aidan Church."

      We shook hands and I was back observing his brother, who by now had spotted us.

      I took off towards the "threat to society" without a care in the world. He was reaching up and stretching as he let out a yawn, peering off at some other group now.

      As he stretched, his shirt rose, exposing a hint of ink. On his hip, Enjoy... was tattooed scandalously.

      I perked a brow at the naughty line before meeting the boy in question.

      "Hey," I said as I came to a stop in front of him.

      Bonham looked past me at his brother and Cameron as they came up behind me. "Hey."

      "So, is that Bonham, like...John Bonham from Led Zeppelin?" I wondered out loud.

      He seemed suspicious as he briefly narrowed his eyes, but he nodded anyway. "That'd be correct."

      I wish my own mother had been that creative when naming me. Instead I got Sailor spelled with a Y. And low and behold this whole time it was linked to my father's choosing. "Nice." I lifted my chin towards the cigarette in his hand. "Can I bum one of those?"

      Bonham tilted his head, his eyes soon studying my body. "What are you going to show me for it?"

      Aidan grabbed his brother by the arm. "That's no way to talk to a lady."

      Bonham shook his brother off, a smirk on his full mouth. "Sorry, man."

      I rolled my eyes. "I'm not a delicate little flower."

      Bonham bore a grin, turning to me and clasping his hands together as if in prayer. "Please, please, tell me you have daddy issues and are looking to displace your need of attention."

      "Is that your type?"

      "Well we wouldn't be a romance, sugar."

      I sized him up. "I could use you."

      Around us the bell rang, interrupting our moment.

      "Come on, Saylor." Cameron tugged on my arm. "What you could use is some pepper spray for that creep."

      This amused Bonham as he rolled his head back and laughed.

      God, he was handsome. He was like a young Johnny Depp, spicy, dangerous, and mesmerizing. He was the fire and desire I'd been craving for so long.

      I kept my eyes on him the whole way as Cameron dragged me to the nearest entrance.

      "Do not, I repeat, do not get caught up with him," Cameron was saying as we entered the hallway.

      "She's right, Saylor," Aidan was quick to agree. "He's my brother and all, but the guy's bad news."

      They didn't know who they were talking to. This was no fresh start for me. I was here to raise hell and go home, my real home, back in L.A.

      Cameron dropped me off at the senior office, telling me that the counselor would handle the rest. Because she was a nice girl, Cameron reached out and gave me a big hug and wished me luck.

      She would take some getting used to, if I decided to hang around her at all.

      Knowing the fact that Scott was good friends with her father, I decided not to fuck it up for him.

      I sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area, noting that the counselor wasn't in their office yet.

      The entire office smelled like cinnamon and apple, making me think of the breakfast Scott had made for me. Back home, my mother hadn't been much of a cook either. She'd always relied on someone else to do the cooking. At least Scott was able and willing.

      The door to the office opened and soon the boy from next door was stepping inside. He looked around, for someone it seemed, before shrugging and coming to take a seat next to me.

      He greeted me with a bob of his head. "Hey."

      "Drake, right?" I asked.

      He smiled softly. "Dreux, actually, with the 'weird spelling.' Remember?"

      I never cared. "Oh, right."

      Dreux cleared his throat, leaning over and planting his elbows into his knees. "I, uh, saw you outside. Word of advice, stay away from Bonham, he'll only get you in trouble."

      Little did these idiots know, that that was exactly what I was seeking, desperately.

      Because I'd had enough with the warnings, I faced Dreux, snarling at him. "If you're trying to be nice for Scott's sake, do me a favor and fuck off."

      For a moment, he was stunned as he sat up.

      He recovered quickly as his nostrils flared as he scowled at me. "Whatever."

      He rose from the chair in such a force that the chair smacked back against the wall, not that he noticed, because in seconds he was out of the office, in a loud slam of the door.

      One down, everybody else to go.

_______________________
West Coast 🎶 Coconut Records

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