Cherry Bomb!

04 | cruising

"HEY! BODHI!" Her voice grabbed me by the throat, despite being across The Square. Hazy. Drizzly. My head on a swivel, finding her jogging up by Rick's. "Hey. Thanks for waiting." A soft smile as I slowed. "You forgot your prize."

Jess held up a Tootsie Roll.

"Payment, actually," I snickered, opening my palm, and a spark lit in my fingertips as Cruz dropped it—finished her job, clocked out officially.

Her Polo was rumpled, scuffed under a loose sweater, cuffs hanging below her wrists; a weary, frazzled air to her slouched bun, half-hidden under a slung backpack.

"You look exhausted."

"Long day," Jess snorted back, before releasing a heavy, heavy sigh. The StarShip loomed, wiry loops of screech-y, drunken yelling. (Night crowds were always older.) Yep. "I'm ready for a drink."

"So you are going? I got you." I pointed down Grand. "Bette Davis is parked up behind the Galaxi." It was an owner-only lot, business owners in Downtown OOB. Meh. "I forgot—"

"Bette Davis?" Her brow arched. "Did you name your..."

"Yeah, why?" Heat crawled up my cheeks slowly, and I jerked my chin as I passed by, hoping Jess would follow along, laugh along. Everything loose and easy. Nothing about Cali or Florida, or where I was from. "Did you not name your bicycle?"

"I did not," she snickered, shrugging a shoulder. "Sorry."

"Yeah, no, I..." I shifted. "Sorry about your bike, you know. Seriously."

"Why are you sorry? It wasn't your fault."

"Still. Sucks."

"Yeah."

Backing off. The Mastodon blasting Avril Lavigne. Vibrations. Passing by. Palace Playland was split, bisected by a dead-end street: access to the beach beyond. The Galaxi sat furthest away. Behind it, Katie, Gigi, and Nate were smoking a joint, leaning against Bette Davis in a nearly empty lot. Fluorescence barely reaching; thrumming ground in the silhouette of a rushing roller-coaster, scattered screaming, clicking...

Her expression didn't... exactly fall. But Jess looked surprised again, glanced up curiously. "We're all going," I said, swinging around and nodding at Nate. It'd wouldn't be just Jess and I—less Ted Bundy paranoia.

"Oh."

It was sticky-wet, sluggish, dewy. Humid. It hadn't broken yet.

"Shotgun!" Nate called, and so Jess shuffled in back with Katie and Gigi. In my rearview, I caught her wiggling, already flipping her hair from her bun, unzipping her backpack. Business. Nate passed his joint, and I hit it quickly. "Okay, gang, cough up," he said, "I'm buying your booze."

"Mmm." I hummed as I shifted, handing it back; Nate swiveled, a smoky haze, passed it to Katie. Cash crinkling quietly. "Here, I'll bring us up by..." I backed us out in a burning daze, her gaze hit on my cheek. Hair down around her shoulders in a dark halo. Jessamyn Cruz was wildly pretty.

21? 22? Maybe?

Uh, 7 Eleven. Yeah. Grand wound down, beachside-shack motels on your left, railroad on your right—Atlantic brought you back inland, Saco Ave forked at a 7 Eleven.

Nate and Gigi hopped before I even pulled in, but I slowed in a spot by the side of the building, idling. Katie slipped out with a (second) joint and a hacking cough, left the back door ajar. Everything smoky and moonlit, hot and hazy.

"Hey, do you mind if I just... " Jess unraveling a scrap of fabric from her backpack. "I'm just gonna change real quick." Her Polo over her head—a slip of a black bra. "Hold on."

Jesus. Okay. I kicked my door open and nicked my gaze away. Everything sultry and slow, in a lull, as I sifted around and joined Katie. Jess was already sitting half-in Bette Davis. My radio cranked: Take The Money and Run. Her tousled-damp hair and loose crop top, a dangling belly button ring, a joint between her lips. Hm.

"Where are Bay and Jake?" Katie slurred, flipping her hood sluggishly. Rain plinking off asphalt, picking up. Jess shrugged. "Probably already in Ocean Park. Jake drives."

Thunder grumbled. Gigi and Nate rounding and slowing, siphoning change—halfsies on a pack of a Camels, a box of Bud. Tequila.

Jess jumped down abruptly, finger-gunning Nate. "Shotgun."

Bette Davis reeked of weed, but Nate passed Jess a beer, and Gigi and Katie, and I rolled my windows down, cruising back down Old Orchard Beach. Atlantic and Grand. Katie and Jess and Gi off a rant about a shitty boss at Palace Playland.

"I wish I could quit."

"We're overworked, underpaid—"

"—and sexually objectified daily—"

"Right? Deal with some prick grabbing my ass or I'm fired."

"Fuck 'em."

"That's what I said last year," Jess scoffed. "I've been doing summers in Old Orchard since I was 13. I was done. I finished off, burned my uniform on the beach in September. Yet..." Holding up her beer wryly. "Here I am."

"Why'd you go back?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Because I need the money," she said, shrugging simply. It was simple. "It's a job."

"Man, I just work Rides," Nate chuckled. "Pick up cougars occasionally."

"Cougars?" Thump. "What?"

"Don't worry, I'm occasionally more into you, Gi."

Jess laughed. Her window open, a whisk of hair across her grin. Soft. Breezy. Mellow. Fuck, I didn't get it. The air was briny, heavy, closer to Ocean Park. Marshy. A flickering spark, a joint being lit; Jess sipping a beer, singing along to a song on 100.3. Oldies. Tuesday's Gone.

Endless.

Oceana. I veered, slowing, dead-ending in a dune of sand, a muddy boardwalk inclining to the beach: Ocean Park. Smoke rose from a stagnant sky. Rain hazing gently.

Everybody unloaded, Katie and Gigi—cloudy silhouettes wandering up, up, up—and Nate coughing, slowly ambling away. Jess, all frizzy hair and foggy hues, cocked a hip in my headlights, holding her ripped-open box of Budweiser. I yanked my keys.

Darkness dropped.

I slung my door open, snagged my backpack over my shoulder, and jumped, closed my door quietly. Her soft footsteps. Her flip-flops hanging from her fingers. "Here." I jerked my chin, grabbing her Bud. "I got it."

"I can carry it." Jess frowned, paused as I passed by. "Or I can- I can carry..."

"It's all good, Cruz."

"Okay," she lazed off, caught up slowly, a sideways hint of a grin again. "Wicked. Let's go."

Correction: Jessamyn Cruz was wicked pretty.