Lights

Chapter 6

In the later hours of dawn, JT is lying in bed, sleeping soundly when he awaken by his phone ringing. It's Jessica's mother. JT answers the phone.

"Mrs. Bellen? What's going on?" JT asked, curious as to why Jessica's mother was calling him.

"I-it's terrible...Oh my God!...I-I...please...please...No..." Her speech was interrupted by her wailing before it cuts out and Jessica's father, Mr. Bellen takes the phone and simply says.

"Just come over here." His tone was straightforward and almost cold. The phone hung up and JT began to scramble and get out of the house.

Almost an hour later JT arrived at Jessica's house, there he witnessed one of the worst scenes he had ever witnessed. An ambulance was parked in front of the house and as he arrived, a stretcher with a black body was being carried out of the house and loaded into the ambulance.

"J-Jessica!"

His own voice echoed within his mind as he wakes up in a cold sweat and frantically looks around his room. He finally notices his alarm clock going off. He exhales heavily as he shuts off the alarm clock and looks over the picture on his nightstand. He stares deeply into Jessica's bright blue eyes. 

"I'm so sorry..."

JT gets out of bed and changes into his work clothes. A neon orange T-shirt with "PJ Mechanical" written on the back and the shirt pocket. It's covered in spots where mastic, flux, and inks, and paint. He puts on a rugged and worn pair of stonewashed blue jeans, above-calf Hanes socks, and a pair of square toe Ariat workhog boots. The toe on the front of the boots is slightly exposed. 

JT walks over to his fridge, pulls out a RedBull and starts drinking it. He looks out his kitchen window and sees his bike, Demon, but next to it in the driveway, his truck. A 2018 Toyota Tacoma. Small, but durable and with the right care and maintenance, will last a lifetime. JT grabs his keys for it and heads out the door. 

He gets in his truck and sighs. "Let's see what kind of bullshit work has for me." He starts the truck up and drives off to work. After a thirty minute commute JT makes it to work and sees on the schedule what jobsite he's working on. 

"Renovations for Harry S Truman High School. Great. I remember the last time we did that one. More fucking flex lines, more fiberglass. A cold shower tonight it is." JT tells himself before he walks out onto the dock and lights up a cigarette.

"Hey, JT. What job you got today?" An older man of about 35-years-old named 'Bubba' asked.

"Truman renovations. Just like last year." JT takes a drag of his smoke. "So more fiberglass and grills even though we just did them a year ago. I hate that shit. Did it too many times in Gulf Shores and that wasn't even Florida, that was in good ol' 'Bama." JT added with an exaggerated southern accent. 

"Really? I've got some PTACs to put in at one of the hotels." Bubba replied while putting in a pinch of Grizzly dark mint. "They're adding some new rooms in the west wing of the building."

"PTACs? Fuck, I'd take that over flex lines. Those are easy and you ain't getting covered in 'glass." JT exhales deeply in frustration. "The stupid shit these school will pay for."

"I heard that." Bubba replied before spitting a big brown glob of spit onto the asphalt below the dock. "Cities and counties take all that money from people and spend it on the most worthless shit they can think of."

JT sighs. "Guess I better get to it. That flex ain't gonna hang itself." JT flicked his cigarette onto the asphalt and started to walk towards his work truck. Truck 29. A gas duley with a black bed and toolboxes on the sides. He gets inside, cranks it up and it starts cleaning. Carefully driving off out of shop's parking lot and makes his way towards the high school.