The Life of Jezebel Firetongue

25

I stood anxiously at the door, watching as Jake fiddled with his new blazer. "Let's go already!" I grumbled.

"Almost done," he replied. With one last flick of his wrists, he decided that he was satisfied with his appearance and grabbed the car keys. When he had announced he was coming with me, I'd been completely surprised. I thought there would be no way that he would agree to be in the same room with Terence. Yet, here we were. As we walked out of the room, I felt something touching the small of my back. I whirled around to see it was Jake, with a surprised and smug expression on his face. I glared at him briefly before moving on.

Men were so confusing. I briefly considered a getting a cat instead.

"So what made you change your mind?" I prodded for the eleventh time.

He glanced at me, and in lieu of an answer gave me a shrug.

"So informative," I muttered.

"Perhaps I love art," he responded. "Or maybe I'm there to meet people. Or-" here he stopped and dramatically gasped, "oh no; I'm here to make sure you and Terence are separated once and for all! You've caught me! Oh the shame!"

I rolled my eyes and followed his theatrical flailing to the car. "Bravo. You should have been an actor."

Jake grinned. "Ah, yes, the world of theatre. I auditioned for a movie once, but I didn't have enough legs, nor was my chin the proper shape."

I chuckled at his story. "Perhaps a novelist then. The world could use your creative mind."

"That's what I think!" We pulled out and Jake turned to me when he hit a red light. "Jez, I just wanted to come tonight. No underlying motivation. I promise."

I looked in his eyes and saw his honesty. "Okay. I'll accept that."

Jake laughed and fell back into his seat. "Jeez Jez, sometimes I feel like you're my overprotective mother."

"That's very flattering. I suppose you'll tell me how I resemble your grandmother next?"

"Why are you so sassy tonight?"

I laughed at his word choice. "Oh god, I can't believe you just called me sassy." Jake chuckled along with me and I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm nervous."

"About what?"

"Well, I've never been to an Art whatchamacallit-"

"I believe the term is 'Gallery Showing-'"

"And I'm kind of nervous that Terence is going to think I'm a freak."

Jake clicked his tongue at me and looked for parking spots. "Jezebel Firetongue, why would Terence think you're a freak?"

"I don't know if you know this, but normal kids don't sleep in the woods on a regular basis," I replied.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course they don't. But that's something to like about you. You're different."

I smiled at him. "Thanks Jake. You're different too."

Jake chuckled at my response. "That isn't really a standard compliment, but I get what you're trying to say."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

But it was too late. The Gallery Showing was opening, and we had to get through a surprisingly long line to get in.

Jake and I waited for about five minutes before a tall bald man with a clipboard approached us, and with a bouncer-like style asked, "Are you Mr. Jake and Miss Jezebel?"