The Bad Boy's Chain

Chapter One, Part One - Trouble

As the car rolled to a halt at the edge of the crushed gravel drive, Jesse and I stared at length through the windshield, at the naked man running across the lawn. Above him, a woman cursed profusely as she chucked clothes from a second-floor window. "Is that mum?" Jesse squinted. Shaggy blonde waves fell into hazel eyes with spider-leg lashes. He brushed his hair back, tilting his head to get a better view. With that chiseled jaw and dimpled grin, he was too damn handsome for his own good–which was why I never told him.

"You mean my mom," I corrected. "And yes. Yes, it is..." If Jesse had been a stranger, I would have buried my face in my hands, but I couldn't hide from him. He knew me too well.

Jesse smirked. "From jail to the zoo, innit?"

I opened my mouth to argue–then closed it. It wasn't an insult if it was true. Home was a zoo, but with Jesse around it became an asylum.

Together, we watched my mother's boyfriend scramble–boxers to the breeze–for the last of his scattered clothes. When a passing car honked and catcalled, Joe gave up the endeavor, dashing from the lawn towards the black pickup parked haphazardly ahead. It roared to life and a few seconds later it tore from the curb, leaving skid marks in its wake.

"Mate's fit. Hung too. That is Abby's bloke, right? Not yours?"

"Why do you care? My tutor wasn't enough? Interested in my mom too?"

"Don't be daft, luv. Your mum's like... a mum to me. Besides, now I'm out I can ring up Kerry. No more wankin' it in the middle of the night when me bunkmate's asleep." Jess winked.

"Get out of my car."

Six weeks in the tank hadn't done much to change him–he was still the same flighty twenty-one-year-old in need of a good ear-pulling. Except now he was also on probation. If Jesse stepped even one toe out of line, they would haul him back to the clink to serve the remainder of his six-month sentence. Good behavior was a must–it was also a foreign topic to Jesse, and it was left up to me to teach him.

"New digs?" Jesse stood on the sidewalk, surveying the middle-class neighborhood with its trimmed green lawns and Victorian-style houses, plain as bubble gum. And so was ours–apart from the t-shirt in the rose bushes. And the toiletries scattered in the grass. And the lube rolling down the driveway. Mom had really done on a number on Joe's belongings.

I folded my arms over my chest, leaning against the Sedan. "After your dad got deported, the feds unfroze mom's account, gave her back some of the money your dad left her–enough for us to get out of that dump on Crown. Guess some of John's earnings were legitimate after all."

"Except him." Jesse was like a hilltop caught between night and day. One turn and he could flip the switch, trading sunshine for storm clouds. I was wrong, something in him had changed. There was lightning in his large, dark eyes.

"I'm not mad about it." I shrugged. "So he set up a phony business, swindled a lot of people out of their money, and tried to make a run for it. He still wasn't the worst guy my mom married." No, that title would always be reserved for my father.

Jesse hoisted his backpack on his shoulder, one hand clutching the strap as he stuffed the other in his front pocket. His silver chain hung from his hip, shiny in the sunlight. "Thanks for letting me crash. I'll get a job, save up, be out of your hair in a tick." He clicked through his teeth then made for the house, but I sidestepped in front of him.

"Jess, if you're gonna stay here, I need you to promise something--that you won't get into any trouble. Your parole officer dropped by yesterday and he seemed pretty hardcore. This guy put me on his speed dial--he said no drugs, no alcohol, and absolutely no bullshit--whatever that means."