Not Your Average Anything

Chapter Six: Signal

—————————-Jax POV——————————

I breathe in deeply, letting this shit ferment in my lungs.
"That's some good shit," I look up at Tessa. I watch her every move, as if she were in slow motion. I looked deeply into every movement she makes inhaling the THC in her lungs. A quiet breath out, she's smiling.

"What's on your mind?" I ask, hoping I could just hear her angelic voice again. I'm growing impatient waiting for the silence to break.
"I'm just glad to be here, you know? Just here. Livin', breathin'.....smokin'." She smirks, you can almost hear her smile.
"Yeah, darlin'...you got a good outlook on all this fuckery." I sigh reluctantly. I feel as if I'm a pessimist, I seem to dwell on that opinion a lot.

"I guess you could say that. Sometimes you have to lose everything, to realize what true freedom is." I look at her, puzzled by her response. What is that supposed to mean?

————————Tessa POV——————————-

I smile at Jax, his brows lifting curiously as the last letters roll over my tongue. I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket.

Dexter.

'Call me.'

"Shit," I look up unexpectedly as I realize I said that out. I pass the blunt to Jax.
"I'm sorry, I have to take this," I run over to the corner of the lot, searching every upward angle for a bar of service.

"Hey! I'm sorry I didn't get your text until just now, I do—," I slip out before I'm spoken over harshly.
"I traced the number that called your phone blocked. It was Etha—," I stop him.
"No shit Sherlock. Tell me something I don't know. Let's get to the part we care about." His location.
"Tessa, I couldn't get to him in time...I was at the bar and I was about to follow him out, when Deb came in. She ordered us beers and I couldn't get out quick enough. I was supposed to explain this before you knew it was Ethan." He growls at the end. Dexter and I, well...let's just say we're like oil and water. Fire and gasoline. Whatever literary analogy or anomaly you'd like to use, be my guest, that's us.

"I got it. That's obvious. He's still here," my voice becomes a low whisper as I look around warily.
"He was watching me last night. He knew what I was watchin' on tv, he knows where I live..." I trail off in fear and disgust. Dexter cuts in, choppy, raspy, and very angrily.
"I will not allow him to be that close again. I will see you later tonight."
I take a deep breath.
"You're in Miami, Dexter, and I'm in California. How do you figure? What are you going to tell the lieutenant?"

"I have vacation days. I don't really expect nor care about the argument you're going to give me about your safety. I will see you. Stay low, don't do anything risky." He sounds absolutely annoyed. "I won't. I wouldn't do that," I look around at what's rumored to be the towns outlaws. "It's Charming. Nothing ever happens here," I laugh nervously as I wait for Dexter to get fed up and hang up on me.
He's never had the patience when it comes to me, but he's one of the only people I can actually depend on.

I walk over to Jax, watching the gun on his hip closely, as I notice everyone is packin' whether they want me to know it or not. Little do they know I always keep my best friend at my side. My prized piece.
My counselor.
My solution.
My Glock 26. We fell in love 8 years ago when I was on the run from the police. Miami Metro PD, to be exact.

Ya see, Ethan Turner is my ex fiancé. We met about 7 years back, while I was on the run from the police. I grew up in Downtown Miami, with a drug afflicted mother and a dead-beat daddy. I grew up selling anything to make money, including drugs. Am I proud of it? No, definitely not, but—you tell that to the 14 year old starting high school with no clothes.

Anyways, long story short, my 'clients' had a really big mouth, apparently—and the FEDS found out about my business. At age 17, I was dodging bullets in the streets and going on full-blown money heists.
It. Was. Exhilarating.

But—as we all know this from experience, everyone gets caught eventually, and nothing good lasts forever. I happen to know this all too well. I had hidden money in places all over Miami, once my name was clear, the cash was all mine. I knew it would never land in the wrong hands. Once I was caught, they gave me a deal—3 years probation and I help take down the cartel I was going through for my goods. They didn't mention this, but I would be working alongside the Miami Metro PD. Thats where I met Dexter, and Ethan, actually. Dexter is in homicide, and I was in the drug charter. When things got messy, which, of course, they did, Dexter was called in. Dexter is the best blood splatter analyst Miami has ever seen. While Ethan.....well, let's just say Ethan thought he found a vulnerable kitten, but thought shit himself.

He found a blood-soaked ravenous lioness. And boy, when shit hit the fan, I was ready to pounce. Ethan smothered me with gifts, compliments, and all the high class luxuries you could ever dream of. Meanwhile, his plan was to smother me.
Literally.

Ethan Turner had been widowed, twice. No red flags came up at me! Usually I'm a better judge of character. One day, nestled in our cabin home, in the wetlands of Florida, I was making our breakfast, as I usually did, as we were on a weekend getaway. Next thing I know, I woke up trying to breathe on our couch. After drifting off to sleep after breakfast, Ethan had planned to smother me in my sleep. I fumbled and fought with him to regain my composure and think clearly. Once I had come up with a plan, I called 911 on my phone, let them hear in, then accused him out in the open. After him yelling vulgar names, he admitted I spoiled his plan to kill me, take my assets, and live comfortably on his own.

Needless to say, I fled the state of Florida; now I reside in Charming, California, where whiny and putrid Ethan has followed me to...and now, Where Dexter has followed me to.

Great.