Jessie's Girl (1981)

By Lindy Zart

The road trip from Minnesota to Pennsylvania and back is meant to be the final adventure before four friends go their separate ways in the fall.

 

Nothing goes as intended, beginning with the unexpected addition of Catherine Tate, Jessie Keller's new girlfriend. Amidst a malfunctioning vehicle, being caught in the middle of a robbery, beer drinking, mosquito attacks, and other teenage drama, five friends experience courage, broken hearts, fear, and laughter.

 

Most importantly, they make memories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lindy Zart
• Release date: May 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386233978

Lindy Zart

Lindy Zart is the USA Today bestselling author of Roomies. She lives in Wisconsin with her family. Lindy loves to hear from people who enjoy her work.

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Copyright © 2017 Lindy Zart

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Lindy Zart

Printed in the United States of America

Man, 1980 - 1990 was the best decade ever: best music, best clothes, best movies. Here's to everyone who agrees it was totally tubular.

JESSIE'S GIRL

(1981)

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

LINDY ZART

1

Ishoot upright in the bed at the sound of a fist against the bedroom door. Disoriented, I look around the darkness as a familiar male voice calls, Get up, numb nuts, it’s time to bounce!

My eyes fly to the red digital numbers on the alarm clock and I vault from the bed, stumbling as I blindly search for clothes. Shit. I’m late. Really late. My bedroom is always a mess, and the present black doesn’t help me find my way around in it. I stub my toe on something and curse as it throbs in response.

Sam! The pounding continues. Come on. Everyone’s waiting in the car! Hurry up, man.

One second, I holler back to Jessie, tripping over a pile of clothes and slamming my forehead against the door as I fumble for the light switch. I blink my eyes to get them to adjust to the bright light, and wrench open the door. I take in Jessie’s smirking face and frown. If he looks this pleased about something, it probably doesn’t bode well for me.

What? What’s so funny? I demand.

Nothing. He snickers, shifting his brown eyes to the side.

I follow the motion with my eyes and freeze.

A tall, thin blonde stands beside Jessie, her blue eyes wide as she takes in my mostly naked body. Face burning up, I grab the first thing my hand touches from the top of the dresser and hold a sock over my crotch. A small smile curves her lips as she looks from the sock to my face. The girl’s hair is a mass of feathered waves held back with a pale pink headband. I take in her wardrobe of collared cream blouse with buttons, flower-print slacks, and short tan boots.

Whoever she is, she’s a knockout.

Hey, hi, how’s it going? My throat is raspy and changes pitch midway through my greeting, making me sound like a fourteen-year-old punk hitting puberty instead of the almost nineteen-year-old man I am.

Hi, she replies, her voice high and smooth.

My skin reacts with goose bumps.

Why are you still in bed? Jessie runs a hand through his wavy brown hair, his bicep bulging with the gesture. He’s always finding ways to draw attention to his ripped muscles. As if no one can notice how freakishly large they are on their own. We were supposed to be on the road ten minutes ago.

I don’t know. I set the alarm. I must have slept through it. I swallow, my eyes moving back to the blonde. She’s too pretty not to admire. How did you get in the house?

Jessie rolls his eyes and drops his hand. I know where the key is, man. Remember?

Yeah. I’m just…still asleep.

Wake the hell up! It’s time to party. Jessie pumps the air with a fist and tosses his head back with a war cry.

Dude. Shut your yap, I hiss and clap a hand over his mouth, looking toward my parents’ bedroom as their door opens.

Jessie rubs his nose on my palm and I snatch it back. I glower at him as he smiles, amusement clear in his eyes.

What’s all the racket, my dad demands, shuffling toward us. His fine red hair sticks up on top, the longer lengths clinging to his neck, and the ratty brown robe he wears is opened enough to see his pale chest and protruding gut. One day, that will be me. It’s a frequent thought that does not make me look forward to aging.

Good morning, Mr. Kent, Jessie cheerfully calls, waving at my father.

It’s three in the morning. This isn’t morning; this is the middle of the night.

"Three in the morning is three in the morning," my friend points out.

The girl watches my dad, her small, white teeth timidly gnawing on a plump lower lip. I watch her, not really paying attention to the conversation between my dad and Jessie until my dad’s finger shoots forward and is close to jabbing me in the eye. I blink and step back.

Pointing toward the stairs, my dad commands, Get the hell out of here.

Totally on that, Mr. Kent. Jessie nods obediently. Right, Sam? We’re on it.

Um, uh, yeah. I feel my face go red when the blonde smiles hesitantly at me.

Muttering to himself, my dad makes his way back to his room. He steps into the room and the bedroom door slams a second before my mom’s voice can be heard asking, Is everything all right?

To which my dad replies, Just our dumb-ass son with his dumb-ass friends.

I look at Jessie. Thanks, Dad. You’re such a thoughtful, sensitive guy.

I love you, Dad, Jessie rejoins, kissing the air.

I hope I’m just like you when I grow up. The wryness is heavy.

Jessie laughs and slings an arm around the blonde. Do you think they even remember about the trip?

Who knows? Maybe after a few days they’ll realize I haven’t been around. Then again, maybe not. They’ve been counting down the days until I move out since I took my first breath—my dad told me so on my eighteenth birthday. It was his way of bonding.

Parents are assholes, Jessie commiserates.

I shrug. I’ll be down in a flash. The sock isn’t doing much for warmth.

I like the sock. You should totally wear the sock. Shouldn’t he, Cat?

Cat? I repeat in confusion.

The blonde smiles and offers a hand. Hello. I’m Catherine Tate.

I shake her hand with my free one, noting the softness of it. Sam Kent.

She tells me, I don’t recommend the sock as an outfit.

You know, I wasn’t sure? I grin and look at my friend while jerking my chin toward Catherine. What’s going on?

Jessie squeezes Catherine closer. This is my girl. Lucky for her, huh?

I was thinking that’s pretty unlucky for her. Are you coming with us? I ask Catherine, hoping she says no. I have nothing against her—and that’s the reason I don’t want her along. She’s cute, and she seems nice, and her presence will complicate things.

Yes. Last night Jessie asked me if I wanted to go on a road trip with him and his friends. I admit, I was surprised to be invited along, but… She lifts eyes as blue and deep as the ocean to mine—not that I’ve seen any oceans firsthand. I’m not usually spontaneous. I think it’ll be fun to try it out once.

It was sort of a spur of the moment thing. We got to talking last night at the bowling alley, and Cat and I found out we have this special connection. Her going on this trip with us seemed the natural way to go. Jessie wiggles his eyebrows at me.

In routine Jessie Keller fashion, it is apparent he wants Catherine around because he wants to get in her pants. She’ll come on this trip, they’ll do it, and then when we get back, she’ll be history. My free hand tightens into a fist as I study the girl. I want to tell her to stay the hell away from him. Not that it would probably do any good. Chicks dig Jessie, and even when he’s a dick to them, they hang around until he tells them to go.

I didn’t know you were dating anyone. My tone is colder than I intended.

Jessie levels a challenging gaze on me, daring me to say something against him. I wasn’t as of yesterday, but as of last night, I am.

You two just met last night, and you’re dating? I lift my eyebrows.

Yes, Catherine answers, brackets of unease surrounding her mouth as she divides her gaze between us.

Jessie gives me a thumbs up sign while nodding enthusiastically. We totally have a connection. Like, totally.

Well, that’s really swell. Great news. I slowly back into the room, thoughts racing. I better put on some clothes. See you outside. I close the door without waiting for a reply and let my head drop back. The beating of my heart is fast; I'm alarmed by Catherine Tate and my reaction to her.

I curse and whip the sock at the bed. It was supposed to be four friends, no monkey business, having a