Saving Moxie

Breakfast

I awoke to the smell of bacon, my stomach grumbling against the mattress. When was the last time I had eaten? I counted back in my fingers how many days it had been since I had eaten anything other than cold soup or dollar menu items. I inhaled the delicious smell deeply my mouth watering.

Too long.

Ripping the blanket off the bed with me as I jumped up and scurried out of my messy childhood room, I nearly tripped at the top of the stairs. Somehow I had made it through the mess of old books and discarded clothes and found a very mildew-smelling bed with a thin blanket stretched over it. I had vaguely wondered if anyone had even been in my room since I left as a teenager. The clothes on the floor looked like they may still fit, which would have been odd if I hadn't been a chunky kid. I remembered the mental note now to wash some of them and see how they fit now that I was taller and thinner.

Catching myself as I nearly fell down the top of the stairs, I blew a strand of hair away from my face. I knew this house like the back of my hand, but it been years since I had been inside of it so intimately. Even when I had come to 'visit' in the past, I had either slept on the old stained couch that used to be in the living room or fallen asleep on the porch only to be awakened by my mother shooing me away or my sister placing a hot cup of coffee by my head - probably to ease what she assumed to be a hangover.

Normal people would have called the cops upon waking up in a house alone to the smell of bacon. I was not a normal kind of gal. Nothing about this situation was normal: me being here, an intruder cooking breakfast before attacking, the rumbling and pain from hunger in my stomach. I tip toed down the stairs as quietly as possible, hoping that it would be just my father this time. Break-ins were not new to me. In fact, this was not the first time I had tip toed into unknown dangerous territory in nothing but a pair of black lacy panties and a large t-shirt.

Not even the first time this week.

Normally, it was my father breaking in to wherever I had found to crash and begging for money or asking for me to do just one little favor. To be a good girl and help daddy out. Not so normally, it would be a goon looking for my father and whatever money or drugs he had shorted them on. I would get beat up a little, maybe stolen from, and they were on their way. Most of them had enough class to know better than to touch me in any way other than to land a few punches. Though the past few years, I had grown into my own reputation well enough that most goons had the decency to ask if I knew where Jack was before throwing my s**t around. It didn't stop them from calling me a b***h or taking anything I had of value - which was rare - but it was better than being beaten to death in my sleep.

I didn't think anyone would find me so fast. I figured I had at least a month or two to lie low before I was tracked down. After all, Jack's crooked employer had made it perfectly clear that no one was to bother my sister or mother after my dad and I walked out on them. I wasn't sure if it was for Jack or if it was because my mother was surprisingly well respected in the community, had a hot temper, and was always a fan of loaded guns. No one should have ever expected me to come back to my mother's house - mostly because my father shouldn't know his ex-wife had died yet and because I made it perfectly clear how much I hated my mother. Sure, I knew word would get back to him eventually, but I figured it wouldn't travel as fast since I had left in the night and none of my family even knew how to contact Jack other than my sister and Roxie wasn't exactly his biggest fan.

I froze as my foot came to the bottom floor, taking in Jamie's muscled back and sweats hanging low on his hips. He didn't seem to notice me yet.

The strange thing about this situation for me, was the fact that he had let himself in and was humming to himself while he made breakfast. Seeing him in the house without a care in the world made me want to run in the opposite direction more than any thug had in the past. Of course, I didn't panic or run, despite the alarms going off in my head - but rather just stood there observing him. I had been so unprepared for the scene in front of me that my mind didn't really know how to react – so instead, I stood there with a frown on my face.

After 10 seconds of standing still and staring at the gorgeous man in front of me, a wave of panic washed over me as I realized how under dressed I was and how stupid Jamie was for letting himself into my house unannounced. Everyone else in the world saw me as a threat. How did Jamie see me? Growing up, Jamie was always the first to tell the gossiping adults where to shove it and told me he didn't care what people said about me. I knew he had to be lying - I was just another one of his charity cases. I forced myself to breathe in and out a few times to reassure myself of my surroundings before forcing a plastic look of annoyance on my face.

"What the hell are you doing, Jamie?" I demanded, crossing my arms in front of me. I didn't imagine the sight of me was at all flattering. Nothing could really be as bad as I looked yesterday, but this was a close second. At least yesterday I had been wearing pants.

He didn't bother to turn around, but I could tell from the shift if his muscles that he was a little surprised I was awake.

"Making breakfast."

"No s**t, Sherlock." I rolled my eyes, tapping my foot while I ran my fingers through my hair to tie it off my neck. "Why are you making breakfast in my house? Unannounced? Have you never heard of breaking and entering?"

Jamie laughed, turning to face me, though the laughter seemed to die in his throat as his eyes darkened at the sight of me. I shifted my weight uncomfortably under his stare.

Maybe I do look worse than yesterday. Go figure.

"You blew me off yesterday. And I don't have a stove in the apartment anymore, so I have to cook here."

"Great. So you come and go as you please." I sighed. Somehow, I knew this whole situation was going to be messy as soon as my sister put the stipulation on to allow Jamie to continue to live in the apartment above the garage. That little apartment had originally been my mother's studio, but as my dad started to gamble more and got into more trouble, the house and our family took a swan dive to something close to trailer trash. Roxie had told me that he was paying rent and fixing up the place slowly so I wasn't floored by the idea that he had renovated the studio. He was probably the one that patched the holes in the walls and fixed the squeaky stairs too. I hadn't noticed until now how much work had been done to the place.

"Next time I'll knock so I know you're dressed."

I smirked.

"You know, it is my house. It's not that strange to think I would sleep comfortably." I sighed, walking over to pick up a piece of bacon with my fingertips and plucking it into my mouth. I hadn't had bacon in ages. The last thing I had eaten was cold chicken noodle soup out of a can before jumping on a bus to come back here.

The way the energy in the room changed was not quite uncomfortable, but definitely not the same as it had been moments before. Little things like this weren't normal for me. Looking over my shoulder had become a full time job for as long as I could remember. I didn't have time for home cooked meals, a social life, and definitely not flirting.

"Who said I was making you breakfast?"

I laughed to myself, stealing another piece of bacon before walking to the table and sitting in the worn down chair.

"What have you been up to the past few years? Anything interesting?" He asked slowly, as if he was trying to state his question in a way that wouldn't offend me. I knew he was digging for information, but I couldn't tell if he was genuinely interested or if he wanted to be sure I didn't have any arrest warrants. I wondered if I did, currently.

"Oh, you know how it is, a bit of this and that." I covered the conversation easily, knowing I could never tell him what I had actually been up to. "Worked on my portfolio, did a little bit of freelance work, and now... well, we'll see what kind of trouble I get up to."

His shoulders stiffened as I said the word 'trouble' and I figured at that moment that my sister had been very detailed about the information she had given him about the trouble I currently liked to involve myself in the few times I had talked to her. Most of the time, the length of our conversations were from my one free call and consisted of what I did wrong and how much money I needed for bail. Just looking at me anyone could tell I got into mischief with the scars from fights and abuse, dirt that never quite washed away completely, and tattoos covering the majority of my body.

"I think they're looking for new artists at the tattoo joint in town." He offered, filling a mug with coffee before crossing to offer it to me.

Of course he remembered that I like my coffee black from the few times I had visited my sister in the past couple of years. Mostly it was during times of extreme hunger or when I had no where else to sleep for the night, but Jamie had always been there in some way. I now wondered if it had been my sister who was leaving coffee for me on the porch in the mornings or if it had been Jamie the whole time. I accepted the mug happily and shrugged at the open suggestion for work. While I knew I would need to have money for food and other necessities, I wasn't sure if something that public would be such a good idea. I could probably live off the little rent Jamie paid to live in the studio, but I wouldn't thrive by any means. Like my mother, I had always been an artist. Unlike my mother, I was not famous for my works of art.

Just my arrest record and my reputation.

"If your art is still as good as it was last time I saw you, the job is easily yours." He pressed on, helping himself to a chair across from me. "I could drive you if you need a ride. I have to stop on that side of town today anyway."

"I don't know... are you sure you want to be see with me in public?"

Something flickered in his eyes that looked suspiciously like irritation, but I ignored it. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to convince myself that there was an ulterior motive to his offer, but I couldn't believe he would gain anything from a simple ride. He slid me a plate of bacon and pancakes, perfectly slathered with syrup.

"Mox, do you want a ride or not?"

"Oh, I suppose I probably should work on being employed if I'm going to stay here for a while."

The next five minutes of my life were not the proudest as I attacked my plate of food like a starving animal. Jamie politely averted his gaze and avoided watching me eat like the gentleman he had always been, but I knew he was judging me.