Sweet Talk Ch. 02

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The fight continues.
10.6k words
4.79
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13

Part 2 of the 7 part series

Updated 10/31/2022
Created 12/14/2008
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A heavy, strained silence filled the car as Jason drove back to his condo so Anna could pick up her car. After her announcement, he'd just stared at her with an incredulous look on his face, but that look had quickly turned to a mix of anger and disbelief. Then, circling around to his side of the car, he'd muttered a tight-lipped, "Let's go," before getting inside and slamming the door.

Now Anna was in the passenger seat, staring out the window, both of her hands folded in her lap. The fact that her hands weren't fidgeting only vaguely surprised her because the tension in her body, and the anger flowing from Jason was almost too much to deal with. She knew things had gotten out of control back there, but she couldn't completely regret her words. She'd always planned to work up to the subject, get him used to the idea of her leaving and then, when she felt like he wouldn't completely flip out, she'd tell him she was quitting. Only, the past few months of frustration had finally gotten to her and the words just came out before she had a chance to think about it.

But, she thought, stealing a glance at Jason's tense face, this was for the best. Soon, she'd be able to move on with her life, go back to school, and with a miracle, figure out a way to get over him.

Her stomach knotted as Jason pulled the car to a stop just outside the entrance to his condo's underground parking garage. This was usually where he let her out so she didn't have to ride the elevator back up to the street-level. Only now, with him staring straight ahead, one large fist strangling the gearshift, it felt like he was kicking her out of the car.

Unhooking her seatbelt, she turned toward him, lightly wetting her bottom lip.

"Jay..." she started.

He didn't look at her. "Can you hurry up? I'm blocking the driveway."

His short, dismissive tone pissed her off and she defiantly leaned back in the seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not getting out until you talk to me."

With a low curse, Jason shoved the gearshift into park and stared out the drivers' side window. "What the hell do you want me to say, Anna?"

"You know I hate it when you swear at me!"

At her raised voice, Jason turned to face her and the fury she saw glowing in his eyes jolted her. "Then you'd better get the hell out of the car or start talking. Otherwise, I've got a few more swear words I'd like to throw your way."

In an instant, her contrition vanished, quickly replaced by irritation. Here she was trying to have a calm, civilized conversation with him and he was acting like an ass.

Giving up on diplomacy, she muttered, "What do you wantmeto say? I'm quitting. People do it all the time."

She saw the muscles in his jaw flex as he ground his teeth together. His hazel eyes narrowed, making her pulse speed up. "People, Anna—peoplequit all the time," he said. "Not you. And not with me."

Oh yes, of course, she'd forgotten. He was the celebrity chef, after all. How could she ever consider leaving him until he gave his okay? Well, he could get over that center-of-the-universe crap right now.

"You'd better get used to the idea, then," she said, "because I'm serious about this."

Another tense silence settled between them as he continued to stare at her, a hard expression on his face. Then he went back to staring out of the windshield before asking, "Care to tell me why you're laying this on me all of a sudden?" He sounded calm, but she knew that just meant he had a tight leash on his temper.

Sighing, Anna ran her palms up and down her thighs a few times to calm herself. "It's not that sudden, really. I've been out of school for almost three years. And...me working for you wasn't supposed to turn into a long-term thing."

"I know that, but it did." He glanced at her, his tense expression softening a little. "Come on, Anna, you can't just...leave." He said the word like it was foreign. To him it probably was.

Anna knew that women didn't really leave Jason Blake. No, he usually took care of that himself. And the crazy part was that his long list of conquests were usually left feeling honored for having basked in his presence. Clenching her fists, Anna vowed she wouldn't be like those women. Not anymore, at least.

Still, as his tone gentled even more, she felt her resolve weakening.

"Can't you go to school part-time?" he asked. "You'll need a job, right? You'll still have bills to pay. I assume that requires employment, unless the laws of capitalism have changed."

Anna's mouth quirked at his bad joke, but she forced herself not to give in to his charm. "I just want to get it over with," she told him. "Part-time would mean having to wait another two years before I finish. I don't want to wait that long." Plus, she didn't think her heart, or her sanity, could last another two years if she stayed on as his assistant. "I have to quit," she repeated, more to herself than to him, because she was still scared she might back down.

"Son of a bitch," Jason said, his voice tight and quit. "I can't believe you're doing this to me. " He lowered his forehead to the steering wheel and closed his eyes. "Damnit. Of all the crap timing for you to pull this, you had to choose now, didn't you?"

Anna scowled at his handsome profile. Why did everything revolve around him? It was like he thought she didn't have a life unless he was in it. Irritated all over again, she flung the seatbelt over her shoulder and opened the car door.

The sound caught Jason's attention and he sat up. "Where the hell are you going?"

Fuming, Anna cut him off with a fury-filled look. "Just so you know, I'm not doing anythingtoyou, Jason. I'm quittingforme. You may not have noticed, but working for you hasn't exactly been my dream job lately."

Glaring right back at her, Jay angrily shoved the car into gear again. "I never asked you to do me any favors, Anna," he said coldly. "It's not like personal assistants are goddamn diamonds—they're a dime a dozen. And when did I ever force you to stick around? Tell me that and maybe I can figure out why you're pulling this martyr act right now."

This wasn't at all how Anna had wanted this conversation to go, but her anger flared even hotter and she couldn't help herself when she fired back. "You want to know why I stayed even though you never asked me to?" she half-shouted, hating that he'd made her lose her temper. "I stayed because I knew, Iknewyou wouldn't be able to handle all of this without me. But, you know what, I'm tired of babysitting you, Jason. You might be fine watching your career collapse around you, but I'm not letting you drag me down, too!" Scrambling out of the car, she slammed the door and took a few stumbling steps backward.

For a long, tense moment, she felt pinned by Jason's hard gaze as he stared at her through the passenger side window. The glass was lightly tinted but his furious glare, and his anger, came through clearly. Then he looked away, pressing the remote on the car's visor. The condo's mechanical garage door opened and he gunned the engine, tearing into the underground parking area.

*********

A while later, Jay barreled through the swinging silver doors separating Sugar's back kitchen from the main dining area. Ignoring the two prep cooks and the curious stares they shot in his direction, he didn't stop walking until he made it to the back of the kitchen, bracing both hands on the edge of the stainless steel countertop. His entire body felt tense and strained.

Fucking Anna.

He couldnotbelieve this. What the hell did she mean she was quitting?

For a minute, he just stood there, staring at the wall, then his eyes fell on his stand mixer, pushed up underneath a shelf crammed full of spices and utensils. Shoving up the sleeves of his sweater, he pulled the mixer—Charlie's old mixer—out and frowned into the large, silver bowl attached to the rounded base.

He loved that mixer; its shiny, dark blue casing and the dozen or so attachments that went with it were the one thing in the kitchen that only he was allowed to touch. And at times like this, when he couldn't see straight because of anxiety, stress oranger—he gritted his teeth, thinking of Anna—putting together recipes in that mixer kept him from flipping the fuck out.

Not bothering to use a measuring spoon, he poured a liberal splash of pure vanilla extract into the mixing bowl then added in some sugar, and butter from a chest fridge below the counter.

Even through his irritation, he managed to register the fact that he had no idea what he was making. Anger did that to him: he'd just start throwing ingredients together, working out his stress, and more often than not, ended up creating something he later sold to Sugar's customers.

But right now, he couldn't think past Anna and the bombshell she'd just laid on him. How the hell could she just quit like that? No warning, no explanation. Hell, he thought, cracking an egg into the mixer with a bit too much force, she hadn't even seemed sorry about it. Just threw it in his face like he was supposed to accept it and move on.

Three more eggs joined the first and with each one, Jason fumed.

Two and a half years and she was just going to walk out on him? Desert him right when he needed her most? How the hell did she expect him to keep his shit together after she just skipped out? But what really pissed him off, was that she'd tried to lay it all on him, when, for as long as he could remember, he'd done everything for her. From that first summer he'd spent working in her dad's bakery, he'd watched over her the same way Nate had.

As Charlie's ancient mixer whirred, Jason's angry thoughts slid into his past.

He still remembered how hot that summer had been back when he was thirteen. Seattle had cool, coastal breezes, but Sweet Water, a small town of about forty thousand was situated in a deserty valley where winters were frigid and summers scorched. The whole place was like living in a freaking Normal Rockwell painting, though. There were a few rich families with large stakes in the local vineyards, but most people were just solid, middle-class.

Only Jason's family, and he wouldn't even call his shitty home-life a 'family', had been one of the exceptions.

It was the summer after seventh grade and his dad, like always, was at home, knocked out on the couch drenched in sweat and the reek of stale beer. His mom, a fallen daughter from one of Sweet Waters richest families, had left when he was eight, desperate to escape Gary. Too bad she hadn't taken Jay with her. No, she'd just packed up his little sister and lefthimto carry the brunt of his dad's anger.

So, after six years of pretty much raising himself, that summer Jay had been bored and reckless in a way a kid could be only when no one in the world gave a damn what happened to him.

That's why he'd broken into Charlie's bakery that night.

He never had any money to spend in there, or anywhere else actually and, that particular night, his had dad decided to beat the shit out of him before he passed out. And Jay, full of the shaky, jittery kind of anger that filled in all of the other hollowness inside him, just wanted to make someone else feel like shit, too.

So, the rock he sent sailing through the back window of the bakery was his way of sealing the deal—he'd be just like his fuck-up of a dad. But as he reached through the shattered window on the door, his shaking fingers searching for the lock on the inside, the last thing he'd expected was for the interior lights to go on. Or for Charlie Marsh's large, bear-like form to appear in the doorway.

He'd tried to run. He was the fastest kid in the seventh grade, but it didn't take Charlie any effort at all to chase him down. And when he'd dragged him back to the bakery, Jason had a sick feeling in his stomach even though he tried not to show it.

Inside, the bakery had smelled like yeasty breads and the sweetness of just-made frosting. Charlie hauled him up by the collar of his shirt, planted him on a stool opposite the counter, told him not to move and went into his office to call the local police. Meanwhile, Nate was left to watch over him. Jason knew Nate. They were in the same grade at Sweet Water Middle School and both were pretty popular, but for very different reasons.

Because of his smart mouth, Jason was always cracking jokes and getting in trouble; two weeks before the end of the school year, he'd been suspended for three days after he got caught smoking behind the gym—the same gym where Nate and his basketball team buddies scored points after-school and on weekends.

Standing a few feet away, Nate had kept eyeing Jason like he wanted to beat the crap out of him. But it was eleven-year-old Anna, with those big brown eyes and a stubborn chin who'd marched up to Jay and glared at him.

"You broke my dad's window," she said.

Jason just kept staring at the wall. He knew how much trouble he was in and was trying real hard not to give a shit. Who the hell was this kid, anyway? He didn't want to deal with her right now.

But Anna wasn't about to be ignored. "I said," she repeated, more loudly, "youbrokemy dad'swindow."

When ignoring her didn't work, Jason scowled at her. "So? I don't care, so get away from me." He was surprised when she didn't even flinch.

Instead, she'd looked at him like he was some kind of bug and said, "I think you should clean it up."

He wanted to laugh in her face. He was gonna get locked up in juvie. Fuck if he was about to sweep up the broken glass that'd landed him there.

"Forget it, Anna," Nate said, leaning against the wall next to the locked front door. "He doesn't care."

Both hands went to her girlish hips when Anna looked at Nate, then back to Jason. Still staring at him, she'd said, "Well, heshouldcare. Dad would've given him a donut or something if he'd just asked for one. He didn't have to break the window."

And, for some reason, that got him. That stupid, immature line got to him and he couldn't take that kid looking at him like that. "Gimme a broom," he muttered, sliding down off the stool. Anna brought out a broom and dustpan and, followed by a suspicious Nate, they all went to the back kitchen and stood in silence as Jason swept up the mess he'd made.

He was just finishing when the cops showed up. He wouldn't find out until years later, but Charlie talked to the deputy who peeked in and, recognizing Jason, told Charlie in no uncertain terms that Jason's dad, Gary, wasn't in any condition to look after his son. Their only option would have been to lock Jason up in juvenile hall while he awaited a court date.

Jay never even talked to the cops because Charlie asked them to leave. When he walked into the backroom, Jay's back stiffened up and his palms got all sweaty. He wasn't about to admit that he was scared shitless, but he was. Except, no police officer followed Charlie into the kitchen ready to cuff him.

It was only Charlie, who'd stared at him, taking in his freshly split lower lip and the swollen cut high on his cheekbone, both leftovers from his earlier run-in with Gary's beer-fueled fists. Then Charlie took in the fact that Jay had swept up the broken glass.

He looked at him for a long time, then two thick arms, made muscular from years of kneading breads by hand, crossed over his chest. "You need a job?" he finally asked.

Jason swallowed. What the hell was this guy talking about? "W-what?"

Charlie nodded toward the broken window. "You work for me—pay off the window—and we'll call it even."

Jason's gaze flicked to Anna who was smiling at her dad, then to Nate who looked like he wanted to argue, and back to Charlie whose face was serious, but sincere.

"You're not gonna turn me in?' he asked.

Charlie shrugged. "You going to juvenile detention doesn't get my window paid for, does it?" He turned, untying the lightly soiled apron around his neck. "Be here, every day, for the rest of summer. Six sharp. Work 'til ten until September and we'll call it square." That brown-black gaze, which Jason would come to respect more than any other, pinned on him. "You in?"

"Yeah...whatever." Jay shrugged, trying to act like he didn't care either way.

"Good." Charlie nodded slowly. "What's your name?"

Jason's tongue felt stuck in his throat, but he managed to say, "Jason...Blake."

Nodding again, Charlie's expression turned thoughtful. "Just so you know, Jason—I don't give second-chances. So don't screw up again."

And he never had.

At first, he only showed up because he didn't want Charlie to change his mind and send the cops after him. But when he realized that Charlie wasn't treating him like a no good piece of shit like his own dad did, things changed. As the summer weeks passed, he did everything he could to make things up to Charlie who turned out to be the first real father figure that he'd ever had.

Then summer turned into the school year and Jay stuck around, spending almost every day after school working in the shop, though he wasn't officially hired until he turned fifteen. He even managed to find some common ground with Nate who couldn't deny that Jason was faster than any of the current members of the SWMS basketball team. Jason tried out for the team that year and played alongside, Nate. By the time they started high school, they were practically inseparable, both on and off the basketball court.

And in the bakery, there was Charlie, gruff and expectant, but a quiet, guiding force that helped tame Jason's wildness and anger. And everywhere else, there was Anna, always tagging along with him and Nate, whether she was invited or not. She wasn't girly or prissy, though, so they let her come. And Jay would never admit it, but he liked having her around. She reminded him of his own little sister, who he hadn't seen in years. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was part of a family, a real one—Charlie, Nate, Anna and him.

And now, she was quitting.

Coming back to the present, Jason swore, switching off the stand mixer, which had been whirring for long minutes. For some reason, all he kept thinking was thathewas the one who'd taught Anna how to swim that first summer on the shores of Lake Purdy.

And now, she was the one leavinghimto flounder. The irony was almost funny, but mostly it just pissed him off. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Angrily digging through a cabinet, he searched for a canister of flour but gave up after only a few seconds of looking. With a roughness fed by frustration and anger, he ripped open a fresh bag, only to wind up enveloped in a cloud of fine, white flour when the bag tore apart in his rough grasp.

"Son of a bitch!" Waving a hand in front of his face, he coughed, resisting the urge to spit out the flour dust in his mouth.

"I, uh, didn't realize you were branching out to parlor tricks," said an irritatingly sarcastic, and familiar, voice.

Over his shoulder, Jason scowled at Sam Wyatt, his friend and business partner. They'd met at the Culinary Institute and, a few years after graduating, decided to go into business together. Opening a dessert shop had been Jay's idea, but it was Sam who'd thought of combining it with a cocktail lounge to create a 'sugar bar.'

They'd been friends for six years, which was why Jason had no problem shooting Sam a pissed off glance.

"Go away."

Sensing Jay's foul mood, Clark and Eddie, the already uncomfortable prep cooks, muttered something about taking a break and edged their way past Sam and out of the kitchen.

But Sam, ignoring Jason as always, sauntered toward him with an irritating half-smile on his face. "What's your problem? You just scared off two grown men," Sam said, then tipped his chin toward the flour coating the countertop. "And you can usually handle the complexities of a bag of flour."