Chapter 1: Smokey and the Bandit

Dear Whoever I'm Writing This For,

I can't decide why I'm actually following through with writing this. I knee a guy in the nads one time and I'm labeled mental and forced to go to a therapist and keep a fucking "Feelings Journal." Fuck my life so hard. I don't even think the therapist is going to fucking read the damn thing. Ugh. All I have to say is that my life is fairly malaise. Extremely boring family, etc. The only thing in my life that isn't boring is my home life. My roommate and I have tons of fun, all the time. We're really dorky, but I usually just call it our quirks.

My only saving grace at this point is my private library. I've scraped together every little bit of money and bought books out the wazoo. I work at a book store where the employee discount is kick-ass. I have shelves upon shelves of classics. The way I can be transported back in time and feel what the main character feels and experience what happens right alongside the creations of the wonderful literary artists enamors me. Every time I read it, I can taste Lee's strawberry tarts from East of Eden and I can feel the metallic fangs of the Mechanical Hound digging into my leg right there with Montag in Fahrenheit 451.

I was the black sheep of my family, besides my father, who introduced me to classic literature. He had my mother name me Isabella from Shakespeare's Measure for Measure. He and my mother were the typical nerd marrying the homecoming queen just because my mom knew that he'd make a ton of money with is skills. She was right, he was an English Lit professor at Louisiana State University before they both died in a car crash when I was ten.

I grew up in Louisiana with my grandmother until she died when I was fourteen. I was sent to live with my aunt Esme and uncle Carlisle in Ohio. I usually try and hide my horrid twang that has me categorized as a "Southern Belle". My mamere (grandmother) was as Cajun as the boscoyos (cypress trees). I don't have any kind of Cajun or french accent, but I do have a southern accent as thick as molasses. Every once in a while I use some Cajun slang just to keep myself up on it.

Let me tell you, it was a huge change from being in the muggy swamp to dry and cool Ohio. I'm used to wearing a sundress all year round and then when I moved here, I was fucking freezing to death all the damn time.

I'm a hypochondriac, a nerd, and a bossy bitch all rolled into one. So, doc, if you are reading this, have fun!

Love!

Bella Alistair

Despite my level of buckey-ness, I wrote more than I thought I would, around three pages full of my large and loopy handwriting in the small, simple composition book. I felt like I was in third grade again because I remember having to do this every day. It was, though, surprisingly freeing of my anger and anxiety and I think I might just do this every day.

This story kicks off because, apparently, it's frowned upon to beat a guy up, kick dents in his car and threaten his wife. Well, he was asking for it. All I was doing was walking along, minding my own business and then he just had to pull up and ask if he could give me a ride to my street corner and lean out the window and smack my ass. I drove my work boots into the driver's side door as hard as I could. He, being the big, bad man that he is, got out of the car and looked like he was going to hit me. When he raised his hand, I kneed him in the nuts, elbowed him in the nose and jabbed his Adam's apple all in about ten seconds. I stuck my head in the car and screeched at his wife, who was already on the phone with the sheriff's department.

Needless to say, it was very fun when I had to call my very displeased roomie at two in the morning from the sheriff's office. He was actually jovial about the whole ordeal, and has called me jailbait ever since. The judge, however, wasn't as humored. The guy who harassed me got a few hours of community service, as did I, but I had to take anger management classes and go to a therapist once a week. Which was total bullshit because he started it.

My dog perked his head up at my harrumph of displeasure. I leaned over and scratched behind his ears. I loved my boxer pit mix. My roommate and I picked him out in the shelter. Me and Jasper named him Basil from The Picture of Dorian Gray...yeah...we're some major dorks.

I met Jasper in my freshman year's metalshop. He burnt a hole in my favorite boots the first day we were allowed to use the torches and they smelled like shit the rest of the year. We got closer and closer, especially after he got adopted into a new family. I was always over at his parents' house. His mother didn't care for me very much, but I fit in very well with his dad and brothers. Jasper wasn't much of the outdoorsy type, so when it came to hunting, hiking or fishing, I was favored over him.

Jasper has been my friend through so much. As I have been his. He was adopted when he was seventeen after being bounced around in the foster system. The last foster home he had been in before his adoption was extremely abusive. The father figure beat him. There were burn scars, knife scars and unhealed bruises. I'm the only person who he has willingly let see is scars. CPS finally caught wind of what was going on after they set him on fire. The bunch of dumb fucks. He was extremely lucky that the neighbor had heard screaming and called the cops. The worst of his scars spanned from his right shoulder to his waist. I remember holding his hand in the hospital right after it happened.

After high school, we got the hell out of dodge and moved to far western Ohio, a small town called Yellow Springs. It's a college town that's nestled in the middle of a forested area with all of these little oddball shops and amazing hole-in-the-wall restaurants. There were the best hiking trails and nature reserves. If I ever really need to get away, I go out to the old abandoned mill and just hang out and read.

We decided to go here because it was close to home, but not too close, if you get what I mean. So, we pooled our money and invested in our first home. I couldn't stand renting from somebody; especially when house payments were cheaper than rent, and we didn't have to jump through hoops with a landlord. We picked a little brick two story with an updated kitchen that was to die for. I eventually want to open my own little down home cafe or a bakery because of my love for cooking and baking.

I work at Dark Star Books, a bookstore that specializes in secondhand books and comic books. Whenever there are too many books to fit on a shelf, my boss, Aryana, tells me to take them home and do with them what I please. Most of the time I just sneak the ones that I didn't really want back into the store to stock the shelves with later and she doesn't notice, besides, it's more money for her. Dark Star is a cozy, surprisingly large space that is fairly unique as it has old beaten up furniture strewn about and a little black cat named Pockets wandering around the place. Aryana is your typical older hippie woman with frizzy salt and pepper hair pulled back into a bun and always wears a floral flowy skirt.

I was brought back to the present as Jasper busted into our small two story carrying tons of bags of groceries. "Help!" The top bags on the stack were starting to waver and I snatched them from him. He grinned at me over the rectangular paper bags. "My brothers and parents are coming over tonight. I'm making stuffed salmon and flounder with roasted asparagus and russet potatoes. Will you do me a hugeeeeee favor?"

"Yeah?" I started to put all of the refrigerated things in the fridge.

"Will you make some creme brulee? The caramel toffee kind? My dad loves it so much and no one can make it like you."

"Sure. Want me to make some mojitos or some apricots and cream cocktails?" I snatched a grape out of the perforated bag before washing it. Jasper looked at me like I was stupid or something. He's ridiculously OCD about cleaning fruits and vegetables before eating them.

"Dude, I'm not going to take care of you when you get some weird ass disease from Mexico because you ate that without cleaning it." He scoffed and I beamed at him my best smile, knowing that he was full of shit.

"Of course you would. You're my bitch. You'd do whatever I needed." I grinned again. Jasper and I have that on-again off-again sex relationship. Pretty much just live-in fuck buddies.

He looks kind of like your typical boy next door with the mop of blonde hair and scruff on his chin. He's got an amazing body, but it makes up for his lack of a sparkling personality. I must say, though, that I'm prettier. With long wavy chocolate hair, brown eyes, a nice rack and an ass that you could bounce quarters off of, the small amount of chub in my midsection was forgotten. I'm fairly short, so Jasper towers over me at 6'3".

"You know I would...but only if you make some mojitos..." He smiled and I laughed. I went to the kitchen and mixed up the custard for creme brulee and had Jasper pull down the small ceramic white dishes to put the amazing gooey goodness into. I also grabbed the mojito mix from our liquor cabinet and put it into a large pitcher. The entire process took about half an hour and I was pleased by the time I put the mojitos in the fridge.

"When are they going to be here? I need to shower, change and all that happy shit." He smirked at me because, where he's OCD about unwashed produce, I'm OCD about how I look. I must look put together (to people who don't see me all the time) at all times.

"Hey, Jazzy?" He glared at me. He's always hated that nickname.

"Yes, Bellsy?" He batted his eyelashes, trying to be cute.

"Don't forget to watch the lottery numbers for me while I'm in the shower." Jasper scoffed at my request. I buy mega-millions tickets religiously and Jasper chides at me about wasting my money.

"No problem." He nodded and I saluted him before making my exit up the steps and into my room to grab a bra and some underwear to put on after I get out of the shower. With the size of our house, there was only one bathroom and it was fairly cramped. Just a small shower stall and a toilet and sink. I had to nail up a new medicine cabinet as well as some shelving when we moved in.

All of my things were shoved into a hanging basket and, while mine was nearly overflowing, Jasper had two. The man spent way too much time on his damn hair. Though, I do have to give him props, he's the only man I've ever met that takes having tampons in blatant view in stride the way he did. Every once in a while, I send him out for a box of Kotex and a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

I stepped out of the shower and ran a brush through my hair and wrapped myself in a towel before putting my panties and bra on. I was getting ready to blow dry my hair and Jasper flung the door open, scaring the hell out of me and shrieking something about the lottery. I grabbed his shoulders and he stared at me. "You won the lottery." It was nearly a whisper and I shook my head. He made a mistake. Either he wasn't wearing his glasses and misread it or something. I have no idea, but I knew I couldn't believe him.

"What? You lyin' bastard." I deadpanned as Jasper started jumping up and down.

"No I'm not! I fucking rewound it and recorded it! You won the fucking lottery! Mother fucking A!" I was standing in my kitchen, four feet away from a culinary blowtorch. He better not be lying to me. My heart jumped into my throat and my stomach got butterflies.

"You better not be lyin' to me or I'll barbecue your ass in molasses. I swear to god." I stared at him as he yanked me into the living room.

"Well, then, watch the fucking screen, Gleason!" While I appreciated his knowledge of Smokey and the Bandit, I did not appreciate, however, his use of it here.

My eyes bugged out in disbelief as I watched those little numbers pop up across the screen. Those six numbers that changed my life for the better. I threw myself at Jasper and he caught me easily, spinning me in circles, laughing like an idiot. We were so caught up in the moment that I latched onto him with my legs around his waist and he kissed me. He deepened the kiss and I kissed him back, my hands winding through his hair. I could tell that it was getting ready to escalate from there as Jasper hooked a hand under my thigh and hitched me closer to him.

There were three knocks on the door and then Jasper's parents with his siblings in tow filed into our house. I was fucking horrified, as was Jasper, because he promptly placed me on my feet and pushed me behind him to block the view of me. I totally understand why. Here I was, all hanging out, lace thong, boobs spilling out of my bra, kissing and hanging all over Jasper. In front of his fucking family. Officially fuck my life. My blush started at my hairline and traveled to my toes. Of course, they could see all of it. Jasper's dad started laughing, his mom stood with her jaw dropped, and his brothers stared like they hit the mother fucking jackpot.

"Uhm...excuse me for a moment..." I took off into a dainty jog, covering my bare ass with both of my hands, toward my room. I was so embarrassed. I was mortified. My face looked like I was four and got into my mom's Atom Red lipstick. Forever bright ass red. My eyes started to well up as I thought about how I would never live this down. The lottery win was lurking in the back of my mind, but I was too focused on that disaster.

A soft knock was heard at my door. I wiped away a quick tear as I said a watery, "Come in." Jasper poked his head into my room and looked really sorry. I don't know why he looked sorry. It was just bad timing. I'm not mad at him at all. He stepped over to my bed and pulled me into his arms. I may not have said anything, but he knew how mortified I was and was trying to comfort me. I appreciated the comforting. I needed it.

"What's up, Buttercup?" He pushed my hair out of my eyes. "Just in shock for two reasons." I laughed loudly as I stood up and looked for some clothes to wear. At this point, I really don't care what I wear or if I put makeup on. I yanked a pair of jeans up my legs and fell over while doing so. I screeched in frustration as I stood up and buttoned the worn out denim. I grabbed a t-shirt and started heading downstairs.

We ate in total silence. The only sound came from our forks hitting our plates and the occasional murmur of praise from Jasper's dad over how good the food was.

"Well, Bella, that was a...surprise." Jasper's mom, Deidre, looked like she sucked on a lemon. I forced a smile and muttered apologies like a good little girl. "Awh, hell, Bella, please don't ever be ashamed of these," Jasper's adoptive brother, Scott, made a cupping motion in front of his chest, "and this." His hands came around to his ass as I glared daggers at him. He just stuck his tongue out at me. Bitch.

"I agree with Scotty-boy." The other brother, Henry, broke in. My jaw set forward and I was extremely angry. "I won the lottery today." Jasper's dad, Adam, choked on his Mojito and stared at me. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Well, I'm thinking of moving and opening a bakery in the south." That had always been my plan, but now I can just speed it up.

"Can I come?" Jasper asked me. I hadn't really contemplated leaving him behind, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. I guess I just figured that he'd come without putting much thought into it. He's been kind of a permanent fixture in my life since ninth grade. I nodded slowly and stared blankly into space.

"You most certainly cannot!" Deidre threw down our nice linen napkin onto a greasy plate and stood to her full and intimidating 5'2".

"Would you mind removing our good cloth napkin from the standing oil on your plate, please?" I asked, nearly sickeningly sweet.

"Deidre, I'm going." Jasper stated firmly. I decided to make my exit when I heard Basil scratching at the bathroom door. Whenever Jasper's family came over, I had to put Basil upstairs because Jasper's mom hated him with a passion. She made to smack him one time and I yelled at her until I was hoarse.

"C'mon, Bas." I patted the back of my thigh to have him follow me. I'll be damned if I didn't track him clear through the house, right in front of Deidre and scratched his neck so the loose fur went flying. God, I hate Jasper's mom.

"Are you going back to Louisiana?" Jasper asked me knowingly. He already knew the answer and he knew that I was. That was always the plan. After my grandmother died, she left her home to me for when I came of age and, well, I'm of age. I miss that house and the small town of Violet like crazy. Violet was about ten miles from New Orleans and it's just wonderful. I love it there.

"Yeah, Jazz. I am goin' back. Mamere's house is down there waitin' for me." I let my thick Louisiana drawl come through.

"I never knew you were from Louisiana. I knew you were from the south, but never specifically there." Adam said and I grinned at him, digging through my mental Cajun dictionary to impress him with my awesome skill.

"If your dere cooyon don' shut up, I'ma gon' passe 'er a good slap. We 'ere ta have bon temp, eh?" I recited with the perfect slur and that would have made my mamere proud. (If your, there, idiot doesn't shut up, I'm going to give her a good slap. We're here to have a good time, right?)

"That was awesome, Bella!" I grinned at Adam and Jasper just chuckled. He was used to me stubbing my toe on something and me screaming out Cajun expletives. I practically grew up on it while I lived with my mamere. It was that stage, though, when I lived with her, that I already knew to talk and didn't learn just the jargon or the accents. I stood and left to grab the bottle of Black Velvet that I had on top of the refrigerator as well as three shot glasses. Miss Deidre doesn't like whiskey, so it looks like it's just me and the boys.

"Laissez le Bon temp rouler!" (Let the good times roll!) I said sarcastically as I set the glasses down on the table. Deidre gave me a sneer and said in that hoity-toity voice of her's, "Adam, are you sure you should be drinking? You know how my eyes get after dark and I don't want the boys driving after dark either." Deidre grew up in Texas so she had the debutante life before she moved to Ohio.

"I'll be fine Dee-Dee. I'm just going to have one, anyway. Go ahead, Bella, fill it up." I smiled and did as he said. I filled my and Jasper's glasses and Basil curled up at our feet. "So if you guys are moving to Louisiana, when are you doing it?" Adam asked us and I shrugged. "Well, I'd like to do it as soon as possible, but I'm not sure how long all of the paperwork and things about the money is going to take. But I'd also need to visit my aunt and uncle before driving down south, to tell them all of this stuff. And then we'd probably have to look into selling this place. I'd like to be gone in two weeks at the most. Jasper?"

"Whatever you say, hon. I'm gonna be mooching off you, so you at least get to pick the time frame of the mooching." Jasper grinned lazily.

"So, where exactly is your...mamere's house?" Adam semi-stumbled over the word.

"It's in a little town about then miles east of New Orleans called Violet. Wonderful small town. Really close-knit community. It has one of the best school systems in Louisiana. It's where I grew up."

"Well that sounds just marvelous, but I don't want my son to move to no bayou and play house with some hussy." Deidre broke in with a look of anger on her sophisticated features. I glared at her and spoke with the sweetest Southern Belle voice that I possibly could. "Excuse me, ma'am, but I have never done you wrong, never disrespected you in any way nor am I a, quote unquote, hussy. Now, I must go sort out all of the shit that I have on my plate, and that really doesn't need to include you."

"What the hell, Deidre?" Jasper nearly yelled at his adoptive mother. Jasper had never liked Deidre, and that was voiced by him frequently. "What has Bella ever done to you? What has she done to make you dislike her so much?" He brought his fist down on the table like an angry patriarch. Not gonna lie, made me pretty proud of him, kinda hot, too.

"I don't like the idea of you two being and living together without being married! It's a disgrace!" Deidre cried. I snorted. I actually fucking snorted.

"Ma'am, I must say, that it is none of your business what me and Jasper do. Ever. Case closed. I'm done for tonight, thanks." That was their cue to get the hell out.

"Well, Jasper, Bella, we must be going. Come on, Adam. Boys." Deidre engulfed Jasper in a hug and gave me a grimace of a smile while Adam pulled me in for a hug that was worthy to call a dad-hug. "I wish you the best of luck, sweetie."

"Thanks, I'll be sure to keep the guest room open for you guys." I winked at him, knowing that that would never happen because his wife was a stuck up bitch. "I'll see what I can do." He chuckled and drew Jasper in for a manly hug-slash-pat on the back.

"Bye! Be careful on the way home!" I hollered at them and waved as they were getting into their mid-size four door sedan. Totally boring. I began to clean up the table when Jasper came in and started to place all of the scraped dishes into the dishwasher.

"What are you planning on doing down there?" He looked over at me as I dug into an uneaten dish of crème brulee. "Yah kow, oh-ehn a akery." My mouth was full and he laughed at me, but understood what I had to say and nodded his head. "What about you, sug?"

"I have not a fucking clue. I'm a networker. I can work from anywhere, so long as I can pick up a phone and have internet access, I'm good." He shrugged his shoulders. "Though, I really do eventually want to pay you back if I'm going to be living with you."

"Well, you know how you can start?" I quirked an eyebrow and jabbed my custardy goodness with a spoon.

"How?" He leaned back against the counter and looked at me curiously.

"You can pop some popcorn and watch the awesomeness that is the Army of Darkness with me. Anddd walk Basil for the next month...and fix the fucking faucet in the bathroom. That's pretty much it." I grin at him and he's already getting down the popcorn and a couple bottles of beer from the fridge. Doppelbock is a stout, extremely filling ale that I had imported from the Spaten Optimator company in Germany. It compliments salty food very well.

I'm a bit of a beer queen and I love to pair different beers with food that compliments it, that being said, I'm a beer snob. There will NEVER be any Keystone, Natty Light, Tall Boys, or Old Milwaukee in my house. Ever. I don't even like the big brands like Bud, Miller or Michelob. I'm more of a local brewery kind of girl. Bud and Miller are the Beatles and Rolling Stones of beer, they overshadow the smaller, better companies in the business and if you think about it, aren't even that good.

When the popcorn was popped, the movie in the DVD player and my head on Basil and my feet on Jasper, piled onto our couch, I allowed my thoughts to drift to what I could do with all of that money. It was a ridiculous amount that I don't think that I will ever sensibly spend. Ever. Three hundred and twelve million dollars. The only things that I may buy are a new car, vacation house and rent a building for a bakery or a cafe that will be paired with a bookstore. The beer was already making my eyes heavy and I closed them, listening to Basil's soft snoring.