(Jessie POV) Meeting a stranger in the night

The Island was a mistake. Sitting on the fringe of the beach next to the Island Tiki Bar, she couldn't help but think that. Drunken laughter and shouting sounded out all around her, so loud that she couldn’t believe they never heard it from their house.

And the amount of men here was... Try not to think about it.

Instead, she moved another foot or some toward the bushes behind her. She’d been moving closer every minute or two, and soon enough she’d be completely hidden inside of them. Back in her cocoon, hiding from everything while the world outside passed her by.

She tried to remember the first picture Leon took of her, and how confident she’d looked. How confident she’d felt after knowing there was someone who saw her like that. Out here in the nighttime, with drunks hemming and hawing every which way, the picture didn’t help.

She had only been able to dig deep and find that confidence because of him, and he might as well be a million miles away, somewhere across that lonely bridge. Her feet couldn’t carry her to him anymore. She wouldn’t let them.

Another foot toward the safety of the bushes.

Then a drunk woman traipsed right across the sand that separated the Tiki Bar from Jessie, and sat next to her. The anxious impact of it made the woman feel like a sledgehammer aiming for Jessie’s guts.

An arm snaked around Jessie’s shoulders before a clearly impaired voice said, “Hey, hey, cutie. Couldn’t help but notice you aren’t so much with the enjoying of the festivities.”

Jessie prayed she wasn’t here to start shit.

“Not really. I’m just trying to hide in plain sight,” Jessie said, hoping she sounded at least partially like a real human being.

“Until some bitch rolled out here and ruined it for you, huh?” The woman jested. Still friendly, but with an edge to her voice now.

“Oh- uh well- I didn’t mean to be rude... I just really hate places like this...”

The woman’s hand snuck down the neck of Jessie’s sweater and cupped her breast. “Then you shouldn’t have come here.”

Jessie froze. She wasn’t terrified of women the same way she was of men, but sexuality still carried a stigma as far as she was concerned, and even if it didn’t, a stranger was suddenly groping her bare boob totally uninvited.

She had no idea what to do as the woman gave her boobs each an appraising touch. When she found no resistance, she was emboldened and started pinching Jessie’s nipples while her other hand found the waistband of the sweatpants and slipped underneath. Clumsy fingers were rubbing her outer lips before she could even register what was happening.

I’m so sick of being walked all over. Why does everyone have to come sniffing around for a piece of Messy Jessie? Leave me alone!

“Don’t worry hun. Got to examine the goods before I buy.”

It was the woman’s overconfidence that finally got Jessie to stand up for herself. “I’m not for sale!” Jessie shouted, and lashed out to slap the woman in her unprotected face. The stinging pain in her hand marked her successful contact with the target.

The woman reeled back at the impact and shrieked. The fingers on her labia pinched it so hard Jessie thought she’d black out. In return, Jessie’s teeth slammed shut on the woman’s arm like a vice grip. A howl left the woman’s mouth and she raised her arm up, ready to drop it on Jessie’s head like a club.

But then a third person entered the fray and saved Jessie’s head from a thorough pounding. Jessie was too preoccupied fending off her attacker to pay any heed to what this third person might be up to. The woman who assaulted her was trying, and mostly succeeding, to pin Jessie against the sand. Jessie got off one more good hit, a knee to the woman’s crotch that she hoped kicked like a mule, and then all of the sudden the weight on her was gone and she could hear the sound of indignant shrieking.

Her elbows propelled her up just in time to see a woman, who couldn’t be much older than herself, squaring off with the drunk lady. Squaring off, in a way.

The newcomer carried herself like she wasn’t doing anything special, with her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans and her shoulder slouched. She couldn’t have been that much older than Jessie, with her wild blonde hair, thick black eyeliner, and a devil-may-care disposition. A shirt with the words ‘Beer in the Soda Machine’ clung to her slight curves.

“WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE PULLING MY HAIR LIKE THAT!?” The handsy woman screamed. A wasted crowd was gathering around, roused from their individual drunken stupors by all the commotion.

“Me?” The newcomer asked, and held up her fingers in the shape of guns. “I’m just a cool cat strolling after dark,” she answered, and fired her finger guns.

“YOU THINK I’M FUCKING AROUND? I’LL BEAT YOUR ASS!!” the woman yelled, and charged at the newcomer like a linebacker.

The newcomer picked up one of the flimsy metal chairs from a nearby table and set it in front of her as the woman’s feet left the ground for her spectacular killer tackle. The newcomer quickly hopped to the side and the woman went flying wildly into the chair, but it wasn’t enough to keep the raging bull down for long, and she wasted no time trying to regain her composure.

“Eat your heart out on a plastic tray,” the newcomer said. Jessie didn’t really get why she kept saying weird things like that, but it made her seem even more in charge, as if she wasn’t in any danger at all.

Then the newcomer flipped one of the tables on the woman. They weren’t monstrously heavy, but must have been heavy enough to knock out a drunk lady, because this time the woman didn’t get up.

Cheers erupted from the crowd, but the newcomer ignored them and swaggered up to Jessie with an outstretched hand. Jessie was impressed and a little starstruck by the easy victory she’d been a witness to, and took the hand without hesitation.

“This crowd is a major drag. Time for me to take off. You coming with?” she asked Jessie.

Everything had happened so fast, and now the cheering crowd of shirtless men and bikini clad women threatened to close in around them. Jessie didn’t want to be the center of attention. The night continued to prove exhausting and terrible, and she just wanted out.

“Okay,” Jessie said, and Roxanne hauled her to her feet.

“Sick. Name’s Roxanne. Roxanne Ramone. Let’s head back to my place. Fuck this crowd, fuck that bitch, and, most importantly, fuck this shitty night.”

Jessie smiled at that, and nodded. For whatever reason, she trusted this Roxanne person right away.

“Couldn’t agree more.”