Hey, this is a story about a girl named jade… supposedly. It's a sister story to Penning Fantasy's "The Beat Goes On". I would suggest reading that first, but it won't be really necessary until later chapters.
To get all the legal shit out of the way, I only own things that you don't recognize from the movies or anywhere else barring my other stories.
Please note that many characters in this story are in fact real people, so if I get facts wrong, I'm sorry in advance.
Also, there will be many songs throughout this story, some are mine, some aren't, so I reserve the right to yell, cuss, and annoy your brains out if I see my songs elsewhere.
Without further ado, the prologue.
I can't believe it. She lied to me. She promised she'd never lie to me. But she did.
OK, maybe I should back up a bit. I'm Jade. Jade Ellen Henning. At least I thought I was, up until two hours ago.
All I wanted was insurance. Nice simple plan from State Farm for my baby. My baby. I couldn't live without my baby. She's the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen. Just looking at her puts a smile on my face. She's just this little bundle of energy.
In all actuality, she's not very little, unless you think a bit on the short side is little. And the energy? It's like a herd of horses. Restless horses. About 750 of them.
Yeah, that's right. My baby's a car. But aint just any car. She's a '78 Chev Camaro with custom everything. You name it, from her paint job to her tranny to her headlights. All custom designed by yours truly. She glows in the dark. Not in the conventional term, but at night, when there's so little light that you're trippin' over your shoes 'cause you can't see 'em, you look at her and can't help but notice. One second she's purple, the next she's black, the next she's green, and the next she's blue. The only way anyone can describe it is 'mysticolor', short for mystery color.
With all her purple accessories, you'll be hard pressed to figure out our favorite color. Yes, OUR favorite. My favorite because it's the only thing she looks good in. Her favorite because it's the only thing she looks good in. With the purple under-neons, purple light up spinners (16 inch), and reversible purple/white headlights, not to mention our flame kit(guess what color it spews?), people notice us.
Actually, people notice her. I'm just her… I guess you could call me her tamer. I keep her in check, make sure she breaks enough hearts.
But back to me.
I was filling out the paperwork from the insurance agency when I saw that they wanted a copy of my birth certificate. No biggie, my mom keeps all the important stuff(birth certificate, medical records, dental records, report cards, ect…) in a file cabinet in the corner. Opening up to the "J" section, I quickly flipped through to the back of my file and was surprised to find a stapled together packet of papers instead of the single paper that is my birth certificate. Ignoring the packet, I grabbed my certificate and put my still open file on the table.
Going to the computer, I scanned the piece of paper and soon had a copy of it coming out of the printer. I was waiting for the ink to dry when something caught my eye.
It was small, only two letters, but it destroyed my life as I knew it. CA. CA should not be anywhere on my birth certificate, especially in capital letters, because capital letters that happen to be CA mean California.
I couldn't move. I just sat there staring at the two little letters that I knew were about to ruin my life. Five minutes went by. Then ten. Then fifteen. As the twenty minute mark approached, I dared to look somewhere else on the paper.
Los Angeles.
That was written right before CA. Above that it said "City of Birth". That's when I knew she'd betrayed me. My own mother. According to her, I was born in Kirkland, Washington. A far cry from Los Angeles, California. Approximately a 36 hour drive if you do the speed limit and only stop to pee and eat.
I didn't look at the certificate anymore. It disgusted me. I already knew my mom lied about where I was born, I knew the rest of the paper was probably lies too.
Well, if the city I was born in was a lie… Curious, I went back to the table and looked at my file, still open to the packet of papers. I started at the top, got about 1 inch and knew what the rest was. In that small inch of paper I looked at was what I'd feared and, somewhere deep down, known for quite some time.
"American Adoption Agency".
Without even looking at the paper in my hand or in front of my face, I ran into my room. Grabbing my overly large and now unused backpack I started stuffing things into it. I started with clothes, enough to last me a week. Then in went my CD case which took up a lot of room, but left enough for whatever else I wanted to take. Next went nail polish(I have an unhealthy obsession with it), then what little makeup I keep in my room(most was in my car already), and what was left of my jewelery(also mostly in my car).
Looking around my room for anything I had missed, I thanked God for the fact that I was almost 18 and Mom pretty much let me come and go as I pleased so long as I called occasionally to let her know I was alive. Because of this, I keep most of my stuff in my car rather than drag it out every time I'm going to spend the night elsewhere.
Diving under my bed, I pried up the loose floorboard and took everything from under it. That consisted of several sizeable rolls of money and a large change jar. How did a 17 year old girl that still lives with her mother get almost twenty rolls of $5,000, you may ask? Simple. Every Friday night people pay me large sums of money for a ten second adrenaline rush.
OK, they don't exactly pay me, but they might as well. It's all the little rich boys who think they can race me in their little imports with a few grand in mods under the hood. They're naïve little pricks. I'm Queen of the Seattle streets. My baby and I are undefeated.
So, back to my story.
Turning off my light, I walked out of the room and down the hallway. Down the stairs. Out the front door. Straight to my baby.
I had to move fast, my mom and step-dad would be home from grocery shopping soon. Opening the trunk, I pushed my backpack in between one of my two sports bags that are stuffed with clothes and my bag with toiletries and makeup and stuff.
After closing the trunk, I went to the drivers' side door and unlocked it, getting in and starting Cam up. Yes, I named my car…
I pulled away from the curb with a screech of my tires. That was 35 minutes ago.
Now, I'm turning onto a street lined with houses on the outskirts of Redmond. Slowly, I go down the street, trying not to look into the houses and see all the happy families that I usually do. Getting to the third house from the end of the street, I pull into the driveway.
Cutting the engine, I get out –locking my door of course- and look up at the one story house. I can see a couple lights on, but just enough for one to be able to see their way around. Listening, I can hear music blasting and look down to see that all the basement lights are on.
I look back at the driveway. Yup, only one car besides Cam. Talk about heaven. I allowed myself a small smile thinking about the sight I knew I'd be greeted with.
:: Bad JJ, he doesn't see you that way!:: said the little voice in my head.
I'm thinking about Lenny of course. He's 25 years old, seven and a half years older than me, and my best friend in the world. He's also the guy I've been in love with since I met him when I was 14.
I'm taller than most girls, standing at 5 feet 8 inches, but Len absolutely towers over me, not to mention about every other person on the planet, him being 6'6" an' all. He has white-blond hair that he keeps at a length somewhere between too short and too long, usually spiking it out, and the most amazing eyes I've ever seen. They're such a bright crystal blue that they seem to glow violet at times.
Going around to the side of the house, I bound down the steps that lead to the basement door, knowing that he left it unlocked, since I didn't want to dig out my spare key that he gave me, and he was downstairs anyways. Slipping through the door, I found myself in a hallway. To my immediate right there's a staircase going up to the kitchen. To my left is a bathroom/ laundry room. At the end of the hall, there are two more doors. One led to a weight room, the other to a private recording studio. The weight room door is open, music and light blaring out.
Smiling, I start down the hall. As I approach the door, I suddenly remember why exactly I'm here and my smile vanishes instantly, replaced by a frown and eyes close to tears. Taking a deep breath, I took two more steps and found myself looking into the weight room, watching Lenny go at the punching bag suspended from the ceiling.
Without calling attention to myself, which I actually hate when the other person(s) isn't named Lenny (who's attention is the only I want anywhere near me), I watched him for a minute. All he had on was a pair of workout pants, riding low on his hips, showing off his perfect eight-pack and pecs, and don't even get me started on those arms…
As the last strains of Aerosmith's "Dream On" died away, Len stopped and turned around to grab his water bottle. Not looking up to see me, he started walking my way for a towel to wipe the sweat off with, much to my chagrin. I know I'm bad, but what's wrong with a girl wanting to see a totally gorgeous guy all hot and sweaty?
Spying the towel on a chair by the door I held it out to him. He took it with a quiet "Thanks" and started to turn around before realizing that there was someone else in the room and whipping back around so fast I think he almost hurt himself.
As he registered that it was just me, I hugged myself.
"J, what are you…" he trailed off, seeing me about to start crying and looking at the ground. "What happened? What's wrong?"
I couldn't answer him. Just thinking about it made a lump rise in my throat, constricting it. I sniffled and vainly attempted to hold back my tears.
Hearing me sniffle, he grew concerned. I know why. I never cry. Even when I was a baby I didn't cry a lot. I can remember the last time I cried vividly. It was the summer before I met Len, and my grandpa was in the hospital. He'd almost died three times in less than 24 hours.
But no matter how hard I tried to stop them, the tears just wouldn't stay. Once one escaped, they all went. In what seemed like no time at all I was shuddering, sobbing, trying to catch my breath, stop the tears. But I couldn't.
After standing in shock for a moment, Lenny reached out and drew me against his chest, hugging me, telling me it would be alright, that he just needed to know what happened and that he would kick the ass of whoever did whatever to me. Seeing he was getting nowhere, he slowly sat the both of us down so that he was cross-legged with me in his lap, my head on his shoulder, my arms around his waist.
Any other time I would be ecstatic to be in this position with him, but I'm not exactly thinking clearly.
Ten minutes later, my sobs had been reduced to sniffles, but Lenny was still holding me to him almost like he was afraid of losing me. I can understand that. He's never seen me show much negative emotion. Around him, and in my life in general, I'm a pretty content person. Not exactly happy or optimistic, but I'm not about to try and kill myself again. Yeah, again, but that's another story.
"JJ, what happened?" he asked again. Pulled against his chest, I could feel the vibration his voice made when he spoke.
I just sat there, trying to calm down. A minute later, I could tell he was about to ask again, and just cut him off.
"She lied to me." It barely came out at a whisper, but he heard me.
"Who, baby girl? Who lied?" he asked, reverting to his own little nickname for me.
"Mom." Again a whisper.
"About what?" I can hear surprise and confusion with a side of worry in his voice. I can understand that too. My mom and I are like best friends. I never really had many friends growing up, so I spent a lot of time with her. Neither of us could ever keep a secret from each other for long.
"About what?" Len asked again when I didn't answer.
"Me." Still whispering. Before he can press me more, I turned my head sideways so I could see his face, then I asked, "Can I stay here?"
He looked down at me surprised. "You don't even need to ask, you know that."
"Thanks," I said, yawning and closing my eyes.
"Let's get you to bed," Lenny said quietly, putting one arm around my back and the other under my knees then standing up. I could feel him stand up and start walking. A minute later, we walked into "my" room. It was really just one of the two guest rooms, but I keep clothes and toiletries in here because I've ended up crashing here more often than not over the last three years.
In the back of my mind, I'm thankful that I'm in clothes comfortable enough to sleep in, terrycloth shorts and a tanktop, because I don't have the energy to change as I'm already practically asleep.
Lenny put me down on the bed then pulled down the comforter and sheets for me to crawl under, which I did quickly, because my room is cold since I leave the window open unless I absolutely have to close it. I was just drifting off to dreamland when I felt Len kiss my forehead and hear him whisper "Sweet dreams, baby girl," before I went to sleep with a tiny smile on my face.