I find it kind of funny that the one reviewer that I've gotten so far only really acknowledged Jade's last name without looking at her parent's last names. Just a thought.
"Holy shit!" Jade said, staring at her father's name.
"What?" asked Len, thoroughly confused.
"My dad. He was an up and coming racer on the NIRA circuit, until Kenny Linder clipped him and sent him into a wall at a buck-twenty a few years back. That would mean my older brother is Dom Torretto, King of the LA racing scene. Wow." Jade answered, thinking about all she'd heard about Dominic Torretto… or her brother apparently. She knew he was fast, undefeated to this day but that was on wimpy Quarter-mile straight-aways, and he was something of a player, but was unendingly loyal to his long-time girlfriend, Letty Rodriguez. Jade could understand how that works, being loyal while still playing the field. She'd always be in love with Lenny, but that doesn't mean she would remain celibate until he pulled his head out of his ass and saw what was right in front of him.
"So, do you recognize your mother's name from anywhere?" Len asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"Her last name, yeah. Brian O'Conner. He was the cop on that case about a year and a half ago, you know, the truck jackings? Wonder if I'm related to him…" Jade was silent for a moment. "I'm not really up to facing everyone, so I don't think I'll go to the allnighter. You can go, but I not going to."
"No way I'm going without you. You're the only thing that keeps me sane through them. I like kids an' all, but that many ten year olds, all night, without you there for comic relief? No thanks." Len said.
"Then you might wanna call Todd, he'll wait for us otherwise," I told him. As he reached for the cordless phone on my beside table(there was one in every room), I got up and started putting the things from my backpack away. 'I am getting really tired of this, and it won't end for quite awhile, of that much I'm sure… one of the only things I'm sure about. God, I miss my boys. They'd know what to do.' I thought as Len got off the phone and we went into the living room to watch a movie.
$#$# A month and a half later, December 19th, 2002 #$#$
I'm at home doing nothing. It's Friday night, thus Len is at Chop Suey and won't be home for a few hours yet. Normally I'd be at races right now, but they were postponed until tomorrow because it'll double as the Seattle Underground's "Birthday Party For The Queen" as it had been dubbed two years ago, when I busted on to the underground scene. There was always almost three times the people there for my birthday party than normal race days because the whole underground saw me as royalty.
See, the underground around here is kinda weird. Instead of one King or Queen, there are sub-sections that all have their own set of royalty(king, queen, prince, princess, ect…). Each set of royalty is almost literally considered royalty among the rest of our little world. We know about everything that happens, have a say in some way or another, and people bow to our every whim.
I'm lucky that they don't stick the Holidays' Party with mine too, since my birthday is only five days before Christmas, but they tend to plan that closer to New Years, mostly to assure that all holidays are over and can all be celebrated at the same time as New Years. I'm actually petty excited this year about my party, my 16th and 17th were both on Fridays, so Lenny could never come, but he is this year. I'm excited, but also a bit unsure about Len coming, he's never seen me around my racer friends. And this year, I'm gunna let my hair down. It's pretty amazing that Len has never seen me "in my natural habitat" as he calls it. Point 1 is the king band of the underground music scene.
I talked to my mom the other day. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. We talked everything out, and, though we aren't nearly as close as we were, our relationship is on the road to recovery. It's a slow process, but I just can't trust her as easily knowing she lied to me my whole life.
Work is going well, but it's a bit difficult for it not to go well. I'm a mechanic. And a bookkeeper. And a waitress, apparently, since the guys are unable to get their own food or drinks. When Mr. Jameson got sent to jail, the garage went to Jess, but him and Le skipped town pretty quick afterward, leaving the garage in my name, even though I was underage. I was devastated when they left. Those boys were my first, and my last, crew. My team. I haven't heard from them since they left, when I was 12 actually, except for when they sent me Cam (a battered and bruised Cam, but still Cam) for my 14th birthday. On my birthday, it just showed up at the garage one day with a note taped to the steering wheel that said, "Happy Birthday, Love, Your Boys". I know where they are, it wasn't exactly that hard to find them. I'm just too stubborn to contact them. If they don't want to have anything to do with me, then fine, they can have it their way.
'Ya, know, they're on Team Torretto, maybe I should just go down to LA, you know, two birds, one stone…' It wasn't a bad idea, but I don't want to come back to see some chaser-turned-wannabe in my place.
'I think too much' I thought, going in to get ready for bed. I have a long day tomorrow. First Mom wants me out there for a birthday breakfast, then I go to Todd's for a birthday brunch, then I have my annual party at Hooter's with all my friends (not a lot of those) for lunch, and after that I need to get ready for my big party, which I'm sure at least one-third of north-western Washington will be attending. All the presents… Actually, most people don't even get me presents. I get either cash or gift cards. Some CD's, several sets of car keys, some 'hot, new designer clothes' that I'll never wear most of, and some other miscellaneous stuff, but all that is from the other royalty or my close friends. Generally, I keep the CD's, sell the clothes I don't like on Ebay, and use the money to supe up the cars then sell them, and use the gift cards wherever they're from.
-- 7:00 the next morning --
I woke up to find Lenny sitting on my butt, since I sleep on my stomach, using my hair to tickle my lower back. "OK, I'm up, can you please move now?"
"Why would I want to do that?" Lenny asked, grinning evilly.
"Because, I don't care how heavy you are, I can still beat your ass. Plus, you won't get any food until I'm dressed, ready for the day, and at Mom's house," I told him matter-of-factly. Yes, I know that 'factly' isn't actually a word.
Hearing the words 'no food', Len jumped off me and ran out the door, closing it behind him, and yelling "Well, hurry up! We haven't got all day!"
Getting up, I snorted and grumbled "men and their food" under my breath. Taking my hair out of it's braid, I brushed it and began the painful process of cornrows. At least I only do them about three inches back on my head, I wouldn't be able to stand it otherwise. I had to stop pretty often to brush out the ends of my hair to keep it from becoming a rat's nest.
Thirty minutes later, I was looking at my clothes (all of which, except two changes that I keep in my car, are now in my room at Lenny's) trying to pick something that I could wear to all occasions and be appropriate and comfortable. It was a hard choice, but I made it. My Levi 518's (superlow, bootcut) and a black boatneck Harley Davidson shirt with my Mary-Jane-gone-punk chunky heels, and a black suede jacket. It fit the criteria. Comfortable around the Fam, conservative for the Pastor, tight enough for Hooter's, and then I be coming home to "get ready" for my party, but all I'm really going to do is re-apply makeup and perfume after checking Cam over.
Putting silver hoop earrings in my bottom holes, and a silver, ornate cross on a black cord around my neck, I stuffed the rest of my jewelry into one of my coat pockets before putting my wallet in my back pocket and hooking the chain to one of my front belt loops. Looking around, I quickly put my cell phone in a pocket and strung a leather, Indian-style decorated belt through the loops on my jeans. Making sure I have everything, I leave the room, not bothering with bringing makeup, since I kept the essentials in my car (eyeliner, mascara, lip gloss, the only things I'd have to touch up throughout the day).
Walking into the living room, Lenny jumped up saying "About time." He then pulled me over to the windowsill and sat me down. "Now I can give you your presents!" He looked so much like a little kid at Christmas that I couldn't help but laugh.
He reached under the tree by the window and pulled up three wrapped boxes. I automatically identified one as a jewelry box, but the other two could be anything. "The big two are from the whole band. Open mine first!"
So I did. And I found a beautiful chain bracelet encrusted with diamonds. "No, it's too much, take it back!" I said, shoving the box at Len.
"No, you won't spend any more than you have to on yourself, so someone has to spend money on you," he said, pushing my hand back toward me. I sighed, knowing he wouldn't relent on this.
"Then at least help me put it on," I asked, holding the box in my left hand and exposing my right wrist for him to put the bracelet on. "Thank you," I said when he was done, then leaned over and gave him a huge hug.
"No prob, now open the other two," he said, shoving the boxes my way.
Picking up the top one, I tore the paper off then took the lid off. Inside, there was an assortment of things. There was four more chains to attach to my wallet, all different lengths, several pictures in silver frames, mostly of her and the band, a couple of her with singular people or by herself, then there was a gift card to a local tattoo and peircing place, "Holes 'n Stains". Chuckling, I put the card in my wallet, attaching the chains at the same time, then set the box aside to put the pictures up later.
Opening the other box, I saw two packets of papers. As I looked through the first page of the top packet, my jaw dropped. I looked at Len and asked "Is this for real?"
"Yep," he answered, grinning broadly. In a move very unlike me (with my hair up), I squealed loudly and practically tackled poor Lenny. The band got a contract with Sony. They would be shooting a video after the first of the year. And they wanted me to be in it! Considering it was my favorite song on my favorite CD I was willing to risk national recognition. "Read the other one," he told me after a minute.
This packet of papers I'm not so happy about. It's a recording contract from Sony. For me! Glaring at Lenny for a moment, I turn to the back page to read the fine print. When I was done, I flipped to the back page of the first packet and read the fine print there. Calmly closing both packets and putting them back in the box, I set them on the floor with the box of pictures. At that point, I turned to Len and saw an anxious expression on his face. He had good reason to be anxious. I smacked him upside the head, pretty hard too. "What the fuck?! Putting that little loophole in there? What were you thinking?!" I yelled, waving my arms about wildly.
That's what I read in both fine prints. If I didn't agree to my contract, Point 1 loses theirs. If I even got the contract at all, that means Lenny played my CD's for a rep from Sony. If that loophole was put in both contracts, Lenny had played my music for the band as well. The rep I can handle, the band… not so much.
Not giving him a chance to explain, I asked, "What song did you play them?"
"Forgiveness" Len said quietly. Apparently he'd been expecting worse. "Forgiveness" is a song questioning organized religion done in a similar style to System of a Down's "Chop Suey".
"'Least it's one of my better ones," I say, sighing. I rub my eyes, then decide to let it drop for now. "Let's go." I say, grabbing my keys from the table by the door.
