3.4: His Secret

WARNING: This post, though purely fictional, has some serious themes including matters of life and death. This chapter has some violence (or suggestions of). 

 Dear Reader Whom I'm calling  Steve/Stacy (take your pick),
   It's MEEE. I've changed my username from mfb426 to TheJanesLegacy (aka TJL, I may abbreviate) as well as created as new email address just for the Sims! Yay! Technically, this is a totally new account because I've got a totally new email address so my Sims 3 stuff and my personal, very buisness-y stuff aren't mixing! Let's over use exclamation marks! I'm a little excited as you, Steve/Stacy, can see.
   It all boils down to: I'm the same person, who's using a new Blogger account with the same profile pic/username. But my profile is like 265 times more awesome, so you should totally check it out. And, I don't want to give my real name out on the internet (hello weirdos),  so you can still call me by my username. As you can see, new username does not equal new sense of professionalism.  Now on with the chapter.
xoxo,
 TJL

New Username Q & A (Because I apparently love procrastination and should have just made this its own update, not at the being on a chapter).

Q: Wait, where the fruit cup is my chapter? You said "Now on with the chapter."
A: I exaggerated the truth for creative purposes. 
Q: You lied?
A: No! I....fine....one question then we'll get to the part you care about.
Q: How does you changing your username and email effect me?
A: It doesn't! =) Other than the fact that if you're a Sims 3-er on the website, then it's th...well you'd know if I needed you to.
Q: Can we get on with it?
A: Yep, you're welcome!  Without further ado......

   "Daniel!" She shrieked. "Where's my glitter eyeshadow? The black one?" She called out, from the bathroom.

   "Did you check the other bathroom?" I yelled. I was sitting on the couch- ehem, causeuse. Apparently if you date a French woman, aside from being gorgeous, the love seat must be called a French word no on but the French understand.  I had my laptop pit and a water bottle filled with vodka- Gabby was staring her first tour in a month and even after two years of dating I still needed the occasional drink, without her knowledge of course, to deal with Madame G- her other half.

   Her bedroom, despite the fact that we'd moved in together a year and a half ago was fluffy, feathery, and Pom-Pom pink. I was working on a standup comedy act to receive some extra money. I told her that. Really I'd been writing agendas for a friend.....he needed to know more about my girlfriend. I loved Gabs to death and would do anything for her; except maybe watch a Sex in the City marathon, but this was bigger than  her. Gabby was stuck in a rut with her singing career; her sweet teen Goth story didn't work so well at twenty and she was being replaced by a new, younger singer for teen girls to idolize. Twenty-something college students where becoming her audience and she didn't know how to sell it for them. Being the boyfriend to a pop star sucks. Don't get me wrong- it defiantly has its perks. Money, fame- I had become a D-lister just by admitting that I'd countlessly stuck it to a top of the charts celeb, but watching her flaunt around stage showing her boobs to other guys. Haha. Not a perk (though they where defiantly). Dating someone fifteen years younger that's clueless is fun when it comes to the bedroom. There isn't anything she isn't willing to try. I typed that up, all from a secret source, of course.

   "Babe, do you think I should dye my hair?"

   "Uh..." He long purple and turquoise hair had been Madame G's staple since the beginning. "You'd look fudging sexy as a red head." 

   "Red...?" She winced. Wrong answer. Sugar. 

   "Or pink. That might go over well."

   "Fabulous! Pink. Hold on." She went back into the bathroom, emerging another fifty minutes later with pale cotton candy hair. "Tada!"

   "I love it." I said, mustering as much enthusiasm as I could. Truthfully, I felt like I'd be banging the Easter Bunny's sister.

   "I need to talk to you." Fudge. What did Ido this time? "Danny, I love you."

   "I, I love you, too." I still had trouble saying that to her. She was so foolishly head over heels that she found the words out like they where nothing.

   "Daniel, where is this going?" 

   "What do you mean?" I rolled my eyes.

   "I...I know I'm twenty and talking about the future is probably insane to you...hence the eyes..." Sugar. She saw that? "But, I need to know."

   "Gabby. I'm not marrying you."

   "What the fudge?" Se shouted. "MARRY you? Where the hell did that come from? Besides, why not? What's wrong with me?"

-Gabrielle's Point of Views- 

   I waited for a reply. He knew his words where toxin, waiting to come back and poison him. "Ways wrong with me?" I replied, softer. He wasn't answering; I began panicking. Was I that bad? It was me, wasn't? Oh gawd, it was. Wasn't it? It had to be. "No, I'm sorry. Never mind. I'm sorry."

   "Gabby, I'm not upset. I just.... I don't want a relationship that turns to marriage and twenty years later I have a couple kids that you popped out and they're at college or holding our grand kids or whatever."

   "What? I asked, confused. "You don't want kids or marriage or what?"

   "I don't want marriage. At all. I'm sorry, but I never will. I love you, but I'm not someone who settles down quickly and spends twenty or fifty years with someone."

   "So am I just going to fade away? What, you get bored and move onto what a hotter eighteen year old with daddy issues? Is THAT it?!"

   "No, I like you but-"

   "Whatever. I was asking you to goon fudging tour with my."

   "Sugar. Sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar." He cussed. "I'm a fudging idiot. I fudging messed up and you're  fudging beautiful and I like you, but fudge and fudge."

   "Yeah. You messed up."

   "I DID NOT!" He reach forwards and slapped me. 

   "What the hell? You've been drinking!"

   "I haven't." I leaned forwards and kissed him."

   "I can fudging taste the vodka. Oui you fudging have. How can I trust you?"

   "What? I didn't mean to- I'm sorry. I love you."

   "Fine." I sighed. This was only the fifth time it happened and I never bruised. Five times in two yearswasn't  bad, right? Other than when he broke my arm...but that was an accident. I said I crashed my motorcycle. And he only dislocated my shoulder once...well, twice. but that didnt count. he slapped me five times and sent me to the ER six with broken limbs; two dislocated shoulders, a broken arm, each wrist broken, and my nose...but those didn't count. He couldn't control himself when he drank. "I don't know. I like you, but... I need to know that I'm not some girl toy you bang until I get old and want more then something that we have. Because I will. I'm messed up and an idiot and maybe I dye my hair insane colors to prove that I'm a rebel and maybe I want a tattoo... But I dowant a relationship where I can settle down. I want something real hidden from the paps that isn't this." 

    "Isn't this?" He gasped. There was what felt like hours but was really minutes, of awkward silence. "Are we breaking up?"

    "I don't want to." 

    "Did you say you want tattoos?" He asked.

    "Yeah." I sheepishly nodded. "They seem so cool...and I love the rebel chic stuff."

    "How about this," he got down on one knee, "Gabby Janes, Madame G, will you get a tattoo with me?"

    "Of course!" I giggled. "But you know, this is a commitment. It'll be there forever."

    "I will love you for a long time. I won't sign something for City Hall, but I will sign something in a shady basement of a stylist's office."

    "Thank you!" I shouted. I was excited; my parents hated tattoos. Was I doing this because I loved Daniel, or because I hated my parents? I secretly knew the answer, but I couldn't face it. I had to pretend I loved Daniel as much as he thought I did. He need the stability as much as I did. "What should we get?"

     "Nothing butterfly girly sugar."

     "Same tat, right?"

     "Same one, same place?"

     "Guess that rules out me getting it across my," I leaned in and whispered it in his ear. His eyes lit up.

     "Maybe you should get two. One there and one for us."

     "Nah." I shook my head. "You know, some guy would have to put it there. Truthfully I don't want a needle...there." 

     "It would still be sexy."

     "You bet." I raised my eyebrows, still clueless as to how this suductive suggestions worked. "Wanna see my body before I get inked? One last time?"

      "You know I do." He took me as we tumbled onto the couch. 

-Four hours later-

Gabrielle's Heart and Music Symbol. The heart represents their love, the music symbol the eternal life their love will have..... (something poetic like that).

Gabrielle's 'Tramp Stamp'

Daniel's Matching Heart and Music Symbol

   "Oh mi gawsh! Daniel!" I gasped. We had just gotten our tattoos and they looked fabulous.
  "They're great. Thank you." Daniel pushed a wad of cash into the nice, elderly tattoo artist's hand. "I can't believe you got a..."
   "Tramp stamp, I know." I giggled. We'd both gotten matching red hearts with music symbols of our right wrists, but only I had gotten a black floral spiral design on my lower back.
    "You look so hot." 
    "And you look so handsome."
    "Not as-" My iPhone burst into rings. 
    "Ugh." I glanced at the screen. My agent. "Hello? Mhm. Yeah. Okay, be there in five." I hung up and turned to Daniel. "I have to go. There's this benefit for Luv Not H8, an equal rights group. It's a great cause, you know the people we donated 10K to? Should I..."
    "You should go."
    "Really? I don't want to mess up our day."
    "I'm playing hooky from work, anyway. Boss thinks I have food poisoning, I wouldn't want to be caught out and about, especially by the paparazzi. Plus, the benefit will be great publicity. You need it, with your upcoming tour."
    "Okay...." I sighed. 
    "Can you do something for me?"
    "Sure."
    "Whatever the highest donation is, double it and donate that much."
    "Really?" I gasped. Daniel was so sweet, but I hadn't realized that he was this generous.
    "Yeah. I love charity, plus I got some extra funds stashed away from...a friend."
    "Fabulous!" I kissed his cheek, then exited the salon and quickly hailed a taxi home, so I could change.

-Daniel's POV-

   I'm lucky she didn't ask who the friend was. I wasn't ready to tell her and I don't think she'd support me; we'd probably breakup...or worse. I couldn't think of what the worse would be. "Hey." I called out to the girl who was sitting in the waiting room, a magazine hiding her face. She was clearly eavesdropping on Gabby and I. "You." She glanced around, nervously.
   "Oui?" She asked. Not another French woman; Gabby was enough of a handful.
   "Who are you? Tourist? Selling info to the paps? We're famous, but we still deserve privacy, you know."
    "Me, non," She said a word that sounded a lot like on-guh-lay.
    "What's that mean?"
    "Me, no English." She nodded, moving the magazine, standing up.
    "Seriously?"
    "Oui." She nodded. I noticed her French had a slight British accent.
    "Are you Britian? Seriously, lady, I'm a cop. A detective. DE-TEC-T-IIIII-VE. You understand? Or no ENGLISH? Seriously, quit the act."
    "Screaming at foreigners won't make us understand English." She rolled her eyes, then gasped. "Crap."
    "Guess your act is over."
    "Yeah...." She nodded. "Where you talking to Gabrielle? Gabrielle Janes?"
    "What?" Nobody knew Gabby's-Madame G's, real name. It was secret; sacred. "How do you know that? Who are you?"
     "Antoinette Bonaparle."
     "Bonaparle?" I tried remembering where I'd heard that name before. History class in high school? Marie, Pierre, Antoinette, Napoleon, Colette, and Bonaparle. Those where like the only six names the French had, right? "How do you know Gabs real name?"
      "Gabs?" She snorted. "She's changed. When I knew her, she would had slapped anyone who called her that."
      "When you knew her?"
     "I'm her sister, ignoramus."
     "Did you just insult me? In French!?"
     "You really are one. It's English, dummy. Ignoramus means idiot. Imbecile, dimwit, blockhead. You know? New York's Finest really aren't that fine, are they?" 
     "Are you a citizen? I can arrest you for expired visa, if you aren't."
    "I have a States citizenship, as well as a French one. Duel citizenship. I'm in England with a Uni visa."
    "So I can't arrest you. Sugar."
    "Seriously? Talking infront of a kid like that."
    "How old are you?"
    "Shall I just run through my back story? I'm eighteen. I just graduated from what you Americans call a snobby spoiled brat prep school. I'm going to a British university, that you probably should know the name of but don't. I'm triple majoring in business, science, and medicine."
    "Wait. You're the shy OCD kid Gabby talked about."
    "So she has mentioned me to her boy toy."
    "We've been dating for two years."
    "That's a suprise. Obviously she doesn't notice your intellect."
    "Why aren't you shy?"
    "Therapy. Look, my parents think I'm in Paris celebrating my birthday. I heard my sisters music in the airport and decided to come back to Bridgeport, instead. I'd like to apologize to her and invite her to England. She can stay with me when she comes to London. Mum and Papa miss her so badly. And Francois is sick, that's my papa. He caught a disease from the hospital. Mum's devastated. We need Gabrielle back; Papa wants to see her. Please, tell her. Can I come visit you guys? Or, I have a hotel."

    "No."

    "Huh?"

    "Non. Not gonna happen."

    "Why?!"

    "With Gabby, I have riches. Fame. I'm not an old, single, drunk alcoholic who bangs younger chicks. I'm cool and hip and was on the cover on fudging Celebs Luv Weekly!"

    "I'm finding Gabrielle! And gross. Seriously?"

    "You won't." I snarled. "Or you will regret it."

    "Wait, are we, five? I'm gonna go tell mommy. Please."

    "I will find you. I will hurt you." I whispered. "And don't go running to your boyfriend and send him to hurt me."

    "I'd say no promises, but honestly, it won't be a problem. I swear, my boyfriend won't come after me."

    "Good."

    "No promises about my girlfriend, though. We take martial arts together and we both have an issue with people who mess with us. We can seriously kick your bloody as-"

     "I will kill you." I grabbed her and whispered in her ear. "I have done it before and I have got away with it. I will hunt you down and I will kill your mother and father, your girlfriend and you, and anyone who you like. I will get away with it. Got it? I've been free two and a half years. I work for the police. The file is missing and nobody knows. Don't mention a word. Don't think, don't breath. I have sources and I will follow you and I will find you."

     "Uh-huh." She quickly nodded. Good. I'd scared her. I'd have to be quiet about the murder thing; Gabs didn't know she was donating my murder money to charity. 

     "Now, think we can get along?" I tried kissing her.

     "I'm a lesbian." She screamed. "You can keep me away from my sister and threaten me, but I will never cheat on my girlfriend. And I'm eighteen, perv." She turned away from me, moving her hips as she sauntered away. 

      "See you in Paris." I smugly shouted at her. She didn't turn to look at me and instead gave me the finger. 

      "In your dreams." She hailed a taxi and sped away. 

      I sat in the waiting room chairs, nervous. Someone knew I murdered someone. She didn't know who, but if she thought back she could figure it out. It wouldn't be that hard. There wasn't that many murders in Bridgeport anyway. Thank goodness I'd scared away the girl. She thinks she's all that, but damn did I put her in her place. Now she just needed to keep my secret. My phone rang, quietly.

      "Hello?"

      "Is it done?"

      "No. I talked to the sister, though."

      "Good. We have a change of plans." 

      "What?"

      "Two nights from now. Go to," He gave me an address. "Your girlfriend will have a gig there."

      "She will?" 

      "Don't ask questions. Rule number one. You knew that."

      "Yes, ma'am."

     "You two will fight. Be drunk, preferably. She'll probably forgive you. Try and keep it nonviolent. Scream about how this isn't working and how you love her. Maybe get her tipsy, not drunk but a shot of tequila or something. Understand? I will be there, watching. Because I'm the head of Bridgeport's hospital, I will be the comforting arm for her once you two fight. We will get into my car and we will drive to her house. Once we are there, I will liquor her up more and slip her diet pills. It will look like suicide. Once she's taken the pills, I will come back to the club and talk to you. We will be each other's alibi. I can pull some strings and get you in the military ASAP and shipped off to the Middle East. Really, we'll just have you hideout in a shady Mexican city. Maybe we'll just go for LA. Plastic surgery and money will take you far. Nobody will know."

      "Why are we doing this to her?"

      "Did I say ask questions?"

     "No, ma'am."

     "Her grandmother is dead. Natural causes, couldn't help it. Her mother is in England. Besides, a two star celebrity that's Local Phenomenon a will get much more attention. She has nobody. I will finally be able to get my revenge die in peace."

     "You're dying?!"

     "The werewolf curse is painful, son. Her grandmother ruined my life by getting herself pregnant. My marriage was ruined. I have lived just for revenge. Did you know, all those years ago, I drugged dear Johnny? The man, turning from a sweet, loving husband to an abusive husband...it was me. Did Alyce know? Of course not...I need revenge. Alyce moved away and married a rich, rich man...his wealth has lasted so, so long. Two days I will get my revenge. I will be dead within the next week, faking a heart attack. Everyone believes I'm seventy-two, anyways. It isn't a problem."

      "Thanks you, Di-"

      "Do not say my name. I am the wolf. You may call me W, but do not dare say my human name."

      "Yes, W."

      "Are you ready?"

      "I..." I paused. I loved Gabrielle. This started out perfectly, murder him, then hookup with her. I never imagined it going this far. "I am." I sealed my fate. Her fate. Two days time and Gabrielle Janes will be nothing but a sad story of the Goth girl who was estranged from her parents and had no one but fame. I was ready.

      "Good." She hung up. I was ready. My love was dead to me.