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.

3.3 Part One: Rising Star

      I laid in bed, curled up in a ball, crying. The empty wine bottle was on my nightstand, along with the others. A notepad with depressing poems scrawled across it was on the coffee table. I felt alone. My cell phone beeped as I rolled out of bed, changing into a sweatshirt and shorts, throwing my hair into a bed. I hadn't tried much on my looks, lately. He was gone. It didn't matter what I looked like anymore; nobody cared. My phone beeped again, persistently. Who ever was texting me obviously had something to say.

    I glanced at it. My therapist. Former therapist. It was late May; I was legal. I had completed high school and in the process of doing so, I was assigned grief counseling. An overly friendly middle aged lady with a bad dye job and too much pink blush had helped me. I wasn't depressed; not clinically. I had good days and bad days. Today wasn't a good one. 'But that doesn't mean it has to be bad! Only one person can make it good. You.' Her artificial advice rang through my brain. I hated the sessions. Once I graduated, I quit. 

     The therapist helped me secure a steal on a gorgeous home and helped me sell my parent's; it was legally mine, after all. She printed me a business cards for my new sing-o-gram business and even  helped me secure a stream of business. Apparently, I was a rather popular recommendation at the floral shops and little trinket shops.
I didn't understand why she kept texting me, though. I was rising, status wise. People where calling me a 'Talented Amateur'. I'd even released my first single, Addict.

Therapist: G, potential gig @ the park! U should try out :) And remember, happiness is a choice. If you want to be happy, push all the negativity away.

Me: Gr8...

Therapist: U will do fine :D Happiness and love is want the universe wants for you.

Me: I'll try.....but....

Therapist: What?

----

     "I told her not to text me again." I shrugged.
     "Why?!" My mother gasped. "She seemed so nice."
     "Yeah...it's just- she was so...she tried running my life. Like a..."
     "Mom."
     "Yeah." I sighed.
     "Gabby, Gabby, Gabby." She sighed, resting her head on her hand. She'd never called me Gabby before.
     "Please don't..."
     "Another nickname only a certain member of the male community can call you?"
     "Yes...."
     "G, Madame G, Gabby, Elle- did any of your boyfriends call you by your actual name?"
     "One did." I defensibly said.
    "One."
    "Mom!"
    "Just continue, sweetie."

----

     After using some choice words to tell crazy therapist hippie chicka to stop texting me 24/7, deleting her number, and blocking her I changed into some of my clothing that I loved (A couple people thought it was just to help promote my rebel Goth chick image; but it wasn't. It was me.)

----

    "Then?"
    "I'm getting there, mom. I went to the park to audition."
    "And?"
    "Well...."

----

    "Congratulations! Your audition was fabulous. You can have your big coming out show and do the first live performance of your single! And-"

----

     "You got it?"
     "Yes!" I said, smiling. "My first gig-well, first I'd show up too...after...." I remebered my failed New Year's Eve gig after....J-his death. I had coped. As I looked back on it all, so long ago, I couldn't help but feel a little sad, so long ago...but still my first love. Having that feeling that someone cares about you and loves you, even when they aren't required to, is the best in the world.

----

     "Ladies and gentleman, give it up for Madame G, preforming her new single Addict!"
     I stepped onto the stage, in my uniform. I instantly regretted it. Madame G didn't dress like a cheap bellhop. She was a star. She-I dressed like I wanted. Next performance I would. The crowd irrupted in cheers as I began strumming my guitar.

I don't love ya baby 

Oh, la di da ah  hey-ey-ey 

So go away, if I say-ay-ay

Mayb-ay-ay we could try again

Not that it'll keep us from fallin' back to the start

     I looked up, at the crowd,  after I finished singing. They where silent. I nervously took a bow and stepped off stage.

     "Madame G?" A blonde lady walked up to me.

     "Yeah?"

     "Excuse me, but your performance was- hm, great darling. Great. I was wondering if you'd like to preform at the cafe. Friday and Saturday night."

     "Of course!"

     "But, you need a new song. The crowd's heard addict. It's months old. We need new. We need fresh. Madame G: Double Feature. Two new songs in two days."

     "I think I can do that."

     "Great! And G,"

     "Yes?"

     "Maybe something less I-work-at-a-hotel. Kay?"

     "Got it." I nodded, as she walked away.

     I had a gig. Now all I had to do was write a song.

Thank you so much for 3,000 and 4,000 views! I know it's been awhile since I've posted, but life has gotten really dumb and decided to try and mess things up....I hope you guys understand. Part Two (maybe three) is coming soon. I promise, I have a little extra I think you'll enjoy for part two! Or at least, I hope you do! I worked really hard on both! =)

3.2: Abandonment?

     It had been exactly one year since I started dating Jason. A year since my relationship with my family grew rocky. School wasn't in; it was a Saturday. A guilty piece of me was tugging on my emotions to go see them. So I did.

    As I stood outside the gates, confusion overwhelmed me. Boxes, a moving van- what was happening? I saw my mom and went over to her, slowly. What to say?

    "Hey, mom." I guess that.

    "Gabrielle?!" She gasped, her eyes full of pain.

    "What's going on?" 

    "Dad and Antoinette are in England...we decided....after you left, we reported you a runaway to the police. They shrugged it off; a rich girl, bound to come home after she realizes what harshness makes up the real world. We waited....we lost hope. Antoinette  needs us. We're moving to England."

    "Wha-"

    "We tried. You didn't want us."

    "I was a dumb teenager....I-"

    "I love you. Francois and I have decided to give you the property and home. Sell it, remodel, whatever. Antoinette's changed her last name to Bonaparle, so we'd all have the same last name....well....Gabrielle, I love you." Her voice filled with emotion. "But I don't know if you do." She climbed into a truck and drove away.

     "I DO!" I yelled. I sat on the ground, crying. I truly lost my family, now. They where all away. All away. Who was I? Gabrielle Janes. Alone.

     The movers finished packing boxes and left, one by one. Soon it was dark and I was crying on the front lawn. 

     "G? Madame G?"

     "Jason...my parents moved to England."

     "G..." He hugged me and helped me stand. 

     "Let's go inside...Jason, do you wanna mob here? My parents gave me the property...."

     "Sure." He whispered. "Of course. We walked inside. The rooms where bear. A TV left in the losing room, the counters and cabinets in the kitchen, my basement room was left untouched. Upstairs, my parents room had nothing. What use to be a gorgeous room was now empty. The study empty, Antoinette's room had nothing. The house felt hollow. Finally, I walked down to me old room. 

      "No!" I gasped. "No, no…" They'd taken my old room, along with the hall way and turned it into a laboratory. This wasn't even my room any ore; I was surprised they left the basement untouched, but it still stung. They replace it. Replaced me.

      "Wha-oh."

      "They replace me!" Look how easily they replaced me!"

      "They didn't replace you."

      "But-"

      "Gabrielle, maybe it was too painful for them. They had to move on, because of the hole you ripped in their hearts. They love you, and you ran away."

       "I love you....they...I love my family." I suddenly realized it. 

       "I was going to wait, but now seems as good a time as any other."

       "What, Jason?"

       "Gabrielle Janes, Madame G, G. I've known you for two years. We've dated for one. You make my life happier and I cherish every moment."

       "What's going on?"

       "G....I love you. More then anything I've ever loved before." 

       "I love you, too. Seriously what's-"

       "G. I know it's rushed, I know we're only seventeen, I know I don't have a ring but-"

      "Ring? Wait-oh my gawsh!" Realization hit me.

      "G, will you marry me?"

      "Yes! Yes!" I screamed, hugging him.

      "When you turn eighteen....I don't have a ring, but I'll work for one. G, I've been thinking since that day....I love you. I don't want to have to postpone all the happy moments. I love you and that's all I really know."

       "Yes, yes, yes!" I gasped; in shock.

----

    "He PROPOSED
?"

   "Yes..." I felt a little piece of me become overwhelmed with sadness.

   "Did you marry him?"

   "We never got the chance...." I whispered, nearly crying. 

----

  

      Nothing had changed in the past few months, after his proposal. We don't know why the hell we where getting married. Legal benefits? We where poor and didn't have any friends that weren't hiding from drug lords or some other sugar in the WPP or family that wasn't dead or who'd left, leaving no address or wphone number or email address, to live in some foreign and scarf down bangers and mash, crumpets, and tea in little China cups. We couldn't afford a ceremony; who would attend? We decided on going to the court house, me in a black dress, him in a tux. We could pretend like life wasn't fudged  up for a few minutes, make out in front of a judge and witness, end up doing it in the judge's chambers, run like hell from security, and go back to life.

       It was happy, in a sugary way. Until New Year's. Everything began falling together, and apart that day. There was nothing I could do to keep it from falling down, around my ears. Nothing. 

       I was singing in my PJs, spinning around the living room. School was out for break, Jason was at work. Eleven a.m. In my PJs. This was living. This was happiness. I had the home; it was legally mine plus buckets of cash raining down on me once I turned eighteen. I had sung at a holiday concert for the humane society, and I'd been tipped generously; I wouldn't have to work until New Year's Eve, which was tonight, starting at ten.

      "La, la, la." I hummed. "Da, dee, da, la, la." I was attempting to write my own song, for the party. While singing on a street corner in front of a party wear house, a frazzled lady with glasses, a  tight bun, and pants suit passed by, gabbing on a cell.

      "Yes, ma'am. No, no. They-yes. They quit. Today-I. Yes. I know. No, no! I love this job. No. Not a problem. Consider it done." She snapped her gum and pulled her iPhone away from her ear, throwing it in a knock off designer purse. "What am I going to do?"

      "Uh, are you talking to me?"

      "Duh, guitar girl. Here." She threw a fifty at my feet. 

      "Thanks!"

      "Boss' money. She won't miss it."

      "Thanks."

      "Do you preform? Because I need something new, something fresh for the New Year's Eve party tomorrow."

       "Um, like at venues? I do, I defiantly do."

       "Great. Look, honey, I work for stars so famous, you don't even know they exist. I need something cool. The band quit. Ya got an agent?"

        "No....I'm independent."

        "Fabulous. You got a name?"

         "Gabrielle."

         "Gabrielle? Hmm....can I sell it? You got anythin' better? A stage name?"

         "Madame G."

         "I like it. You French?"

         "Half."

          "Perfect. I can sell the rising French beauty who'll be singing her brand new, first single ever at the party. I can work with that. How old are you?"

          "Seventeen."

          "Not legal yet....when do you turn eighteen?"

          "Five months."

          "We can work with that. Avoid the vodka and don't sleep with the boss' fiancé, boyfriend, or stylist, oh, or butler, best friend, and ex-hubbie and we're good."

           "I'm engaged."

           "Honey, you're a kid. You are not engaged. You're the cute rebel who every high school guy wants. That's what I'm selling to the boss. Good?"

           "Oui."

           "Perfect. Now, if you do want to play around, I suggest a scotch and the cutie twenty-one year old male model turned corporate giant. Money, looks, and he really can't hold his liquor. He won't even remember you. Unless, you're into the whole gal thing. Try wine and the waitress. With the black dyed orange hair and pierced n-"

           "I'm not-"

           "Just, wear something cute. Be there by ten." Se scribbled an address on a gum wrapper and handed it to me. "I have the BEST thing ever!" We was back on her cell phone. "The Jo-no, no. Better. Please, we aren't in elementary school. You'll love it. Half French, Goth-punk, teenager. She's got the voice-yes, she's ready. I figured half-a third? Hmm...we could do half up front, and half later." She turned to me. "A third the band got, with half for your outfit and half tomorrow night. If you puke on the rug, we'll take that half and ruin your career. You get," She scribbled a number with more zeros than my last name and a huge one in front."

          "I'll take it!"

          "Good."

      No back at home, struggling to come up with a song. La la la. "That's it!" I stopped dancing and ran to my basement room, sitting on the bed with a notebook and guitar.

La, la, oh, di, da

Can't keep telling me baby

Cause I love ya

It's time that we finally 

Decide to get our own lives

Mine's sitting on the porch

Wonderin' where I went

You stole me away from who-o-o I am-m-m

Baby I keeping buying you

And I can't keep myself from saying that I'm busy lovin' you

I don't love ya baby 

Oh, la di da ah  hey-ey-ey 

So go away, if I say-ay-ay

Mayb-ay-ay I won't let the needle in

To keep the pain away from no end

Not that it'll keep us from fallin' back to the start

Singing songs and lovin' the enemy 

You hypnotize me, can't I say

Now as you melt away into my veins

Pulsing through my brains

Why-y-y-y can't you see

I'm an addict through and through

Met and stopped and stared

Not believing what needle just pierced our skin

Oh baby, hey-ey-ey can't we just stay away

But I keep pulling and you're pushing and now we're sitting stuck without the perfection

I don't love ya baby 

Oh, la di da ah  hey-ey-ey 

So go away, if I say-ay-ay

Mayb-ay-ay we could try again

Not that it'll keep us from fallin' back to the start

Kiss me slowly

As I slip away to another world

Where we can love each other 

Without poisoning our lives

But we can't stop, cause it's toxic

And I'm addicted

I just need a last line, to finish the song. I remembered something my mother told me once, about her writing. "Rebellious sells. People love you, people hate. They talk and scream. When they don't know what you really mean, they need more and they need a definate answer. They make one up and argue how they're right. It makes you popular and that, on its own, is priceless." This is what I wanted. Something daring to make me popular; give me fame. Something people disliked on principal and something over thought. I turned on the television and sat on the couch, thinking.

    "-oung boy, estimated to in between sixteen and twenty, was found dead this morning. According to authorities, he's been dead approximately twelve hours. I turned my attention to the middle aged news anchor who was talking about a murder. It wasn't unheard of, but it wasn't common either. "The victim has been identified. As-" My heart stopped. Jason's limp, bloodied body was in my gigantic television screen. Jason. Dead? No. No. This is a prank. A joke. No. No. "Police are saying that the victim was out late last
night and was killed in a gang shoot out. They warn Bridgeport citizens to stay away from the shipping ports and loading docks, a common gang hang out during the night. This is Bridgeport News, with this special live report. Good afternoon and if you have any information regarding the victim, Jason, a seventeen year old senior call the police at," Jason. Dead? No. No. I began crying and grabbed my cell phone. 

      "Hello? Yes-es-s it's Madame G. I-I ha-ave to can-ce-cel. I know it-t's las-t-t min-ute bu-t I hav-v-e family issues. I understand. Really?" She hung up. I'd been offered a deal to publish my single.

Kiss me slowly

As I slip into another world

Where we can love each other 

Without poisoning our lives

But we can't stop, cause its toxic

And I'm addicted

Now that you're gone

Now that you're gone

I love you more than an-n-ny-thang 

But I can't let myself give in

Now that you're gone

I have to mo-oo-oo-ve right on

Without you 

Without y-o-o-ou-u

     People could say it's about drugs. A really bad relationship that you can't get out of. A really good one that steals your personality away. Depression. Grief. Emotions that swallow you whole. Anger. It's confusion and not knowing how to feel, but knowing you're suppose to feel something. Not nothing. I felt empty inside; hollow. I felt something. And it resembled pushing my emotions away and hiding them. I'd see a thearipist for a few months, but recover later. I'd release my debut single. I'd recover. But right now, I felt nothing. And it was horrible.

   

3.1: Shattered Trust and a Mended Heart

       I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. Silence filled the empty room as the cool April night over took the world. Jason and I had been dating for seven months, in secret. My parents knew of my love for music and I would always make up things I had to go to. Music Club twice a week to practice my guitar and vocals, a performance at a park maybe, and rehearsal with the Glee club that our school didn't even have. Tutoring the other day. I only went to Music Club on Mondays and Wednesday because I needed practice. I couldn't do it at home. It was too odd; everything else, however was code for seeing Jason. We'd meet at the the docks or shipping storage units. Never my home. Never his. I knew lying wasn't the way to build trust, but after the night in September and my fight with mom i didn't really care if they trusted me or not. My relationship was tense with her, and I didn't have a much better one with dad. At least I had Jason. Now that school was out, though, it was getting harder to see him in private.

     "Gabrielle!" I heard Antoinette's high pitched shrill voice pierce the silence. "Mom and I are driving to the airport. We'll be back day after next." Antoinette had an interview at a private English school. Nothing in the States was prestigious enough; suited her tastes. With every school from Boston to New Hampshire to  Denver to LA begging her attendance (and my parent's money) she needed something actually worthy of her attendance, according to her smug britches. Smugworth Prep mumble-jumble-whatever was the best private academy available to her intelligence level. Having made things easier, as well. "G'bye!"

      The garage door sounded and I heard the car open. It was six o'clock. Dad would still be at work; he always was. I grabbed my cell phone  and dialed Jason's number. 

      "Hey." I smiled, hearing his voice.

      "Hey, sooo, um, I was wondering…" I asked, growing nervous.

      "What?"

      "I have the house to myself…do you wanna....you know." Why couldn't I just ask him? 

      "Wait, are you-"

      "Oh my gaw-NO! Not that I wouldn't with you, wait, I mean I'm not like-not a slut-I mean just to talk. I-none of that…I wanted to see you. See, I'm a virgin and you where my first kiss and I should shut up." I ended up babbling like an idiot. I just wanted to see him. To talk to him. Not, like do it. The other line was silent. "Jason?"

      "You where my first kiss, too." He whispered. "I'll come over." 

      "Great. I live," I rambled off my address. 

     A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I ran downstairs and answered the d

     "Hey." I smiled at him. He greeted me with a kiss. I stood in my sneakers on my tippy toes. He was taller than I was.

      "You look great." I glanced down at my outfit and blushed. I was wearing a tank top and some shorts I usually reserved for my  gym class clothing or PJs. 

      "Thanks. Do you want something to drink or something?"

      "Sure." He followed me to the kitchen. 

      I glanced in the fridge. Milk, OJ, and cherry Kool-Aid. "Let's see, milk, orange juice, or Kool-Aid. Or, I could make coffee. Or-" I rambled and blushed some more.

      "Madame G." He smiled, saying his little nickname for me. "Don't worry about me."

       "I know, I know. Wait. I know." An idea sparked. I walked to my parent's wine rack that was concealed in a cabinet. "1932 antique French-words-I-can't-pronounce." I poured us each a glass and handed him his. 

       "I've never drank alcohol before." He admitted. 

       "Neither have I." Suddenly feeling less daring. I sat on one of the counters that had a China cabinet above it. Jason leaned on the one next to me. "So…" We both took a deep breath and took a sip. The liquid seeped down my throat. I didn't care much for the last, but it made me feel more adult so I drank. I grabbed the bottle as Jason took my torso in his arms. I leaned my head back, letting him kiss my neck as I held the bottle up and poured the wine down my throat. I tried setting the bottle down and moving my legs so they where also on top of the cabinet. "Sugar!" I cussed, as my head hit the China cabinet, causing a plate to crash and the wine to spill on Jason's shirt. "Sorry!" I gushed. 

      "It's fine." 

      "Here." I maneuvered his shirt off, leaving his chest bare. I wanted him so badly; to rip the rest of his clothing off and proceed to turn our make out session into something else, with my body pressed against the wall. I threw the shirt aside and hopped off the counter. "Come on," I gestured for him to follow me upstairs. I lead him to my bedroom.

      "G." He said, as I tried to pull him onto my bed. "I think you're drunk." 

      "I am not!"

      "Not know, then. Later."

      "You are the only guy ever to turn down sex." I sighed.

      "Silly." He laughed, taking me in an embrace as we began kissing each other in the center of the room.

      "Oh!" I gasped.  I guess we're doing it French… I felt stupid beyond compare. You are half French. And he's a damn good kisser. I began returning the kisses, letting my body be pressed against his abs.

    "Gabrielle?!?!" I heard a voice scream. Fudge. Fudge, fudge, fudge. My father was home from work early. "And-?"

     "Um, hi dad." I said, pulling away from Jason. "This is, uh, Jason." 

     "Hello, sir." He stuck out his hand. Dad didn't shake it.

     "Gabrielle, would you care o explain why there's a half naked man in your bedroom."

     "Um, see, he spilled  wiiiiii- Kool-Aid on his shirt. So he took it off." Telling him about the wine would only make it worse.

      "I saw the wine. Don't lie." He turned to my boyfriend. "You. What did you do with my daughter."

      "Uh, we kissed…we didn't do it. I mean I wouldn't uh-

      "Are you implying that you're to good for my daughter?"

      "No-not that I'm better than her- well, we uh um-"

      "Are you calling her a slut?!" Smoke was practically coming out of his ears.

      "No, she isn't easy at all-er- not that she's hard. I wouldn't kn-she isn't stuck up or a biiii-biscuit. Gabrielle-"

      "Whether you where going to say bitch or bimbo is beyond me. It doesn't matter, though. Go."

      "Can I get my shirt, first?"

      "Get the HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE."

      "Bye, G." I watched
him go away. My heart shattered.

      "What was THAT?!" I screamed.

      "Gabrielle, I love you. I don't want you to be hurt....he's just-"

      "No."

      "Gabrielle, please. I saw the wine and his shirt and I thought the worst."

      "Huh. So I guess you and mom don't trust me."

     "You're a hormonal teenager and there was a good chance that you where, for lack of a better word, ivre comme peut l'être." Drunk as can be. "The fact that we left the wine unlocked shows that we trust you. You don't deserve it."

      "Get out!"

      "We'll talk again when you mother comes home. Never see that boy again. Ever. He sighed. "And Gabrielle." I didn't answer. "The wedding is in four days." He said, as he shut the door. That made me snap. I began crying. 

     I tore my room apart, trashing everything accept my Junior Prom photo and crown. I was queen. He was king. He sold his crown, to a bunch of wannabes to help cover the bills. Damn. I lost him. I stood in the middle of my room, tears flowing. This was a wreck. I was a wreck. I grabbed my guitar and smashed it against the window, sending glass flying. A piece of glass hit my arm. I stood there, bleeding. I wasn't a sweet girl girly anymore.

     The days past. I ended up taking over the new basement expansion and decorated it myself. I bought an electric guitar and had everything match in a dark violet-gray-black color scale. My only step left was me. I needed a new look. I wanted a tattoo, but knowing the slutty rep they had at my school, I decided to wait until I was legal. I didn't need to do anything that would hurt my career. 

      I took a pair of scissors and a match to my old clothing and bought my new clothing, in e same color scheme as my room. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My parents would hate it. I love it. Jason....I hadn't seen, or heard from him in four days. Four days without him was like hell.

     

     I stood awkwardly in my dress. My parents wedding had a yellow-blue theme, but considering that it was private I decided to wear a skimpy black thing. Calling it a dress wasn't accurate, .Considering the amount of fabric used. Antoinette had been accepted into the English school and was leaving in June. My parents had decided to take a two month vacation in Paris, with us, well, her. I was invited, but I couldn't stand a moment longer than I needed with them. It was the last effort to have a family trip before she left for England for four years, only coming home when she had to. I doubted that it'd be often.

    "I do." My mom said, as Antoinette started bawling.

    "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the-" I burst into tears, I couldn't take it. This was the future I could have had with Jason the future my dad ruined.

     "Are you alright?" Mom asked.

     "NO! I'm not! I'm fudging not." I ran to the subway station, lost. I rode to the nearest station I knew. I pressed the call button. 

     "Hello?"

     "Hey. I panted. Can I come up?" 

     "G?"

     "It's a long story....."

     "Gabrielle." He only said my full name when it was important. "Come on up." I waited on the elevator, then rode to the hall. I knocked on the door, waiting.

      "Jason, I  sorry." I awkwardly stood at his doorway. I stared at my feet in my bridesmaid dress. 
      "What happened?" He took my arm and pulled me inside.

      "You must think I'm an idiot." I wiped away my tears and sat at his dining isn't table. His apartment was small and sparsely furnished, but it felt home-y. 

     "Gabrielle." He kissed my cheek. "I'd never think that."

     "Damn you for being so sweet...." I launched into my story; everything that happened. "Hence the purple-y hair and black clothing." I said, once I finished. "And Jason, please don't tell me that I should go home and work it out. Please."

      "I won't. G, do you have a plan?" 

      "I do-well kinda-I mean....you live by yourself, I though you could give me some advice...I turn seventeen soon.....I might pass for eighteen. And I know you probably think that I'm stupid- I have a great life and a huge house b-bu-t I just- I need you."

      "Do you want to stay here?" 

      "What?"

      "Until you get back on your feet...or as long as you want."

      "Really?" I sniffled, leaning over and hugging him.

      "I'll help, with the bills and all. I can sing on street corners for tips and-"

      "Don't worry about it."

      "I'm going to help. I don't need to be treated specially." 

      "Okay." He sighed.

     I started living with Jason, cleaning and cooking with what little we had. Jason would do odd jobs, but mostly he'd work at the graveyard. People had to die. It was a stable job. I'd sing on street corners, occasionally even getting enough tips to pay for a special treat, like ice cream from the grocery store. When I sang, I always got more tips. I hoped one day, someone would notice me. They'd like the girl with the guitar and give her their card. She sign on and start performing small gigs, rising to fame. But it never worked that way. I'd sing, occasionally earning compliments, occasionally getting remarks from guys about how I was in bed. I'd try and flirt back, batting my eyelashes sticking out my chest. I was getting pretty good at appeal, without actually letting anyone in. Jason would insist on sleeping on the floor, I'd insist we trade off. Bed, floor, bed, floor. Soon, it had been a month.

     "G, what would you like for your birthday?" 

     "You." I whispered. "You know that." I easily resisted the men on the streets, who wanted my body. Jason, on the other hand, didn't seem to. It drove me crazy. It made me want him even more.

     "What else?"

     "Well…" I sighed, then I twirled into a fit of coughs. 

     "Are you alright?"

     "Yeah." Lately, I felt like a bus had hit me. I was achy and had a fever and was coughing like crazy. It was just a common cold, nothing that wouldn't be gone soon; I didn't tell Jason, we couldn't afford him to freak out and drag me to a doctor.

     "You get the bed tonight."

     "It's your day." 

     "You could be sick."

     "I'm a doctor's daughter, I know every symptom for every common disease out there."  

     "G."

     "J."

     "G."

     "Jay-ay-ay." I sang song.

    "Do you feel we'll enough to do something?"

    "Course. What's in mind?""

    "Not much." He shrugged, winking. 

    "Come on, tell me."

    "You've been wearing your dress or PJs," PJs. That was an exaggeration. I had one outfit and undergarments. I'd wear one of Jason's shirts when I did laundry, to keep myself modest. My parents where on their trip, as was Antoinette; I could go home, but I knew if I did I'd want to stay. It was selfish, I though, but I liked this life. I like simple with Jason. 

    "Mmhm." I nodded.

    "I thought maybe you'd like some more clothing."

    "So we're trying to cover me up?" I laughed. "You know I was thinking something with a little less clothing."

     

----

     "Gabrielle, is that the man?"

     "Now the one you're thinking of."

     "Did you really-?"

     "Have to practically beg him? Yes. Jason was kinda traditional. Marriage first. I know, odd for a seventeen year old." 

     "That's good." My mom nodded; she obviously thought that I kept it out of my pants when it came to him. I laughed. "What."

     "You'll see."

----

     I love, loved my new makeover. It was cutesy and dark at the same time. I still was debating about cutting my hair; it'd be easier to care for, but I had a sort of attachment. My hair, even with purple highlights, was the only remainder of my old life. A good life, prior to last September.

     "Jason...." I sighed. I was laying on the bed, cuddling with him. He was running his hand through my hair. "School starts in one week...." The days flew by; before I knew it, it was August. 

     "You should go."

     "But-"

     "Gabrielle. You need a high school diploma. I can get through my life doing odd jobs at minimum wage; do you know what minimum wage means? The employer wants to pay you less, but they legally can't. You can have something better."

     "Better? What's better than this?" I asked, kissing his nose.

     "Lots of things. G, you need an education."

     "But I could work singing. Pay the bills. I'm trying to get gigs. I know they'll come. And there's open mic night at the karaoke club. I'm doing that. And-"

     "G, you-" I began moving so I was on top of him. We began kissing. I felt Jason's hand slip down my shirt, slipping lower and lower. Then, he pulled off my shirt and I wrestled with his. I felt my bra become unhooked when- "We can't." Jason stopped trying to undress me. Dammit. 

     "But-" I protested, slipping my shirt back on. 

     "I promise, we will. I just-" He glanced away. "G...I don't want...it would be unfair, to bring...we can't afford a mistake and I wouldn't be able to provide. You need a better home..."

     "Jason." I gasped. This wasn't about marriage, or even me for that matter. He was afraid that I would become pregnant. "...I don't want to have kids now, either. I just...we can be safe. Besides, you care so much- see? You'd be a great dad. I just...I don't know...I guess the intimacy thing is kinda my way of saying I love you. I feel so guarded around everyone, but I can be free with you. It feels like we can share everything."

      "I love you, Madame G." He whispered.

      "I-I love you, too."

      "I want your life to be good. A teenager who's pregnant and living in the sugary part of town, with a former homeless guy doesn't help. Especially with your career."

      "I'm not pregnant. So...we don't have to worry. I have yet to ever do something that would cause me to be pregnant."

      "Okay." He sighed. "I'm going to shower. I have a shift starting at six." I glanced at the clock. It was four thirty-seven.

       I heard the water turn on. I heard it pour out, in cool gallons of icey cold. He did that for me. Shower cold so I'd get a semi-warm one. It was one of the many ways he cared. Wait. Jason's worried that I'll get pregnant, but- an idea struck me. I quickly removed my new shreds of modesty onto the floor and walked into the bathroom, once that water shut off. Jason's back was to me, as he dried himself off.

      "Bonjour." I whispered.

      "Madame G?" He spun around, then his eyes got wide. My body was pretty well proportioned. "G-you-" his jaw, along with his towel, dropped. "What about-"

      "Don't  worry." I bent down onto my knees. I couldn't get pregnant, and this counted.

      "Really?" He glanced down at me, awkwardly. 

----

     "GABRIELLE?!" She looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

     "You said you wanted to know everything. This is part of it."

     "B-b-b-but."

     "Should I stop? Look, I know it's though listening. I was a teenager and I was stupid."

     "Good thing your father isn't around." She sighed.

----

     I stood up, off the tile. Jason was shocked. Clearly.

    "So...." I stood there, my arms to the side, my body bare for him. He began kissing me and helped raise me on top of the washing machine. "Here." I whispered, handing him something. I waited a few seconds, then we finished what we started. All the things we did; I'd never look at the washing machine the same way again. 

      "Guess neither of us are....anymore."

       "Defiantly." I nodded. "That was..."

      "For a first time..." There was a bit of kissing, then we both dressed ourselves and Jason hurried off to work. I suppose what I wanted was done. Now that I didn't have to beg...it felt weird. I could only imagine what Jason felt. 

----

     "Gabrielle…was that-"

     "First and only with him. Don't worry, there isn't more," suddenly I felt uncomfortable saying the word. I had left out details for her sake, but now I was realizing it was for mine as well. "More for awhile."

      Jason....he was so special to me....it was a shame it'd all end so quickly....