Fabricating Jada

by Marie, Vanessa

  We descended the stairs and made our way through the crowd. Jesse used his body to shield me and Quinten from all the hands and well-wishers.

  "What are you guys doing here?" I asked blissfully happy.

  My dad spoke first. "Jesse invited us."

  I swiveled quickly to face him. "Thank you!"

  He dropped his mouth to my ear. "You can thank me later."

  Swatting him in the abs, like I seemed to do every time he said something suggestive or crass, I laughed. "You're still a pig."

  "Maybe, but I'm your pig. Now go hug your mother. She looks like she's ready to burst at the seams."

  And she was. As soon as I passed the trophy off to Jesse, she and Carter sandwiched me in a hug. There was a lot of crying and snot. Too much snot. It was kind of gross. "I'm so proud of you, love! I knew you would do great things!!" my mom squealed with delight and pride.

  "Second place is amazing, chica! Just wait until next year when you take this place for all it's worth." Carter's smile was infectious.

  The last thing I expected to see when they gave me breathing room was my dad and Jesse shaking hands. Jesse jerked his chin for me to join him. It was the first time I'd seen my dad since our blowout.

  "Hi," I said, unsure of how to act.

  Tears filled my dad's eyes. "I am so proud of you, Jada." He swallowed hard. "I was wrong—about everything and I'm sorry."

  I launched myself into his arms and cried happy tears. "Thank you! I needed to hear that more than you know!"

  It was a day I'd never forget. Everything in my life had come together in a way I never could have imagined. Jesse helped me grow in ways I didn't know I needed to and helped me realize how good of a team we made.

  One Month Later…

  They scheduled the photo shoot for Choppers and More Magazine for the next month's edition.

  We had different ideas about the direction of the shoot. I'd put my foot down when they tried to turn me into a half-naked bikini-clad motorcycle model, draped over the back of a bike. When they looked to Jesse for help, he just laughed and told them good luck trying to get me to cooperate. The pose they chose for the centerfold was me standing in front of the bike with my arms folded over my chest in my typical ripped jeans and white tank top and rockabilly hair tied back with a red bandana. Jesse stood behind me, but his eyes weren't on the camera. They'd captured him looking at me with a loving gaze.

  The photographer never told him to look at me during the shoot. I think he was afraid to tell him anything with all the grunting Jesse did the first time he'd tried to give him direction. It was a candid shot and that made me love it and him even more.

  “Fabricating Jada, the newest sensation to come out of Valentine’s Street Rods and Fabrication since Jesse Valentine himself, debuted her WWII inspired design at 2016’s SEMA show is Las Vegas last month, winning second place of the much sought after title of HOTTEST BIKE.

  Acclaimed critics and peers in the motorcycle industry are already declaring Jada Carmen and Jesse Valentine as ‘The Dream Team.’ We can’t wait to see more designs from this dynamic and creative duo as their creation was called a showstopper.”

  The End.

  "Dante, are you paying attention?"

  She knew I wasn't. I never did. It was always the same speech.

  The car jerked right to the side of the road and stopped. Marsha's full glare burned a hole in me. She'd been my social worker since the beginning of my shitty so-called life.

  I rolled my eyes and finally glanced in her direction. "What?"

  "I know you're tired of this song and dance. I want you to find a permanent family—"

  I scoffed before she could finish her sentence. "No one wants a seventeen-year-old reject to adopt," I deadpanned.

  No matter how much of a front I tried to put up, each time I went through this a new piece of me died a little more. How many times could they expect me to meet a new family that wouldn't discard me like yesterday's trash?

  Frustrated with my attitude, she let out a heavy sigh. "Look, Dante, this time is going to be different."

  "Oh yeah? You said that the last thirteen times."

  She held up her hand to shut me up. "I know. The system has failed you. I know you feel like I have failed you...But I promise you this time is different. I know this family. The McKinleys are great people."

  She knew them how, exactly? Were we talking churchies or people she waved to as she drove past their picture-perfect house without knowing their secrets?

  Raising a brow at her, I waited for her to explain.

  This should be good. I forced myself to shove down any kind of hope that tried to bloom.

  "I've known Holly for a long time. She's "the" mom and she's an amazing author."

  "Nice. So she writes mommy porn and pawns it to the masses?"

  A scowl I'd become very accustomed to spread across her face. "No. She writes children's books, thank you very much."

  With my hands held up in defense, I leaned away from her against the car door. "Down, girl. Don't take it personally."

  I knew talking down to her like a dog was pushing my luck. As far as I was concerned, my luck ran out the day I was conceived. That thought alone made my scowl harden.

  "What does he do?"

  "He's a corporate lawyer. I don't really know much more than that."

  Lovely.

  I'd been accused of cheating, stealing, lying, assault, inappropriate conduct with a foster sibling, being under the influence of many substances...the list was a mile long. Just thinking about how many times I'd been accused of bogus things made my heart ache. Despair was all that hung in the air over what I called my pathetic little life. There was no point in trying to defend myself with each situation. My heart didn't care what anyone thought now, and quite honestly I didn't give a shit anymore myself. When everyone's mind was already made up about you, hope started to die, right along with your soul. No one believed me then and they weren't going to believe me now.

  "All I'm saying is give them a chance. I think if you do, you'll find they could be exactly what you've always wanted."

  Give them a chance like I'd always been given? A chance to become the new house slave. I pushed away the memories of every surface I'd been forced to clean while everyone else sat around and smoked... or worse. The chance to become the new source of a disposable income that I'd never see a red cent of? Or my personal favorite, the go-to guy for the blame game. My emotions were in shutdown mode as I retreated further into myself.

  I stared back out my window and muttered, "Yeah, I've always wanted to be the black kid saved by a bunch of white people, because we've seen how well that's worked out before. Whatever."

  Watching the trees go by, we finally turned into a subdivision and I couldn't help but do a double-take in every direction. The burbs weren't really the type of place that would take in bastards like me. Well, I guess "orphan" was a more appropriate term, but who cared? Marsha must have noticed the look on my face when I let my indifference slip. My fingers stopped their furious tap dance on my knee as a lazy grin crept up at the corners of her mouth, but she didn't say anything.

  When we pulled into the driveway of the giant two-story brick estate with the porch that ran the length of the house, with a well-manicured lawn and three-car garage, I felt more out of place than I ever had before. My leg bounced, giving away the anxiety gnawing at me as I gawked at everything out the window. Who the hell has a three-car garage? I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore. It looked more like a mansion than any house I'd ever seen. Marsha put her car in park and shut it off. We just sat there in silence while she let me take in everything before us.

  Maybe it could be different...but then again, life had always taught me if it seemed too good to be true, it most definitely was. Hope tried to swell in my chest, but I wouldn't allow it. I shoved it down.

  "Should we go in?" Her voice pulled me out of my trance. With a nod, I agreed and followed her to the front door.


  * * *

  Two knocks was all it took before the front door flew open and a little girl with red curly hair and a bright smile stood before us. "Hi!"

  "Hi, Violet! How are you?" Marsha asked.

  "Violet Ann! How many times do I have to tell you not to open that damn door by yourself?" a woman's voice yelled from inside the house.

  Great—another screamer. Dread coursed through my veins.

  "Swear Jar!" someone else yelled.

  "I'm good. Are you my new brother? Mommy said we getting a new bubby. What's yer name? My name's Violet. Like the flower, not the color. I don't like the color—"

  Dear God, someone give this kid a Xanax. I rolled my eyes and shot Marsha a are you kidding me kind of glare.

  Instantly the hallway was filled with a tall, bigger lady with the same untamed red hair as the little chatterbox's. Her smile was so bright, her alabaster skin almost showed no contrast. "Hi, Marsha! Sorry, I lost track of time. Come on in. Vi, go pick up your toys before someone breaks their neck."

  I had no idea what the hell was going on. It was as if I was being pulled in twenty directions and I was standing completely still. Everything looked like complete chaos.

  Fan-freaking-tastic.

  The little girl stomped her foot and wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't want to."

  The woman, who I assumed was going to be my new mommy dearest, turned a hard glare on her tiny spawn. "If you stomp that foot at me one more time...it's coming off, young lady. Get your ass in there and pick up now or there are going to be a lot of little girls with new toys."

  "Swear jar!" the same voice yelled.

  What kind of circus was I being dumped into? The dread grew stronger with each passing moment. Sure. This was going to different, she said. Different, my ass.

  We followed Hilary or whatever her name was into the living room.

  "Please have a seat. Let me go get Kate."

  Marsha leaned into my shoulder and whispered, "Take off your shoes."

  Heat crept up my cheeks. There was a giant hole in my sock.

  My glare turned hard. "No way."

  "Please just do it."

  I groaned and ignored her as I flopped into the recliner in the corner of the spacious living room. It was the first time I really took a good look at everything. The cream carpet stretched across the living room floor into the dining room. They had two full-sized chocolate leather couches. I mean who the hell has two full-sized couches? How many people live in this joint? The chatterbox was throwing toys into a large toy box in the corner next to the impressive fireplace with the big-ass plasma TV hanging over it. I didn't think I'd ever been in a house this nice or clean before. Wonder how many kids they'd forced to clean it?

  Footsteps on the stairs interrupted my train of thought as Heidi or whoever came down with a tall, thin strawberry blonde about my age behind her.

  "I know," she mumbled to Red.

  What did she know? What had she been told about me? I kept my eyes glued to her as she came into the room and sat down on the couch across from me. Red sat down beside her, letting out a big sigh, and looked me dead in the eyes. "Hi. I'm so happy you're here. I'm Holly." She gestured toward Blondie. "This is Kate—she's seventeen. And the little terror who accosted you at the door is Violet, and she's six."

  To make sure I started off on the right foot, I had to push some buttons. It was only fair. "And how old are you?"

  "Too damn young to have kids this old," she retorted without skipping a beat.

  "Swear jar," both girls yelled at her.

  Aha. At least I knew who the voice belonged to now.

  "Swear jar? Really, Holls?" Marsha laughed and shook her head.

  "Hey, I'm trying. I'm getting better."

  Kate scoffed. "Oh, bullcrap. Don't let her lie to you. At the rate she's going, I'll have my entire college tuition and a full retirement fund before I turn eighteen."

  Red launched a pillow at Blondie and then turned her attention back to me. "Okay, so maybe I curse a lot. It's a habit I'm trying to break."

  "Don't you write children's books?" I couldn't help but interject.

  She laughed. "Yeah. If those snotty bitches only knew."

  My mouth hung open in utter shock. Did she really just say that? In front of Marsha too? A rouge rush of adrenaline ran through me while I waited for something to happen. They'd usually wait until after she left before the cursing and chaos ensued.

  "Swear jar," Blondie whisper-yelled.

  "Oh hush."

  Marsha cleared her throat. "Well, since he won't introduce himself, this is Dante. He's seventeen and he's excited to be here too."

  I rolled my eyes at the dumb-ass introduction she'd given a million times before.

  "I'm happy you're here too," Little Red piped up from beside me, causing me to jump out of my own skin.

  My heart was in my throat, thumping as if it was going to jump out. I hadn't even noticed she was next to me.

  "Well, we are all happy you're here. My husband and son aren't home right now. They went hunting, so you'll meet them later on."

  I nodded. There wasn't much to say.

  "Do you play any sports or is there anything you're interested in?" Blondie asked.

  "Nope." My poker face was on and I was purposefully giving them nothing to work with.

  "Well, since you asked: I play softball. So does my sister," Blondie remarked with a ton of attitude.

  I glanced down at the curly redheaded mop next to me and then back at her. "Her? You don't look like sisters."

  Big Red clapped her hands together. "I guess I should explain our family dynamic. It's a little different from the norm, I guess?" She flicked her eyes to Marsha, who nodded for her to continue.

  "Kate is mine from a previous marriage, and Nash is my stepson from my husband Kyle's first marriage. I've been around since he was a toddler, but for all intents and purposes I'm his evil stepmother." She exchanged a knowing glance with Kate as they shared some secret smile. No idea what the hell that was about. "Violet is ours together. Kate lives with us full time and doesn't see her dad often. Nash lives with his mom full time and he comes here every other weekend."

  I pulled my brows together and tried to put it all together while she continued. It took me a minute to process everything.

  Her own kid... a stepkid...and she wanted a spawn to share so she popped one out, got it. Wait.

  I met Kate's eyes. "Why do you not see your dad very much?" There are skeletons in these closets.

  "That's none of your damn business," she snapped with a face that made me flinch.

  And shit just got really weird.

  "Swear jar," Little Red piped up.

  Despite the noise next to me, I shook it off and tried to focus on the information overload. "Wait. What about Nate's mom? You guys all hate each other, right?"

  Red shook her head. "Nash's mom and I get along just fine. Nash and Kate have grown up together so there is a lot of co-parenting and history here. I know it's probably a lot to digest."

  I couldn't believe what they'd told me. "So you're friends with his mom? What about your ex? What the hell do you do, sing 'Kumbaya' around a campfire too?"

  Everyone nodded, including Marsha.

  "What kind of circus did you bring me into?" My chest felt like it was constricting and I couldn't breathe. Exes being friends had only ever meant trouble in my experience. I didn't trust any of this.

  Not only were Kate's brows pulled together, but her stare could have rivaled Medusa's "You know, for someone who doesn't want to be judged by their rap sheet you're awfully judgmental." She pushed out of her chair and hustled up the stairs.

  "Kate!" Holly called right before I heard a door slam.

  Well, that didn't take long. My rap sheet. What the hell did Marsha tell these people about me?

  Holly sat back down and kept her eyes on mine. "Here's the thing, Dante. I know you've been dealt a shitty hand—"

  "Swear jar," the little
voice next to me interjected. They glared at each other before Holly continued.

  "Anyway, I know you don't have a reason to trust us yet, and I get that. Give us a chance before you write us off."

  "Why should I? What makes you so special?" I couldn't keep the disdain from my tone. She seemed nice enough, but it could all be a huge deception. They always put on a nice act in the beginning—especially when Marsha was there.

  "We're not. We are a blended family. We've figured out how to navigate life and try to leave all the unnecessary drama out. Yes, we are very unconventional, and it works for us. You can stay with us and give our circus family a shot or you can go back to the group home. The choice is yours." Her voice stayed steady. Not an ounce of anger lingered in the words she spoke.

  Blended family?

  She was friends with her husband's ex-wife.

  No shit they were unconventional. My chest was too tight and it felt like I was gasping for breath.

  I needed some air.

  * * *

  I sat down on the porch swing and rocked back and forth. My thoughts were all over the place along with the swirling clouds of my emotions. My toes scraped across the ground when I heard the front door open and close.

  Marsha came over and sat beside me. "Bringing out the big guns already huh?"

  I pursed my lips together and continued to rock.

  Toe to heel. Heel to toe.

  "This is your last chance, Dante. I've exhausted all other options. Do you want to go back to the group home and have to fight for scraps? Do you want to have to look over your shoulder every five minutes again? Or worse? One more screwup and you're going to end up in jail."

  That was the last thing I wanted. My stomach plummeted and churned at the mention of the group home. I hadn't had a decent night's sleep in years. I couldn't trust my surroundings and was never able to let down my guard.

  "No."

  "Then stop acting like a little jerk the second you walk in the door. They're good people that want to give you a second chance at life. Take it."