No Stereotype [[1.]]

A story I created myself and pursued the writing in Creative Writing. About a girl who runs away from her family, but why? You won't find out now, but something interesting does happen.

Everyone can find a quote for the day �" whether it’s relevant to their day or not. Karma’s a b***h. Tearing the cover off, I stared at the wires in concentration. ‘I probably have ten minutes, unless they’ve seen me already. Better finish quick,’ I told myself. After tossing the panels in the passenger seat, I blindly reached for my screwdriver. I tightened my grasp on cold metal, twisting the screwdriver into the ignition. The beater roared to life; I grinned. Time to get out of here.

I ducked into the driver seat and slammed the door shut. Shifting into drive, I eased off the brake and off we went. Peering out of the rearview mirror, I saw an old geezer shaking his fist in the air. I chortled, gazing back at his striped robe and pink bunny slippers. ‘What a loser,’ I thought.

My hair blew in the wind �" pale strands flying freely �" uncovering the tribal tattoo �" along with the two metal balls on the sides �" on my nape. Thrusting my foot to the floor, I sped off, away from the pale blue house of horrors only seen in the chick flicks.

I knew I couldn’t rely on Spencer or Jake to house me for two years, so I had one option left. As I turned onto Interstate 25, I thought of Hadouken and Russell, the twins in Texas. They wouldn’t be able to turn me down.

 

“Aidan Andrew Ames, daughter of Christopher Ames, the CEO of Starbright Hotels, went missing three weeks ago when she borrowed the family car to see a friend. Wellington City Police found the car sinking into the Rock River, with no sign of Aidan in the car. If you find her �" the picture is located in the upper right corner of the screen �" please call 1-573�"” I shut the television off, rolling my eyes. My family wouldn’t know their car from Geezer’s car. A simple switch of plates, and they were off my tail. Of course, I switched again in Santa Fe. I was virtually under the radar.

“You know, you could call your family and let them know that you’re alright,” Hadouken chastised. “They probably care about your well-being.”

I laughed dryly. “They wouldn’t care about my well-being unless it interfered with their work routine.”

“Aidan, just because they kept themselves busy, that doesn’t mean that they didn’t care,” he argued, giving me a short, but effective sympathetic look. Always the slender, sensitive guy, Hadouken was the guy I called when I needed help. Of course, when questioned about the long distance calls to Texas came from, I told a little white lie. ‘Oh, that? That was an old friend from school’ was a personal favorite.

Hadouken had been the guy who kept me from beating up the quarterback after he called me a lesbian. I have nothing against girls liking other girls, but just because of my dress choice, he thought it was okay to assume I was one of them. Ken was the peacemaker when needed, particularly after a ‘family get-together’ when my parents got Brittney and I together to catch-up. They wouldn’t need to catch-up if they had bothered to spend some quality time with us.

“Ken, honestly? You know as well as I do that they’re probably sitting around, busy as always. They never spent a moment’s time together; it had always been about the straight A’s or the work they brought home. I don’t mean just the stench of up-tight clients, either. They worked on their laptop constantly, claiming they were too far behind. I’m surprised Brittney and I made it out of my mother’s womb with how much they work,” I remarked.

“Still listening to your story on the news, eh Nadia?” I heard after a slam of the front door. Russell. The stereotypical jock, minus the stupidity. He pulled me towards his boulder-like body into a hug, tsking. “You know, if you don’t care about them, then why do you enjoy watching this so much?” he mumbled.

“Well, Russell, maybe it makes me feel all warm and tingly just thinking about how brilliant I am. I mean, if they can’t find me, then don’t you think that means I have some skills? I think it does,” I boasted, attempting to wriggle free out of his Iron-tight grip. After much struggle, I succumbed to punching his biceps repeatedly until they were sore.

“Hey now, let’s not injure the bouncer. I need these babies in tip-top shape for tonight,” he joked, grinning from ear-to-ear. He tenderly rubbed his arms after he released me.

“Oh, Russ, you’re such a comedian. You should go pro with that, man,” I said sarcastically, giving one last punch to his left arm.

“Speaking of bouncers, we should head to work, Russell,” Hadouken pointed out, running a hand through his silky smooth black hair. Unlike many people, his was natural; he kept it short, maybe two inches long. He descended from a family that consisted of lanky males with black hair.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Russ agreed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Can I come with you guys tonight? Please?” I begged.

“Aidan, maybe another night. Aren’t you scarred enough already?” Ken wondered.

“Nah, let her come, man. If watching chicks get picked up is what she likes, let her come along. We got eyes on her there, unlike here at home.”

I sucker-punched Russ in the gut, causing him to bend over in surprise. “Shush it, Russ. You’re asking for a punch in the face. Let’s just get to Zone 13; your home is totally boring.”

 

“Hey Martin, pass me a drink,” I called to the bartender.

He looked to me briefly before sliding a Dr. Pepper down the bar, his slender frame returning to his biggest patron of the night. She gazed into his emerald eyes with her own, a flirty smile on her lips.

I rolled my eyes; somebody had a little too much to drink. That’s what you get when you’re a bombshell babe in Zone 13. The guys buy you a Flirtini or an Orange Tundra and mix a special concoction of their own to help the alcohol, like Liquid E or Kit Kat. Then, when the effects started settling in, the guy acted concerned. The ditz fell for it every time. Martin knew better than to get involved or to make a drink for a guy trying to slip into my pants. That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the attention while it lasted.

Sure, I had a fake I.D. but the twins looked out for me. Plus, not many guys like a girl who dresses in baggy jeans and a shirt to match. Leaves too much room for imagination. The fake I.D. was for emergencies when the cops stopped by and realized I didn’t look old enough to be drinking alcohol. I didn’t abuse it; rather, it was the complete opposite. I avoided the stuff, because I had seen too many blonde bimbos throw their tops off for an audience. People will do anything for some popularity.

“You don’t look like you’re old enough,” a luxuriously deep voice commented, leaving chills to run up my spine.

I peered over my shoulder, matching the voice to a sketchy dude in the same jeans I was wearing. I raised an eyebrow, sizing him up. At about 5’11”, the guy wore a pale blue button up, barely noted due to his crimson hair. The strobe lights flashed off his camera, hanging around his neck. Leaning on one foot, he waited for a reply.

“I don’t, huh? That’s weird, because you don’t either,” I retorted.

“Touché, but I’m eighteen �" a legal adult.”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything. I could be eighteen.”

“No way. All the other eighteen year-olds are on the dance floor, partying it up.” He pointed to some broads in revealing clothing rubbing against guys that appeared to be their age. “Plus, I would have seen you around school.”

“Maybe I go to one of the private schools, Idiot.”

“Ha! Don’t make me laugh. You don’t dress like a private schoolgirl,” he chuckled, the lights shining light on his pearly whites.

I glared. “Watch it, Pretty Boy. You don’t want me to pummel your face into a pulp, do you?”

“Hey! Pretty Boy, you better back away from the girl. She’s not lying,” Martin warned, taking a break from the ditzy blonde to check in on me.

“Hey, look. I didn’t mean anything when I said that. I was just stating a fact,” Pretty Boy defended, sensing the tension in the air.

I turned my seat around, gliding past him towards Ken in search of some peace. Of course, he was guarding the VIP area �" the A-lister’s room, full of said A-listers. Stiff as a board, Ken’s sensitive side disappeared �" invisible to everyone who didn’t know him; he was all business right now.

“Hey Aidan, what’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows wrinkled in concern.

“This red-haired jerk with his camera is irritating me so much. Said that I didn’t look like I belonged here, and all this other s**t,” I scoffed. “As if. I have half of a mind to punch his face.”

“Hey now, calm down. You don’t want John to make me or Russ to kick you out, do you? We’ll deal with him. Just sit here and block the VIP room,” he instructed, giving me a once-over. “Keep that glare on your face and no one will approach you. Okay?”

I nodded tautly, crossing my arms as Ken wandered off to find Russ. ‘Probably gonna ask him if he let in a red-haired dude with a camera,’ I thought. He always looked out for me �" both of the boys did �" and if this dude was giving me a problem, Russ would find him in a heartbeat.

If Hadouken was the peacemaker, then Russ was the troublemaker. He encouraged fights, got involved when he wasn’t needed. For this reason �" and many other reasons �" Russ loved his job more than anything. To Russ, being a bouncer was similar to Brittney’s affair with romance fictions. Yuck.

 

“Meet me on the Equinox; meet me half way. When the sun is perched at its highest peek in the middle of the day.”

The CD continued to play, sound waves bouncing off my walls. I groaned. “Brittney! Shut that stupid CD off! Now!” I screeched. “Brittney! Brittney! BRITTNEY!”

She giggled, obviously not hearing my incessant screams. I stomped up the stairs, tearing through her room. Holding back my anger, I pressed stop.

“What did you do that for?” she demanded.

“You can’t be playing music that loud. Why are you listening to that anyways?” I retorted.

“Because it’s a song on the New Moon Soundtrack. Edward is so dreamy,” she claimed, her eyes looking off in the distance, like a girl in love.

I rolled my eyes. “You’ll get over it. He’s not dreamy, and soon, you’ll realize this too. Then, it’ll all be about the next hot thing. That’s the way you work.”

“Nuh-uh!” she argued, sticking her tongue out. “Besides, theTwilight series is the best set of books ever!”

“No way. That’s just sad.”

 

When Ken returned, he grinned.

“Russ will take care of him. He told me that you could help him find the dude if you want, but don’t touch him, okay? Just let Russell do his job.”

I nodded reluctantly before wandering off to search for Russell.

“Check one check. Two one mic check.”

I giggled. ‘Ken’s playing on the stereo,’ I told myself, just as Pretty Boy came into view. Next to him stood a buff jock clad in black, semi-long shaggy brown hair laying flat against the jock’s head. That buff jock meant that Russell had found Pretty Boy.

“Dude, you have to leave,” Russell explained to Pretty Boy, who stood there, staring. Not at Russ, but at me.

‘Creep,’ I mouthed to him, stopping at Russell’s side.

“Why should I have to leave?” he wondered, dumbfounded.

“You’re starting fights in the club. That includes the argument you had with Nadia.” Russ wrapped an arm around me protectively.

“That’s your name?” Pretty Boy asked incredulously. He looked away, obviously in deep thought. Guilt started to set in.

I looked up to Russ, attempting to ignore Pretty Boy.

“Russ, I’m tired. I just want to go home now. Let Pretty Boy stay. I don’t give a s**t,” I grumbled, tearing apart from him. “I’ll ask Martin if I can borrow the phone to call a cab. Night.”

“Wait, so you’re just going to walk away?” he asked, shocked.

I nodded weakly. “I’m tired,” I lied.

I had no idea why I gave into this crimson-haired boy, but something told me that he honestly didn’t mean anything in what he said. Whether he wanted to know me �" or thought he knew me �" I wouldn’t know, but he was a pesky fly that I didn’t need to bother myself with.