A New Life Series - Starter Kit

by Samantha Jacobey

  A few minutes later, the aircraft touched down, taxied around to the gate and made an abrupt stop. Tori stood, along with everyone else, to grab items out of the storage bins overhead and pull purses from under seats. She could feel the butterflies bouncing around in her stomach; she wasn’t in a hurry to get off the plane to meet a bunch of new people or to have to explain herself to anyone. Reluctantly, she made her way down the passage and out into the gate area.

  Brandon knew the girl as soon as she exited the tunnel. Wow, she’s tall… very tall, gotta be at least six foot. Her hair long and dark, almost black, she appeared quite stunning, but he recalled being told she had a very large scar on her face from her past life; the makeup hides it well.

  Wearing jeans, boots and a black leather jacket, her white shirt peeking from underneath, she seemed quite cool and collected. She also did not look to be only fifteen years of age. Smiling broadly, he held out his hand to greet her, “Hi, I’m Brandon Tate. You must be Tori.”

  The girl looked down at the extended digits and felt her palms go sweaty. So much for conquered fears. Mentally, she tried to persuade herself to shake his hand, but in the end, she pursed her lips and moved her gaze back to his face; “I don't like to be touched.”

  A little surprised, Brandon withdrew his arm, his smile growing slightly strained. “Well then, let's head this way,” he indicated their route in the most upbeat tone he could muster.

  Walking through the crowd beside him, Tori threw her bag over her shoulder and pulled her sunglasses out of an inner pocket to slide them on. The Dragons had been to Cali quite a few times on business, so she was familiar with LA, as well as a few other major metropolitan areas.

  She began to run down her mental checklist and refresh her memory on what she knew about the city and its people. They had some connections there, but Tori felt confident she would not need them; furthermore, she surmised using them could be dangerous.

  Giving her a sideways glance, Brandon wondered exactly what was going on with her. He had been given little background by the federal officer who contacted him; very little, and he had the feeling it would be the parts they didn't mention that were going to matter most. Oh well, he sighed to himself. We’ll get her on track; after all that’s what we do.

  Out loud, he asked if she had ever been to California or LA, to which she replied, “Yes, both.”

  He chuckled at her response, as he had also been told she didn't talk much, and there she had proved it. The pair continued without speaking until they reached his grey 2006 Toyota Corolla. The girl tossed her bag in the back seat, and they climbed inside.

  Trying to make small talk, Brandon observed, “You travel light.”

  Tori remained silent, glaring out the window as they exited the airport. Mentally, she scoffed at his comment, as the bag held three or four times the personal property she had ever owned in the past. She had wanted to be positive about her time in the big city, but her enthusiasm had all but disappeared.

  Pulling onto Lincoln Boulevard, he decided to get to the point, “So, you’ll be staying with us for six months and then be released?”

  She sighed, mumbling crossly, “That's the plan.”

  He continued by giving her the house rules; having spoken them many times, they rolled easily off his tongue. “Curfew is midnight. No fighting or fraternizing with other tenants. Clean up after yourself. Maintain your employment. Pay your rent on time. Attend your group sessions.”

  Tori's head snapped to face him. Perturbed, “What group sessions?” she demanded. “Eli said there wouldn't be any more stupid meetings with whiney ass people.”

  Brandon grinned at her response. “Attending meetings is a must. You can attend NA or AA, whichever you think is best for you. It’ll help you figure out what's important and how to stay clean.” He smiled encouragingly, but could tell she was not happy about the news.

  Slowly turning back to her window, Tori fumed inside, and they rode the rest of the way without another word passing between them.

  Half-way Home

  Pulling into the driveway of a rather large, multilevel dwelling, Brandon announced they were home and cut off the engine. Tori peered out the window, not moving from the vehicle.

  She could see a large porch that ran across a portion of the front and down the full side of the Victorian style house. There were bright orange trumpet vines hanging all across the veranda, shading it from the evening sun and prying eyes.

  At the back of the driveway stood a single door garage. Tori contemplated she would be more comfortable in the small shack alone than the giant house full of people.

  Brandon lifted her bag from the back seat, and then opened her door for her, standing patiently for her to decide to exit. Her eyes shifted up at him, her face stoic, she knew she had no choice but to comply, so she climbed out and scrutinized the house from the sidewalk.

  Painted in shades of brown and deep mahogany, Tori could see it appeared to be peeling and cracked in places. “You need new paint,” she observed aloud. Brandon agreed, pleased she had something to say.

  Stepping up onto the veranda, the girl noted a large swing hanging at the far end and various chairs and tables scattered the full length to the corner on the front side. For a moment, she thought it would be a nice place to curl up with a book, then pushed the image away, resolute she did not want to get too comfortable there; this’s only a temporary stop.

  Moving inside, they arrived in a rather spacious kitchen area that opened up across a short bar into a large dining room. Together, they made up the back half of this side of the house, the kitchen ending at three-quarters of the way up.

  Walking straight across, they entered a hallway that made up the heart of the structure. From there, you could go left and be at the entrance of the master suite, right and be in the living areas, or up the stairs to the tenant rooms above. For the moment, they moved to the right, towards the living room, where everyone had gathered to greet her.

  The front door lay at the end of the hall, with a small foyer containing a coat rack and entry table, and a large square arch that served as the entryway into the open living area that took up one-fourth of the ground floor. Stopping beneath the wide beam, she could see that the room held a conversation group, with a sectional and oversized couch at the far end, and a flat-screened television and sitting area at the front end.

  A fireplace in the center of the exterior wall divided the two sections, and a bay window hung out the front, which held a large seat with pillows to stretch out and enjoy the view. From what she had seen so far, the house probably appeared plain to other people, but having never lived in one before, to Tori it was a palace.

  Looking over her left shoulder, there stood the open door of what appeared to be an office that took up the rest of the house on the ground floor between the kitchen wall and the exterior. Back down the hall, the stairs to the next level hugged the right hand wall, the half bath for the ground floor hidden underneath.

  She allowed a deep sigh to escape her as she remembered that she was stuck there, and found herself longing for the feel of a breeze and the rustle of tree leaves above her. Turning back into the large living area, she continued inside to be introduced to her new roommates.

  Brandon started with Sharon, his wife and co-manager of the house. Her round face smiled warmly, while she flipped her long straight auburn locks over her shoulder.

  Moving around the room, Robert looked to be about forty-ish with dark hair curling around his balding dome and a bushy beard and mustache combo. He smiled as well and stepped forward, offering his hand, which Brandon quickly headed off with a short, “She doesn't like to be touched,” for her.

  Curling the outstretched fingers into a brief fist, he settled for a small wave, “Call me Bob.”

  The rest of the group seemed less appreciative of the new tenant, as Richard gave her a long dull-eyed stare, shifting his gaze up and down her tall frame. Jonathon held a phone in his hand and barely looked up fr
om his finger sliding as he was mentioned.

  Lindsey, who sat propped up on the oversized couch, gave her a scowl, “Do you always dress like that?” The small blonde had been excited to hear another girl was coming to the house, and did not hide her disappointment at who had actually arrived.

  Tori took note of their reactions, not bothering to smile. She could feel the walls of protection that she had so carefully constructed as a Dragon closing in around her; using these, she would keep them all at bay, and her secrets safely hidden.

  At last, Brandon asked Sharon if she wanted to show their newest resident upstairs, to which the older woman smiled her agreement and led the way. On the way up, she explained that each floor had its own full bathroom with a shower and tub combo, as well as a three-quarter bath with shower only. The second floor was dedicated to women and the third floor being the men's level.

  The rooms were arranged in a simple grid, each corner being a bedroom with a bathroom on the left and right sides in between, both upper floors identical in floor plan. Tori's room lay in the back corner overlooking the garage, and from the door she could see a small bay window with a seat similar to what had been in the living area downstairs.

  Pausing at the entrance and turning her back to her quarters, she could see the bathroom door along the wall a few paces to her right, the staircase that led to the third floor opening to her right in the center of the house, and a bedroom straight across from hers that belonged to Lindsey. She had remained silent for the tour, and her brow furrowed as she turned the full circle to take in the rest of her accommodations.

  Shuffling inside, a spacious closet lay in the wall that the girls' rooms shared, and a second window on the back side of the house butted up to the other in the corner. A twin sized bed stuck out from the left hand wall as you entered, its nightstand effectively blocking access to the corner on the far side.

  There stood a plain wooden rocking chair to the right of the door, and a tall dresser filled the corner on the other side of the closet. For a moment, Tori wondered if this had been arranged on purpose so that she would not have any corners to crouch into for sleeping, which was her normal routine.

  Tossing her bag onto the bed, she stood for several minutes simply frowning at the space alone, as Sharon had disappeared. She hated it already. This isn’t fair. She had given the Feds what they wanted, and she should be free, not trapped in some old wooden fire hazard with a bunch of strangers. Fucking doctors, she fumed to herself as she approached the window and glared down at the garage.

  Brandon had gone out, and the wide door stood propped open while he rummaged around inside the structure. Tori's heart began to pound as she recognized the front wheel of a motorcycle peeking out from all the other visible junk. Turning quickly, her boots thumped loudly as she raced down the stairs, trying to make it before he closed it.

  Catching her breath as she made her way up to the garage’s entrance, the girl tried to hide her eagerness to get her hands on the bike. “Hi,” she said as nonchalantly as she could muster. Brandon looked up, and his jaw dropped slightly in surprise to find her back outside so quickly. “This all your old stuff?” she asked while looking around.

  Regaining his composure, he nodded, “Most of it.”

  Tori reached out to touch a few items, feigning curiosity, while inching her way closer to the half-buried treasure. She noted the layer of dust that covered most everything, and decided they must not visit the cramped space very often. Brandon watched her with curiosity as she finally reached her prize.

  “This yours?” she asked, again trying to sound calm.

  “Naw,” he replied. “A tenant brought it in a few years ago, left it when he moved on.” Tori began pulling items out of the way to have a better look. “Not sure what kind . . .” his voice trailed away, as she did not appear to be listening to him, having cleared a path and begun pushing it out into the evening sun.

  “It's a '62 Honda Dream,” she breathed, her eyes glistening as she ran her hand over the dents and rusted chrome. Tori had not known anything about motorcycles when the Dragons hit the road, but as Eddie's girl it became her job to learn. In five years, she had come to know them all, what they were, what they should look like, and how to make them purr. “Does it run?” She appeared eager, no longer able to conceal her enthusiasm.

  “I don't think so,” Brandon recalled with a shrug, “He parked it there and it's never been moved since, far as I know.” Genuinely in awe of her behavior, he glanced up, noting the faces that stared down at them from the closest vantage points inside. “You know how to fix it?” His turn to try and sound nonchalant.

  “Yeah,” she exhaled loudly, “That I do.” She ran her fingers across the seat and then down to the grease and dirt coated engine. Looking up from her squatted position, where she had been assessing the damage, her head cocked to one side, and a broad grin covered her glossy lips. “You mind if I work on it?”

  “Knock yourself out,” he replied, exposing a few teeth himself. “We should move some of this junk though, where you can push it in and out.”

  They shifted items to clear a path so she could get the bike parked with ease. The sun had dropped into setting position as the pair headed back into the house for dinner. Everyone gathering in the kitchen, they set the table and took their seats while Tori and Brandon washed up.

  When they returned to the table, Tori realized dinner actually consisted of spaghetti with garlic bread. Her disappointment clear on her face, Richard piped up, “What's the matter? You don't like spaghetti? How could you not like spaghetti?”

  Tori wrinkled her nose, “I don’t eat this stuff… no bread or pasta. Meat, vegetables and fruits only, with water to drink.”

  “Oh,” he blurted out, “The cave man diet.”

  She shot him a menacing look. I’ve only been here an hour, and I’m already being insulted?

  Seeing her expression, he laughed and tried to explain. “No, no, that wasn't a jab. The proper name would be Paleo or Paleolithic diet. Called that because you eat like a caveman so to speak; all natural and nothing processed, like bread and pasta.” Tori had never heard that her diet had a name, so she glowered at him in silence. Growing uncomfortable, he twirled his fork in his hand, “Anyways, that's what it's called. Sorry I offended you.”

  Deciding it wasn't worth any further discussion, Tori let the subject drop. Taking a small amount onto her plate, she gave it a try, but wasn't impressed. She picked out the meatballs and ate those, which were tasty, but not very filling. Excusing herself, she wanted to return to her room and put her things in a drawer; and find where I’m going to sleep.

  Trudging up the stairs, she suddenly felt very weary. Removing her things from her bag, she organized them into the closet and one of the drawers in the tall dresser that blocked her corner. She slipped her journal into the narrowest drawer at the top, laying the pencil on top for easy access.

  Placing her new running shoes, which Debra had taken her to purchase that morning, onto the floor in her closet, she thought about Debra and Eli. Wishing she could talk to them, she sat in the small window seat and looked at the sky outside. She had been to LA before, and knew there wouldn't be any stars for her to see. Peering down at the garage, she remembered the motorcycle, which brought her a small amount of comfort.

  With a sigh, she decided it was time to go to sleep. Planning to get up early and run, she set the clock on the nightstand for 5:00 am. Only glancing down at the bed, she looked around at the room once more, disgusted that it had been arranged as it was, but disliking it was a moot point. She sank down against the wall and tried to sleep sitting up as best she could.

  Music Maniac

  With no corner to lean into, Tori found herself sprawled on the floor when the alarm went off. Stretching for several minutes beforehand, she got dressed in her new running pants and shoes and slipped downstairs as quietly as she could. Going out through the kitchen door, she noticed the coffee pot running. Inspecting it, she de
cided it had been placed on a timer, so someone would be up soon. Still being quiet, she exited the side door and headed down the steps of the porch.

  Once she reached the street, Tori turned left and began to jog. Stopping what she judged to be the one mile mark, she began to stretch and do some squats. Continuing on, she ran another mile, then stopped again, noticing a playground.

  Her heart pounded as she jogged over to the equipment and jumped to grab the bar. Finding it the perfect height, she did pull-ups and leg lifts, wishing there were some rings for muscle ups, as well. Dropping onto the ground, she did push-ups and then speed-skaters instead.

  Working in sets of ten, she went ten rounds. Not really tired by that point, she glanced around, able to feel the time slipping away; she wanted to get back to the house before anyone missed her. Running at an easy jog, it was almost 6:00 am when she made it to the side entrance.

  Bob almost dropped his coffee when she walked in, and she smiled at his look of terror at the back door unexpectedly opening. Apologizing, Tori explained that she worked out most every morning. Glad she had opted for the long spandex sleeves and leggings, she could feel him watching as she left the room. Having her scars exposed was simply not an option. Running up the stairs, she felt equally glad she had not washed off the previous day’s makeup and hoped it had held up to the sweat.

  Back in her room, she gathered her clothes and made her way to the bathroom next to her door. It turned out to be the three-quarter bath, but that suited her fine as she had never actually taken a tub bath in her life. Peeling off her damp workout clothes, she climbed into the shower and lathered quickly, using a tube of fruit scented gel that she found there.

  The water felt good on her tingling skin, so she decided to wash her hair, as well. It’s pretty lucky there are only two girls here right now, as that gives Lindsey and I each a bathroom to ourselves. After stepping out to dry off, she took her time putting on her special makeup, as she wanted it to be perfect. They were expecting her over to the music store later that morning to meet her new boss, and she wanted to make a good first impression if she could.