AN: Hoorah! This is my first story on FictionPress. I hope you guys enjoy it! Keep in mind that I don’t revise my stories. I probably should, but I’m too lazy to do it. Check out the soundtrack on my profile too!

Building a Family

Chapter One

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After lugging in the last box into his new apartment, Jude O’Connell wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He ran his hand through his curly brown locks as he gazed at his new home. No, home was the wrong word. It didn’t feel like home. Of course it was a simple and clean apartment with a beautiful view of the park across the street, but the entire place felt foreign to him.

It was just a little apartment in Northern California, far away from his real home. The only reason why Jude wanted to get away from Georgia was to be alone, to have freedom. Even though he wanted to break away from it all, Jude still missed Georgia. He was born and raised there his whole entire life. In fact, it seemed like yesterday he was back home with his family, including Chelsea.

Jude’s heart suddenly ached at the thought of her name.

Chelsea Evans.

She was his one and only love, his sunshine, his reason for living, his wife. He could remember her soft honey curls and her beautiful crystal blue eyes. They had met during their freshman year. They were each other’s first everything. However, something went wrong during their relationship because Chelsea wanted a divorce a year after they married. Her actions left Jude incredibly heartbroken. He always wondered what he did wrong, but most of all, Jude never understood why she would leave him and their little gift.

”Da! Da!” giggled a soft little voice.

Jude’ snapped back into reality once a tiny body collided with his right leg. He smiled at the little toddler, their little gift, their son. It was crazy how he, a 22-year-old fresh out of college, was a divorced father. He was responsible for a human being now.

Jude picked up his son and watched him squirm and giggle in his father’s arms.

As crazy as it sounded, it wasn’t that bad.

“This is going to be a new start for us, Jace. We’re on our own now, buddy,” Jude whispered in the little toddler’s ear, before placing a soft, chaste kiss to his son’s forehead.

Vicky Hawthorne hated work. Not only did she hate work, she hated running to work when she was late.

Yeah, what kind of 18-year-old didn’t own a car?

Well actually, it wasn’t her fault. Her parents just didn’t want Vicky to grow up to be a spoiled brat. Thanks to them, her only form of transportation was her lime-green Pumas. She probably looked like a fashion disaster to the cars driving by. After all, she was wearing her father’s oversized cardinal-colored Stanford t-shirt, her flare jeans from Express, the lime-green Pumas, and her beautiful uniform, the bright baby-blue Birdie’s apron. Running to work was horrible. It was about two miles away from Vicky’s house.

That’s right. Vicky worked at Birdie’s, the local supermarket with the catchy slogan, “Where everything is cheap, cheap, cheap!”

By the time she arrived to work, her dark brunette hair was extremely disheveled and her cheeks were rosy. She was about twenty minutes late to work, and the poor girl looked like she had just been run over by a damn school bus.

“Once again, you are late. Not surprising. You are so in trouble!” said the curly red-head on the cash register. Vicky brushed a slick strand of hair out of her face as she glared at her co-worker.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know she was in trouble. This was the seventh time she was late.

Vicky noticed her red-faced manager charging in her direction.

“Victoria…”

Fuck. She was getting fired. The only time people called her by her first name was when there was bad news.

“We at Birdie’s cannot accept tardiness. This has been the tenth time you were late. It’s your responsibility to show up to work on time. I’m very sorry, but we’re going to have to let you go. You can turn in your uniform right after you’ve washed it.”

With that being said, her manager walked away, leaving her dumbfounded.

“About time we let go of the dead weight,” sneered the red-head. All Vicky could do to retaliate was walk out of the supermarket.

Although she hated working there, she hated getting fired even more. It just labeled ‘You’re not qualified for this job. You obviously suck. Go find a job more suited for you, like eating dirt.’

It took her an hour to walk back, coming home to her mom and her sisters gossiping about the latest scandals in the living room.

“Peter Dixon got caught smooching with two girls on the couch by his mom! That’s just embarrassing!” exclaimed Lucia.

“Peter as in the nerdy little Peter across the street?” replied Lana.

Lucia and Lana Hawthorne, how could one explain them? They were Vicky’s older twin sisters by two years. They were rude and snobby as they were drop-dead gorgeous. Unlike Vicky, they could pass off as supermodels. They were 5’11”, had long voluminous auburn hair, and curves in all the right places. It was too unfortunate that their personalities were extremely catty.

“Bullshit! I can’t see him with a girl. I’m sorry! The boy is too thin, lanky, and boring! The wall would be more entertaining,” said their mother. Both of the twins cackled.

Rhonda Hawthorne, one of the straightforward mothers in the world… and the most embarrassing. The woman always had the ability to make Vicky’s face as red as her mother’s hair.

All of them were so engrossed in their conversation that they were oblivious to Vicky coming home until she slammed the front door shut.

“Vicky darling, why are you home so early?” asked Rhonda.

“I got fired,” declared Vicky, yanking her uniform over her head and throwing it at the couch.

“That’s shocking,” Lana said sarcastically while Lucia giggled silently.

“Oh shut up,” replied Vicky.

“That’s horrible! Here, I have some extra chocolate.”

Anybody who knew Rhonda knew that she always believed that the solution to everything was chocolate. Apparently, it “cushioned the pain.” She reached inside her purse beside her and took out a long rectangular bar.

“You know you want it, Vicks,” said Rhonda in a sing-song voice as she waved the chocolate in front of Vicky’s face.

“Mom, chocolate is so bad for you. It’s a bar of bubbling fat. Why do you always buy them? Get rid of it!” said Lana.

“Hush, Lana. This isn’t for you, it’s for Vicky. I should go down to Birdie’s and give them a piece of my mind! Take it, baby,” said Rhonda, still waving the chocolate bar in front of Vicky.

“Don’t do that, Mom. That’s too embarrassing. Besides, it was my fault anyway,” sighed Vicky. She tore the chocolate wrapper open with her teeth, and nibbled on the bar.

“Well, I’m your mother! I feel like I should do something!” exclaimed Rhonda.

“You could kick her out of the house,” suggested Lucia, braiding her long auburn hair.

“Lucia, you and Lana are two years older than I am, and you still live with Mom,” Vicky stated.

The twins scoffed at their younger sister, and continued to play with their hair.

“Just look for a new job. The paper’s on the kitchen table. Just check the want ads,” said Rhonda.

“Alright, but pray that I don’t get fired again,” said Vicky.

She sighed as she walked to the kitchen. She sat down at the table once she found the paper, and browsed through the job listings.

“Let’s see, what do we got here?”

Aphrodite’s Lovely Perfumes? Vicky tried to imagine herself with loads of perfume behind the counter with thousands of the scents mixing together. No, her nose would cry for help.

Archery instructor? A vision of her striking another man’s ass flashed in her mind. Double no.

Babysitting? Perhaps she could try that.

Babysitter wanted Mon.-Fri. from 3pm – 9pm

240/wk.

Contact Jude O’Connell
415-555-9872

Vicky contemplated the ad while she nibbled on the chocolate bar. Did she really want to do this? Kids never really quite liked her. In fact, every single child she encountered nicknamed her ‘Icky Vicky’. How original. Then again, she could always watch their television, eat their food, and doze off on their couch while watching the brat.

Vicky smiled as she thought about the idea, and walked over to the telephone to dial the number.