"Never say your sorry, it's a sign of weakness. The sooner you learn that, the longer you'll live"
Sydney MiQueen never thought the day would come where she would be arrested, meet the twin sister she never knew she had, break out of jail, and steal cars and drugs. She never thought that she would fall in love with a criminal, almost be blown to bits, and find out who her parents' killer was either. But... that day in fact, has come.
"Never say you’re sorry- it's a sign of weakness. The sooner you get that, the longer you'll live."
Nothing in my life could have possibly prepared me for what happened today. Nothing. Not my parents dying, not living with my Aunt and Uncle until I was eighteen, not almost getting coned out of all my life’s savings, nothing could prepare me for what happened, and who I met.
My life is usually the boring cliché or a working class citizen. I get out of my warm bed, away from all the cozy comforters, and go brush my teeth. Getting dressed, I am usually brought back to the harsh reality that I have gained weight, so I go to the kitchen and eat some low fat brand name cereal that says it's supposed to make you thinner. Bull.
After I ate the boring stuff, I ended up rushing to get ready for work, throwing on clothes so fast I hardly know what I end up wearing until later, when I finally look down at a crumb that drops in my lap or I spill something, having to wipe up the mess with a napkin. After this is done, I run out the door to my car, jumping in and getting myself mentally ready for the long ride ahead where I will probably encounter a couple of people cutting me off, and more than likely more than a few people flipping me off because I don’t drive fast enough for them. Well I’m sorry- I’d rather not be caught between two big semi trucks.
You’d think that working at a publishing company would be amazing. Reading books all day and trying to make them better, and finally watching a writers dreams come true as you show them their new book, hard cover and on the shelves everywhere, soon to be best seller. It is, that’s if you have a good job in the business. Being a secretary, like me, isn’t that fun.
All I do is sit at a desk and sign papers saying that the publishers have gotten the manuscripts from the authors. I also copy and paste the occasional email to a hopeful author who is probably going to get their dreams crushed. Actually, they are going to have their dreams crushed. This publishing firm doesn't email someone back if they have made the cut. They call them personally. So if they get the email I send, it means that they are probably going to go throw all their stories in a garbage can somewhere, light it on fire, and go lay in bed crying their eyes out.
Not that I’m encouraging assists.
The building is huge, and quite the opposite of boring, despite what it is for me inside. People always stop at the foot of it while passing by to gawk at the size and dimension of the it, being taken in by the way the sun strikes the glass in the day, or the street lamps reflect into the people’s wondrous gazes at night.
During the day in the office, my only highlight is when I have that break to walk-slowly- to the vending machine to sped ten dollars a day to get several snacks and drinks. This also totally ruins my so calledhealthybreakfast for the day, destroying my income as well. Nasty habit.
Sometimes, the occasional person comes and talks to me in my lonely cube, but otherwise I try to stay away from people. I don't like them. People and animals. They're the same thing really.
I only have one friend, and they happen to be of the opposite gender. He's been my best friend since high school. The only downside of having a guy friend and no girl friends is that I don't really have anyone to talk to about well, girly stuff. Having a best friend that cringes at the words ‘tampons’ and ‘cramps’ is sort of a letdown when I’m in need for a good chick-flick and a bucket of ice cream. He does his best though.
Tony is just another lover-boy with good looks. Blonde hair, blue eyes, scatters of freckles that all the girls adore, the chiseled features that the ladies drool over. Everyone falls for his charm, but he really only has one girl of him. He's been going after her for years, and I think they would be cute together. The only problem is that if he succeeds, she might take him away from me and I would have no one, bringing me back to square one.
As I was walking to the office today, my red hair pulled up into a high ponytail, my glasses hiding my brown eyes, I got a text from Tony himself. He asked if we could go to the bar tonight. I said yes, or course. My life would be a waste land without the bar as a retreat. So we agreed that he would pick me up after work and we'd go there together.
The day passed by like any other, and I was more than willing to jump into Tony's beat up Chevrolet to head to the bar.
His seats were torn at the seams, and they felt weird under my butt. But I stayed silent about it. This car was his baby, so there would be no way that he would buy a new one. No way at all.
“So Sydney,” He begins with a smile. “There was this story on the news this morning! It’s so cool. There’s someone who just stole a car from some drug lord, and there was a shooting on the bridge, you know the one, about ten miles from here? I forget what it’s called. Well, the I.D on the driver has not been discovered yet, but wouldn’t it be so cool if we knew who it was?”
“Tony,” I had to say. “You do know that there is there is no such chance of us knowing the person personally, and even less of a chance of us actually meeting them. Since you know, they’re going to be in jail…”
Tony rolled his eyes, propelling back into his seat, eyeing the road cautiously.
When we finally arrived at the bar, I jumped out of his car, glad to be out of the death can and on stable land. Tony slowly got out, giving me a glare for being so obvious about my dislike to his beloved car.
The bar was a cute southern style bar with the swinging gate doors and the deer heads hanging on the walls. Above the doors to each of the bathrooms hung a horse shoe. The one over the ladies room was facing right side up, the one over the male's room hanging down. This was done by yours truly when she was very, very drunk, and never fixed. Probably because it was true. Men are unlucky.
We walked into the bar, the stench of beer and other delightful alcoholic drinks hitting my nose, making me sniff my ways automatically to the bar, Tony in tow. We ordered from the tough burley man there, and went to sit down. Tony had a couple shots of bourbon, not thinking about how we would get to our houses, and I had a dirty martini. I always started with the fancy stuff, and then got down to the rugged stuff. It was how I did it. Always have, always will.
To the other people in the bar, we were just another couple of twenty-five year olds who wanted to have fun and drink up.
After a couple of hours of drinking and catching up as best as we could while intoxicated, Tony suddenly started watching the TV that was right above my head.
"Sydney, why are you on the TV screen?" He asked me, quirking an eyebrow and frowning into a drunken smile.
I was confused, and got up so I could see for myself. On the screen was a video of a car racing down the highway. In the top right corner in big red letters read the word 'LIVE', so I knew it was happening right at that moment. Sure enough though, in the bottom left corner was a picture of a girl with red hair and brown eyes. She looked like me. Exactly like me.
"If you know where this woman is, or have seen her anywhere, please make sure you call the police and let them know. She is armed and highly dangerous. If you can help it, please keep her where she is until the officials have arrived at the scene."
Tony looked at me, startled. "That-that's not me-" I began.
I looked around the bar. Everyone was looking at me, either fear or danger clear in their eyes.
"That-that's not me! Don't you se-see?" I asked, framing my face sloppily, still evidently drunk, and smiling.
And that's exactly when someone clubbed me on the head. I think it was with a baseball bat, but who knows? And frankly, who cares? I was clubbed with something, being knocked out. And that's all I remembered.
And that brings us to the present.
As of now, I'm sitting in a jail cell. Yes, a jail cell. And next to who? Next tome.
Apparently, my parents failed to mention that I had a twin sister.
My life is officially interesting.