Bluebird

1

September 15, 2010

She picked up a guitar when she was three years old. She started singing when she was five. She couldn't understand why, because neither of her parents were musical but she enjoyed it. It was her little special thing. She taught herself how to play the guitar. She couldn't read music but she was able to sounds and she knew the chords so she could at least learn the score of the song she was writing. It was convoluted and kinda complicated but it was hers and she was pretty damn good at it. 

When she was fifteen everything kind of fell into place though. In a horrible, twisted sort of way. Her father and mother had been coming home from her mother's work Christmas party. A drunk driver had come out of nowhere and caused their car to flip and all three people involved in the accident didn't make it out alive. She didn't have any family so best best friend Garrett and his family took her in. As she was cleaning out the attic and selling the house, which put 2 million dollars in her bank account, she found a whole bunch of her paperwork. That's how she found out she was adopted. And that's how she found out who her biological parents were. She was shocked to say the least because she was a huge fan of Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham. 

But what fell into place was the fact that she had brownie-blonde slightly wavy, but mostly straight hair whereas her parents had brown and black hair. Her brown puppy dog eyes made sense, her parents both had blue eyes. The music made sense. 

Now however, she was 23 years old, almost 24 and her adoptive parents had been gone for about eight years. When she was eighteen she moved to Los Angeles with Garrett. He came out to his family that he was gay and they didn't want anything to do with him. So Annabel changed her last name from Bekker, back to Buckingham and then she followed him. They had been there for five years and they were living in a decent sized apartment. It wasn't by any means great, but he was working at AT&T, and she was working in a bar. Waitressing by day, every other day, 11:30-6 and singing literally every night, save for Sunday as the bar was closed. 8:30-11. Samantha, Garrett's little sister was 19 now, and had been living with them for about a year. She wants to become an actress. 

Annabel however, found herself alone most of the time. Garrett had friends and they were always going to gay night clubs and doing things like that. So when he wasn't working he was usually with them. And Sam had been dating a boy for about a year now. They started dating a month after she moved in with them. They knew his name was William and they knew he was the same age as her but they hadn't met him and they didn't know anything about him. They didn't even know his last name. They just knew his name was Will. So most nights Sam was with William and his family. Apparently he was going to school to become a realtor. 

It was Wednesday, so she wasn't waitressing but she was performing. Doing a lip twill she fixed her hair in the mirror, making it a messy but pretty wavy and she did bold makeup. And finally her outfit for the night. It was her favorite outfit. A black long sleeve tiered dress that ended mid thigh. It was velvet and the pattern on it was equivalent to Stevie Nicks'-her mother's-Bella Donna Shawl. As much as she wanted to track down her parents she knew it was pointless. They were protected by people and if she were to come out and say hey, Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham are my parents, she'd most likely get sued, and probably arrested. The end piece of her outfit was a pair of burgundy over the knee platform boots with a six-inch heel. She was 5 feet 1 inches. Very short, she got it from her biological mother. The boots were always what she performed in. Not because she wanted to be like Stevie Nicks, not at all. No she just felt safer because Stevie Nicks has said many times. Platform high heel boots won't feel good in your face and her job is dangerous. She's at a bar. Not at an arena with security guards and barriers. 

She grabbed her glasses, and purse and she headed out the door. She drove a black chevy Malibu. It wasn't her favorite vehicle in the world, she wanted an SUV but it's what she could afford and the smaller cars in Los Angeles traffic were better anyway. 

She gets to the bar, she greets her coworkers and then she starts her night. She has a brown guitar with pink flowers on it. It was the last thing the Bekker's got her before they died. After the funeral she opened all of her Christmas gifts and it was one of them. 

She takes the stage and the regulars cheer for her. There are a few tourists and travelers as it is Los Angeles, but she waves and gets situated. 

"Hey Everybody! My name is Annabel, Wow, there's a lot of you here tonight. Well, I've got several songs for you. How many of you are here on a visit?" She asks.

Several people make noise in agreement and she smirks. "Well this one is for you." 

She picks up her guitar, slings it over her shoulder and she starts strumming. She writes her own songs, and she just really enjoys singing. She's not after a record deal. She doesn't want to be a famous singer-though it would help her get close to Stevie and Lindsey-but she does enjoy singing and the bar is the perfect venue for it. Moe, the owner is pretty nice about everything too so it's all worth while. 

The backing band behind joins in and then it's her time to start singing so she goes into it. 

 I have been draggin' around your sensitive ego
Making sure that your bags arrive on time for the dog and pony show
A little suitcase like a brick,
It kinda makes it hard to get a good grip
I drop your troubles off at the conveyor belt,
I'll hand you a ticket to go get it yourself

At the baggage claim, you got a lot of luggage in your name
When you hit the ground, check the lost and found
Cause it ain't my problem now
I can't carry it on, I've got a lot of troubles on my own
It's all over the yard, in the trunk of the car,
I'm packin' it in, so come and get it.

If it ain't obvious what has set me off today,
Behind every woman scorned is a man who made her that way
Go on and take your little business trip with that sweet little habit
That you can't kick
You better call your momma when you get to town
Cause I ain't gonna be hangin' around

At the baggage claim, you got a lot of luggage in your name
When you hit the ground, check the lost and found
Because it ain't my problem now
I can't carry it on, I've got a lot of troubles of my own
It's all over the yard, in the trunk of the car,
I'm packin' it in, so come and get it

Come and get it!

Come and pick it up, pick it up
Before I blow it up in flames
You better pick it up, pick it up,
Baby, I'm leaving everything...

At the baggage claim, you got a lot of luggage in your name
And when you hit the ground, check the lost and found
Cause it ain't my problem now
I can't carry it on, I've got a lot of troubles of my own
It's all over the yard, in the trunk of the car,
Well I'm packin' it in, so come and get it

Come and get your shit!