Adopted

Chapter 4

"So," I asked. "What do you do?"

"I'm in the music industry," Mr. Urie said.

"Of course you are," I mumbled. "This is LA. Everyone's in the music or entertainment industry."

"No, really, I am. We do pretty well for ourselves. And Sarah, or your mom. Hmm. We're going to have to figure out what you're comfortable calling us. Anyway, Sarah is an aesthetician. She works part-time."

"Because you're such a successful music industry person," I quipped.

"Aaaactually, yes." he said.

I rolled my eyes. What had I gotten myself into?

"Are you afraid of dogs, by any chance?" Mr. Urie asked.

"No. Why?"

"We have two. Bogart, a Jack Russell terrier, and Penny Lane, a pug."

"Cute," I said, looking out the window and watching the city of LA fly by. We were driving out of the downtown area into the hills around the city. Great. They're probably weirdos who traffic kids from some remote place.

My imagination gets away from me sometimes.

We turned onto a street lined with palm trees and houses behind gates. But not remote at all. It was a normal looking neighborhood. Although the houses were just ever so slightly bigger than 'average'. But not, like, mansions or anything like they have in Beverley Hills.

We pulled into the driveway of a cute little two story house and Mr. Urie closed the gate behind us.

"Welcome Home, Jessica Urie." he said. "That is, if you want to take our last name. I, we, won't be insulted if you don't, but if you do, we'll go to the courthouse and get it changed. But we don't have to decide that now."

He turned off the car, an SUV, and we got out. I looked around. Cute house, a little garden out front, and a carport.

"Come on. Let's give you the grand tour of your new home," Sarah said, putting her arm around my shoulders. I went to grab my duffel bag, but Mr. Urie had it.

"I got this, no problem," he said. I took my backpack, and followed them into the house.

We were immediately greeted by two yappy dogs. The Jack Russell, Bogart, jumped up on me and jumped around, barking. The pug, Penny Lane barked at me a couple of times, sniffed my jeans and then tottered over to Sarah.

"Down, Bogart!" Mr. Urie said. "Come on in, Jessica. Let's give you the tour, we'll show you your room, and then we'll make some plans."

I followed them up some stairs from the entryway. There was a piano against the wall in the hallway. Odd.

"We'll start with downstairs," Sarah said, as we walked through into a living room area.

"So this is obviously the living room," Mr. Urie said. I saw awards on the mantle, but didn't inspect them.

"Through here is the kitchen and dining room. We have a breakfast bar, which is where we usually eat, in the kitchen, though we may have to move to the dining room now that there are three of us," Sarah said.

"Through there," Mr. Urie said, pointing at a sliding glass door, "is obviously the backyard."

"Cool. You guys have your own pool. At the orphanage, we had to go to the community center to swim."

"Do you know how to swim?" Sarah asked.

"Oh yeah. I can manage." I said. I'd been on the school swim team.

"That building out there is my studio. It is the only place, besides the liquor cabinet, that is off limits to you, without my permission. Deal?" Mr. Urie said.

"Deal." I shrugged.

"Now, we don't have a lot of rules in this house, but bedtime will be bedtime when we say it's bedtime. We'll all discuss an appropriate bedtime later. You'll also go to school, because you're 13, and I'm not letting any 13 year old kid of mine freeload. School or a job. Got it?" Mr. Urie had a twinkle in his eye.

"I guess that's fair," I sighed, playing along. "Since getting a job at 13 is illegal, unless I break into acting or something."

"Stranger things have happened," Sarah mused.

"If there's anything you want food wise, let us know. We'll get it. I promise you, we are not weird organic vegans. Although Sarah eats more vegetarian-like than I do, I am a big fan of meat. And junk food. So I promise you will have access to ice cream and cake and chips and that sort of crap."

I laughed. Maybe they weren't weird child traffickers.

"Alright, let's head upstairs and we'll show you your room." Sarah said.

I followed them upstairs and down a hallway.

"So, this room is a guest room," Sarah said, showing me a room with a double bed and a dresser. It was nice, but very obviously a guest room. "There's a bathroom here across the hall, and over here, is your room." She opened another door.

I stepped into the room. It was blue, which was fine. I like blue. It wasn't huge, but it was bigger than my room at the orphanage. There was a closet, and a double bed, a dresser, a wardrobe and a desk. On the desk was a laptop, a Mac. There was a door in the room and I opened it. It opened into the bathroom that opened into the hallway. So I had my own bathroom, but would have to share it with guests. Pfft. I'd been sharing a bathroom with 20 little kids my whole life. I smiled.

"You like it? We can repaint if you want."

"No. That's okay. I like blue."

"Okay. We'll need to go shopping. Get you some bedding, maybe some more clothes. You don't have a lot here." Sarah said, putting my duffel bag on the bed.

"I don't need much." I said.

"We got you a laptop for your schoolwork, and it's networked to the printer downstairs in the kitchen, so if you need to print off your homework, it's already set up."

"No porn, though," Mr. Urie said.

"Brendon!" Sarah said.

Brendon Urie? Why does that name sound so familiar?