Chapter 1

ONE

EVERYTHING ABOUT THE PENTHOUSE HAD BEEN THE SAME: chic, modern, and at each wall there was a different line of famous celebrities varying from actors to artists of the music world. It was a normal New York penthouse. The familiar sound of a classic piano followed by a jazzy saxophone came to each guest’s ears. In the center of the room on the white tile, people danced in a mesmerizing waltz despite the overall young age group that had attended. On each wall it seemed a large television displayed different images of orthodox roses to contribute to the overly calm atmosphere. It was titled an annual party but it seemed to be more like a weekly party. The rich, including my dad who always hosted these “annual” parties, couldn’t help but spend their money and talk about it with another who understood the same disasters of having money. Each woman’s perfume collided together to create a car accident of aromas that made me sick to my stomach. Their handsome men stood by their sides, complimenting their greatest diamond trimmings that were bought none other than by their men accessories. Everybody was equipped with a champagne glass full of bubbling amber liquid. They all looked exactly the same; the only differences were their dresses ranging

from Valentino to Jean Paul Gaultier, the sizes of the diamonds on their ring fingers bigger than the next. The one thing that had changed was the morose mood I had about everybody around me. Once I had been apart of these seemingly happy couples, these conversations about the tragedies of having too much money, wearing my husband like an accessory but he instead enjoyed it unlike the other men here with their materialistic wives. After the ignorance that had occurred in my own life, where I thought it was impossible due to status, I realized then that everybody was fake, down to the few roots of real hair on their future cancer-induced heads. I took a small sip from my own tall glass while I loathly watched a familiar blonde hair, blue eyed man talk to a woman around my age. My stomach tangled in knots instantly and my heart began fading away to an acidic effect. I practically squealed at the touch of a hand on my shoulder. Turning quickly, I smiled into the face of Murphy Jax. He was an R&B singer and a great one at that. Tall, kind, most definitely handsome in his standard black suit that surprisingly complimented his dark skin and eyes; he was the perfect dream man for any woman. “Finally I found you! I was looking for you Jade,” He wrapped his arms around me in a quick hug. “I thought maybe you left.” I chuckled lightly. “You know how much I love these parties.” I took another sip of my champagne with a comical roll of my eyes to show my true appreciation. Murphy laughed. “When did you get here?” “When I found out you know who was here.” My eyes trailed back over to the man talking to the woman. I tried to hide the worry lining my face but I knew nothing could escape the observant eye of Murphy’s. “Hey.” He put his hand on my chin and brought my gaze to his. “I don’t want to see any form of tears coming from those big brown eyes tonight, alright?” I nodded. “Promise?” I nodded again. “Don’t worry about him. As long as we keep our distance, we’ll be fine.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and began leading me along through the thick crowd. “Besides, would he really try to do something in your dad’s house?”

“No, I guess not…” I trailed off, turning to stare at him one last time. I couldn’t help but remember our past together. As we thrust ourselves into the throng, we were forced to a stop as I heard my dad calling my name. “Jade! Jade!” I turned and saw his always cheery face approaching the two of us. His hair was a stark white now compared to the chocolaty brown that he passed down to me. Even after mom had divorced him, I wasn’t quite sure how he had remained so cheery. Maybe it was a charade and I hadn’t noticed his true feelings. He turned his ice blue eyes to Murphy, smiled, shook his hand, and then turned back to me. “I’m so glad you made it! I thought maybe, you know, after all the parties you came to when you were little that you would be sick of them by now.” “No dad, not at all.” Of course, this was something said just to make him happy. I wouldn’t want to make him feel awful just because his daughter didn’t exactly want to attend the parties he held so often. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Murphy squeezed a hand on my shoulder to show his support. “Um, dad?” “Yes sweetheart?” “Did you know…David is here?” He turned every which way like David was supposed to be right behind him. I knew he was joking—the smile on his face that grew even farther told me that he had purposely invited him. He turned back with that sarcastic smile. “Why no! David Harron? I had no idea!” “Dad…” I complained quietly. “Why did you even invite him if you knew I refuse to re-marry him?” “You two can’t just talk things out?” His usually electric and ecstatic eyes faded. “No. Not at all.” I shook my head quickly in realization. “Wait a second, you actually want me to try and work things out with him? After all of the humiliating things he’s done to me?” He opened his mouth to reply but Murphy quickly began pulling me away after apologizing to him. People began spreading as he led the way through them. Murphy pulled me aside in the hallway leading into the back of the apartment to the guest

bedroom, plucking the champagne glass from my fingers, and placing it on an end table in the middle of the hall between two rooms. “You’re shaking.” I nodded. My blood was boiling. “I just can’t believe he would do that.” I shook my head again, putting my thumb to my mouth to bite at the nail. Murphy took my hand away from my mouth. I stared up at him in knowing of what was about to happen. He began to lean down but I pushed my head to the other side. “Not here.” Murphy pulled back with what I could assume was an incredulous expression from my downcast eyes. “If not here, where? Are you ashamed?” He brought my left hand to his face in the slight darkness of the hall. “You aren’t even wearing it.” At the sizzle of venom in his voice, I couldn’t bring myself to look up into his eyes. I began to close up inside myself. The last person that used a venomous voice was prone to following it with hitting. He looked ready to say something else, probably full of that tone I had never heard from him before, but was interrupted by a loud siren. At first I thought it was a siren outside; it turned out to be an alarm inside my dad’s penthouse. We both looked out to the people beginning to panic in the main room. Behind them on the television screens were yellow hazard signs. A nuclear bomb? Suddenly, I was caught off balance when the floor shook violently. I was about to ask him what was going on just in case he knew when Murphy quickly grabbed my hand and began leading the way out the door of the penthouse. Hundreds of well-dressed people flew out from the double oak doors. We were all herded like sheep. The walls shook around us, the floor vibrating beneath us. The previously quick pace the heels were allowing me to run at was brought to a sluggish yet anxious rush as we joined the mass trying to evacuate. In the chaos, despite being amongst the other people in the building, Murphy and I ended up back with my dad. His face was grave and calculating. “Dad what’s going on?” As he brought himself closer and closer to the stairwell leading down the thirty flights of stairs as quickly as the crowd would permit him, he began muttering to himself as if in a trance, “I made movies about this…But Christ; I never thought it would ever happen.”

“Dad! You’re scaring me! What’s going on?” I shook his shoulder roughly. He jerked out of the trance. “May God help us all.” He began hurrying away from the crowd to the surely more dangerous elevator. He couldn’t be serious. I saw the opening doors of the elevator and knew he was leaving me then. How could he leave me without answers? How could he leave me in the first place? I pulled out of Murphy’s grasp in the chance moment when he was off guard, Murphy screaming behind me, but continued on towards my dad. I screamed over the panicked shouting, “Dad! Dad! What do you mean?” With another quick turn he said quietly and gravely inside the closing elevator, “I don’t know. Just make it with us.” The elevator door closed. “Jade, come on!” Murphy was pulling at my arm again. I stood staring at the elevator for a few moments longer, breathing in deeply to choke back the tears I promised Murphy I wouldn’t shed. There was a loud impending roar coming from the elevator cavity. Following the roar was a thick heat that made a sweat break on my brow immediately. He was gone. “Jade, we have to leave.” He was quieter now. Gently, he tugged on my hand, silently begging me to go with him. I slowly turned and began following after him like I had so many times before. Shock was much stronger than sadness in that moment. Adrenaline ignited within me to keep up with him and keep myself alive. People were crying, screaming, yelling at each other. Everybody was rushing down the stairs. A fire had begun on the floor where my father’s penthouse used to be. I had never seen such complete and utter chaos before in my life. Impatient people were pushing the person in front of them. When I stumbled and almost lost my footing from somebody doing so to me, Murphy turned, shouted a few curse words, then continued guiding me down. At one point my heels broke and I literally tumbled down the stairs with what felt like a broken ankle. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered to me in that moment. All I could think about was my dad, dead.

Murphy set me down on a bus bench once we broke free from the suddenly claustrophobic confinements of the apartment. The people ran around us like water passing around a stone in a river. People scattered in all different directions of panic. When he pulled up the long skirt of my once beautiful white dress I realized the bone was completely out of my ankle. Blood dripped down to my feet and stained the bottom of them. There was no pain—until Murphy began pushing the bone back in. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, heavy breathing and a small whimper the only evidence of my pain. “Jade,” Murphy was panting, sweating. “Jade, you have to try to walk. I can’t carry you all the way to our apartment.” “Is there even time to get there?” “We’ll make time.” Murphy helped me get up from the bus bench. As I put pressure on my ankle, I hissed through my teeth. “Aw, hell. I’ll try.” He gave a small laugh as he brought my feet out from under me and carried me as if I were his bride. “It’ll be good practice.” I buried my face into his open chest. I guess I missed when he had ripped off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Good practice. I didn’t even have the chance to tell my dad about Murphy’s question he was burning to ask for a couple months. Now he wouldn’t even be walking me down the aisle. The hot tears came suddenly like an unexpected wave. Murphy sang quietly as he huffed up the stairs, “Everything’s gonna be alright.” He kicked open the door after fumbling with the keys, laying me down on the couch, hurrying into the room and opening two suitcases and throwing in random things from the drawers and closets. I sat up slowly, head spinning, and forced myself to stand. “Murphy, what’s happening?” Murphy continued to throw things into the now overflowing suitcases. He stood and pulled out one more for each of us. “What’s happening, Murphy?” I clung to the wall, my eyes falling over all remnants of my past. Jewelry, picture frames all documented the good and bad in my life. A smiling photo of my parents holding me together made me shudder. Was my mom alive still? Or did she suffer the

same fate as my dad? Murphy began making his way into the bathroom, taking both of his hands and shoving them over the counter, each item clattering into the suitcase. Slowly, I turned back to him, suddenly angry he wasn’t replying. “MURPHY. TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON.” Murphy stood then, bringing both of his hands to my face. He continued to pant wildly as if he had just run two marathons in a row. “The world. Is ending. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, all I know is that this was supposed to happen and now it is. We need to make it onto the ship. You need to pack your dearest belongings. I’ll get everything else, I promise.” He turned back to the suitcase to continue packing the necessities after throwing a pale pink bag at me to put together my own things. It was my duty to confront my past through the items of memory. First, a magazine cover of my parents holding me as a child, expressions of distress on their face as they walked into a hospital.