Joeie's Life intro

i want this blog to be similar to my livejournal for violet, but on a platform that's easier.  i don't remember how i started the other one though.  i guess i just started 😂🤷‍♀️  

here's what i know about the series so far:

-Joeie Davenport, a 16 year old skateboarder/actress/drummer.  
-Justin Mendoza, the oldest brother, 32 years old and main guardian.  
-Jeremy Mendoza, the middle brother, 30 years old, also lives with them
-Johnnie Mendoza, youngest brother, 28 years old, musician who is usually on tour and does not live with them

random molly snippet

I love my introverted friends... hanging out with Chloe or Izaak or even Toby. But sometimes I really value how the extroverts will just call me out on whatever they see, keeping nothing hidden. Like Vic, the moment we had some alone time on vacation.

"You're hiding something. Spill it."

having fun with chatgpt

i saw there were some updates to the images chatgpt can create, so i decided to redo my characters.  i think i like the old ones better though.

some chloe thoughts

I had been in a perpetual state of panic for what felt like months, but when Violet asked me point blank if I was Pattie Cake, it sent me over the edge.  I should've seen this coming — after our trip to Seattle, I'd known she was close, but I just hadn't expected her to be this close.  

A nagging feeling kept trying to convince me to tell her, and I almost did except she had to mention Gabe looking for evidence.  Even if Violet chose to let me off, there's no way Gabe would do the same.  Thinking about him realizing my true identity made me shiver.  Because not only would he 100% choose his client over helping me work out a deal, he'd be pissed that I was lying to him this whole time.  I didn't want to make Gabe that level of angry.

What a fucking tangled mess.

I had to get out of the apartment for a bit, away from Violet and Izaak.  Not only because it was "chores" time (which was certainly going to make her lose her shit on him), but also because it was ridiculously hard to keep this secret with her so physically close to me, and knowing that she already knew.  

Laptop and iPad in tow, I caught the train to Manhattan, where there was a college cafe with fast internet and enough students around that I wouldn't look suspicious.  Even though I had a basic VPN, I didn't want to be too close to home, just in case someone was able to crack through.

I missed Sage.  She would know how to put up the proper safeguards that no one would be able to figure out.  

I ordered a black coffee and sat at a corner table, wondering who I could frame.

Writing this from my phone…

Before I had the chance to even type any numbers into the keypad, Izaak emerged from the bathroom. "You're really asking for a bedtime spanking." Then, without another word, or even letting me put the picture frame back up, he grabbed my upper arm and pulled me towards the couch.

"Wait! You don't understand... I really need that cigarette!"

He didn't grace me with a response, instead dragging me across the floor, despite my attempts to dig my heels into the wooden floor.

violet's day at work

Weed buzzing through my veins, slowing down the activity in my brain, I pulled up the folder where I had started saving information about each of my 12 suspects.  If I'm being completely honest, some of them I just had a weird feeling about.  But they all went to high school in Michigan (various cities) and matched Pattie Cake's information — pretty white girl with blue eyes, graduated high school between 2009-2012, lived in the Detroit and/or Chicago area around 2013, and nothing crazy that would have prevented them from being a con artist in 2013 (like pregnant or in the hospital).

I pulled out the list where I'd scribbled down the names and had started more in depth research.

• Ashley Johnson (Detroit)
  -⭐️looks wealthy for a teacher
  -⭐️master's in theater
  -⭐️criminal record (theft)
  -❌financial history too spot on
  -❌married rich
  -❌voice in social media videos sounds different
• Jessica Miller (Detroit)
  -⭐️studied marketing and communications
  -⭐️mysteriously absent from social media
  -⭐️looks kinky
  -❌FetLife profile is more about golden showers and femdom
  -❌seems poor, not sure where the money would have gone
• Megan Taylor (Detroit)
  -⭐️criminal record (tax evasion in 2014)
  -⭐️seems to currently be married to a sugar daddy
  -❌dated sugar daddy during 2013, and looks actually in love with him
  -❌a little too on-the-radar if she's a criminal on the run
  -❌doesn't look like she's ever dyed her hair

molly

The apartment was eerily quiet all weekend without Violet around.  I sorta enjoyed the peace, but the silence also penetrated me to my core, reminding me of how alone I was.  Adam cancelled our Sunday hangout, a weekly brunch we'd consistently attended since the first time we dated.  Cancelling was just another clue that abandonment was on the way.

At least I have weed, I told myself, packing the bowl of my pipe with a fresh batch from my dealer.  And at least Isabel will be okay.

who knows how this will come out, i'm so sleepy right now

"I'll clean up," Clo offered as I came back to the table.  

Izaak shook his head.  "We'll all clean up."  He stood and went to the cabinet, reaching up to get a small glass storage container, scraping the remaining food inside.  He snapped the lid on top, then handed it to me, along with the picture of juice, so I could put them both in the fridge.  Clo took the dirty dishes to the sink, pushing on the water and waiting for it to heat up as she squeezed dish soap onto a sponge.  Izaak wiped off the table with a washcloth, then moved to clean the counters.  There wasn't actually much for me to do.

"Bro, where did you put my smokes?  Now's a great time for a cigarette."

He just kept up with his cleaning, ignoring my question.

So I started looking for my pack of cigarettes.  Where could he have put them?  I first checked the bookcase, even standing on my tip toes to see if he'd put them higher than I could see, but nope.  I opened the closet, checking all of the shelves, even under the towels, still nothing.  When I shut the door, Izaak was standing behind it, hands on his hips.  "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?  Tryin' to find my cigarettes.  I need one after dinner slash before bed."

"You're not smoking this weekend."

"Bro, what?  C'mon, I need them.  Where they at?"

"Locked up in the safe.  You'll get them back Sunday evening.  And as I've told you before, it's a nasty habit that you need to break.  So there will be zero cigarettes this evening."

christa, i thought of you while writing this 😈

"Enough," he said with an edge to his voice, enough to get me to stop.  Then he reached for my backpack, which wasn’t fully secured, just thrown casually over my right shoulder.  I backed up, blocking him.

"What the fuck?"

He let out a growl at my inability to control the use of my f-bombs.  “You’re this close to a mouth soaping.”  He stuck his thumb and forefinger up in warning, showing me exactly how much more I needed to push before earning a childish punishment.  Then he held out his hand for my backpack.  "You've already proven that I cannot trust you to not bring contraband into this apartment, so I will be searching your belongings."

I let out a laugh.  "This ain't the fuckin’ airport, bro.  You don't have the right to look through my shit."

Izaak's sigh was so powerful that I could feel his breath, which made me giggle.  And then he dragged me to the bathroom, causing my backpack to slide off my shoulder and land in the middle of the entryway.  I ignored it for now, because we had bigger problems than Izaak’s insistence on searching my bag.  “C’mon, you can’t expect me to change my whole manner of speaking.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just reached inside the closet and pulled out a new bar of soap.  Then he turned back to me.  "Under this roof, we communicate respectfully.”

“Whatever,” I said with an eyeroll.

rewriting, take 2

"You know Izaak's not going to let you have those."  

I glanced over at Clo as I unwrapped the pack of cigarettes I'd just bought (after smoking a half-pack today to deal with my anger).  "Bro, I'll just hide 'em in my backpack and sneak out after he's sleepin'.  I ain't worried."  I tapped out a cancer stick, popped it on my mouth, then offered her one.

She shook her head.  "I don't have a death wish.  He's still pissed about me taking Molly's pen."

I snorted.  "Yeah, you're such an innocent little angel," I said, not totally able to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.  I flicked my lighter and inhaled the first drag.

We walked in silence for a minute, Clo's heels clicking against the pavement as I took another pull, wondering for the millionth time that day if she was Pattie Cake.  The more I'd researched the other suspects, the more suspicious I'd become about Chloe Peterson, and it was killing me.  I wanted to be wrong... I didn't want to get my friend in trouble.  But if she lied to me (and the rest of the family), was she really my friend?

Somehow I have to get more info from Clo this weekend.