Music left with her dad when the divorce happened. After that, it was church, church, more church - stolen No Doubt cds, staying out late trying to sneak into clubs with her friends, wearing sweaters that purposely exposed her bra, just trying to piss her mom off. A tattoo bought with stolen cash and a fake id when she was sixteen.

Now she's twenty-one, and she calls it 'classy trash', torn stockings and pearls. Throw in a pair of pumps, stained jeans and heavy eyeliner and you've got a portrait of Jessica Grey.

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Was like in the movies, you know? Pullin' out a wad of cash, slamming it down in front of the ticket master: "How far will this get me?" Classic shit, man. The grandpa behind the counter was in awe, I could tell. Or maybe he'd been a stroke victim. Fuck if I know.

Anyway, it works better in movies, doesn't it? Here I thought I'd end up in some gem of a fuckin' town where I'd run into a talent scout whose car broke down and he'd recognize my talent and whisk me off and I'd be Gwen Stefani 2.0.

Instead I'm here in this shit hole trying to find a job so I can stop sleeping on the goddamned streets. Guess it's better than livin' under Margie's goddamned thumb, but shit. Just so long's I can stay out of trouble, I guess.

I'd call dad, but Marge won't give me his new number. How fucked is that?

Oh well. You're twenty-one, Jessica. Plenty old enough to figure this shit out alone.

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(( Hey sup, I'm new in Sim! Up for anything, so if Jess sounds like a character you'd like to interact with, hit me up. *salutes* ))