Sugar meets spice. [complete]
Who: Izzy and Edie Williams What: Edie needs a place to stay Where: The motel When: June 1st [Backdated]
Edie William's good old Ford pick-up, the one her daddy helped her buy when she turned sixteen, had coughed in protest as they were rolling down 68 East with the windows down (the air conditioning was broken when they bought it) and died. Her brother Henry told her it was going to do something like this and that’s why she shouldn't head off to New York City; Edie agreed, it was expected to break down in the middle of the road. It was the 1980 model.
The girl, well trained by her daddy to know her vehicle, had popped the hood with the intention of fixing it herself. To her dismay the gasket was broken and there was a hole in the cylinder. If there was no compression, there would be no engine. With a "darn" and the slamming of the hood, Edie called 411 and got the number to the nearest tow truck and mechanic.
That's how she found her way into the Pennsylvania town of Normalville. After dropping her truck off at the mechanic and finding out that they did have the part but the misogynist pig insisted he fix it, the blonde gathered a few belongings including her black cat, John Fogerty - Fog for short and named after the lead singer of Creedence Clearwater Revival, and headed to the cheapest motel in town, the directions graciously given by the mechanic.
Edie's Uncle Randy ran a motel back in Kentucky, right outside of her hometown of Bardstown. It was small and only ever had a few occupants at any given time but he at least kept it in order. If he saw the motel Edie was walking towards he would have another heart attack.
"Well, Fog," Edie spoke to her cat through its carrier in her thick southern drawl, "looks like we'll be spending the night here."
As she entered the small motel office, the girl did not realize how much of a walking contradiction of a southerner she appeared to be. She sported worn cowboy boots, tattered blue jeans, and plaid buttoned-down shirt. A silver cross hung close to her neck. The only thing missing was her cowboy hat -- she had left it in the car. She may have lived the last four years in Louisville where the "swanky folk and tourists" (as her momma called them) lived, but she was born and raised in the small town of Bardstown, known for their bourbon and farming. It was Bobby that told her Louisville was the place where anything could happen. Like a fool she believed him.
"Hello?" she called out to the seemingly empty office. She hit the bell on the counter that reacted with a loud bing!.
There were several moments of silence before a girl appeared through the door of the office behind the front desk. Her hair was bottle-black and pulled up haphazardly in a ponytail. Her eyes, rimmed heavily with dark makeup, fell on the woman in front of her, looking her up and down. The stare was more uninterested than judgmental.
“Yeah?” she said, unenthusiastically.
"Hi," Edie responded with a tired smile, drawing out the i as she was accustomed to doing. "My truck broke down and I just dropped it off at the mechanic down the street - " her right hand motioned behind her as her left hand lowered Fog to the floor, " - and he said I could find a place to stay the night here." She paused only a moment before a tangent erupted from her lips. "He said it would only take the rest of today and little bit of tomorrow morning to fix it. Of course, I could probably fix it an hour but I suppose I am helping out the local economy, right?" It was a sincere statement and she looked at the girl - oblivious to her lack of interest or at least determined to ignore it - imploringly.
Izzy blinked, expression utterly blank as the woman started giving her her life story. Did she look like Oprah? "Riiiiight," the girl replied. "It's fifty bucks a night."
"Oh, right!" Edie unslung the battered backpack from her shoulder and flopped it down on the counter between herself and the girl. She started rummaging through the contents looking for her wallet. After searching for a few moments, the blonde laughed. "My bag is always like Mary Poppin's. You know how she pulls all those things out from it in the movie? The lamp and the mirror? Except she can find her stuff. I am certainly not as organized as she is though... woo! got it!" The wallet was clutched in her hand and 50 dollars was quickly delivered to the girl. "I'm Edie by the way," she smiled.
Christ, the woman was still talking. Izzy rolled her eyes while the woman's attention was focused on her bag.
“Yeah,” was her deadpanned response to Edie's exclamation upon finding her wallet. “Awesome.”
She took the fifty bucks and stuck it in the cashbox - the cheap ass who called himself her boss wasn't willing to pay for a register - then pushed a battered sign in book across the counter. With a pen she put an X next to one of the empty lines on the book.
“You'll be in room four,” she said, sounding very much like someone going through the motions. “Name, date, room number, signature, and the best number to reach you in case you destroy your room and we need to send our mafia friends after you on this line.”
"You have mafia friends?" Edie perked up with a look, reminiscent of a deer in headlights, that bounced between the lines of shock and excitement. "Really?" she then smiled. "See I always thought that the mafia was in the New York City. That's where I'm headed by the way. I just said to heck with Louisville and Bobby. Waking up to his ugly mug every morning was just too much for me to handle anymore." She picked up the pen in the middle of her speech and began filling in the information. "What's your name?" she threw in at the end, noticing before that the girl didn't give it to her and hoping she could trick her into saying it.
Was this southern belle for real? She was going to get mugged in New York on day one, Izzy was sure of it. "Oh sure, Normalville's overrun with Mafia. No crime around here except the organized kind." With a sigh she added in monotone, "I'm Izzy, here for all your motel related needs."
Edie's score against the motel worker was written all over her face. "Izzy? What a pretty name. I bet it's short for Isabelle, isn't it? Or Isabella? My parents had to go name me after my Nanna's maw. Edith? You can see why I go by Edie, can't you?" She plopped the pen down and picked up her backpack. She filed the information about the mafia away for later, maybe she could spot one when she went out for lunch. She'd reckon her little brother Wayne would run around like a chicken with its head cut off if he found out she had met the Mafia.
"Edith's pretty old lady, yeah," Izzy agreed. She held out the key, dangling from between her fingertips.
"I know!" Edie laughed. "Edie is so much better. Except for, you know, the ice cream Edy's. I get a lot of that." She grabbed the key from Izzy and tucked it into her jean pocket. "Any good places to eat around here? I'm so hungry my belly's nawin' a hole through my backbone."
"There's a diner up the street," Izzy said, pointing in the general direction of 'left'. "Stay away from red meat and you should be able to get a meal without fear of food poisoning."
"Then I guess it'll be a salad. Though I could kill for a hamburger," Edie bit her lip and rested her hand on her stomach. "Oh well. I'll see you later Izzy. Thank you for all your help!" She slung her backpack over her shoulder and picked up the cat carrier.
Without so much as a bye, Izzy had turned and headed back into the office before the woman was even out the door, settling back in to watch the small TV they kept back there.