dope chick

“Yeah, I’ve been inside. It’s a shithole. Got some furniture you could smash up though,” last he remembered. “Floor’s covered in syringes and condoms so I’d suggest heavy duty boots. Maybe masks too cause I’m pretty sure there’s a shitton of asbestos.” Paying $80 for the pleasure of breaking some plates and vases without risk of death or infection was kind of starting to sound appealing now.

Nancy gave a careless shrug. “I’m willing to bet that all the popcorn ceiling around Oasis is fully asbestos-fied, too.” And with a miniature mountain of Doc Martens taking up the floor space of her closet, she felt pretty set, as far as trespassing gear went. “I totally wanna check it out,” she said decisively, head bobbing in a steady nod. “Feel like kickin’ around rubble sometime?”

“My little sister had a phase when we were moving.” Breanne sighed. She remembered having to listen to that song on loop for months. It sent a shiver down her spine. “We told her a hundred times, we’re not going to Alabama we’re going to Nevada. It did not matter. If anything she just got worse.” It’s not that Breanne didn’t know that’s exactly how each Samaya turned out. They were all like that. “So I’m just permanently traumatized by Sweet Home Alabama.” She quickly scribbled down banana split on the order pad, “Want all the usual toppings? I make no promises about the mopping I’m here until like 6. If I stop moving I will sleep.” Breanne explained, she would probably make the banana split as well. She enjoyed what little desserts she was able to make. “Extra whipped cream?”

“Ahh,” she sighed, face wrinkled with a sympathetic wince as she nodded along. “That would certainly do the trick. From here on out, you can use a veto on that song if it ever comes on the radio while we’re on shift together.” Nancy’s smile smoothed back into place, watching Breanne jot down her indulgent, midnight snack. “Yep, gimme the works on it. No extra whipped cream, but if you can sneak a few more maraschino cherries on there than the usual, I won’t be complainin’ about it.” She glanced away from the other to nod back at the row of coffee pots, “Is there a fresh one brewed?”

Nathan couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows a little in amusement. She had a right to the reaction, though, and he could see exactly where she was coming from. None of the ideas were particularly great ones, but they needed to get out of there somehow… and at some point today. As much as he’d be happy to hide out in an elevator all day, he did have a life to be getting on with. “I don’t think either one’s a possibility, honestly,” he commented, moving closer to the doors to speak to the guys out there. “You’ve been watching too many movies.”

“Well --” Her eyes rolled, more at herself than anything Nathan had said, reconsidering the likelihood of this elevator misadventure actually claiming one or both of their lives -- and, okay, yeah. Maybe she was being a little bit dramatic, because that wasn’t going to happen in any scenario. Her arms resolutely remained crossed, despite amending, “Not many fears are based in reality... But, yeah, you’re probably right. How about you go first when they get the doors open, then? I’ll give you the boost to climb out. Prove it’s safe and all that.”

Nancy could not be blamed for her actions, she simply couldn’t. Not when she spotted a familiar figure standing right beside the pool, close enough to the edge that it was practically a taunt. Quiet and casual, she sidled up behind them, not giving it another second of thought before abruptly shoving at the center of their back, her other hand quickly catching the fabric of their shirt right after, yanking him back before he could take an actual dive into the crystalline water. “Saved your life,” she sing-songed, smile verging on a shit-eating grin as she peeked around Adam’s shoulder to reveal herself. “What luck that I happened to be right here, huh?”

“We’ll sing kid friendly songs. Balance it out. Along with dancing on the bar and holding pitchers of orange juice.” She shrugged. It sounded ridiculous and she loved it. “No Sweet home Alabama though. That song is banned.” She absolutely did not mind working. Might as well do something while she was here. “I cleaned almost all of the front of the house out of sheer boredom, I don’t mind working at all. Whatcha craving?” Bre almost put her elbows on the counter top she just wiped down and changed her mind.

She laughed a little, eyebrows raising at the clear boundary line that Breanne was putting in place. “Do you have a traumatic memory attached to ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ or something? Not that that’s the song I’d go to bat for -- or any country tune, for that matter. I’d be pretty damn happy if I never had to hear about Dolly Parton again.” Nancy gave an over-the-top eyeroll. “I’m gonna need one of our massive banana splits,” she explained, taking on a much more serious tone despite her teasing smile. “And, if you wanna, we could even split it? Y’know, as long you’re not suddenly compelled to mop this place from floor to ceiling again.”

Breanne’s face lit up, “We’re turning the diner into Coyote ugly!” She was so excited at this idea that was absolutely not happening. “Listen if enough of us get on board the owner will have to consider it.” She knew damn well that’s not how things worked but it was fun to entertain the idea. “You never know, maybe I’ll get an extra quarter. I also thought I had the whole night to myself so I had to liven things up.” She admitted. Normally she checked the schedule but today that just hadn’t happened today. She came into a crazy dinner rush and had no time to do anything else. “I thought Mikey was taken… we don’t take home taken men.” She also had no desire to sleep with her coworkers but that came flying out of her mouth. “He was definitely here earlier but I think he’s since gone home. I’ve been in my own space for hours. It died down around eleven and stayed that way thankfully.”

“I don’t think the boss man would go for that,” she laughed lightly, folding her arms atop her bag while leaning forward against the counter. Nancy’s shoulders shrugged upwards around her ears as she continued, “I mean, I’d be all for it, no doubt, but what would happen to our family-friendly image? I don’t think we’d get away with dancing across the bar, holding pitchers of orange juice while belting out ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ during the Sunday brunch hour -- at least, not for long.” But it certainly was an appealing idea. She continued to grin, letting her gaze stray from Breanne to survey the otherwise empty diner. The occasional clatter could be heard from the kitchen, but it really was the lone radio making Golden Griddle not feel quite so lonesome. “Those are always the best shifts,” she agreed, “When you’re practically get paid just to exist. Will you hate me if I put you to work?” Blinking back to Bre, Nancy innocently widened her eyes. “‘Cause I had a midnight craving that I just couldn’t kick.”

Open Starter

Location: Golden Griddle Diner

@slchat​

Night shift sucked, especially when Breanne was basically by herself at the diner. She did have a few members of the kitchen staff they might as well been in different worlds. She had to watch the front of the store. At least she could say the place was clean. All the energy she wanted to be using for talking to someone, she spent wiping the whole place down. Seats, counter tops, even the cash register got a quick wipe down. She smiled at her handy work, it would be immediately for naught once the breakfast rushed rolled around but at least for this moment, the diner practically sparkled. Bre was in her own little world as she had control of the radio, being it was basically midnight and the place was dead. She happily entertained the few remaining kitchen staff with her decent singing and subpar dance skills. “I’m painting my soul with a different kind of gold, that no on could take and no one can corrode. Out of all of the things that you said winter would bring. Did you expect the wind to carry your broken wings?” She sang whilst she finished cleaning the coffee pots

Nancy had spotted Breanne shimmying behind the counter from outside the front window of the diner, so her sharp grin was already in place and she was ready to shout as soon as she yanked open the door, “Hey!” Golden Griddle was just as deserted as she expected it to be (the customers would certainly trickle in around 2 or 3 AM as bars made their last call) and because of that, she didn’t think twice about ‘keeping it professional’ -- and besides, it was one of her rare nights off, anyway. Shouldn’t she have the privilege of acting like a rowdy customer for once, too?

“Whatta’ya think this place is, Coyote Ugly or somethin’?” Nancy automatically slid onto an empty barstool near Breanne, dropping her purse on the counter and getting comfortable. “I’m sad to tell you that no one around here will be giving you a fat tip for your talent.” Briefly, her bottom lip jutted out in a sad imitation pout before the expression cleared and she waggled her brows suggestively. “Well... that is, unless you’re planning on taking Mikey home,” she teased, referring to one of the part-time fry cooks that probably wasn’t even on that night.

Nathan would have laughed at her reaction if the situation they were trapped in wasn’t quite so inconvenient. He’d lost track of how long they’d been stuck there now, but it was at least twenty minutes too long. You really did hear horror stories of being getting trapped in elevators for hours. As she called out to the people outside, he left her to it, there wasn’t really much point in both of them shouting and confusing matters. “Well, if we are… guess we’ll have to just deal,” he commented lightly, getting to his feet now as he heard voices outside. “You up for some climbing?”

Nancy’s grimace wiped out into a blank, deadpan stare. “Don’t even joke,” she warned, wagging a finger in the other’s direction as he moved to stand as well. “This elevator will become my new, permanent home away from home if they crack open those doors and ask us to shimmy out between floors. Yeah.. yep. I would rather plummet to my death than risk getting split in half.” Arms crossing loosely over her chest, she nodded to herself, not putting much trust or faith in those faceless voices acting as their rescuers.

Nathan had to agree with her there, although it wasn’t as though either of them could have helped the situation they were stuck in, it was just one of those things. “Pretty sure more than just this predicament has tossed me into that category before,” he commented with a chuckle, head tilting. At her question, he lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Just my job, just one of those—-” He was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of someone outside the elevator doors shouting to find out if they were okay.

She smiled at the other’s chuckle, but whatever attention that was focused on Nathan as he answered her question was immediately diverted back to the elevator doors when someone could be heard outside. She nearly jumped to her feet, an arm braced back against the wall as she stumbled up. “Yes!” Nancy shouted, “We’re dying in here!” A complete exaggeration, obviously, but a little urgency wouldn’t hurt their situation. “There’s two of us! Are you getting the doors open?” She pulled a slight face while glancing back to Nathan, commenting, “God, I hope we’re not between two different floors right now.” Nancy had seen far too many horror movies to deal with that predicament.

“I’ve been thinking I want to try aerial yoga. You know when you’re in, like, the hangy things?” Tierney suggested, completely ignoring everything that Nancy just said, like the blonde hadn’t even spoken. She figured as long as Nancy was agreeing to come to classes with her, she didn’t care much if she complained. She’d still drag her along until she finally put her foot down if she really hated it that much. Which Tierney still doubted. 

“Should we sneak in a flask in case it’s boring? Can turn it into a drinking game,” Tierney suggested as she shoved another bite of food into her mouth, always down to get a little weird even when the situation didn’t call for it. “I mean, mostly music in some form or another, but sometimes if there’s - whatever the music word for writer’s block is, producer’s block? I don’t know - I’ll do some other things. Not much of a fine artist, but I’ll knit or crochet or something along those lines. I’ve made some cute ass crop tops.” 

“Like, those giant scarves that drape from the ceiling?” Her brows furrowed and her chin wrinkled as she pursed her lips, doing some deep thinking to imagine what Tierney was talking about. “I thought that was called ‘ribboning’ or something... I didn’t know it was a form of yoga, either.” Not that she’d ever looked into it very seriously. She shrugged. “Always seemed like a fun and efficient way to accidentally hang yourself.”

No sooner than the word ‘flask’ was uttered and Nancy was nodding, her free hand lifting to flash a positive thumbs-up. “I always love a water bottle full of vodka,” she chirped. “And, who knows? Maybe getting a lil’ tipsy will urge on the creative process for us, let everything flow freeee.” Speaking of getting creative, she certainly hadn’t expected to hear that Tierney was into fiber arts. Surprise colored her features as she looked up from her salad again. “Knitted crop tops? That sounds like you should be opening an Etsy shop,” she joked. “But with yarn, how does it --” Nancy’s fork dropped into her bowl as she straightened up where she sat, using both hands now to wave around her midriff before awkwardly tucking under her breasts -- “Is yarn flexible enough to, like, cover everything? I can get with a cute underboob moment, but the couple handmade knit things I’ve gotten as gifts have... not felt great.” She chuckled lightly, slouching down again.

“You don’t listen to the radio?” Myra echoed with an insulted look on her face, wiggling her finger towards the pizza. “You waited to tell me that after you took a bite. Smart move.” Not that she was determined enough to tear the thing from her hands. It was no skin off her back if people didn’t listen because her pay check kept coming but she still needed a job and for that, they had to tune in. Maybe one less wasn’t the end of the world. “You do know that being a radio host feeds my six children, right?” No children, in fact. Maybe her plants but they were halfway dead by now. “Shockingly, I volunteered. I’ve probably eaten more pizza than I’ve handed out at this point. But what they don’t know, doesn’t hurt them.”

“And could’ya believe that I never even graduated college?” Probably, when she’d stopped in the middle of the day to eat free pizza on the street, but whatever. Nancy liked to think that she had her moments of brilliance, no matter how few and far between they were, and she’d take the compliment as a win. After another too-big bite, she snorted while chewing, absolutely doubting the legitimacy of the other’s claim. “Oh, yeah? Six kids is a whole lot... What’re all their names?” She quizzed, eyebrows raising in a look of amused curiosity, wondering what she’d come up with on the spot.

Connor looked over and cracked a small smile, though he really shouldn’t have. She had a good point - dark, but still a good point, nonetheless. “If only it was an option,” he nodded towards his flat tires that had slashes in them. Instead of explaining, he sighed and added, “Long story. But now I have to wheel this piece of junk all the way home. Laying in the street just sounds like a better option about now.”

It took more of a squint and a long pause for Nancy to suss out what was wrong with the bike, but once she actually noticed the sad state of the tires, she simply clucked her tongue unhelpfully. “Yep,” she agreed with a solemn nod, sarcasm edging into her words, “If I were you, I’d be diving right into traffic, too. Sad no one’s out tonight...” A shrug before asking, “You’re not tryin’ to hoof it all the way to Silverwood or somethin’, are ya? ‘Cause you’ll really be fucked once you hit those hills.”

Tyson sipped his milkshake, nodding. It did sound sick, indeed. “Yeah I can’t remember what it cost, but I wouldn’t put it past ‘em to charge 80 bucks or more for that shit. I mean shit, you want the cheapest option? We go to that abandoned house on that corner. You just go in there with baseball bats, boom done.” 

Nose wrinkling overtop the rim of her steaming mug, she shook her head at the idea of dropping at least a hundred bucks just to get away with some mindless destruction. The biggest bummer of not living with her parents anymore was by far the constant, lurking presence of unpaid bills. “Oh, hell yeah.” Nancy perked up at Tyson’s idea. “I hung out around that place once while my friend did some tagging art kinda thing on the siding, but I’ve never actually been inside. There must be tons of bashable crap lying around in there... Have you ever checked it out before?”

“I’ve done a few bits, short stories for magazines and stuff, all in ghost names of course but yea the pile of unpublished stuff is pretty big, they just aren’t finished.” Though that last part was ever so slightly a lie because they were finished, they just weren’t good enough, they weren’t worth the time it would take people to read them in her eyes. She wasn’t sure when she was going to be brave enough and go in and fix them, to remove the words she had written in some parts and start over - for now they would remain in the almost stack. “I would have to be brave enough to do that though, it’s like letting people read texts you send to your crush.” Or at least that was what she imagined sharing it would feel like hence why she only let Oscar peep most of the time. “Oh ice cream, okay I might let you read them for ice cream.” 

“Is what you write really that private?” A playful edge coated her words as she spoke, head still tilted in the hopes that maybe it made her look somewhat endearing, at least. Tactful and gentle wasn’t Nancy’s speed, though, and the act was difficult to keep up as she exhaled a chuckle in the next second, “I mean, I’d let pretty much anyone read my sexts and those don’t even get proofread before I hit send. I bet whatever half-edited romance novellas you have lying around would be lightyears better -- and much more entertaining.” She shrugged and offered up a genuine smile. “Golden Griddle is famous for having the best banana split sundae in town, so...”

“Okay, you have a point there,” August admitted, her eyes scanning over them again as they stood closer together, the screaming toned down - she may have been wrong about her guess, but regardless, she let her eyes flicker to their cars before looking back to the other blonde. “I bet you get a lot of good….entertainment here, though,” she added lightly, letting her eyes scan over the crowd inside the dinner as well. “Fighting over a parking spot probably barely registers as an exciting encounter. And, yeah, sure. I’d take another diet coke,” she added with a small lift of one corner of her life - the soda was her guilty pleasure, the one vice she really indulged in.

“Oh, totally.” She confirmed with the exhaled sound of a breathy chuckle, clearly not bothered by all the disturbances. “You should see the nights when those screaming matches start inside -- I always miss what sets them off to begin with, but it sure is somethin’ to see how they wrap up. We get a very unique crowd.” It probably had more to do with Golden Griddle being a 24-hour establishment than a diner, but there was just something about the environment that seemed to welcome all manner of chaos -- sometimes even during those Sunday brunch hours when there were too many families to seat. Already nodding, Nancy promised, “You got it. I’ll bring you a fresh glass. No food?”

“Oh there are many stupid people in the world, I’ve met a lot of them,” said Nathan with a raise of his eyebrows and laugh. “Perhaps a little too many, honestly.” That was the problem with his line of work, they weren’t all exactly the sharpest tools in the box. ”Maybe you are, we’re probably all idiots at one point of another, lets be honest here.” As she continued, he had to laugh, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Yeah, maybe… that’s all very possible right now.”

Mirroring his shrug, Nancy let out a quick laugh. “Considering that we’re trapped in an elevator right now, I guess we should probably be marked down as a coupla idiots, too.” It’d been more random chance than anything of their own doing that got them stuck here, but she felt that the point still stood. Her gaze strayed to the closed doors before blinking to the panel of unhelpful buttons. “What’s got you socializing with so many dummies, then?”

@slchat​

Location​: Downtown

Myra had volunteered to be outside of the radio station today to hand out some free pizza. It was a way to get more people to tune in. Every month, they gave away some new prize and some were bigger hits than others. It wasn’t a flat screen TV but who didn’t like pizza. Myra loved pizza which was why she had volunteered. At this point, she was 1 for 1 with those who came by. One of them, and one for her. She was on her third when a passerby came, mouth full so she used her hands to signal the open box. 

“They’re a little cold but they’re free. I know it’s early but honestly, you can never go wrong with pizza. There’s even one that’s gluten free. Unless you’re lactose intolerant, then you’re fucked. Well, in this case. Remember to tune in to your local radio station.”

“Thanks.” Nancy didn’t think anything of the random offer, immediately swiping a piece from one of the open boxes on the table. She made sure to take a disgustingly large bite, still chewing while admitting, “I don’t listen to the radio.” The only radio personality she could actually name was Ryan Seacrest and even then, she was pretty sure that him announcing the Top 40 Hits on every station in the nation was just some kinda audio clip he’d been overpaid to do the one time. “Pretty sure everyone’s gone to Spotify, anyway,” Nancy continued, wiping pizza grease from her chin before pumping her fist with minimal enthusiasm. “But more power to you. Y’stuck out here all day doin’ this?”