#happytrash

Dallas, TX - August 4th, 2000 

Georgia checked her reflection in the motel bathroom’s mirror, fluffing her hair and turning slightly to see how she looked. Her hair was getting long again, nearly reaching the middle of her back even when it was all wavy from the Texas heat. She’d turned an oversized red bandana into a top, which was something she was pretty sure she’d stolen from a music video but she couldn’t remember which one. Paired with daisy dukes and red lipstick, she thought she looked pretty good, good enough that the bouncers wouldn’t give her fake id too thorough of an inspection anyway. Reaching into her backpack, she moves aside her dirty laundry to get at the stacks of cash beneath. Fifteen thousand in cash. God, her last ‘boyfriend’ had been a special kind of idiot, always talkin’ about conspiracy theories and how he’d been prepped for Y2K even though nothing had actually happened. It had taken practically nothing to starting convincing him that banks couldn’t be trusted. She’d hoped to wait around for twenty thousand, but she’d lost her patience with him. This would last her for a good long while. Peeling a few twenties away, she tucks them into her pockets and then stuffs the whole backpack into a hole she’d made in the boxspring.

The bar was just a few blocks down from the motel and Georgia didn’t mind the walk after days spent driving all the way from Kentucky. There were a few shouts, a few catcalls, but she ignored them. She was definitely not looking for a new mark tonight. Tonight, she was happy just to drink and listen to music and not have some man hanging all over her. Some people would probably think she was awfully cynical of men for being just 19 years old, after all she’d only been dealing with them for five years. Still, those were years she’d spent dating morons who she only entertained because of their money. That didn’t even cover all the other jobs she’d begun taking up on the side. If she became good enough at being a thief, maybe she could even drop the whole ‘boyfriends’ thing. She was very good at it though. Most men were very stupid, hell they didn’t even ask her how old she was half the time. For a brief moment, Georgia’s mind flickers to a moment a few years back, where a boyfriend had mentioned her ‘twentieth’ birthday was coming up soon and one of his, for lack of a better term, ‘friends’ had snorted quietly to himself, clearly laughing at the number.

“Somethin’ funny?” she’d asked, pulling herself up from where she’d been draped all over Tim, her latest, unwitting victim. The man just looked over at her and shook his head once.

“Not a thing, darlin’.” he’d said, at least that’s what he’d said out loud. His eyes had said ‘bullshit you are turning twenty’. That man had made her uneasy. Handsome, but he saw too much. Dark eyes, sweet smile. Trouble. 

She liked trouble.

As she’d suspected, the bouncers didn’t have a problem letting ‘Georgia Lyonett’ into the bar tonight, or whatever the hell ID she’d grabbed. The only stipulation she had with her fake identities was to always use the same first name. If she started creating fake personas every time she went somewhere she’d never remember who was supposed to call her what. Hopping onto a barstool she flashed a smile at the bartender, glancing briefly behind him at the array of liquor bottles. “Hey there.” she said brightly. “Jack and coke, please.”. The drink was delivered promptly, and she immediately turned away from the bartender, not interested in small talk. Across the room, on a small raised platform, a band was finishing setting up and the place was really beginning to fill. After downing the first drink pretty quickly, she ordered another and hopped off the barstool to wander around. 

The band was good, local guys covering the classics so nothing fancy, but fun all the same. A few guys asked her to dance, but she slipped away before they annoyed her and asked twice. Georgia preferred to just stay on the edges of the action tonight, in her own little world as she bobbed and nodded along with the music. Maybe she was thirsty or just getting tipsy, but the drinks were going down smooth. Navigating her way through the crowd, she made her way to the bar, squeezing herself between a couple and some guy in a biker’s cut so she could order her drink. “’Nother jack and coke please. Tall, double.” she added, figuring she might as well save herself a trip. The man beside her laughed quietly and she froze, recognition flaring to life in her mind.

“Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh Peach?” Mal asked. Of course it was him. She didn’t even need to turn her head. He was the only person who’d called her that, as if ‘Georgia’ was too many syllables or something. The smile that appears on her face isn’t a conscious choice. She feels... nervous wasn’t the right word... excited maybe? Adrenaline was definitely happening. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she rested an elbow on the bar and finally looked at him. 

“Mal Winters.” she said, fighting to control her smirk. “The fuck are you doing in Dallas?”

“Visiting. Where’s Tim?”

“Haven’t seen him in years.” Georgia admitted casually as her drink was handed to her and she took a sip. Mal adjusted himself to face her a bit more and Georgia felt her heart rate quicken. It wasn’t fair for a guy who looks this good to look at her like that. Normally, if she were looking to find a new job she’d be a bit more sober and a bit less, well, herself. Luckily, she had enough money right now, that she didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but her which was good, because she had a feeling Mal could see through her bullshit a little too easily for her liking.

“Really?” Mal said, and his eyes raked over her in a way that made her flustered and proud at the same time. Reaching out, she poked at the cut he was wearing, something she definitely hadn’t seen on him two years ago when they’d met.

“What’s this?” she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her dime store hoops dangling from her ears. So he was a biker now... or something like it. A little smile pulled the edge of his mouth up and her eyes got stuck there for a moment.

“It’s nothin’.” he said easily. Georgia rolled her eyes and moved slightly to get a better look, running her hand over the patch.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’. Looks to me like you like trouble.” she said, biting her lower lip as she smiled at him. Mal shook his head and lifted his beer a bit.

“Yeah, well, I’m drinkin’ with you, aren’t I?” he asked. Georgia laughed and shook her head a bit, taking a sip of her own drink. She liked that he thought of her as trouble. She’d have been insulted if he thought less.

“If you want to see real trouble, you should ask me to dance.” she offered, leaning a bit closer. It was nice to flirt for real. It had been a really long time since she had, hell, it might have even been the last time she’d seen him. Though that flirting had been accidental. Plus, there was the bonus that they already knew the other wasn’t exactly an ‘upstanding citizen’. The lack of bullshit was refreshing. She didn’t need to bat her eyes or pretend that she was a waitress or a student or something innocent and innocuous. 

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Peach.” Mal said.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Mal.” she countered, flagging down the bartender who made a motion to say he’d be right there.

“Yeah? You not into bein’ bossed around?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Not when I’m standing.” she said with a playful smirk before turning and ordering two shots of whiskey, handing over some money as she did. It was getting to that time in the night where she had to lean forward and practically shout to be heard, but she didn’t mind. 

“So when you say you wanna dance, d’ya mean the horizontal fuckin’ tango?” Mal asked, and Georgia couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of her, glancing over her shoulder to look at him.

"Maybe I mean both. Jesus, there's no fuckin’ subtlety to you, is there?" she asked, tipping her head and studying his face. He tipped his in return and narrowed his eyes a bit.

“Would ya’ like me more if there was?”

“Who says I like you now?”

Mal shrugged his shoulders. “Guess I’m just being optimistic. I mean, if you wanna prove me right, go ahead.” he offered.

Georgia rolled her eyes and grabbed the shots as they were delivered. "Drink with me. Dance with me. Then I'll decide if I like you or not." she said, handing one of the shot glasses to him, her heart rate only increasing when her fingers grazed his. Mal nodded his head.

“Yes ma’am.” he said. They both knocked the whiskey back easily before Georgia took his hand and pulled him towards the dance floor. She was pretty sure he knew it was just an excuse to have his arms around her for a bit while they drank and pretended like they both didn’t know how this would go. There was no doubt in her mind that she was gonna try to take him back to where she was staying tonight. Crushes weren’t things she had often, and couldn’t remember the last one she’d had, but she had a feeling thats what she was feeling. As his hands settled on her waist and she wrapped hers around his neck, pressing her body closer, she could feel blood rushing to her cheeks and her breath hitched a bit as she remembered to breath. “You good, Peach?” Mal asked, smiling down at her.

“Do I not look good?” Georgia asked, wondering if there was going to be a point tonight where she stopped answering his questions with questions, but it probably wasn’t going to be anytime soon. She was having too much fun.

“I don’t recall sayin’ otherwise, sweetheart.” he said, tightening his grip on her as they swayed to the song. It was one of those old, country classics that she usually didn’t care for but everything sounded good when it was mixed with Mal’s laugh and the way he spoke to her. They danced, they drank and eventually she took him back to her motel. It was just going to be one night, maybe two, and then she could savor the memory of it the next time she was lying beneath some idiot, letting him pretend he was rocking her world while she planned how she was going to rob them blind. 

Somewhere in Arizona - September 4th, 2000

Georgia paced a bit out front of a gas station, stretching her arms above her head and rolling out the knots in her back from the hours on the back of Mal’s bike. She’d abandoned her piece of shit car back in Dallas, technically. It hadn’t exactly been on purpose, since she’d made the choice after a night of drinking and blowing lines with Mal. Georgia had only meant to get him tangled in her sheets for a night, but then that had turned into breakfast, and another roll around at his place, then more drinking, then some drugs. She kept waiting for him to leave, or for herself to get bored... but it hadn’t happened yet. It had been four, shit almost five weeks since she’d run into him and now she was somewhere in Arizona waiting while he went to get cigarettes. They were nearly inseparable. Her backpack with all her things and all her money were latched securely to his bike. They spent the days driving around and the nights at whatever motel they wound up in, drinking and laughing and kissing. It felt like freedom.

It was safe to say they were obsessed with each other. Georgia smiled to herself as she tried to detangle her hair a bit with her fingers while she waited for him. The tangles were as much from the wind as from Mal’s hands and the bed they’d crawled out of this morning. Distracted with her own thoughts her eyes lingered on his bike and the smile just widened. She didn’t notice someone approaching her until they were in front of her.

“You like motorcycles?” the guy asked, looking her up and down. Georgia’s smile tightened and lost some it’s sparkle as she looked at the guy.

“I do. Yeah.” she told him. The guy rested his hands on the handlebars and grinned at her.

“I could give you the ride of your life.” he offered, his eyes more focused on her body than the bored look on her face.

“You want me on that bike of yours? With you?” Georgia asked, playing dumb and tipping her head to the side. The guy laughed a little.

“Baby, I-” the guy said, but he stopped suddenly, his eyes moving off of Georgia to someone else. The strong arm that slipped around her shoulder and pulled her in closer had her struggling not to burst into laughter. 

“He botherin’ you, Peach?” Mal asked, his voice far too casual for her to believe it. Georgia knew if she said ‘yes’ Mal would probably lay the guy out and God that excited her. It was like having her own personal gladiator by her side at all times and she was getting far too used to it. 

“Baby, I think we stole his bike.” Georgia said, blinking up at Mal with wide eyes and feigned innocence. Behind his dark sunglasses, Mal’s eyebrows raised and his mouth twitched into a small ‘huh’ of surprise.

“This - this is your bike?” Mal said, his voice coated with a mocking disbelief as he took off his sunglasses and then pointed to Georgia. “So this - this must be your old lady too?” he asked the guy, who was holding up his hands and stuttering out some kind of excuse. ‘Old lady?’ Georgia thought. She was hardly his old anything seeing as they’d been doing this just about a month. Georgia leaned up and said softly but still loud enough for the interloper to hear, 

“Wasn’t his name I was screamin’ last night, baby.”

She then took the sunglasses and smokes out of Mal’s hands, knowing he was probably just gonna drop them in a minute anyway. He was already stepping forward. 

“It wasn’t? Ah. So that means this is my bike, and this jackass is hitting on my girl?” Mal said. The guy had gone from apologizing to talking shit, like an idiot, and Georgia just shook her head and smiled as Mal slammed his fist into the guy’s face. The rings on his fingers glinted in the Arizona sunlight with each movement. A thought popped into her mind just then and she shoved the sunglasses onto her face as she ran into the nearly empty shop.

“Help! They started fighting! Someone is gonna get hurt! You have to stop them.” she shouted pleadingly. The guy behind the counter and some guy that looked like a trucker rushed outside to help. Georgia moved to let them pass and then walked around the counter and popped open the register. Jesus, the lack of security in these places was astonishing. People thought they were only going to be robbed by dudes in ski-masks with a gun in their face. Clearly a shotgun behind the counter was not a fail-proof method against having your shit stolen.

A few moment later she was walking over to Mal who was finally done with his fight. There was some blood on him, but she doubted much of it was his, and he wore it well so it didn’t matter much anyway. Georgia waved a finger to signal they needed to get the fuck out. Now. He listened but quirked an eyebrow at her.

“They call the cops?” he asked quietly as he threw a leg over the bike.

“No but they’re gonna.” she said, climbing on behind him.

“I just loosened some teeth, maybe broke his nose, nothing that bad.” Mal grumbled. Georgia leaned up so she could whisper directly in his ear.

“I just robbed the till.” she admitted. Mal burst into laughter as he started up the bike and peeled away, and didn’t stop laughing until they were miles away from the place.

Later that night, outside a motel they’d rented with the stolen cash, they sat on the curb and split a cigarette and a six pack, watching the traffic and the stars. Georgia’s hair was once again a mess of tangles and her face was a bit flushed from what they’d just done. 

“You know earlier today, you called me your ‘old lady’.” Georgia noted, glancing at him only briefly as she took a drag and passed the cigarette back to him.

“Mhmm.” Mal hummed as he finished the cigarette and stubbed the end of out beneath his boot. He took a moment to exhale before turning to look her over, curious. “Somethin’ wrong with that?”

Georgia smirked but rolled her eyes. “I’m not your old lady ‘til there’s a ring on this finger.” she said, wiggling the fingers on the hand that wasn’t currently holding her beer bottle. Georgia liked the idea of keeping Mal, but that didn’t seem likely. So she just wanted to wring every drop of happiness out of this time while they had it.

“Yeah?” Mal asked, his tongue running over his teeth as he looked out at the highway and the empty fields beyond it. “How’s about I put one there?” 

Georgia snorted and shook her head, and then glanced at him, waiting for the punchline but it didn’t come. Her eyebrows pulled together and she blinked at him for a moment before finding her voice. “Quit fuckin’ around. You don’t want to marry me.” she said, shoving him lightly.

“Why not?” Mal asked, taking a sip of his beer. Georgia opened her mouth to tell him exactly why, but she couldn’t think of any reasons. He knew basically everything already, maybe not all the details, but enough. Mal knew where she’d come from, and how she’d survived and how she worked. He knew how she liked her coffee and that she always liked to sleep with one leg out from the covers and that she finished her showers with a blast of cold water. If he already knew all that, and asked anyway...

“I don’t know.” Georgia admitted. Taking a moment to have another sip of her beer she shrugged a shoulder. “Are you sayin’ you want to marry me?” she asked, her heart beating a bit harder as she tried to act calm.

“Maybe. You sayin’ yes if I ask?” he asked with an impish grin curling the corner of his mouth as he turned his head to look at her. Georgia turned and smirked back at him.

“I think I might... just to see if you actually have the balls to follow through.” she told him. Mal set down his beer and turned to her, running his fingers through her hair and then trailing them down to hold her chin as he looked her in the eye. 

“Alright. Georgia - whatever your real last name is. Don’t matter. It’ll be Winters soon.- Fuck the formalities. Marry me.” he said. Georgia just blinked at him for a moment, waiting for him to laugh or to say he was joking but he didn’t and she smiled.

“Yeah. Okay. I will.” she agreed. Mal smiled and kissed her hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, forgetting about everything that wasn’t him

Las Vegas, NV - September 9th, 2000