**JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL

[kristen]

just a small town girl, living
in a lonely world

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“What is it? Is my hair not blonde enough? Because I swear I can bleach it again. Are my boobs not big enough? I’m saving up for another boob job. Am I not skinny enough? Because I’ll start going to the gym twice a day.”

Ophelia Turner barely disguised a snort at this conversation she was overhearing. The woman who spoke these words was a mess. Her boyfriend, an older man who clearly had nothing but superficial interests, stared at her over the rims of his sunglasses, which looked just a little idiotic given that he was inside, but such was the nature of Miami. Opie had noticed it immediately upon arriving. The place was full of pretty, pretty people who were either ugly on the inside or just plain sad.

“Look, babe, it’s over,” he replied tastelessly, taking a sip of his coffee as the girl before him dissolved. “Right, well I need to take off. This really isn’t good for me,” he explained as he awkwardly shifted in his seat before grabbing his coffee cup and standing. “It was fun, babe.”

At that, the girl completely fell apart, sobbing openly at her table, while Opie attempted to pretend she hadn’t been eavesdropping. Damn these people! They made it so hard not to eavesdrop, and the fact that she came from a small town didn’t help things. It was as if her ears were tuned specially for gossip, and that was the aspect of small town life she hated! She vowed not to be one of those women who thrived by being the first to know when someone’s life went up in flames, and, yet, here she was, having just watched some poor girl get her heart broken. The girl didn’t look to be more than eighteen, and she was pretty as could be, skinny with blonde hair and green eyes. Honestly, she could do so much better and here she was, sucking in breaths in between sobs. As she met eyes with the poor girl, Opie started and averted her eyes. Damn it! She really had to stop watching, but it was like a car wreck. No matter how badly you felt that it happened, you still caught yourself looking after the damage was done. Fiddling with her guitar strap, Opie really wished she hadn’t just finished her set for the evening. If she was able to sing a song or get up in front of the small collection of people, maybe she wouldn’t be so tempted to stare, and, even if she did watch, at least it wouldn’t look so suspicious, as if she were surveying the audience instead of picking out the one girl who was clearly a mess. But in her defense, the girl was asking for people to stare. She was not the only person whose eyes kept wandering back to the hunched figure in the middle of the room. The girl hadn’t picked the most discrete spot in the world, nor was she being silent. Her sobs were hardly muffled.

This was uncomfortable. It was all she could think as she heard a few whispers and the room got undeniably quiet.

“Excuse me, miss, but we’re on a date and you’re being really disruptive,” a lady with a falsely sweet voice stated, her eyes sweeping over the distraught girl, her lips pursed in judgment.

This little request didn’t help the situation one bit, and unable to watch any longer without doing anything, Opie leaned her guitar against the coffee bar and strolled over to where the teen was sitting. “Sugar, are you alright?” she asked, her voice soothing, perhaps due to her Southern drawl or maybe because it was genuinely concerned.

The girl sniffled, and, in an act Opie didn’t foresee, snapped, “Look, I’m fine. I don’t need some hick coming over to try to comfort me. I was just going.”

“Suit yourself, darlin’,” Opie replied calmly, before she returned to her guitar.

The girl did just that, and Opie watched as the room returned to its normal level of busyness. Voices mingled together, plenty of tan, blonde people entered and left, and Opie was keenly aware of how much she didn’t fit in. Her voice always stuck out, her dark hair and dark eyes against that porcelain skin of her making her the oddball, but she didn’t really mind. She’d pick a place where she obviously didn’t fit in over her small town where she felt so different from everyone but looked like she fit in just fine. She’d rather shock people for the better than for the worse. Back in Trussville, Alabama, people were shocked and appalled when they found out she was a girl who was smart enough to want to get out of that deadend place. Here, people had to hide a smile when they found out that despite that accent of hers and all those stereotypes they had about hicks, she was of high intelligence. Better to surprise people than to disappoint them, she always said.

Surveying the room for a place where she could sit down, she spotted an empty chair next to one a man was using. Grabbing her guitar and purse, she sauntered over, smiling brightly in a way that disconcerted many but was in no way ingenuine as she asked, “Mind if I sit her, hon?”

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tagged DWAYNE (eric!).
word count 897
credits journey for the lyrics
notes this is crap, but what i do when i have no muse is i create a scenario as part of the intro, and that is what happened here. once there's some interaction, my posts will be a bajillion times better. i swear it!

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[dwayne]

"do i need to get your manager!? christ, i said black coffee - that means NOTHING in it! how can you fuck up an order like that?' dwayne berated the poor girl behind the counter - she looked to be no more than sixteen. no wonder she wasn't eveb competent enough to form a black coffee! not only that, but he'd been waiting in line for nearly five minutes for something that literally took forty-seven seconds to pour. seriously, back in los angelos, he'd counted how fast his service was and they were definitely on the ball. miami was like shit compared to it. their service sucked, their people were rude and mildly retarded. oh lord, it made him want to run for the hills. or run right back to los angelos and risk being slaughtered by those murderers rather than deal with this shit.

and what was this waiting in line bullshit?! he was nathan chris williams for christ's sake! back in hollywood, he never had to wait for anything - people just assumed he wanted coffee when he wanted it and it all worked out for everyone. they BROUGHT him the coffee. all the famous director had to do was walk in and it was as if a red carpet was rolled out specifically for his presence. man, he missed those days. he missed his name. he missed his mansion. he missed his girls. he missed his car. he missed his movies. he missed his camera. he even missed his prima donna actors and actresses. miami was hell nad what made it worse was that nobody knew who he was, and it wasn't like he could just broadcast it either. he couldn't lean over to the next table to tell that sexy, leggy blonde that he was the famous director of hollywood. no, instead he was dwayne christopher lawrence, repairman.

"can you PLEASE hurry the fuck up?" he replied testily. at last, the grande black coffee was skirted across the counter towards him. that'll be three forty-five sir. dwayne's eyes nearly bugged out his skull at the audacity. back in hollywood, he'd never had to pay for anything either. this was just fucked up! "fuck my life," he muttered under his breath, slapping a five dollar bill on the counter. he leaned close to her, a frustrated look in his eye as he sneered nastily, "keep the change. i know how little your wage is." he didn't, and he didn't care. but it was something to say just so she'd recognize the severity of the situation - she'd pretty much ruined his entire day! FIVE MINUTES FOR A BLACK COFFEE! it was absolutely ridiculous.

dwayne hmphed in her direction and then turned on his feet, purposely knocking arms with the man in line behind him. "watch yourself," he spat at the innocent victim. it wasn't their fault the man was spoiled rotten and having a tough time integrating into his new lifestyle. he wanted to believe it was only temporary - they had told him it would be. why should he get used to it if he could be going home in the next week anyway?! the tall director crossed to an empty table. he stared down at the dirty seat and then at the table that had yet to be wiped down. "oh the good times just keep on coming," he sneered loudly, glancing back in the direction of the overworked cashier. "this is the worst establishment EVER!"

his nose wrinkled in distaste. dwayne pulled out a ton of napkins and carefully covered his seat in them before he planted his bottom on the hard, plastic seat. it still wasn't good enough for his ass but what could he do? every other seat was taken and he was too depressed to go back to that crappy one-bedroom apartment they called living space. as he sipped on the coffee, trying to unwind his nerves, a dark-haired girl randomly appeared at his side. she sounded like a southern miss - one he'd use for a scene in louisiana or georgia or something like that. it was kind of attractive. plus, she wasn't too hard on the eyes herself. dwayne rather liked the contrast of her dark hair to her porcelain skin. "have at it, baby. i'm not expecting anybody." dwayne scooted his chair closer to her, figuring he might be lucky and get some action tonight. it'd be such a nice relief to know he still had it. "so, what's a pretty thing like yourself doing in a shitty place like this? miami, i mean. not the starbucks. though, they both suck. i just wanted to make the distinction."

[kristen]

just a small town girl, living
in a lonely world

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Having been distracted by the crying girl, Ophelia had managed to overlook this man’s little outburst. Opie probably would have chosen a different seat knowing just what she was getting herself into, but she would be able to handle his difficulty charmingly, no doubt. She was always good with people. She had the gift of being able to just smile sweetly whenever someone said something rude. As much as it pained her to see when people would snap at others, she was never the type to tell anyone off. Instead, she was the sort of girl who would be sure to tip her waitress more after she saw the poor girl get yelled at by some ignorant man who didn’t realize just how many tables she was waiting on. Opie was even known to give an encouraging word to someone who had just been unfairly attacked, but she just didn’t have the guts to approach the person who did the harm.

As he gave her the green light to sit down, she smiled again, enthusiastically replying, “Why thank you.”

Her energy was one of the defining things about Ophelia. Rarely would anyone see her without a smile on her face. She was a glass half full sort of person, and, thus, when he remarked on the shittiness of this establishment and Miami in general she was a little caught off guard. She really shouldn’t have been considering just how cynical a lot of people living here were, but it still shocked her a bit when people said things like that. Back in her hometown, they had their cynics, but for the most part people had pretty good attitudes, maybe not as good as hers, but, still, they wouldn’t make any sort of remark akin to what he had said.

Maintaining her good attitude when he made his comment, she replied casually, “My music brings me to Miami, and, actually, to this Starbucks as well. I’m a musician, a strugglin’ one or whatever the cliché is.” She briefly debated adding something about how this place really wasn’t so bad, but she refrained, not wanting to offend him. Instead, she smiled and politely asked, “So what brings you here, sugar?”

Perhaps using a pet name was a bad choice, since Opie could tell he’d been attempting to hit on her and a pet name could make her come off as flirty, although it was just the way she spoke. She had chosen to ignore the fact that he'd complimented her looks, because, while she wasn’t the traditional Miami beauty, she knew she was pretty and got hit on semi-frequently. She didn’t think of herself in an arrogant way, but she knew logically that she had a nice body and decent features, so she was indeed pretty. She was pretty in a conservative sort of way, she liked to think. She didn’t look fake at all, and, actually, went without make-up on many occasions. The way she saw it was that you mine as well not wear make-up all the time, because then the one time you go without it, people act like they’re seeing some hideous being for the first time. She was all for being natural. No bleach blonde hair or fake boobs for her. The same went for her music. It actually had melodies and thought put into her lyrics. It wasn’t just a bunch of different ways to say that she was horny and interested in getting with some guy like music seemed to be these days.

Sipping her drink, she cast her gaze around, before returning her attention to this man, realizing they hadn’t exchanged names. “Did you tell me your name, darlin’? I’m Ophelia, but you can call me Opie. It’s nice to meet you,” she said pleasantly, smiling at him warmly again. She really was a nice girl.

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tagged DWAYNE (eric!).
word count 612
credits journey for the lyrics
notes sorry this took a few days. it's summer for me now, so i should become a lot less busy.

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[dwayne]

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he replied smoothly. Her accent was really attractive – it turned him on. Dwayne decided he really could use a southern belle in his bed tonight, and who knew? Maybe he’d keep her around all week for some ‘extracurricular activities’, too. Hell, if things really went according to plan, he’d be back in Hollywood by the weekend and he could reward her for her efforts with a small role in his new film. He could easily see her luscious ass being a sight for sore eyes around the actual set. She was certainly of a different cut from the blonde bimbos he usually wasted time on. This was like a vacation, right? He should have the opportunity to enjoy himself. Through all of this, he never once considered the woman’s opinion in the matter. He was Nathan Williams, for fuck’s sake! Every woman in the United States wanted to be in his bed, and if they didn’t, thye simply had no clue as to who he was and lived under a bloody rock. Her horizons would be widened! She would love him, there was no way around it. Dwayne was attractive, charming, and filthy rich. Of course she’d love him.

Cliché. He liked this woman already! Her own comment of how un-unique her life story was put a real smile on Dwayne’s face – if only for a moment. It was rare to experience a person willing to make fun of themselves. The people he knew normally singled out others to be the butt of the joke, so she was refreshing in that regard. But instantly, his mind went to the gutter and thought of a way to turn it around to suit his situation. A struggling musician! She was such a lucky woman to have run into one of the wealthiest, connected men from Hollywood! Dwayne inched a few more centimeters closer, his large hand settled heavily on her thigh in a more than friendly manner. “Your talent is going to waste in such a low venue thing like a Starbucks. If you want darlin’, I can talk to some of my people and they could give you a listen. See what you got to offer.” He winked at her, those lips pulled into a sleazy, suggestive smile as his thumb racked over her flesh. It seemed to slip Nathan’s mind that he wasn’t Nathan – he was Dwayne, a middle classed man with a desk job and fake wife. It was too much of a transition to make!

Sugar… Sugar! He knew it – she wanted in his pants. Dwayne’s smile turned cocky as he finally removed his hand from her person, instead opting for a slow sip of his shit-tasting coffee. Already this woman was calling him cute little pet names and getting comfortable. He’d have her in bed by five! “Oh me?” Dwayne wet his lips, tasting the bitter coffee residue. “I came to have a decent coffee but it seems there’s only one place that knows how to make it taste drinkable.” The man shrugged his square shoulders and sat back in his chair lazily, eyes running over her person freely. “And as for the rest of my day… No plans were set in stone.” Which was a lie. His ‘employer’ was expecting him at work in an hour but Dwayne wasn’t planning to show up. Fuck that. He didn’t sit behind desks and answer phones. He wasn’t somebody’s bloody secretary – he had secretaries. He was his own boss! It’d be a cold day in hell when he let someone lord power over him. That wasn’t the kind of man he was. He was always, always, always in control and no murderer was going to change that.

Dwayne flashed a set of bright teeth at the woman – Ophelia. Honestly, he didn’t think it suited her in the least. Not even her ridiculous nickname. Opie? What was she, a drug? Short for opiates, right? HA. But no, Ophelia didn’t suit this southern dame. Didn’t women like her usually have butch names? Like, those unisex ones – Bobbie, Chris, something like that. “What if I don’t want to call you Opie? I just don’t think it suits you. What’s your middle name? Or your last name?” He questioned her with true curiosity, not paying attention to the fact it may look as if he was trying to stalk her. His lips parted to toss his impressive name at her: Nathan Chris Williams! But he caught himself on the first syllable, remembering he wasn’t supposed to give out such information. In fact, he was supposed to be a completely different person… but it was just so damn hard to change. What motivation did he have, anyway? Death? Not being able to direct was killing him anyway.

“Dwayne. And I don’t think I’ve heard a nickname for it yet, unless you want to call me… Big D.” The man grinned at her, reveling in his crude sex joke.


(( excuse him for his abrasiveness! ))

[kristen]

just a small town girl, living
in a lonely world

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Opie wasn’t sure about her decision to sit at this table. She knew she could have a little fun with this. Perhaps she’d play a bit of a tease and then when the time came for them to leave, she’d say she was a lesbian or something. That could always be fun. This guy was not her type at all. For starters, she wasn’t the sort of girl who just hooked up with random guys. The girl never went to college, and so she never had those years where a walk of shame seemed perfectly normal. Here in Miami, apparently one need not be chugging some sort of cheap ass liquor to hook up with someone. Here, people seemed to always have sex on the mind. Even an innocent run-in at the grocery store seemed sexually charged. Maybe it was the nature of the city, or maybe the nature of every big city, but Opie had not been prepared for it when she came here. The second reason he was in no way right for her was his attitude. The only men Ophelia had sex with were men she was dating, and the thought of dating such an asshole was ridiculous. She could only picture herself with a nice, happy guy. She was a very glass half-full type of person, and she needed someone to match her energy. She surely wouldn’t open her legs for some creepy, cynical guy at a Starbucks who was trying really, really hard to get her to come onto him.

This man had a comment for everything, and it was never a positive comment. As he reflected upon how she performed at this Starbucks, she listened politely, hiding her distaste as his hand found his way to her knee. Smiling faintly after her finished telling her that her talent was going to waste and tried to offer his help, she briefly wondered if this guy was worth talking to. If he really did have connections, perhaps she should give him a listen. But then again, she was pretty sure those people would only be informed of her existence if she went to bed with this man, and that was not how her big break was going to happen. If he just so happened to be a Good Samaritan who wanted to help out a fellow human being, she’d be thrilled, but somehow this man didn’t strike her as the Good Samaritan type.

“What is it exactly you do?” she inquired, wondering what job he had to yield connections into the music business. He didn’t look familiar, so she figured he wasn’t famous, but maybe he was some executive. Who knew? He had the arrogant personality to be an executive.

Again with the negativity! Now he was talking about his coffee. True, Starbucks coffee had a very distinct taste, and you either loved it or hated it, but this was a place where you knew what you were getting. That was the only upside of corporate chains. You went to a location knowing exactly what they had to offer and knowing that for better or worse, that was what you were getting. “I’m sorry you don’t like the coffee, sugar,” she said simply, her voice sweet, as she was still toying with the idea of leading him on.

That idea went out the window as he took an unnatural interest in her name. For one, it was rude to completely disregard her name and insist on calling her something else. For another, he wanted to know her middle and last name! That screamed creepy to her, and she decided she would not lead him on, nor would she do anything to aggravate him. “You can call me whatever you please, darlin’. I’m not sayin’ I’ll respond to it, but go right ahead,” she said good-naturedly, sidestepping giving him her last or middle name.

She nearly laughed out loud as he gave her his name and then proceeded to offer a suggestive nickname. Oh, this was going to be hard not to take advantage of. He was making it so easy to lead him on and also so easy to humiliate him, and she was having trouble avoiding those urges. She usually didn’t feel the desire to humiliate anyone, as she was quite a sweet girl, but “Big D”, really? It would be so easy, just a pursing of her lips, a glance down to the crotch of his jeans, and a laugh with some comment like “sure”. How desperately she wanted to do that! Instead, though, she smiled faintly, simply replying, “It’s nice to meet you.”

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tagged DWAYNE (eric!).
word count 773
credits journey for the lyrics
notes again, sorry for the delay. i'm still settling into summer.

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