Pennilyn Ann Roberts, later nicknamed “Penny,” was born to a conservative Christian family living in the Midwest. The eldest of three children, she had what others would deem a stereotypical childhood. She and her family lived in a suburban neighborhood, a two story farm style home with a white picket fence and a tire swing. Her father was the bread winner, working a forty hour week at the local Lubrizol Coroeration chemical plant, and her mother was a homemaker. As soon as she became of age her mother started grooming her to become a housewife, but Penny had other dreams. Having excelled at school, she was hoping to go to university and become a teacher. Without her parents knowledge or consent she applied to several schools and was accepted into her first choice, but when she told her parents about her plans they explained that, despite living quite comfortably - they couldn’t afford to put all three of their children through college. Her two brothers, though not nearly as ambitious as she was, were their priority in that department.
Determined to make her dream a reality, even without her parents’ help, she started going to community college. Working part time as a waitress at the local hole-in-the-wall diner to pay for her tuition. Even after a long day, alternating between her shifts at work and her classes, her mother still expected her to help around the house and Penny, always the People-Pleaser, would oblige. In the evenings she would help her mother prepare dinner and would do the dishes and clean the kitchen afterward, leaving just enough time for her to finish her homework assignments late into the night and allowing her to finally get to bed in the wee hours of the morning with just enough time to get up and do it all over again the next day. It was hard work, but she was determined, and happy to be taking steps toward a bright future. For the first time her dream seemed within her reach and then she met David.
David Leroy Bennett was the man of the house the moment he was born. He was the one and only son, and the pride and joy of his single mother’s life. His mother worked several jobs to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads, but she loved her son and sacrificed to give him everything he could ever want or need. Not having a father did not effect his quality of life one bit. He and his mother were very close and from a very young age he was fiercely protective of her. As soon as he was old enough, and despite his mother’s many objections, he dropped out of school and got a job to help share the finical burden. Without a full high school education and little to no experience the only job he could swing was a bag boy position at the local grocer and while it didn’t pay much, having those extra pennies around just in case helped soothe some of his mother’s anxiety.
Higher education was never something the two of them discussed, but there came a point when his mother insisted he attend night classes and get his G.E.D. Having it opened a couple more job opportunities for him and eventually he saved up enough to take a class and get his ASE certifications. He was hired for on job training at a used car dealership as an assistant mechanic. He mostly did small odd jobs, like changing oil, putting air in tires and replacing spark plugs but he picked up new skills everyday and was soon able to fix just about any problem a car could possibly have, all without breaking a sweat. He gave most of the money he made to his mother, but he opened a savings account in hopes of owning his own shop someday. Meeting Penny didn’t derail his career like it did hers, but it changed him drastically, and not necessarily for the better.
After growing sick and tired of taking the long bus trips to and from the college campus, Penny decided to dip into her savings and invest in a used car - and that’s how she met David. Almost getting roped into buying a lemon by one of the more underhanded salesmen for commission, David took it upon himself to guide her to something more suitable for her budget and even offered to do a few quick repairs for her for free. It was obvious the two of them were smitten with each other right from the get-go, she gave him her phone number and he called that very night to set up a date to meet. From then on he spent his afternoons with his head under the hood of her rusted old pinto. While he tinkered about, she’d bring him lemonade and the two of them would chat and laugh. Having come from very different lifestyles, they held a certain fascination with the other and it wasn’t long until that fascination turned into love.
A few months into their relationship Penny found out she was pregnant. A baby was the last thing on David’s mind but having learned a certain sense of responsibility from his mother, he felt obligated to propose to Penny and they were married shortly after. Penny quit school as soon as their son Michael was born and eventually ended up quitting her waitress job only a year later. David spent more and more time at the dealership, and even more so after he got promoted to manager. When he was very young, Mike spent the most time with his mother. It wasn’t that his father didn’t love him, but he after long hours at work he just didn’t have the energy or the patience for a child. It wasn’t until Mike started walking and talking that David took any interest in him and even then it was only so that he could teach the boy a few curse words to get a laugh.
As Mike grew and started school, the dynamic in the household changed. His father, once distant, was suddenly spending a lot more time with him. David started treating Mike more like a peer than a son, teaching the boy all he knew about cars, and even lessons on more scandalous things, long before he was even old enough to understand. There were obvious flaws in this style of parenting but by the time Mike was a teen, he and his father were as close as bosom buddies, and his mother was left feeling like an outsider in her own home. Mike started to act out, and without proper discipline, his escapades become more and more severe. Penny tried to rein in the overly rebellious teen, but where she was preaching responsibility and respect, David was encouraging him to get his kicks in while he was still young.
Lady was highly involved in flipping through Netflix, eyes squinted toward the TV. It felt like she’s seen everything they have on there, and she also wasn’t sure what she was in the mood to watch. Flipping on to her stomach so she was laying near him, she tossed him the remote. “I was thinking that you could pick today. The got rid of practically every Audrey movie, so I might be suing.”
Tramp’s own eyes are on the television screen, the preview pictures and descriptions flipping past so quickly they’re reduced to nothing but a blur of text and color. He doesn’t even realize the remote is being handed off to him until it falls into his lap and he only acknowledges it for the briefest moment, picking it up and carelessly tossing it to the side. Truth be told, he doesn’t feel all that much like watching a movie, despite the fact that a few of his favorites happen to be apart of the Netflix catalog. The longer he’s forced to ignore the elephant in the room, the more it weighs on him. He rolls onto his stomach and turns toward her, brown eyes searching her face. She’s done a decent job cleaning herself up, sure, but there’s just some things soap and water can’t fix. He reaches a hand towards her and gingerly runs the tip of his finger along the nick beneath her eye. “You don’t have to tell me what happened.” He says, though his tone implies he’s still curious, “I just want to know who.” A name is be preferred, of course, but he’d settle for a description if he had to, anything that could possibly lead him to the culprits. It had been a long while since he’d gotten his hands dirty, but he can’t just sit idle and allow someone hurt his...friend like this.
“That doesn’t make sense. You know a dog is happy when it wags its tail, you don’t wag it. Unless the dog is too lazy to wag the tail?”. Some analogies were completely weird, and it was very her to try and make them make sense, she was more of a literal kind of person. “Well, I do have to catch up on some books and shows. Maybe try on some new face masks with Dot, it’s been a while since we’ve had some family time”.
In hindsight, he should have known better than to think he could sneak an quick analogy past Atta’s rock solid logic - only she would consider the ins and outs of a dog wagging it’s tail. He has to press his lips together to keep a smirk at bay and even so his shoulders begin to quake with suppressed laughter. Usually, he’d ignore these sort of questions, deeming them a waste of his breathe, but in this case the answer is actually so simple that all it’ll take is one word. “Endrophines.” He says with yet another shrug of his shoulders, pushing his empty glass away dismissively. While that may explain the wag of a tail, but it doesn’t quite cover his forced complacency. That’s something he can’t even begin explain to himself, the analogy will just to have to do for them both. “Really letting your hair down then, eh?” He replies with a snort. “Sounds more like a Sunday if you ask me.”
I know I owe a couple more replies, but doing them is a lot like pulling teeth. I’m going to take a couple days to recuperate and then I’ll try tackling them all again on Monday. Have a super duper weekend ya’ll!
The urge to run away was never written in Lottie’s genetic code, at least not like that. She thrived in places like this – though, she missed New Orleans more and more every day. Tiana seemed less busy there than she did here… There was no Mardi Gras in Carthay – something she could try to change with at least a party, and that a plan, but nothing could ever live up to the real thing. Here, though, here she’s taken a liking to or what it was, a beach town. Sure, she didn’t go to the beach too often, and sure it was a lot calmer than she was, but there were kind people and blue skies… No worries of hurricanes… Though there’s not always enough water… But these weren’t the kind of thoughts to pass through her mind when she was drunk, no, those tended to be reckless or a little dark. Though, right now, she was doing fine. Thanks to the distraction.
“Fine, fine, fine…” She probably didn’t want what he had anyway. Hard liquor wasn’t for her anyway… At least not the kind that Tramp would have in his flask. Still, his attitude seemed to be changing and she thought he was being rather rude. Being in no place, though to argue or make any sort of sense she said nothing, though, she’d probably hang onto it for quite awhile… or she’s try to. Honestly, she probably wouldn’t remember most of this or it would be far too hazy and she’d think it a dream. He’d be in the clear. Plus, her rambling was probably enough punishment, especially when it’s her drunken rambling which was even worse, as though that were even possible.
When Charlotte was done spouting off her questions, she watched the way Tramp listened to whomever Pidge was, his smirking smile growing by the second. Part of her wondered if her friend had competition. Sure, maybe Lady didn’t seem like Tramp’s type, but Lottie was a romantic and hoped for her sake that she could ‘change’ him or at least win him over, since she deserved to be happy and if Tramp made her happy, then that was the way. She could only hope she’d find someone for her like that… someday… When Tramp addressed her, though, she let out more vivacious laughter. “I’m not Glinda the Good Witch silly,” her thick accent oozed. “I drove my Caddy…” Something she wasn’t fit to drive then. “Shoot. How am I gonna get that home?”
His cellphone, trapped between his ear and one shoulder - Tramp throws out a few yeses and uh huh’s so that the person on the other end of the call knows he’s still there, albeit half listening. He bends down to retrieve he his jacket from the sand, but unable to entertain the idea of putting it back on just yet, merely throws it over his other shoulder, the collar hooked around his pointer finger. There are very few things that he’d deem a necessity, and despite not being an actual necessity, his trusty leather jacket is one of them. The thing is practically an appendage. A few more words are exchanged and then, without even a goodbye, he hits the end button and re-pockets his phone.
After the call is over, he’s silent for a beat longer, taking a moment to collect his thoughts and weigh his options. His brown eyes, never idle, wander across the dark shoreline one last time. Suddenly, the plan in his head still unformed, he blinks and returns his attention to Lottie, yet another lopsided smirk spreading across his lips. It’s impossible for him not to see the humor in this whole situation. Of all the people in town who could have stumbled across her like this, it was him that had made the rare decision to come to the beach that night. He hadn’t asked her, but he felt like he didn’t have to, she probably would have preferred it be anyone else.
“You still got your keys on you, Puss?” He asks with a quirk of his brow, his head falling to one side. He certainly hopes so, crawling around on his hands and knees with nothing but the light of his cellphone to search with isn’t an idea he’s too keen on. He still hasn’t decided whether to take her car or his own and he’s hesitant to propose either idea to her. She’ll probably just refuse to go with him, just like she had the diner. Either way, it’s probably best to remove the temptation to drive completely, though even her drunkenness she seems able to discern that driving in her current state isn’t a good idea. If all else fails he can just insist that Pidge come here and retrieve the girl herself. “Alright, grab Dom and let’s get out of here.” He cocks his head toward the parking lot and turns to go without even waiting for her response.
bake a cake from scratch | ride a horse | drive stick | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | unclog a drain | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a back flip | play chess | give CPR | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | read palms | use chopsticks | write in cursive | use an electric drill | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | do sudoku puzzles | wrap a gift | give a good massage | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | do magic tricks | do yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read Morse code | pick a lock
Judy resisted the urge to chew on her lip as she listened to his response. She knew his game- most people in this town liked to play make-the-cop-uncomfortable. He was trying to make her sweat. Unfortunately, she was terrified, and it was working. Uncapping her pen, she scribbled down one word on her paper; yes. Of course he didn’t spend time in Little San Fransokyo by choice. No one spends time in Little San Fransokyo by choice. Judy sure as hell didn’t, and she lived there. “All right. And when spending time in San Fransokyo-” whether by choice or not, “were you ever acquainted with, or heard about, a person who went by the name of Fagin?” She knew it was a long shot. There wasn’t much connecting the two- hence the potential in potential witness. All she had in this case was word-of-mouth, and friends-of-friends. If the handpicked witnesses weren’t helping, she’d just cast her net a little wider. Someone had to know something.
Her next question isn’t a complete surprise. He’s heard the name before, almost everyone on that lived on the bad side of town had. He didn’t know Fagin personally, now that he was on the straight and narrow, or at least the straightish and narrower, he’d tried to avoid getting mixed up with the wrong sort of people. What little information he did have would probably be common knowledge, word of mouth that he’d overheard whispered between customers at Tony’s, though only those involved knew the whole truth. There were rumors about drugs, stealing, gambling, if it was illegal people thought Fagin had a hand in it - or maybe it was just his little lackeys trying to make the guy seem larger than life. “I think everyone’s heard of Fagin.” He answers with a shrug of his shoulders, “Sort of hard not to, people love a good villain.” But if she thought questioning him was going to help her build a case against the man, she was wrong. He didn’t know a damn thing, hadn’t even had a single conversation with the men, and the...Rita, who ran in his circle. He knew who they were, of course, it wasn’t hard to figure out if you knew how to recognize the signs but his lips are sealed.
Even after all this time of knowing him, she still cringed on the inside as the grease stained his jeans. He didn’t care, and neither did she really, but the inner Grace Darling was screaming at her to get the stain out. Pushing that aside with a flick of her hair, she laughed. “What if I offered to pay for the plastic surgery to get rid of them?”
Her nose immediately scrunched up as he touched it, another smile spreading on her face. He must never see her without one, because he makes her smile so easily. Rolling her eyes, she stood up and dusted off her dress. “I hear they make a good living. I might as well, right?” Lady strode over to the passenger’s ride and sat in the seat.
“Must be nice to be able to just throw money at every problem that comes along.” Tramp snorts, unable to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He’s mostly teasing, another smirk spreads across his lips, taking some of the edge off the comment. The glaring difference between their situations was something they couldn’t avoid, not discussing it was as good as ignoring the elephant in the room. There’s no denying that if the caste system were in place the two of them wouldn’t even be allowed to speak to one another.
“But is a good living worth loss of dignity?” He asks with an arch of his brow. He’s playing devil’s advocate. In the past, when he was still on the streets, he’d done some pretty despicable things to make ends meet, things he refused to think about and would never ever mention to her. Fact is, there are worse things a person can do and he’s in no position to judge. He slips into the worn leather seat and starts the car, the engine roaring to life. Music starts to blare through the speakers, loud and angry, he’d hadn’t changed the tape in the player since his joyride with David. He turns it down and cocks his head toward the shoebox by her feet. “You can pick something out if you want.” He slams the driver side door shut and buckles his seat belt, only then does his peel out of the parking space and start off toward the auto shop. “So what’s going on with you a dear old Aunt Sarah?” He asks, peeking at her from the corner of his eye.
“They fall for that charm because they don’t know any better,” she teased him. After all, that charm is what worked on her in the first place. “You only think that because you haven’t a c t u a l l y seen me straight out of bed. I’m always perfect by the time you do.”
“So what’s your excuse?” Tramp ask, nudging her playfully in the side, his smirk turning into a full blown grin. “You’d think a classy gal like you’d be a little harder to catch.” He’s under no illusions, there’s no denying he’s been just as charmed by her as she ever has been by him. “That could change, you just say the word.” He says, nudging her again and giving a playfully suggestive wag of his brows. If she were someone else, he’d have pointed out the ‘perfect’ comment, but to him, there was nothing to combat. She is perfect, in every sense of the word.
“I don’t think goth is for me. All that black and leather? Way too hot for California,” she shook her head with a laugh. She toyed with the clutch for a moment before pondering and grabbing the shoes as well. Once the question was directed at her, she turned her head over her shoulder with a shrug. “I just needed a change. I was…bored. Of myself.”
“You’re telling me.” He replies with a humorless chuckle, motioning to himself. His leather jacket is practically an appendage, but it definitely isn’t the most versatile piece of clothing in his wardrobe. He silently watches her, the way her delicate hands toy with the strap of the black clutch, the way her long dark hair cascades down her back like a waterfall as she leans over to grab the pair of heels off the display. An unconscious smile spread across his lips. Her words draw him back to the conversation, he blinks as if coming out of daze. He quite doesn’t understand how anyone could ever possibly get bored of her, she’s is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, and he likes to think he’s seen so much, but he’d never discourage her from doing something she truly wanted. “Just don’t change too much, eh? I’d still like to recognize you once you’re done.” And with one last cheeky wink, he’s off.
She returned his smile with one of her own, before her mouth turned into a melodramatic o and she reached for the edges of her eyes. “Crows feet? You got me, there. Eye cream takes a little longer than dye. Wine would take it off my mind, thanks.” Lady laughed and retreated to her bedroom, settling in her bed and turning on Netflix in anticipation for his return.
Sneaking out the front door, grateful not to have run into Aunt Sarah along the way, Tramp breathes a sigh of relief. He meanders down the front porch and sinks down against the wall behind the well-manicured bushes. Lady’s place in Shady Oaks is loads nicer than any place he’d ever been, or at least any place he’d ever actually been invited to, but there’s no denying that the domesticity of it all puts him a little on edge. The indistinguishable colonial two story homes, the lush green lawns, the glossy ‘kid tested, mother approved’ SUVs parked in the driveway - it’s stifling. With a snap of his wrist, his light produced a small flame and he lend over it to light the tip of his cigarette. He inhales and exhales, smoke seeping from between his lips and through his nostrils. It’s no time at all before he’s smoke the cigarette to a nub and it crushing the dying embers beneath the heel of his boot. He buries it in the soil as best he can, the less he makes his presence known the better for Lady’s sake. He sneaks back upstairs to her bedroom, pressing his luck a second time. Once safely inside, he closes the door behind him and throws himself dramatically across her bed. “What’s showing?” He asks, cocking his chin toward the television. “If it’s Audrey again, my throwing up will be eternal.”
She nodded in agreement, resting her head on her knees and staring dreamily out at the ocean. “Yeah, they are. Aren’t they?” It was a rhetorical question of course. Ella was entirely charmed by her surroundings. She also thought her companion was interesting. Ella didn’t judge, but she had to admit he wasn’t the kind of person she thought she’d meet out here. “What brings you to the beach today? Just the view?”
He takes it as the rhetorical question that it is, settling with a single nod as a response. His bespectacled eyes wander up and down the length beach, momentarily pausing to watch a couple kids build a sandcastle with a plastic pail and shovel. Even he has to admit that it’s quite picturesque, if not a little too cliché for his taste. He leans back so that he’s resting on both palms. Her question isn’t entirely unexpected, he knows how out of place he looks, especially while clad in from neck to wrist in black leather. “Anything is better than being cooped up in my flat. But the view ain’t too shabby either.” A smirk toys at his lips again and he shoots her a playful wink from over the silver rims of his sunglasses.
Georgette blew a piece of hair out of her eyes, refusing to stop glaring at him. She’d been mocked by people like him her whole life, and she knew she shouldn’t care about what he thought– but that didn’t stop his tone from stinging some still-sensitive part of her soul. “They will, and so will America,” she shot back. “I was born for reality television.” Georgette liked to keep people unsure as to the depth of her self-awareness. Keep them guessing whether she knew the shit coming out of her mouth was ridiculous. People were always going to see her as shallow, so why not let them? “Obviously I won’t mind airing my dirty laundry on television, but I don’t know why you think you can get it for free. If you want a creative nickname– pay me. I don’t do freebies.” She was already putting on a show. Might as well do it for cameras and endorsement deals.
Tramp stares blankly at her, both his brows raised, the corners of his lips twitching with yet another smirk. All the while she glares at him like he’s the scum of the earth. Almost reminds him of home. “Well, they’ll be entertained at the very least.” A big personality like hers was bound to enthrall a few, and drama made for good television - not that he knew what actually made ‘good television.’ He hadn’t watched a show in full since he was a teenager, maybe a few reruns of an old sitcom here and there but that’s about it, and he’d never been interested in reality television in particular. Everyone knew those sort of shows were scripted and that the drama was induced by the producers to get more ratings. Reality is a term that’s used very loosely nowadays. “Technically, I’d be getting it for free then too.” He points out with a shrug, she’d be getting payed by someone but it definitely wouldn’t be him. Not to mention that he didn’t really give a damn about her dirty laundry. She’d asked a question out loud for all to hear and to comment on and he’d answered, it wasn’t any more than that. His shoulders quaking with suppressed laughter, he returns his attention to his own table and starts to fiddle with the napkin dispenser. “It’s like the Joker said in The Dark Knight, If you’re good at something, never do it for free.” His words are patronizing at the very least.
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