#jay: 001.

[camgarza]

location: willowing pines stables

status: closed for @jaymendoza

"Here." Cami placed a still steaming bowl of chili and a plate of jalepeno laced cornbread on the picnic table in front of him. Her grandmother fed those working on their land at least two meals a day for several decades. She'd be damned if that tradition went to waste now that Willowing Pines fell to her hands.

So, she nodded at the food in a way that brokered no arguments, then circled the table to take a seat right on top of the old, weather beaten wood.

"You think I'm crazy to think we could actually start up a sanctuary and rehab center here, Jay?" By now most of her employees knew the bank denied her the necessary loan to get the idea up off the ground. And, to most of her employees, she smiled anyway and kept up a brave face.

Why she voiced her real fears to him, now, she wasn't sure.

"I mean, I've only been at this by myself for less than two years, right?" That was rhetorical; she knew when she'd taken over at Willowing Pines down to the minute and the day. Without pause, Cami swiped one of the thick slabs of cornbread meant for Jay, inhaled half, then continued, "Wanting to go that route was probably biting off more than I could chew anyway."

[charliesparre]

@jaymeslowell

There weren’t very many stores one could purchase vinyl records, which meant that in the almost decade he’d been living in New York, Charlie’d been to all of them. He also had, for the sake of survival, left his contact details with every owner to let him know when certain things of interest to him came in.

Today he was looking to buy a vinyl of the Doors’ Morrison Hotel. The unfortunate thing about this store was that they weren’t the sort to put things on reserve, which meant Charlie had to be there the moment the place opened. This was all well and good, but when he arrived he found one thing stood in his way... quite literally.

Five minutes before the store was set to open, a familiar face was standing at the entrance already. Charlie pulled his sunglasses down just a bit to give him a proper once over.

Now, Charlie didn’t know the man, but he did know the guy frequented all the same record stores that Charlie did. That being said, they’d spoken maybe once or twice in passing, but never enough for substantial conversation-- certainly not enough to know each other’s names.

But he knew the man liked the Doors, too.

And that was trouble.

“...hi.” Charlie was trying to be polite. He was trying to sound polite. He cleared his throat. “Good morning.” Yeah, that probably sounded casual enough. “What’re you doing here this early, man?”