beyondtheline | Tornadoes and skeletons and nacho dogs, oh my

I think I can hang on for another couple of hours. Let's keep going, okay?

[With as much driving as they do on a regular basis, two hours is really nothing. The landscape in this part of the state is pretty boring, and there isn't a lot to look at. So he keeps driving, and she lets herself doze off against him for a much needed nap.

She comes to as they're coming to a stop at a streetlight. Her head lifts and she blearily looks around. It's really hard to tell what year they might be in, but it at least looks like something that's modern like they're used to.]

Did the roads stay good?

[It looks like a bigger city. One with traffic and people and lots of buildings. They have to be in San Antonio by now, right?]

Mostly. Think you woulda woken up if they were all fucked up. You didn't miss much.

[And actually, it was sort of a nice drive. One big modern freeway, not much traffic, just listening to the radio dip in and out between cities and times.

There's a grin on his face she can't see, and he doesn't say anything, just turns the volume up a couple ticks on the dial. He's found some little rock and roll station that claims to be playing the hottest new releases from "bands you've probably never heard of," some kind of hipster shit, and that's honestly fun enough, but as she wakes up, the station is currently about thirty seconds into Not Dead Yet.

Why that one took off and the rest of theirs haven't just yet, he's not sure. One of those weird quirks of working in a creative field. But hell, he can't complain. They're on the air in San Antonio? Guess he has at least one fan all the way out in Texas.]

[It takes her a few seconds, but after he speaks something clicks. It's with a gasp that she scrambles to lean forward around him to try and turn up the radio.]

It's your song! Oh my gosh, it's your song, isn't it? You've sang this to me before! You're on the radio!

[She's ecstatic to hear it, and is really proud of him. It's the first she's heard the band altogether, and it makes her excited to get to LA to see them live.

With the radio turned up nice and loud, she sings along and dances in place on the bike. She's just going to take this song playing as a sign that San Antonio is going to be amazing. ]

Wait. Does this mean you're famous?

[The question makes him laugh, a little giddy.]

Maybe we're finally gettin' there, yeah! If they're playin' our stuff as far out as Texas, then that totally counts as famous.

[To someone. Famous beyond a small studio and a few bars. Famous enough that they could probably book a gig all the way out here and a few in between, a real goddamn bonafide tour.

Except Rigo is probably still missing. Damn idiot better not have gotten himself killed, or if he did he'd better still be around to mash those drums because it's not like Johnnie is giving up on backing guitar.]

An' I think that means this might even be 1967. We just got this record out, what, six months ago? Hey, shit, we gotta get you to a record store!

[Could luck finally be on their side? Did they really make it to 1967 and a big city? Chrissy's giddy with laughter, hugging him and peppering him with kisses wherever she can reach. Her boyfriend is famous, and they're going to go into a record store and buy his record and people will know who he is.

She's the girlfriend of an amazing musician and San Antonio is going to be the best time they've had on this trip. She can feel it in her bones.]

Yeah! It's time we finally found one. But let's save it until after we're clean, okay? You may be a Phantom Rider, but you don't have to actually look like a phantom.

[She's only teasing, obviously, and it's easy to tell by the way she pinches at his filthy cheek.]

[He laughs and bites at her finger like the weird unhinged creature he must look to be right now, then leans back a little into her arms.]

Would be pretty fuckin' funny though. Nah, we'll get cleaned up. Hey, if I'm a famous rock star, you think I get a discount at a fancy hotel?

[That's probably not how it works, famous rock stars are probably supposed to be rich. Oh well.

But they can still sneak into a nice room, right? At this time of night nobody will know any better. He bypasses the tacky places on the city outskirts and heads for downtown. It's always more fun to be right in the middle of it all.]

[Her arms wrap around him nice and tight, and she rests her chin on his shoulder. The happy energy she's feeling right now is something she wishes could last forever.]

It wouldn't hurt to try getting nice things for free because you're famous.

[Like fancy dinners or front row seats to a show or something. They could really live large in San Antonio. That's something that excites her as they move into the downtown area, where crowds are bustling. There's something different about this city than other places they've been. The influence of a culture that isn't white is evident in open air mercados and churches that have architecture like she's never seen before.

Even the people here look more diverse and interesting, the fashion on display something that makes her grin as they stop at a red light.]

I think I saw a sign for something about a river. Do you really think they have one through the downtown area? It would be so nice to stay at a fancy hotel right on a river, wouldn't it?

[It's not quite like home, this place, but it has elements of it, all pieces of history and people caught somewhere between Spain, Mexico, and the US and able to juggle all three seamlessly. It's made more comfortable by being in his own time period, too, and by the groups of people here and there at restaurants and bars even before daybreak, enjoying what the late night has to offer. Things just look normal.]

Might as well look. Seems the river is just up ahead.

[And so are shops and hotels, thankfully. The river itself looks quiet as he drives along it for a few minutes just to scope it out - paved sidewalks, grassy lawns, only a smattering of graffiti. Probably safe enough to not worry about the bike getting stolen if they park out front of one of the hotels here.]

All right, let's see. Bexar Inn on the River? Riverway Resort?

Riverway!

[Chrissy doesn't have any method for choosing one over the other. It just sounds fancier somehow. It's not an inn. It's a resort. Very fancy. She'd be happy anywhere though, and hopes he knows that.

As they pull up in front of the Riverway Resort, Chrissy's so excited just to be here in this time and place that she leaps right off the back of the bike and practically drags Johnnie off the bike. They've got to get their things, but first she presses both hands to his cheeks and pulls him in for a kiss.]

We're going to have so much fun here.

[She's ignoring the few looks they're getting from people that pass them by and notice them. It's easy to imagine they look like they've been through hell. But that's just amusing to her, and she's left smiling as she pulls back from the kiss to grab one of their bags.]

Do you want to see if you can find a key? Or should we just try breaking into one of the rooms?

[He laughs and catches her around the waist, all glad as can be to kiss back with enthusiasm. That's the spirit he loves to see in her, all that joy and love of life, and he'll return it in spades. Somehow the ridiculous way she looks just adds to it all, the pure spontaneity of the moment reflected in her mess of makeup and hair and soot.]

Rather have the key just so they're less likely to rent the place out with us in it, but then again who knows how gettin' hands on those will go. It's late enough, maybe someone won't have their eyes completely open. Lemme go look, okay?

[She gets another kiss, and then he trots off toward the concierge to scope the place out and see what their key system is like.

Security here is a little tighter than your average highway motel, that's for sure. He doesn't see keys on a wall inside anywhere, but the slow pace of the front desk at this time means he doesn't see anyone come in and get one, either. Leaves him with a few guesses - those locked drawers at the front desk, maybe, or behind another door past that desk. He slinks toward the door, trying to be unobtrusive, but -]

... C-can I help you?

[The young woman who has just emerged from that door in some sort of resort staff uniform looks shocked, like any moment she might retreat back into that room and lock the door. Quickly, he crafts a shaky half-assed plan and hopes it works.]

Yeah! Shit, yeah, you can, thank the Balancer someone's here. My girl an' I were caught in a huge storm, an' there was this fire, an' the fire department is clearing everyone outta the block an' putting people up in hotels for the night until they get it all sorted out. They said they'd cover our room here so we can get cleaned up an' figure out a more permanent spot to stay. Can you help us?

[This may not be as trusting a time as the thirties or the fifties or any number of places they've wound up, but it's still not too hard to con your way into something if you're convincing enough. The concierge nods her head, looking worried, and withdraws some kind of master key from a breast pocket to get at the room keys.]

Yes, oh heavens, I'm so sorry, you must be so distressed. Is your... Significant other? Around?

[While she's hurriedly filling out a form, Johnnie nods and jogs over to the front door, then waves toward Chrissy and the bike.]

Hey babe! She says she'll get us a room while the fire department figures out a better spot for us!

[She's smart, she'll catch on, he decides, and then heads back inside so he can sign whatever garbage he's supposed to put some ink on.]

[Now's her time to shine. She gets both bags and hauls them inside along with her, plopping them down right at the counter. The concierge gets one look at her and stares for a few seconds before politely averting her eyes.]

You poor thing, you look like you've been through so much tonight. We'll get you taken care of, dears. Don't worry!

[Chrissy hasn't even had to lay on a sympathetic story yet, but she's sure going to test out her acting chops now.]

The fire department said you'd be able to help us. We were so worried we'd have to sleep on the streets tonight, but you'll help us? Really?

[Okay, so maybe acting isn't her thing. But she sounds genuinely happy that they're getting a room. Which seems to make the woman happy in return, even as she keeps glancing up at them in concern.]

Of course. You'll be in room two-twenty for the night. I'm going to have to ask you to come down first thing tomorrow so we can ensure the fire department has made the payment for you to stay longer if you need to.

[Although she's friendly, the concierge starts to sound hesitant, like she doesn't want to hand over the key. So she doesn't, instead she places it down on the countertop and studies them.]

What did you say your name was, sir?

Benny. Benny Garcia.

[See, this is where the fake ID comes in handy. He digs his wallet out and slips the fake out of its pocket for her, like she might need it for something. Who knows.

If she wants them out of the room first thing in the morning, well, he can conveniently forget. They'll eventually send a note up or call or whatever but until then they have time to figure out an alternative. Should be no sweat to take the key to a locksmith and have a copy made.

So as she takes his ID and studies it, he slides his hand over the key because obviously that's his now.]

Thanks again, you've really been a big help. I'll come on down tomorrow, all right? Really appreciate it.

[Well, the key is in his hand now, and the concierge briefly looks at his grungy fingernails, then gives a firm nod and a practiced smile.]

Of course. We're happy to help out and I hope you two can get a good night's sleep. Please call down to the desk here if you need anything!

[Johnnie nods and retrieves his fake ID, then shoulders one of the bags as well as his guitar to take it all up to the room.]

[Thankfully, no one cares about or asks her name. She finds out why as soon as their backs are turned and they're walking off toward their room.]

Oh, and Mrs.Garcia!

[The concierge calls out, stopping Chrissy dead in her tracks. She mulls over being a Mrs.Garcia before realizing she has to play the part. Her head turns and she gives a little nod of her head.]

Yeah?

[The concierge runs over with a little paper sack that she hands over to Chrissy.]

There's some toiletries in there for you. In case you need them.

[Taken by the kindness of that, she just smiles for a few seconds. She's completely stunned to silence. They've met so many exhausting people on this trip that it's nice to run into someone that genuinely wants to help.]

Thank you. We'll see you in the morning.

[As soon as they're out of earshot and are walking down the hallway toward the rooms, she laughs under her breath and adds on-]

Or see you never.

[She prefers it to be that way. Less explaining they'll have to do.]

[He chuckles at her quiet little addition as they pass through the hallway. It's lined with art, and there's comfortable seating around little decorative fake plants. Weird shit. Why are expensive places so fucking weird?

Eventually though they find their room, and he turns the key in the lock.]

Here we go, home sweet cleanup time. Goddamn I need a fuckin' shower so bad.

[Guitar tossed on the bed and bag tossed on the floor, he scopes the place out. For a "resort" it sure looks a lot like a usual, though nice, hotel room. Probably the resort part means restaurants and a pool and other fancy shit. Massage parlor or something. Hell, he hopes so, he could go for a massage.

But first thing is to strip down and get that shower running, and he does so in near record time, only to notice there's also a huge tub with a jacuzzi.]

Oh, shit - well, that's gonna be for after the shower.

[His enthusiasm for the shower is met with her own, and she strips out of her clothes. She's pretty sure they're so filthy that the could stand up on their own, and she laughs in amusement as she discards a trail of them on the way to the bathroom.]

After, huh? It sounds like you have big plans.

[Which she is all for, but first? She steps into the shower and gets under the water. There's no soap or shampoo in here, so she peeks out and gives him her best smile. One that's extra charming and sweet.]

Hey, baby? Do you think you can grab all my strawberry stuff from our bag?

[He's in so good a mood he does it without complaint, no more than a chuckle and a shake of his head. Not that he cares to refuse her ever, anyway. So he puts off that inviting shower for a few more seconds, and goes to get her things, all pink and berry-scented as they are, then hops in the shower with her.]

Have your pick of what you want. I just gotta scrub all this off.

[Starting by grabbing a washcloth. Streaks of black and gray and red will probably mark up its white fabric forever now.]

Ugh. Makeup is worse than mud for gettin' it off though.

[In the moments he's away, she's standing beneath the water and is watching all that blood and dirt go down the drain. The water is so dark as it washes off of her, and it almost creeps her out a little. She's so caught up in watching it all that his reappearing scares the hell out of her. Jumping, she yelps in surprise. But is all too glad to pull him into the shower with her so he can get under the water too.]

Here.

[She takes the washcloth from him, and gets some soap on there.]

Keep your eyes closed for a while. I'll get this.

[Even with as filthy as she still is, she takes great care to gently scrub his face clean. He's left with a little redness thanks to her scrubbing, but that'll go away soon. She smiles at her handiwork before kissing him.]

Do you think you can get your hair while I work on my face?

[Whoops, didn't mean to startle her, poor girl. She gets extra kisses in apology once she lets up on the scrubbing, then nods.]

Yeah, of course. You think I can't wash my own hair?

[He grins teasingly and reaches for... Yeah he's just going to smell like strawberry because that's the only shampoo on hand. Oh well. He has his work cut out for him with the combination of dirt and grease, but considering that's not that unusual for him, he can figure it out.]

Goddamn that feels better already. Hey, you think this place has an open bar? That's a resort thing for sure, right? Especially for a couple who just lost all their stuff in a fire.

[Ahh, the smell of strawberry. She sniffs at the air and enjoys her smell on him. As tempting as it is to touch him to rub more of those suds all over his body, she has to focus on her own face and then washing her hair.]

I mean, it's a resort. It should have a bar and a pool. We should really play up the starving, sad angle. I bet they'd give us all kinds of free stuff if I cried and you couldn't console me.

[She makes a show of wibbling her lower lip and looking like she's about to cry, which actually is very different from her genuinely sad face which is far more depressing to look at. But suds from shampoo fall down into her face, and she curses beneath her breath as her eyes burn. Her feet stomp a little as she bounces in place and wipes at her eyes. What do they put in that stuff, arsenic?]

Aw, yeah, you poor girl, an' we can't have that. Nobody likes when a girl's in real distress, gotta do something for her. Like load her up on all the real good shit.

[He laughs at her acting and then realizes some of it's real, thanks to that shampoo. But that just makes him laugh more, since it sucks but is ultimately harmless anyway, and then he steps back to rinse all the junk out of his hair and lets the water plaster it to the sides of his head.

Then it's her turn to get to rinse off, and she needs it anyway, so he scoots around her and guides her under the stream with his hands on her waist.]

Need me to kiss it better?

[He snickers, and playfully places a kiss on each eyelid. There, fixed, for sure.]

[Well, his affection certainly takes the sting out of getting soap in her eyes. He makes her laugh as he kisses her, and her hands rub up and down along his sides for a second before she starts working her hands through her hair to make sure all the grime gets washed away with the shampoo.]

Do you really think they'd buy an act like that?

[Her nose scrunches up, because she feels so weird pretending to be that sad just to get some drinks. But if it means getting him things he wants, she's all for it. Besides, a big fancy hotel like this won't hurt if they give away some free drinks and food.]

Maybe I should learn how to cry without actually being sad so it looks more convincing.

[He laughs and gets his hands into her hair to help with the dirt, and also just to have more reasons to touch her.]

Mm, sounds like a good idea to me. Could be real useful.

[He's more invested in touching her than talking about crying, though. He trails hands from her hair down over her back, then pulls her snug against him. Yeah, so maybe every time they shower together he gets to wanting her, but why wouldn't he?]

[There's no resistance to her being pathetic in the name of conning people out of things, and she smiles for a few seconds as he pulls her in close. When his hands start wandering, of course her body responds. She sighs contently as her hands trail down along his back, and laughs a little as her wet touch slips right before she's able to grope his backside.]

Are you already clean?

[Not like she'll tell him to stop what he's doing, even if he says no. But she feels like maybe she should try at least a little to pretend like she's keeping them on track. That idea is abandoned in about two seconds, in favor of teasing him a little.]

Or did you decide to stay dirty?

[He can take that in whatever way he wants, but she's laughing as she leans in to kiss him.]

[An eyebrow arches as he sinks into that kiss, then pulls back with a mischievous smirk tugging ar his lips.]

Get too clean an' you never have any fun.

[He keeps one hand at the small of her back, holding her close, then tips his head down to kiss at her throat as his other hand strokes her side and cups her breast.]

Always thought "good clean fun" was fuckin' bullshit anyway, those people are too afraid of livin' life.

[Her eyes close as she takes great delight in the attention he's giving her. As her lips part, she sighs his name in a way that definitely says she likes what he's doing and wants him to keep going.]

We have plenty of good clean fun.

[Their playing music is good clean fun. Dancing usually is too. But he's right, their dirty fun is a lot more enjoyable. Like this, she can always enjoy it when they're naked and grinding against one another and working up toward friction and heat and feeling nothing but pleasure.]

But this kind of fun is my favorite.

[She laughs, already breathless as his lips graze across a sensitive spot on her neck. It makes her squirm in her arms, even as she tries to grind against him.]

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