I smell clean sheets and good lady smells. Mysterious powders and interesting floral and fruit scented soaps and shampoo. A half dozen perfumes. Too strong, but I guess it's how you use them that matters. I can't smell my makeup and I'm in my boxers. Cassie has two cats and some kind of bird. I can hear her downstairs cooking. She is chatting with some other woman while she cooks bacon and eggs. Added some peppers and onions to it too. Lovely.
I roll over and look out the windows. I had a shower afterwards, but we definitely had sex last night. I wonder if I was a virgin. If I was willing to go down on someone in a bus full of people, probably not, but you never know. I don't even vaguely remember being with Cassie. Damn it. I hope I wasn't a total embarrassment.
My jaw is sore. I walk to the bathroom and look in the mirror. My tape job is gone. Some combination of raising Body and Leveling up has erased the cut from my left eye. Not even a scar. I'm too pretty again. When did it happen? Did Cassie notice? Too late to worry about it now. My jaw on the other hand is bruised as fuck. Someone punched the hell out of me. I check my knuckles. Not a scratch. I check my space. All weapons and ammo accounted for, and no blood on the knife. I'm not much of a kicker. Good I didn't hurt anyone.
I am so hung over. I check the medicine cabinet and dry swallow a few painkillers. She's brewing coffee! I need it. My clothes aren't up here, but I hear a dryer running. Cassie is a class act. I don't really want to meet a new person in my boxers, but I the coffee demands I sacrifice my self-respect. I pad downstairs barefoot and walk into the kitchen. "Moring Cassie. Nice to meet you, Miss."
The older woman downstairs looks a lot like Cassie. Probably her mom. "Good God Cass! He's a baby! Sugar, please tell me you're eighteen." She has stood up and put her hands on my face while she asks questions. I notice her taking a pretty good glance at my recently increased muscle mass while she does it. Like mother like daughter.
I gently remove her hands from my face and say, "Yes, I'm eighteen. Your daughter is not a criminal. Except for getting me drunk last night. Not that I'm complaining. Could I please have my shirt?"
Cassie gestures with her spatula towards a washer and dryer in the next room. I walk over and grab my clothes from inside. After getting dressed, I'm feeling more comfortable. I grab coffee, sit at the table, and start drinking.
"So, what happened last night?"
Cassie starts putting the food on plates, and says, "You put on quite a show at the bar last night. Most everyone seemed to enjoy it. Congratulations."
"Did you ever pay me my $20?
"I did and then you immediately spent it on more drinks. More of the cheap stuff."
"Well hell, did I at least get to eat?"
Cassie turns and smirks, "You ate plenty. Like you were starving."
Cassie's mom gets up and heads for the door. "Good God Cass. You need Jesus."
After she is gone, I ask, "What happened to my jaw? I didn't kick anyone did I?"
She raises an eyebrow, "Uh no. You told the biggest guy in the bar that you would, and I quote, 'Rather shit in my own eyes than see your ugly fucking face for one more second.' Then he punched you so hard you flipped over a table. Your guitar is broken by the way."
"Ok." I drank more coffee and ate some eggs and bacon. "About us. I don't remember anything. Was...everything ok?"
She smiled, "It was fun Honey. Don't worry about it. Was it your first time?"
"I have no idea." I finish off my breakfast. Through the window I can see a glimpse of Clementine's paint job. "Thanks for everything. I need to hit the road though." I give her a kiss on the cheek and head towards the door.
"Well, hold on a minute. I'll give you a lift back to the Cantina."
I pull the window shade aside. Clementine is parked in the driveway. "No need. My car is right there."
Cassie peeks out the window and looks confused. "I drove you here. You were in no condition to drive. That car wasn't here last night."
I check my space. Clementine's key is still in there. "The world is full of beautiful mysteries. Later Cassie." I go out and hop in Clementine. She rumbles to life under me, and we head West. After a few miles I pull over and check the trunk and under the hood. Nothing is missing or tampered with. The steering column and wiring are fine. She wasn't hotwired. Shrug. I spend some time putting on my makeup. Grab a new pair of sunglasses. "Clementine, you know you're my number one girl, right? Cassie was just whatever. Ships passing in the night."
I pull back out and head into Amarillo to look for a pawn shop. Before too long I see a big one on the side of the road. Erwin Pawn. I pull in and crank my Hyper-Perception to 10. It's a normal pawn shop. I grab things from my trunk and head inside.
The old man at the counter is a pro. He doesn't raise any eyebrows at my paint or the horde of small appliances and Walmart grade jewelry I'm pawning. We argue about the price, and then I say I'll take a trade instead. He knows his instruments and has a good selection.
I walked out of the store with a pretty good acoustic guitar, a nice little amp, a cheap electric keyboard, and an absolutely flawless candy apple red Stratocaster electric guitar. Cases for everything, straps, and spare strings. Feeling thankful for that big trunk is an everyday occurrence.
I'm planning to spend a little time in Amarillo. Just long enough to refresh my supplies and pamper Clementine. Then we're heading back to Route 66.