Adventures at the Full Service Island

[st_clare]

It turned out that Searchlight was only about an hour's drive from Las Vegas, but Julianna slept through her wake-up call because she'd tossed and turned for most of the night after her conversation with Edmund. So when she got up it was nearly eleven o clock, which meant she didn't arrive at the car rental agency until almost noon. Nothing on this trip had gone according to plan so far except for her meeting with Dean Travers.

Fortunately, the agency wasn't busy when she arrived, and the Watcher was able to secure an automobile with a full tank of gas and a freshly vacuumed interior. She was going to have to get one of these on a permanent basis if and when she found something other than temporary lodgings.

The highway boasted mid-day traffic, and Julianna kept herself occupied by listening to the all-news station. The heat of the day meant she was going to need water. Damn this early afternoon sun. Clearly Nevada was not famous for its rainy season.

Searchlight really did turn out to be a blink-and-you'll-miss-it place, because she almost missed her exit. Brakes squealed a bit, and gravel crunched as she got off the highway. If Rhiannon was here, it should take her no time at all to find the girl. But first she was going to have to get some bottled water, because the heat was abysmal.

There was a gas station with the unimaginative name of the Gas N Go, and Julianna parked her rental in one of the few parking spaces and killed the engine. Even a place liked this had to have plastic bottles of water for sale. And then she could go about her business.

Slough, 1977

[holiday_pirner]

Headlights illuminate the form of a girl. She's sitting on some steps in front of a row house, playing with the ends of her hair. She's dyed pink streaks through her brunette locks, and she's wearing a mini shift dress with matching neon pink tights. Her mother throws up her hands, tired of wardrobe arguments.

A man exits the car, slamming his door a little too hard. A dog barks two houses away. A sixteen year old Holly's expression is passive as she watches him approach her. "You're late," she says, and the words come out as a sigh, the hair in her fingers puffing out.

"I'm aware of that, Holiday." Gregory Pirner is weary. This scenario has played out before. His daughter, sullen-faced, recriminating eyes. He was trying. He could have canceled this weekend, could have been resting, but.

( Promising )

Move With the Music

[holiday_pirner]

The bulky man in a tight black t-shirt stamped her hand, and Holly gave him a close-mouthed smile. Wordless music began washing over her the moment she entered the club. The air changed in that way it did when a large mass of people shared an enclosed space. She was wearing a red dress, black lace top over it.

Finding a space in the middle of everything, she started to dance. She could get a drink later. Holly closed her eyes at first, just enjoying the lack of thoughts. Thoughts had kept her up at night, swirling nonstop until the colors all bled together.

And okay, it helped that she was a little high.

A bloke came up to her, starting to dance with her, but more like around her. She laughed soundlessly, tossing her hair back and turning her back to him. He took this as an invitation to press himself against her back.

She rolled her blue eyes up to the ceiling, hot lights playing over the crowd. One song, and then she'd push him away. "Asshole," she said, because she could, because no one could hear her.