Maddy looked up. “Ohhhh, you’re… got it.” She gave a thumbs up. “Me too, occasionally,” she admitted. “The fluid nature of my sex urges became apparent the minute I saw Cherie Currie in her underwear.” She made another attempt at the spicy Bloody Mary, the Worcestershire sauce of which overpowered the miniscule amount of vodka they’d poured in the glass. “I have an equally powerful attraction to Michael J. Fox as a teenage Republican.”
When Maddy didn't laugh or act shocked, Echo's shoulders slumped with relief. She didn't know what she'd expected, if she'd expected anything, but nonchalant acceptance hadn't been at the top of the list. The next hit of Guinness went down easier.
"So what do you do if you don't go to school?" she asked in a more casual tone. "I'm not working right now, but jobs are kind of thin on the ground in Searchlight, which is where I'm living right now. What goes on for you during the day?"
“During the day, I serve coffee and underwhelming slices of pie,” she said. “At night, I play bass in a band, which is not what I’d call lucrative. Once you split the cash and pay for new equipment, there’s not much left. Sometimes we get paid in beer. But,” she shrugged. “I always string it together, somehow. By the way, lest I overstate things, allow me to make it patently clear. I’m no virtuoso on the bass. I asked to play the tambourine and the guys said, what do you think this is, Fleetwood Mac? But they wanted a girl to offset the testosterone.”
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"So what do you do if you don't go to school?" she asked in a more casual tone. "I'm not working right now, but jobs are kind of thin on the ground in Searchlight, which is where I'm living right now. What goes on for you during the day?"
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