Science Fiction/Double Feature

[whistlersmum]

'May the drive-in never die', Whistler thought to himself.

It was just past dusk, and The Blob was about to ooze itself across the outdoor screen. He'd hooked the speaker inside-out on the Impala's driver-side window, so the audio would project outward. He rested against the windshield, shoes off so as to not scuff the new paint on the hood. It'd cost him enough to get out of the impound and repaired. He wasn't about to cause any more damage.

A cooler full of beer sat on the roof of the car, an open can to his right. A jumbo bag of popcorn rested on his lap.

This took him back. The Globe in England; the Colliseum in Rome; watching Oedipus Rex in the original Greek. But nothing compared to a good old-fashioned drive-in theater.

And Steve McQueen. No one could touch him. Not even Olivier.

(Open to anyone.)

Comments

[brian_campo]

"Ohhh, right, Maddy told me about you. She said you were gonna get us a better spot in the New Year's line-up."

Brian braced his shoe against his car tire and kicked away from it, just running off a little restless energy. His hands were deep in his pockets now.

If Theresa caught their last show, then she was at the Dive the night that Valerie saw him play.

"That was a rough night," he said. "I mean the set was good, and I was pumped because my girlfriend was there, but then we got in a fight. Now I don't know where we are. Figuratively speaking," he added, looking around the parking lot. "I know where we are. It's not that bad."

[tiny_dancer81]

Brian looked like a puppy somebody had just kicked, and even someone with Theresa's amoral nature couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Maybe if they got the chance to hang out after a show later on, she could suggest finding a place to score some drugs. It always used to make her feel better, at least for a little while.

"I'm sure the fight wasn't that bad," she remarked. "Women get aggravated about the least little thing, but then they calm down and forget about it. She probably already has."

[brian_campo]

"I dunno." His smile was a little sad. "She's got--" Hmm. How did he put it without sounding like a jerk? "Trust issues," he concluded, falling back on a cliche that made him sound like a jerk anyway, but it was true. It wasn't easy for Valerie to trust people and she had already alerted him to the fact that she didn't trust him.

"And I'm kind of an idiot when it comes to girls."

[whistlersmum]

"At least you didn't accidentally run her down with your car," Whistler piped in.

It took him a full five seconds before he realized he'd said that out loud.

"Right there with ya, Brian."

[brian_campo]

"Wow. This car?"

He looked at the grill, searching for blood or hair. He couldn't help it. When he was satisfied he wasn't standing next to human remains, Brian retrieved the joint and puffed on it.

There was a thing. Should he ask it? It might be rude not to ask, considering the severity of what Whistler was implying. He opened his mouth to talk, shut it, then opened it again.

"Did she... did she live?"

[whistlersmum]

"She beat the snot out of me."

[brian_campo]

He was puzzled. Either she was a really tough girl, or Whistler was driving 10 miles per hour.

"Huh."

To make conversation, he asked, "What's her name?"

[whistlersmum]

Whistler lit up a cigarette from his soft pack. The mary jane brought his defenses down.

"Rhiannon," he offered. "Tough as nails, that girl. Gonna save the world. Or end it. Too early to tell."

[tiny_dancer81]

Theresa had only been half-listening, directing her attention back towards the movie in an effort to keep her thoughts from wandering too far afield, but when Whistler said Rhiannon's name she looked back at the man in the hat, her head tipping to the left. What exactly was he?

"She must take lots of vitamins," she remarked, offering both Whistler and Brian a cheeky smile. "Remind me never to run across her in a dark alley."

[brian_campo]

A light bulb went on above Brian's head. "Oh. Yeah I heard about her."

Oops.

"I mean, sort-of," he corrected, wanting to slap himself on the head for blurting that out. Man, he was high. All he really knew was that a girl named Rhiannon lived in the area, and that she was a vampire slayer, like Valerie, and that Holly knew her. And Julianna. And all of those people had a connection to supernatural things.

He frowned as his mind drew out a concept map, names floating in space, dotted lines connecting them. There were way too many intersections for a city with a population as large as Las Vegas had. He was missing something. Brian felt it floating just beyond his reach.

Valerie would warn him against this kind of thing, but he'd rather put it out there than stand here in ignorance.

"Are you two--" He pointed back and forth between them. "Are you weird in any way? Because lately everyone I meet is weird, or not weird, but..." He made a motion beside his ear, as if twisting gears in his head.

[whistlersmum]

'Oh, thank gods.' Whistler worried Brian thought he and Theresa were involved.

Not that he wouldn't. She was attractive. And like him, wouldn't age. Though that could be a problem, given she looked like jail bait, and in certain cities, they still threw rocks at you if they thought you were robbing the cradle.

Then his mind circled back to the first part of Brian's comment. He'd heard about Rhiannon. Which meant she was getting noticed. And when a Slayer got noticed by a human, it meant demons were probably aware.

"I collect stamps, does that count?" The Agent wanted to have a more... frank conversation with him, but didn't want to 'out' Theresa. But how to find him again...?

He figuratively smacked his brain. Brian was in a band, and he was playing in the same club Theresa was managing.

'Please, please, please mention the club by name. If I have to poke your brain to find it, you might notice. And then weird takes on a whole new meaning."

[tiny_dancer81]

For a hot second, Theresa's brain had been on the same track as Whistler's, and given his apparent age he would have fit in with her usual client base. But then Brian asked his real question, and her expression narrowed thoughtfully. Even her non-diabolical brain could put the pieces together.

Brian had heard of Rhiannon, as if the Slayer was a celebrity of sorts. Whistler had run her down with his car. She still wanted to know how the fuck that had happened. If two tons of Detroit steel hadn't put the brunette out of commission, what hope did a garden variety vampire have?

The inter-connecting points were beginning to make her head spin.

"I don't collect stamps," she announced. "But I do have a fixation on crossword puzzles. Is that weird?"