Lifes Living Rival

[Omo]

A slightly plump woman made a point to go out of her way and leave the stream of people to stand next to him and grinned up at the dull eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself as if he could feel the cool breeze on his numb skin, a finger nail finding it’s way to his teeth.

“Go away. I don’t work, you don’t trim your eyebrows, and you should stand down wind of yourself, it’s Miller time. Leave me alone, please?”

Last night was complete hell. Or so he assumed since he couldn’t remember much besides hopping out of the window in his room after having an argument with his mother, guitar in hand. The plan had been to spend a few hours on the local boardwalk earning some rare tips he could stash away in his car fund. His mother had tried to force him to attend the AP medical classes he was taking after attending LA High. Why couldn’t they have stayed in Cannes? He looked like a medical student just off the clock, pasty white skin from not being let out of the hospital, casual after work jacket over a fitted brown shirt, brand name black jeans and some comfortable shoes. Looking like money didn’t always mean someone had any, as was his case. Then again that was a way of life around LA.

He remembered leaving home. The bus ride to the beach. Then…..a fuzzy image of someone stumbling down an alley on a side street, and the impression of some kind of gun for some odd reason. After that he woke up in some dingy motel bathroom and had spent all of the money he had on him to do such a thing, apparently. His parents were going to be furious when he got back home; he even considered not going back for a few fleeting seconds. How was this possibly going to work out alright? How could he think when he was so hungry?! And then he suddenly realized that his appetite was all in his head and his stomach wasn’t trying to eat its self. What was with that? And what was with the people?

Some had told him he wasn’t bad looking but when compared to some of the other teens on their way to a club, or some equally social location, he could have been passed over. But some people lingered, trying to catch his eye and smiled when they did, and others rubber necked as they walked by. His patience was running thin, no doubt sped along by the food across the street he couldn’t pay for, which was odd for him as he was usually a placid individual. All hunger aside, which was an impossible feat at the moment, the issue of memory loss was almost making him sick; or…it could have been the hunger again. It was bothersome and he was trying not to panic but as he glanced at his shaking finger he surmised he wasn’t doing a very good job. On top of all that he'd lost his guitar. How could the night get any worse?

[Trudy Bennett]

A quaint little bar, called The Other Room stood a few blocks up from the wandering boy's location and it was sometime around midnight when Trudy finished her set there. As the lingering last delicate note left her and the good old Teisco Del Ray hollowbody she'd been strumming out the tune on the atmosphere inside shifted back to its regular casual environment. But for a few moments as she'd performed they'd all been hers, each clinging helplessly to each lyric and melody. The regular background music came back up slowly and with it the conjoined sound of various conversations. The siren's song had ended and none had really been changed for the experience, she didn't let it happen. Her equipment was moved off to its place on the side and since she was no longer really in her own little world the candlelight that filled the alehouse came back into striking attention. Each little flickering wick taunted her with it's not-so-subtle threats. She'd managed to keep the unease under control most nights she was there, but it was starting to edge at her consciousness to the point where even the music that was still in her mind couldn't block it out. Trudy needed some fresh air.

She got caught up on her way out only twice by the braver souls who asked why it was she was still playing in places like this and hadn't hit the big time, she made some overly rehearsed comment about the music industry and "the man" and "corporate bullshit". It always got that over-educated understanding nod that ended the conversation quickly and neatly.

The air outside was like a splash of cool water compared to the marginal stuffiness that all small bars seemed to have. The small groups of other individuals outside were smoking, it was to be expected, but it did cause her to shuffle away from them just a bit. Paranoia, probably, but the thoughts of what she had heard a stray ember could do...a shudder ran up her back and she headed down the street, towards the beach, and towards the boy with the dark hair coming the opposite way that she couldn't help but look at. He was attractive certainly, but this was LA, it wasn't an odd thing. It was that odd over lost, distressed, confused, but not drugged up look in his eyes that caught her attention and held it for a few moments too long.

[Omo]

He was starting to second guess his decision to walk farther into the city, and not towards the boardwalk. He knew he could find a ride home that way, but he questioned the cost of it, or he could have asked to borrow a cell phone. However, at least to him, asking to borrow a phone was as bad as asking for money. All of the businesses along the streets seemed to be closed up as well, things were not looking good.

A forgotten pda rang inside of a locked Mercedes. He could break the window...and add to his list of troubles. His fist would have broken before the window anyway, it wasn't even worth trying. The people continued to gawk occasionally and some even waved with a quiet hello attached. He should have gone to class. He pushed the self centered moping to one side and continued to walk farther down the street towards a small crowd of people hanging outside of a bar.

The Other Room. His parents had gone there a few times and he'd caught the rumors about being able to play a gig sometimes. It had been one of the places he was looking forward to visiting when he turned twenty one, but now he was looking for the drunkest person who would loan out their phone. But he didn't see anyone that far gone and a strange need to leave was suddenly taking over him. He wasn't afraid, he honestly wasn't sure if he was emotionally connected enough to be afraid of anything, but he just felt like he needed to go. Now.

It was silly feeling that way, he just wasn't feeling right about asking for help. Presently he caught the eye of a younger looking woman that somehow didn't seem to fit in with the crowds around her. Maybe it was that she wasn't smoking, but the instinct to run was stronger than ever. The lanky teen fought with himself, on the other side of the road, pacing back and forth slowly and nibbling away at his bottom lip. Finally swallowing all the pride and respect he had for himself he half ran half skipped across the road stopping a few feet away from as many people as possible. "..Um...Hi..."

"..I'm sorry for bothering you," Fingers laced in with each other and his hands turned themselves outward while he raised his shoulders in a small shrug. He'd started to address everyone in front of the respectable bar but he was quickly narrowing down his audiance to the woman in the red dress; how cliche. "But...I..had a bad...um...I'm kinda on my own and I'm starving. Do you know where the nearest soup kitchen is? I don't usually bother people like this but I'm really....I-..Could you help me out?"

[Trudy Bennett]

There were a few cruel laughs, people probably expecting the kid was higher than a kite and rambling off as he stumbled through some good trip. 'soup kitchen' received the most of the snide commentary before the vast majority went back to their cigarettes and ignored the boy. The girl he directed his words at though remained silent, one of those small attemptingly comforting smiles slowly forming as she let him finish.

As best some part of her couldn't help but compare him to a little lost puppy. A rather pale one (what was with kids and that nowadays?), maybe a little jittery, but it made that disgustingly sappy caring side of her (maternal...?) come shining through. The hinting of an accent that she placed a bit too quickly won her right over as well.

"Hey, it's alright, relax, ok? Whatever's going on I'm sure it can be fixed. Not so sure on that whole soup kitchen bit, maybe there's something downtown but that's a bit of a walk, sweetheart. I can get you something from inside if you want? Or I'm sure there's a 7-11 around...think there's a Jack in the Box up a few blocks, though why you'd ever want to eat there..."

That overwhelming urge to help was giving way to slow calm words, verging on rambling: internal musings that were tumbling out to give room for the symphony that was crescendoing once more. Trudy managed to stop herself before it got out of control, forcing the hymn to return to a more proper level. She probably would have sighed then if she could have.

"But...yeah, it's okay now. Whatever it is...it'll be alright."

[Omo]

His fingers wouldn't settle down until he'd let them snag a lock of hair and fiddle with it. God did he just want to go home, even if the rents were going to take a potato peeler to his face. Truth be told he could have walked home but it would have taken a few hours, walking wasn't the problem. Something just didn't feel right inside of him when he thought about knocking on his own front door at sunrise. It just wasn't going to work. He needed to sit down and think things out....he needed to eat. The incessant need was more bothersome by the second; rehash the plan, food first, then think.
"Just a kitchen would be fine....but...7-11 would be nice." Another drunken person had locked their eyes on him and was stumbling across the road.

The square, blue-milk colored, cement, classrooms full of dummies and medical books were starting to sound like the definition of heaven. The 7-11 might have a phone too. Omo took a step forward and managed to get out, "Th-...", before shyly stepping back and fidgeting with the corner hems of his jacket.
"Um...kay, but I spent everything I had on a grody motel room last night..." Stockholm syndrome, that could be the only explanation for trusting this total stranger. Normally he wouldn't have asked for help, stopped to ask, or bothered to even look her way but he was currently willing to go just about anywhere she would take him.

Another lanky teen that looked like the real life counterpart of Brain from the Thunderbirds stumbled across the road, taking up a wobbly position close to him. A hesitant glance at the boy's face and he had to look away quickly.
"Go away. It looks like your face caught fire and someone tried to put it out with a rusty fork...." And that was the extent of the attention he bestowed on the intrusive individual, while offering an apologetic and slightly shameful glance at the woman in red.
"Please," He started the second the textbook geek had turned away, "If it's too much trouble to take me to the store just point me towards a back street or alley that will take me there. I have to get away from these people for a while..."

[Trudy Bennett]

The smell of cigarettes and alcohol was overwhelming everything else. That ever consciousness about the small smoldering narcotics in hands that surrounded her was fighting for her attention along with the soft hum in her head and the poor pale thing in front of her. As the kid continued to talk her eyes caught with one of those hanging about outside who was taking a bit too much of an interest in the whole thing...all Trudy knew it she was damn glad she'd filled up earlier that evening, everything was hard enough to keep straight without being overly hungry and the kid talking about eating was just starting to make her question if it'd all been enough. Her attention had to snap back when he went and voiced his rather rude little comments at the pockmarked boy that passed by.

She wanted to snap out some comment about watching manners but it died on the back of her tongue before it could even be considered to let out into the air. He was almost too pathetic on his own to try and rebuke for anything else and you couldn't go about scolding someone who was asking for help. A lot of things had changed in Trudy's life since her happy younger days running around the beach towns in Northern Carolina but those manners and kindnesses that had been drilled into her head by two women she once called "Grams" and "Ma" when in casual conversation refused to be denied.

All things considered in the grand scheme she probably should have just pointed him on his way and let that be that. But her guitar wouldn't be manhandled, tucked away until she came back for it maybe, but unharmed, she knew that well enough of the guy who ran the place so that meant she could give in. Better to help than to be guilty about it for the rest of the night. Yeah, she didn't look at people the same she did when the values had been instilled but that didn't mean you went treating them like crap either.

"Look hon, streets like this get kinda rough at night sometimes and I'd feel just horrible if something happened to you since it seems you've already been through it pretty bad. I'll walk with you up to the store if you want, it aint far and I promise I won't do any wrong by you."