Motels, Muisc, and Avarice.

Author's note - The story is told from the point of view of Lana, and her internal monologue is written in italics. Perhaps Kait's POV will be a story for a later time!

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I and Kait had just finished up at a punk concert. It was exhilarating. Dancing with Kait to Avarice, live, was.. something else...

But we needed to pack back in the car, it would be many hours before we got back to our home city, and it was already late.

Kait has such a soothing voice yet she could so easily perform the punchy vocals of the band and a powerful husky voice that had made me, admittedly, a bit wet to listen to. Her voice could get so husky and gravelly if she wanted, so unlike her speaking voice.

She hopped in the car and I take a good look at her. Taller than me by about a foot, though her voice was so soft, her presence was as fierce as it was powerful and liable to take my mind wandering and make me start wishing I was a but more intimately familiar with her, or familiar at all.

We had met in a coffee shop about a week prior, and we had both brought up liking Avarice, and I had said that my friend had bailed, and I couldn't return the ticket.

She was a bit bold, and said she wouldn't mind going with me. I obliged, of course.

She was nowhere near as dressed up that day as she was today.

Her leather skirt look to be cut from an old leather jacket of dubious quality or origin, tailored and shaped, very messily yet durably, to complement her figure.

It was so gloriously ramshackle yet such a complimentary outfit. The top she was wearing seemed to be made out of various parts of tactical gear, stuff like cops and security guards used. That, blended with seemingly high quality corsets or bras or something. It was so interesting.

"Did she? Did she make it?" I wondered to myself. How did she think to create a piece of clothing like that, how did she find a scarf that matched it so well. It looked like all the parts had been discarded and worn, but it fit together so perfectly.

"How did she even get it all to put it together!?"

Curiosity getting the better of me, I asked her.

She said recently, she had been traveling through a former sundown town and found a less than enlightened store.

She said "I found all kinds of shit there, I found weird religious paraphernalia from Church of Crux's Evangelists, you know, the death cult branch? Apologia about those-not-so-brave civil warriors who fought to enslave their fellow countrymen, namely the Janin, and generally the most bigoted and racist objects you could hope to find."

She said

"I had spun a story to the old man behind the counter"

"Faddy worked as private security for Egenix but he got laid off when an unqualified Janin took his job. The country started going to shit with them being given positions they were undeserving of, positions pure men like my daddy were plenty qualified for!

At a stoplight, she looked into my eyes, putting on a sickeningly convincing Eastern drawl and pathetic pleading.

"He had to sell his rifles and tactical gear to make ends meet because of that stupid phutik!"

I was a bit taken aback by such a convincing impression, slur so easily rolling off her tongue like you'd hear from counter-protesters at a rights march, with perfect accent to boot, I almost forgot she is telling me a story about pulling the heartstrings of a slavery apologist to fork over stuff that she can wear to a punk show,

I steadied myself. Some proceeds of the show were going to local causes I knew we'd both seen a rather horrifying need for. She'd told me about being an organizer for a few causes, getting people registered to vote and notifying people about underhanded legislation.

She continued. "I've been looking for something to give to Daddy for his birthday, but I don't have enough money to buy him a neat vest or jacket... Then I gave him big o'l puppy eyes, makeup bringing out my eyes but not enough to tell I am wearing makeup. Deep easterners don't like it when young women wear makeup. I've heard its 'just when they start getting ugly'".

We both giggled at that, while we examined each others eye-wings and face glitter.

"So the old fuck gives me a black vest for strapping ammo and equipment too, and an old leather jacket with a Knights of the Pure Nail insignia embroidered on it, I reworked into a symbol for a more humanitarian cause... Now its a unions-heart!"

I could see it then, the way the old jacket had been cut to make that alluring leather skirt of hers...

"I got that stuff for 35.00 cass."

My jaw dropped.

"I've never seen a dealer part with stuff like that for less than 200.00 cass!" I screamed internally.

"She must have done a damn good job pulling his heartstrings!" I couldn't help but laugh a bit too heartily, as my face ended up a bit red and teary.

"Holy hell, it was almost unbelievable, and I envy her confidence. And her skill to make that into the outfit she's wearing now, making pieces from a more hateful time which still lingers into something more forward thinking.. and frankly, astonishingly attractive."

I really had to focus on driving but my thoughts continue to be full of wonder and lust.

Then she looked at me, and shuffled uncomfortably.

"Oh."

"Was I being too obvious? Was she not into women and she could see that I was?"

My mind began to race, and I grew nervous.

I looked at myself in a makeup mirror I had accidentally left on the dash, and realized I was tomato red, especially in my cheeks and chest, which was further drawn attention to by my boob window and my lack of a bra. I also realized that my nipples were visibly erect.

"Shit."

I clear my throat nervously, and we continue in silence for a bit.

"I'm sorry, but I think we should get a motel". Kait said, voice trembling.

"Was she choking up?"

"Are you alright, Kait?"

She spoke, "I have some medical problems and the lack of sleep is going to be worse than a bad hangover. I'm sorry"

She seemed to word that as ambiguously as possible, so I didn't pry. I speak up.

"I'll pay for the rooms, Kait, don't fret."

"Trying to be as fretless as Reggie's base..." she joked with a wry smile in an attempt at hiding a little bit of her discomfort. It did lighten the mood and get a chuckle out of me.

At a stoplight, I asked her if the medical problem was anything I should worry about, putting a hand upon her shoulder in reassurance.

She winced and took a ragged breath. Her shoulders, I realized, were feverish and red, despite the cold.

"I-I-Its n-not..." she shifted uncomfortably again and I had to look away to drive.

"All right. I trust you. You're the one who knows first aid and CPR though, so please don't hesitate to tell me if it's serious. I don't really know how to help. If it's serious, I care too much for you to be hurt. You're really passionate and cool."

The breaths she took sounded like they may be growing more ragged, but she was too quiet and the car was too noisy for me to tell for sure. We sat in uncomfortable silence till we pulled into a motel. I tried to distract myself from my anxiety by bringing up the weather.

"Kait look! It's snowing!" I said as I stepped to her door to open it.

I didn't expect what I saw. She was beet-red, shaking, and tears had ruined her eyeliner a little, though it could certainly be mistaken for an artistic choice easily. Her fists were clenched and pressed into her skirt, looking to be balled up to prevent them from shaking. Her back was rigid and hunched.

"Kait... can I help dear?"

Her eyes didn't acknowledge me, though her body seemed to react with a tremor at my words.

I thought for a moment. "If something is wrong medically, and she's having trouble communicating, I needed to think of something."

I couldn't blame her too much for not mentioning it earlier, she's held it together this long and I'd imagine whatever it is, it's embarrassing.

"Hmm... two noises for no, one for yes, okay?"

She made a slight noise, so I held her hand in mine.

Though she won't look at me, I still look at her. I looked into her eyes, hidden behind rose-tinted glasses, and into what looked to be fear hiding behind her eyes. I asked her to follow my lead on breathing exercises. She did, and calmed considerably.

I asked if she was ready to go inside. She nodded. I asked her if it was going to be a while before she could speak again. She nodded timidly.

"Here, let me take your backpack? It looks heavy."

It was as heavy as it was stylish and practical. I noticed a patch on it that said 'my backpack is heavy, because it is so damn full of mercy'. A reference to something that I didn't know about, but the yellow glasses at the center of the patch were a bit reminiscent of her own. Larger patches read: 'narcan inside'. 'First aid kit inside'. 'Ball your first, your heart is a muscle of that size'. All the pockets had been labeled with two symbols drawn onto reflective tape, making each strip unique.

"Was it like this so it could be quickly called out for people to retrieve things in certain pockets?"

I shifted to regain my balance from throwing it onto my back too fast, before starting up the sidewalk for the motel, aching feet wishing the concrete was grass and my shoes were in my bag. I held out my hand, which in spite of making Kait blush, she grabbed.

"Was she blushing from embarrassment, from something else, or a combination of..?"

"Damn it Lana! Stay focused, she needs you right now, and you don't even know if she likes girls! Why are you so horny!?"

"I'm glad we got here before the road iced over!" I said to the clerk, handing him my card and telling him that we needed two rooms for one night, walking with Kait in tow.

"I am sorry madams," He apologized. "There is only one room left, but it does have separate beds."

I looked over to Kait. Her body language looked calm, but her eyes and unmoving frame told me she was about to break.

"Did we risk driving for a while longer on roads surely to ice over soon? Was it better to just talk with Kait? Could we even talk? Is it okay for us to share a room?"

Her thousand yard stare was growing increasingly more distant as I questioned myself. I was getting nervous and frustrated.

"What happened, why can't she just talk!? She looks like she's reliving a fucking war!"

I took a deep and quiet breath, and I walked with her and sat us both down on the couch in the lobby.

"Kait, I'm never going to make you do anything you don't want to do. You can always raise your concerns or tell me no. I want you to feel comfortable. Would you feel better if I gave you a hu-."

Kait threw her arms around me and sobbed, her body shaking in our embrace. A bit of my guard fell. It was as warm as it was pained. Like an old dog waiting long for you to return, climbing up into your lap and pressing into you to tell you how much it missed you. I asked her if it was okay staying overnight in the same room. She made a single timid vocalization.

"What? What did she..? Oh, right, one for yes, two for no."

"Kait, can you say no for me? I want to make sure you can."

She made two soft grunts.

"Good girl." I responded. Seeming to prompt her body to give a slight shudder and she blushed a bit. I blushed when I realized what I had said.

"Noted... Good girl is probably a turn-on to her. I think that she does like girls after all..." I realized I said something that is turning us both on at possibly, a terrible time for us both. "AGH! This is continuing to get more awkward! Shit!"

"We'll take the room!" I say, my words momentarily silencing my frenetic thoughts.

I paid and he handed me back my card as well as a key card, and we walked back to room R01 hurriedly, me doing so as if to outrun my own nervousness. A little spaceship had been graffitied on the door, seemingly left there on purpose.

"I don't know whether that's cute or speaks to the dinginess. At least the place didn't look like it had bugs..."

I open the door, and we sat our things down in an admittedly clean room. We both headed to the bathroom and removed our makeup. I kicked her out to tinkle and relieved myself. After I stepped out, she went back in with her backpack, and came out with a spare change of clothes on and her hair tied up. We down in each bed, wordless. Kait pulled out a pen and pocket journal, and began to write after some time.

As she filled the page, I spoke, "What are you up to? A grunt will suffice if you ca-"

"Journaling," she said, surprising me. "It helps keep me grounded, and makes me feel better and a bit more stable."

I watched her pen move across the pages for a few minutes, before she flipped to a new page, and beckoned me over. I sat beside her, and watched her write a page in her journal, addressed to me.

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My sensory problems, for those concerned