A Brujah and a Toreador walk into a bar in Nebraska...
The shuttle pulled up in front of the hotel and Petra fished in her purse for a tip while the driver unloaded the bags. Gracie stood beside them, staring at the Comfort Inn sign and the cheery welcome to University of Nebraska graduates and parents that was spelled out on the marquis.
"Petra....why are we here?"
"I told you at the airport, Gracie, flying cross country in one night is too dangerous, one delay and...."
"Fuck that noise, I mean, why are we here? I don't even know what this place is."
Petra looked over at Gracie and raised an eyebrow, then answered dryly:
"It's a hotel, Gracie. People sleep here when they travel."
Gracie snorted and shouldered her bag with a huff. Niether woman spoke as they checked in, though Gracie pulled a face as Petra firmly informed the front desk clerk to disable the room's pay-per-view. They walked down the clean, spartan halls and entered the neat, utilitarian room. Gracie perked up when she saw the small fridge, though her mood returned to sour upon opening it and discovering it was empty.
"There's no mini bar. I mean, are you trying to make me miserable or...."
"Oh for fuck's sake Gracie!" Petra exploded. "I've been listening to you whine since we left New York, and I'm done with it. You have barely enough money to keep clothes on your back, and I've had to pick up and move my entire household from one very expensive city to another, even-more-expensive city, with all the costs that entails, and that's not even counting the deposit I gave up when I broke my lease in Boston. We are broke. B-R-O-K-E. Do you understand?"
"But I thought you were one of them rich ass bitches?" Gracie protested, though her voice suddenly held a note of uncertainty. Petra rubbed her eyes tiredly.
"A bitch, yes. Rich, no."
"Fuck. We should do something about that."
"You're welcome to try," Petra said, tossing Gracie a roll of tape so they could begin securing black garbage bags over the windows.
"But...Petra, what about all the jewelry?"
"Glass, Gracie, glass. Learn to spot the difference between fake and real, some day it'll prevent you from getting ripped off."
"But how do you do it? I mean, you always look so...so...I dunno. Rich ass bitch."
"I shop on clearance, I never throw anything away -- just look at how fashionable vintage is right now -- and I ride the subway most of the way and just take a cab the last few blocks to save on fare."
Gracie stared at Petra, completely baffled, for several long minutes, the gears of her mind clicking and whirling before falling into place. Then she grinned, chest puffing out, staring at Petra with admiration, and throwing her metal fingers. Petra eyed Gracie warily.
"What? Did you expect me to tell you I have a day job?"
Gracie collapsed into peals of laughter, until Petra grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her close. Her eyes burned into Gracie's, her gaze angry and deadly.
"Listen to me, and listen well childe. Things can be taken from you, Gracie, and will be taken from you, some night, by some one. But wit...dignity...will...freedom...those are the things that are really important, Gracie. Don't ever let anyone take those from you. Understand?"
Gracie stared at Petra with wide eyes. "Yes ma'am," she replied sincerely, and Petra let Gracie go, the intensity replaced with a soft maternal smile. Petra turned, crawling under the covers of one of the beds and fluffing the pillows. Wordlessly, she shut off the light and rolled over, waiting for dawn.
"Petra....why are we here?"
"I told you at the airport, Gracie, flying cross country in one night is too dangerous, one delay and...."
"Fuck that noise, I mean, why are we here? I don't even know what this place is."
Petra looked over at Gracie and raised an eyebrow, then answered dryly:
"It's a hotel, Gracie. People sleep here when they travel."
Gracie snorted and shouldered her bag with a huff. Niether woman spoke as they checked in, though Gracie pulled a face as Petra firmly informed the front desk clerk to disable the room's pay-per-view. They walked down the clean, spartan halls and entered the neat, utilitarian room. Gracie perked up when she saw the small fridge, though her mood returned to sour upon opening it and discovering it was empty.
"There's no mini bar. I mean, are you trying to make me miserable or...."
"Oh for fuck's sake Gracie!" Petra exploded. "I've been listening to you whine since we left New York, and I'm done with it. You have barely enough money to keep clothes on your back, and I've had to pick up and move my entire household from one very expensive city to another, even-more-expensive city, with all the costs that entails, and that's not even counting the deposit I gave up when I broke my lease in Boston. We are broke. B-R-O-K-E. Do you understand?"
"But I thought you were one of them rich ass bitches?" Gracie protested, though her voice suddenly held a note of uncertainty. Petra rubbed her eyes tiredly.
"A bitch, yes. Rich, no."
"Fuck. We should do something about that."
"You're welcome to try," Petra said, tossing Gracie a roll of tape so they could begin securing black garbage bags over the windows.
"But...Petra, what about all the jewelry?"
"Glass, Gracie, glass. Learn to spot the difference between fake and real, some day it'll prevent you from getting ripped off."
"But how do you do it? I mean, you always look so...so...I dunno. Rich ass bitch."
"I shop on clearance, I never throw anything away -- just look at how fashionable vintage is right now -- and I ride the subway most of the way and just take a cab the last few blocks to save on fare."
Gracie stared at Petra, completely baffled, for several long minutes, the gears of her mind clicking and whirling before falling into place. Then she grinned, chest puffing out, staring at Petra with admiration, and throwing her metal fingers. Petra eyed Gracie warily.
"What? Did you expect me to tell you I have a day job?"
Gracie collapsed into peals of laughter, until Petra grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her close. Her eyes burned into Gracie's, her gaze angry and deadly.
"Listen to me, and listen well childe. Things can be taken from you, Gracie, and will be taken from you, some night, by some one. But wit...dignity...will...freedom...those are the things that are really important, Gracie. Don't ever let anyone take those from you. Understand?"
Gracie stared at Petra with wide eyes. "Yes ma'am," she replied sincerely, and Petra let Gracie go, the intensity replaced with a soft maternal smile. Petra turned, crawling under the covers of one of the beds and fluffing the pillows. Wordlessly, she shut off the light and rolled over, waiting for dawn.