Thelma and Louise, chapter 1
It was a typical night in a small town in Georgia, on the East coast of the United States. Well, it wasn't a small town, and it was far from being a typical night for Nicole Harrison. She was in the backseat of a BMW staring out the window, her head held up by her arm, one leg crossed over the other and jiggling nervously. She was on her way to a concert at a prestigious arena in the heart of Georgia's capital, Atlanta ("Really just a city overpopulated with wankers, really") where a not-so-formal band was performing. Her favorite band, in fact: Green Day. She had her black hair down in what could be recognized as so "Angelina Jolie at the Grammies" had she not had streaks of blonde and pink interwoven with the jet black. One hand reached down to smoothen her skirt unconciously, while the other continued propping up her face, soft green eyes staring out to the rapidly passing scenery. "Are we there yet?" she said, a soft whisper to the driver, her mother, in the front seat, not turning her head away from the window. Her mother chuckled slightly and shook her head. Nicole took her eyes off the outside world long enough to see the negative body language in the rear view mirror. She sighed, and once again analyzed what she was wearing. A pleated black skirt, a black short-sleeve oxford with a red star over the heart, striped red-and-black socks, a thin black tie and combat boots with silver skulls. She had spent an hour slaving over the perfect outfit to get her noticed (hopefully) by Green Day. Taking a mirror absently out of the purse perched on the seat next to her, she examined her makeup, and closed it, satisfied with the way she looked. When are we gonna get there?, she thought, hurriedly looking at her watch that was barely visible under a forearmful of rubber black bracelets. The concert has to have started by now.
When they got to the venue, Nicole wasted no time jumping out of the car, barely waving to her mother and barely remembering her purse. She fished her ticket out of the purse and showed it to the person at the front, then was asked to empty it out. Sighing and rolling her eyes, she did so, and then after noticing the blush on the male guard's face upon seeing the feminine items, she growled at him, "It's that time of month, officer." Once she had been given the clear to enter, she had only taken five paces when she lifted up the hem of her skirt slightly, and ripped away the taped disposable camera that had been adhered to her thigh sneakily.
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After the concert, which was filled with underage drinking, meeting up with her friends, and insane personal moshpits, Nicole was ready to leave the arena, but not go home yet. She decided to call up her mother, tell her the concert got started late and that she'd catch a ride home with her friends. Hanging up the cell phone, she walked away from her friends wordlessly, waving briefly before being lost to eyesight in the tumult of swirling people, ready to go home or ready to fire up their nightlife.
Before wandering the streets, Nicole checked into the bathroom, used it, and went to the mirror to reapply the makeup that had somehow found its way dripping down her face. Muttering something about needing to get waterproof mascara, she rooted around in her purse for the mascara wand when someone caught her eye: A girl, about her age, as thin as a supermodel, was standing at the mirror next to her fooling around with her cropped blonde boyish hair. Her eyes were piercing blue, and her ears were pierced thrice, which made Nicole's own ears twinge in envy. Her lip had a glint of metal in it on the side, and her eyes were circled with heavy kohl the color of batskin. She was garbed in a drag olive tank top with a ripped pair of jeans and a studded belt. Checkered Vans adorned her feet, and a black star was on her left hand. Nicole couldn't help staring at her, and when the girl caught her staring, she grinned a pearly white smile. "You like?", she said, turning to Nicole still smiling, showing off her hair. "Did it myself." Nicole tried to regain her composure and nodded, grinning herself as well. This girl was pretty goodlooking...wait a minute, am I thinking what I am thinking?! What the hell?! Nicole made a mental slap, then shook her head slightly. Play it cool... The girl in question was now sticking out her hand in greeting. "Name's Francesca, but the kids call me Frankie. Your name is...?"
"My name's Nicole."
"Nicole's a beautiful name!" The girl shook the hand still clutching her mascara wand. "Wanna hang out? I have a secret way to get backstage, do you wanna?"
Nicole couldn't believe it! Was this it? A godsend? She nodded feverishly, slowly smiling. The girl then made for the exit and uttered two words that would change Nicole's life, MY life, forever...
"Follow me."
When they got to the venue, Nicole wasted no time jumping out of the car, barely waving to her mother and barely remembering her purse. She fished her ticket out of the purse and showed it to the person at the front, then was asked to empty it out. Sighing and rolling her eyes, she did so, and then after noticing the blush on the male guard's face upon seeing the feminine items, she growled at him, "It's that time of month, officer." Once she had been given the clear to enter, she had only taken five paces when she lifted up the hem of her skirt slightly, and ripped away the taped disposable camera that had been adhered to her thigh sneakily.
------
After the concert, which was filled with underage drinking, meeting up with her friends, and insane personal moshpits, Nicole was ready to leave the arena, but not go home yet. She decided to call up her mother, tell her the concert got started late and that she'd catch a ride home with her friends. Hanging up the cell phone, she walked away from her friends wordlessly, waving briefly before being lost to eyesight in the tumult of swirling people, ready to go home or ready to fire up their nightlife.
Before wandering the streets, Nicole checked into the bathroom, used it, and went to the mirror to reapply the makeup that had somehow found its way dripping down her face. Muttering something about needing to get waterproof mascara, she rooted around in her purse for the mascara wand when someone caught her eye: A girl, about her age, as thin as a supermodel, was standing at the mirror next to her fooling around with her cropped blonde boyish hair. Her eyes were piercing blue, and her ears were pierced thrice, which made Nicole's own ears twinge in envy. Her lip had a glint of metal in it on the side, and her eyes were circled with heavy kohl the color of batskin. She was garbed in a drag olive tank top with a ripped pair of jeans and a studded belt. Checkered Vans adorned her feet, and a black star was on her left hand. Nicole couldn't help staring at her, and when the girl caught her staring, she grinned a pearly white smile. "You like?", she said, turning to Nicole still smiling, showing off her hair. "Did it myself." Nicole tried to regain her composure and nodded, grinning herself as well. This girl was pretty goodlooking...wait a minute, am I thinking what I am thinking?! What the hell?! Nicole made a mental slap, then shook her head slightly. Play it cool... The girl in question was now sticking out her hand in greeting. "Name's Francesca, but the kids call me Frankie. Your name is...?"
"My name's Nicole."
"Nicole's a beautiful name!" The girl shook the hand still clutching her mascara wand. "Wanna hang out? I have a secret way to get backstage, do you wanna?"
Nicole couldn't believe it! Was this it? A godsend? She nodded feverishly, slowly smiling. The girl then made for the exit and uttered two words that would change Nicole's life, MY life, forever...
"Follow me."
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