Mick's POV:
"How did we end up in Mayberry?"
Our van screeches to a stop in the middle of a parking spot right outside a small store. Taking off my sunglasses, I look over the tall light fixtures and perfect shops lined up along street, one by one.
Not our type of town. Definitely not Hollywood.
Kade, our bass player, remarks, "Unless you want to push the car all the way to California, I think we need to make a pit stop here for gas and food."
"Is it safe to leave all the instruments and equipment in there while we go eat?"
"Dude, this place probably hasn't seen a robber in thirty years. Let's go."
Logan, the drummer, can't help but tap on the dashboard before saying, "Well, we didn't make this road trip for nothing! Let's go get some food and see what this place is all about!"
The tinkling of a bell rings as we enter a tiny restaurant, Annabelle's Southern Sweets. Cozy and smelling of fresh-baked bread, the café is perfect for what the small town has to offer. We head to a booth in towards the window where an older woman with grey hair comes and greets us with menus.
"Y'all boys ain't from around here! Where boys like you headed?" She smiles at us causing her skin to wrinkle around her eyes. The strong southern drawl was heavy on her lips but welcoming after long hours stuck in a van.
"We're headed out to California, ma'am," Kade replies, "We're going to Hollywood because of our band. But before we get there, we felt like we have to see some of the country."
Nodding her head in understanding, she says, "You sound just like one of my girls I have working for me. She's crazy about leaving and going everywhere."
She shakes her head and sighs, "I don't know where we went wrong with her. She came up with this crazy rule. Something about making sure she gets away, who knows? I've heard a lot of nonsense from that sassy thing." The woman shrugs.
Geesh, that girl sounds like trouble. What's up with these people?
"I'll give y'all some time to look over the menu. By that time I think my last shift waitress should be in to take your order."
I don't know but at least this lady seems nice.
As if on que, a girl with a Led Zeppelin T-Shirt, skirt, and polka-dot Keds comes dashing through the door. I can't help but stare at how adorable she looks in her outfit, the perfect mix of a southern girl and a rocker chick. She looks out of place compared to the rest of the people in here, but still manages to convey the stereotype a little bit.
Why's there no music on?" she asks in a sweet accent, "Mrs. Daisy, you know how much better it is with music!" The older woman swats her to the upstairs apartment, telling her something about changing her shirt first.
"Why are you wearing that? Girls like you shouldn't like that type of music! It's going to scare of customers!"
The girl just laughs and waves her hand, "They're an amazing band and it's perfectly fine to like more than one type of music. But okay, I promise I will go change!"
Coming back down five minutes later with a company shirt on, the girl goes to the old jukebox. It must be made to look old because she pulls out an iPod to play a song. The café is set up with different booths around the walls of the restaurant and tables and chairs in the middle. What is different is the open space left for dancing next to the jukebox.
YOU ARE READING
The Breakfast At Tiffany's Rule
Chick-Lit"It's called The Breakfast at Tiffany's Rule," she says to me in a flat tone while pouring my coffee. She acts like I should know what this is, "Have you ever seen the movie?" "The Breakfast At Tiffany's Rule? And yeah, I've seen it once or twice." ...
