"What in the fuck are you doing, Vanessa?" Margarita huffed, glaring at her daughter who immediately hopped out of the beat-down, secondhand Cadillac Brougham to stretch her legs at the most equally horrid gas station. Well, at least it seemed clean enough. She rolled the windows down as quickly as she could, repeating her question with a bit more vigor in her tone, hand tuning the radio station down.
Vanessa, who was rolling her eyes at her mom's roughness, walked away from the car by the gas pumps, readjusting her light, breathable striped jacket over her high neck, white tank top. Managing her brick mobile phone in her hand, she dialed a friend's number, attempting to call them to catch up. As it rung, she turned to face her mom, who was hurriedly rushing out of the car to meet Vanessa halfway.
The teenager pointed to the phone, but still continued the conversation, "Stretching my legs and about to talk to Percy, duh. I still have to finish my home economics project in class. You dragged me on this little road trip to... what was it again?"
"Get me some more cigs, honey. I'm running low... Plus, this ain't a road trip, I just don't want you by yourself at home. What if some psycho broke in and killed ya, or worse?" The 27-year-old sighed, shaking her head as she dug through her jean's back pockets, digging up her wallet and picking out a few ten-dollar bills. "Alright, sweetie, do you want anything? Soda, chips, what?"
"Some Coca-Cola, I think," Vanessa answered, then non-verbally crying out in anger when her phone cuts off. "There's no way for me to call anyone out here. That's so... weird! Mom, don't gas stations have any kind of network?"
"I... don't think this one does. Besides, you shouldn't be bringing that brick out in public when the house has a phone already... Ah, shit," Margarita grunted, her last Marlboro cigarette placed between her pursed lips, striking her lighter but failing spectacularly. Of course, it had to stop working the moment she craved her cancerous smokes.
"Looks like you have to get more lighters. Since you've got like... mm, whazzit, forty bucks right now, you could get a couple... I think." Vanessa shrugged, shuffling back to the car and tossing her phone through the open driver's window.
Margarita nodded, pinching the cigarette between her fingers and moved it out of her mouth. She gestured her head, adjusting her items into one hand to snap at Vanessa like a herder, "Come with me. Let's this over with and get out of this area."
Soon enough, the pair quickly walked into the gas station, but only after the car doors were shut and locked by the woman. Stepping into the store, Margarita and Vanessa wandered around the small aisles, the teenager grabbing a bottle of Coca-Cola—Margarita headed to the counter early, placing down her cash.
"I'd like some Marlboros, please. Just about three packs will do, with these lighters," she rambles, grabbing a small handfuls worth of BIC lighters just as her daughter followed up with a gentle place down of her Coca-Cola bottle. "...And that Coke."
The place seemed dead, now that Margarita thought about it. But then again, just about every other place seemed like no one living was in there at all. At least there was a cashier there to ring the items up; Margarita watched with the similarity of a hawks' watchful gaze as the cashier scanned the items, nodding when they asked if the items should be bagged. Of course, her ID was checked beforehand.
"Ah, except the Coke. Just all that other shit can be bagged, thank you," Margarita chuckled, handing the cash over and taking the change given back to her, nudging her daughter to grab the bagged lighters and cigarette packs, quickly putting the change in her wallet.
To hastily assist Vanessa, the adult grabbed her kid's soda bottle, guiding the teenager out of the gas station and back into the car when she unlocked it. The two flopped needlessly onto the car seats, closing the door harshly to make sure it was closed. Margarita sighed, bringing her old cigarette to her lips, leaning over her daughter to grab a random lighter in the wrinkly plastic bag; in turn, she handed the Coca-Cola bottle out to Vanessa. The girl mutters a quick thanks, opening it as best as she can before gulping some of it down, looking around the area casually.
Margarita struck the lighter after retrieving one, leaning back in her seat and inhaling through the filter side of the tube—huffing out puffs of smoke as she buckles up, twisting the car key to rev it to life. She slipped the lighter in her pocket
"Alright," she begins, slowly rolling up her window to leave a 2-inch crack between closing, "we're going back home, but I'm dropping you off at Grandma's. You can finish your little project with Percy there. No funny business, like stealing alcohol or whatever you might do... I have to do some more driving by myself."
Vanessa pinched the bridge of her nose but nodded nonetheless despite her grimacing.
"Yes, Mom. Where'll you be driving to?"
"Just... anywhere, I won't be gone for a week or nothing. Just a while, maybe a day or two. I have to go a special place," Margarita answered, vague but resolute in her reply as she did a three-point reverse, driving out of the gas station and headed to her mother's home—still smoking, still exhaling its smog like clockwork.
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